pitch on which to practise. My father, Henry, and uncle set to work early in 1851, and had a good wicket ready by the beginning of the cricket season. The orchard was about eighty yards in length, and thickly studded with apple trees, a few of which had to be sacrificed. On the left of it was a high wall; on the right, Mr. Cave's wood and a deep quarry full of water.
The first year or two the pitch was small; but E. M. enlarged and improved it as he grew up, and I cannot remember when it was not in a condition worthy of a first-rate club. There was no restriction in our hitting, but undoubtedly the situation was its greatest attraction: we had only to step out of the house and begin play, and that to a medical family whose duties took them so far from home was a priceless boon. Many a time my father and brother Henry returned from their work too pressed for time to be able to go to Rodway Hill, and so had to give up the desire of half-an-hour's practice. That was obviated now. They could partake of a hasty lunch, and join in the practice that was carried on most days during the season. I should say during most months in the year, for we commenced as early as March and did not leave off until October. To my father and mother there was a great charm in the new arrangement, for it kept the entire family together. Rarely did we practise without my mother being present as an onlooker. My sisters did not play the game, as has been so often stated; but my mother and they fielded the ball if it travelled their way, and bowled a ball or two occasionally to Fred and myself when we were boys. That was the extent of their efforts.
My memory carries me back to my sixth year. Most boys at that age have more to do with the nursery than a cricket ground; but it must be remembered that my
