TheWellesburnmatchwasplayedoutwithgreatsuccessyesterday，theSchoolwinningbythreewickets；andto-daythegreateventofthecricketingyear，theMarylebonematch，isbeingplayed。Whatamatchithasbeen！TheLondonelevencamedownbyanafternoontrainyesterday，intimetoseetheendoftheWellesburnmatch；andassoonasitwasover，theirleadingmenandumpireinspectedtheground，criticisingitratherunmercifully。ThecaptainoftheSchooleleven，andoneortwoothers，whohadplayedtheLord’smatchbefore，andknewoldMr。
　　AislabieandseveraloftheLord’smen，accompaniedthem；whiletherestoftheelevenlookedonfromundertheThreeTreeswithadmiringeyes，andaskedoneanotherthenamesoftheillustriousstrangers，andrecountedhowmanyrunseachofthemhadmadeinthelatematchesinBell’sLife。Theylookedsuchhard-bitten，wiry，whiskeredfellowsthattheiryoungadversariesfeltratherdespondingastotheresultofthemorrow’smatch。Thegroundwasatlastchosen，andtwomensettoworkuponittowaterandroll；andthen，therebeingyetsomehalf-hourofdaylight，someonehadsuggestedadanceontheturf。Theclosewashalffullofcitizensandtheirfamilies，andtheideawashailedwithenthusiasm。Thecornopeanplayerwasstillontheground。InfiveminutestheelevenandhalfadozenoftheWellesburnandMarylebonemengotpartnerssomehoworanother，andamerrycountry-dancewasgoingon，towhicheveryoneflocked，andnewcouplesjoinedineveryminute，tilltherewereahundredofthemgoingdownthemiddleandupagain；andthelonglineofschoolbuildingslookedgravelydownonthem，everywindowglowingwiththelastraysofthewesternsun；andtherooksclangedaboutinthetopsoftheoldelms，greatlyexcited，andresolvedonhavingtheircountry-
　　dancetoo；andthegreatflagflappedlazilyinthegentlewesternbreeze。Altogetheritwasasightwhichwouldhavemadegladtheheartofourbraveoldfounder，LawrenceSheriff，ifhewerehalfasgoodafellowasItakehimtohavebeen。Itwasacheerfulsighttosee。ButwhatmadeitsovaluableinthesightofthecaptainoftheSchoolelevenwasthathetheresawhisyounghandsshakingofftheirshynessandaweoftheLord’smen，astheycrossedhandsandcaperedaboutonthegrasstogether；forthestrangersenteredintoitall，andthrewawaytheircigars，anddancedandshoutedlikeboys；whileoldMr。
　　Aislabiestoodbylookingoninhiswhitehat，leaningonabat，inbenevolentenjoyment。“Thishopwillbeworththirtyrunstousto-morrow，andwillbethemakingofRagglesandJohnson，“
　　thinkstheyoungleader，asherevolvesmanythingsinhismind，standingbythesideofMr。Aislabie，whomhewillnotleaveforaminute，forhefeelsthatthecharacteroftheSchoolforcourtesyisrestingonhisshoulders。
　　Butwhenaquartertoninestruck，andhesawoldThomasbeginningtofidgetaboutwiththekeysinhishand，hethoughtoftheDoctor’spartingmonition，andstoppedthecornopeanatonce，notwithstandingtheloud-voicedremonstrancesfromallsides；andthecrowdscatteredawayfromtheclose，theelevenallgoingintotheSchool-house，wheresupperandbedswereprovidedforthembytheDoctor’sorders。
　　Deephadbeentheconsultationsatsupperastotheorderofgoingin，whoshouldbowlthefirstover，whetheritwouldbebesttoplaysteadyorfreely；andtheyoungesthandsdeclaredthattheyshouldn’tbeabitnervous，andpraisedtheiropponentsasthejolliestfellowsintheworld，exceptperhapstheiroldfriendstheWellesburnmen。Howfaralittlegood-
　　naturefromtheirelderswillgowiththerightsortofboys！
　　Themorninghaddawnedbrightandwarm，totheintensereliefofmanyananxiousyoungster，upbetimestomarkthesignsoftheweather。Theelevenwentdowninabodybeforebreakfast，foraplungeinthecoldbathinacorneroftheclose。Thegroundwasinsplendidorder，andsoonafterteno’clock，beforespectatorshadarrived，allwasready，andtwooftheLord’smentooktheirplacesatthewickets——theSchool，withtheusualliberalityofyounghands，havingputtheiradversariesinfirst。OldBaileysteppeduptothewicket，andcalledplay，andthematchhasbegun。
　　“Oh，wellbowled！wellbowled，Johnson！“criesthecaptain，catchinguptheballandsendingithighabovetherooktrees，whilethethirdMarylebonemanwalksawayfromthewicket，andoldBaileygravelysetsupthemiddlestumpagainandputsthebailson。
　　“Howmanyruns？“Awayscamperthreeboystothescoringtable，andarebackagaininaminuteamongsttherestoftheeleven，whoarecollectedtogetherinaknotbetweenwicket。“Onlyeighteenruns，andthreewicketsdown！““HuzzaforoldRugby！“
　　singsoutJackRaggles，thelong-stop，toughestandburliestofboys，commonlycalled“SwiperJack，“andforthwithstandsonhishead，andbrandisheshislegsintheairintriumph，tillthenextboycatchesholdofhisheels，andthrowshimoverontohisback。
　　“Steadythere；don’tbesuchanass，Jack，“saysthecaptain；
　　“wehaven’tgotthebestwicketyet。Ah，lookoutnowatcover-
　　point，“addshe，asheseesalong-armedbare-headed，slashing-
　　lookingplayercomingtothewicket。“And，Jack，mindyourhits。HestealsmorerunsthananymaninEngland。“
　　Andtheyallfindthattheyhavegottheirworktodonow。Thenewcomer’soff-hittingistremendous，andhisrunninglikeaflashoflightning。Heisneverinhisgroundexceptwhenhiswicketisdown。Nothinginthewholegamesotryingtoboys。
　　Hehasstolenthreebyesinthefirsttenminutes，andJackRagglesisfurious，andbeginsthrowingoversavagelytothefartherwicket，untilheissternlystoppedbythecaptain。Itisallthatyounggentlemencandotokeephisteamsteady，butheknowsthateverythingdependsonit，andfaceshisworkbravely。Thescorecreepsuptofifty；theboysbegintolookblank；andthespectators，whoarenowmusteringstrong，areverysilent。Theballfliesoffhisbattoallpartsofthefield，andhegivesnorestandnocatchestoanyone。Butcricketisfullofgloriouschances，andthegoddesswhopresidesoveritlovestobringdownthemostskilfulplayers。
　　Johnson，theyoungbowler，isgettingwild，andbowlsaballalmostwidetotheoff；thebatterstepsoutandcutsitbeautifullytowherecover-pointisstandingverydeep——infactalmostofftheground。Theballcomesskimmingandtwistingalongaboutthreefeetfromtheground；herushesatit，anditstickssomehoworotherinthefingersofhislefthand，totheutterastonishmentofhimselfandthewholefield。Suchacatchhasn’tbeenmadeinthecloseforyears，andthecheeringismaddening。“Prettycricket，“saysthecaptain，throwinghimselfonthegroundbythedesertedwicketwithalongbreath。Hefeelsthatacrisishaspassed。
　　IwishIhadspacetodescribethematch——howthecaptainstumpedthenextmanoffaleg-shooter，andbowledsmallcobstooldMr。Aislabie，whocameinforthelastwicket；howtheLord’smenwereoutbyhalf-pasttwelveo’clockforninety-eightruns；howthecaptainoftheSchoolelevenwentinfirsttogivehismenpluck，andscoredtwenty-fiveinbeautifulstyle；howRugbywasonlyfourbehindinthefirstinnings；whatagloriousdinnertheyhadinthefourth-formschool；andhowthecover-
　　pointhittersangthemosttoppingcomicsongs，andoldMr。
　　Aislabiemadethebestspeechesthateverwereheard，afterwards。ButIhaven’tspace——that’sthefact；andsoyoumustfancyitall，andcarryyourselvesontohalf-pastseveno’clock，whentheSchoolareagainin，withfivewicketsdown，andonlythirty-tworunstomaketowin。TheMarylebonemenplayedcarelesslyintheirsecondinnings，buttheyareworkinglikehorsesnowtosavethematch。
　　Thereismuchhealthy，hearty，happylifescatteredupanddowntheclose；butthegrouptowhichIbegtocallyourespecialattentionisthere，ontheslopeoftheisland，whichlookstowardsthecricket-ground。Itconsistsofthreefigures；twoareseatedonabench，andoneonthegroundattheirfeet。Thefirst，atall，slightandrathergauntman，withabushyeyebrowandadry，humoroussmile，isevidentlyaclergyman。Heiscarelesslydressed，andlooksratherusedup，whichisn’tmuchtobewonderedat，seeingthathehasjustfinishedsixweeksofexaminationwork；buttherehebasks，andspreadshimselfoutintheeveningsun，bentonenjoyinglife，thoughhedoesn’tquiteknowwhattodowithhisarmsandlegs。Surelyitisourfriendtheyoungmaster，whomwehavehadglimpsesofbefore，buthisfacehasgainedagreatdealsincewelastcameacrosshim。
　　Andbyhisside，inwhiteflannelshirtandtrousers，strawhat，thecaptain’sbelt，andtheuntannedyellowcricketshoeswhichalltheelevenwear，sitsastrappingfigure，nearsixfeethigh，withruddy，tannedfaceandwhiskers，curlybrownhair，andalaughing，dancingeye。Heisleaningforwardwithhiselbowsrestingonhisknees，anddandlinghisfavouritebat，withwhichhehasmadethirtyorfortyrunsto-day，inhisstrongbrownhands。ItisTomBrown，grownintoayoungmannineteenyearsold，aprepostorandcaptainoftheeleven，spendinghislastdayasaRugbyboy，and，letushope，asmuchwiserasheisbigger，sincewelasthadthepleasureofcomingacrosshim。
　　Andattheirfeetonthewarm，dryground，similarlydressed，sitsArthur，Turkishfashion，withhisbatacrosshisknees。Hetooisnolongeraboy——lessofaboy，infact，thanTom，ifonemayjudgefromthethoughtfulnessofhisface，whichissomewhatpaler，too，thanonecouldwish；buthisfigure，thoughslight，iswellknitandactive，andallhisoldtimidityhasdisappeared，andisreplacedbysilent，quaintfun，withwhichhisfacetwinklesallover，ashelistenstothebrokentalkbetweentheothertwo，inwhichhejoinseverynowandthen。
　　Allthreearewatchingthegameeagerly，andjoininginthecheeringwhichfollowseverygoodhit。Itispleasingtoseetheeasy，friendlyfootingwhichthepupilsareonwiththeirmaster，perfectlyrespectful，yetwithnoreserveandnothingforcedintheirintercourse。Tomhasclearlyabandonedtheoldtheoryof“naturalenemies“inthiscaseatanyrate。
　　Butitistimetolistentowhattheyaresaying，andseewhatwecangatheroutofit。
　　“Idon’tobjecttoyourtheory，“saysthemaster，“andIallowyouhavemadeafaircaseforyourself。Butnow，insuchbooksasAristophanes，forinstance，you’vebeenreadingaplaythishalfwiththeDoctor，haven’tyou？“
　　“Yes，theKnights，“answeredTom。
　　“Well，I’msureyouwouldhaveenjoyedthewonderfulhumourofittwiceasmuchifyouhadtakenmorepainswithyourscholarship。“
　　“Well，sir，Idon’tbelieveanyboyintheformenjoyedthesets-tobetweenCleonandtheSausage-sellermorethanIdid——
　　eh，Arthur？“saidTom，givinghimastirwithhisfoot。
　　“Yes，Imustsayhedid，“saidArthur。“Ithink，sir，you’vehituponthewrongbookthere。“