CROQUET

So my letter really was inserted! Well, I never! to think

that I should have become a literary character, and have actually launched my frail bark on the sea of —, of —, on the sea of Dear me what sea was it I intended to mention? Something allegorical of course, you know. The sea of Well, never mind, I shall remember by and by,

I dare say.

Now there is one thing puzzles me, and that is this: how one ought to write in an essay of this kind, whether in the first person, or the third, or to say, we, like leading articles. In a letter, of course, one speaks in the first person singular, which is easy enough; but in an essay I don't know what is the proper thing to do, or how to put it: whether to address the gentle reader, or the public, or dearly beloved-(no, that is for sermons, of course-how stupid of me!)

I'll tell you what I think I will do. I will adopt the first person, just as if I were writing a letter-no, penning an epistle (one must be careful of one's language now one is writing for the press), and talk of myself as 'I,' and of other people as 'you,' meaning any body who chooses to read these modest effusions, which will make matters much simpler, and

prevent all chance of mixing up one's pronouns, as one is so apt to do if not very particular.

But to come to the subject of this essay. You will never guess, now, what I have been doing all the morning. I have been very busy, I can tell you. You mightn't think so, perhaps, but I have. Well, I have been setting out the croquet things, placing the hoops, you know. At least I have been helping George (he is my cousin-I think I mentioned him before, I dare say you all know him at Cambridge; he is at Trinity, and such a fine, tall, handsome young man, you couldn't mistake him), and he is so very particular about doing things according to rule, just like all you mathematical men, that I really thought we never should get the hoops arranged to his satisfaction. I call it very hard work, too. This is how we set about it: we had a measuring tape, and so fixed the two pegs; then I stood at one end and looked through a hoop, and George stood at the other and looked through another hoop, and when we saw one another quite plain (George says he never could see me plain, but he is so stupid, you know), then we knew the hoops were in line, and it took us such a time, you can't think; but, as George said, it wasn't wasted (the time, I mean), at least for him, because he is reading very high in mathematics for his "post mortem" (what disgusting terms you do make use of at Cambridge, quite horrible; of course it's something surgical, like that dreadful scratching I spoke of in my letter, because one always hears of the word in connexion with a body, and people sitting upon it; besides, George said himself that the examiners would be sure to sit upon him, so I know it's that; and, poor fellow he is so often out of spirits, and talks in

such a wild way about ploughing and spinning, that really I sometimes fancy he will give up the idea of going into the Church altogether, and take to farming or trade, which would be a great disappointment to us all, as there is a capital family living he would come in for, and the present incumbent is an old man, and very shakey; in fact, he had a fit the other day, and made us all so nervous, thinking he would go off before dear George was ordained). Dear me ! what a long parenthesis! Where was I, I wonder? oh, I know. George,

I say, said he was not wasting his time, because mathematics being all about straight lines, the setting out of the croquet hoops would, as it were, illustrate the principles of the science in a practical manner, and help to fix them in the mind much more than reading a lot of dry books. I have no doubt he is right, for he turns every thing to "good account at last " (what a delightful dreaminess there is in Shelley's writings!); and the other day, when he was lying on the grass in the shade for two hours, and we thought him asleep, and mamma said how lazy he was, he proved after all, as he himself told us, to be deeply engaged in investigating the diurnal motion of the earth round the sun, or the sun round the earth, I forget which, but I know it was one or the other. Indeed, he never plays croquet now, but he talks of diagonals, and parallelograms of forces, which may be very useful to him, certainly, as of course it is, but it is not what I call the right way to play croquet. And this brings me to the principal part of my subject; for although I object to George's style of play, he only follows the fashion, as I will point out to you presently. The fact is, I have great complaints to make respecting the way in which the game is very generally

played, and as I have observed that University men are, as a rule, first-rate players (as far as mere skill is concerned), I have hopes that the insertion of this article in a University Magazine may be instrumental in effecting some, to my thinking, much needed changes during the coming summer.

A few years ago croquet was nothing more than a pleasant amusement, which brought young people together on the lawn of a country house, and served as a pretext for agreeable relaxation, conversation, &c. ; the game was a secondary consideration, to be played with more or less care in the intervals of flirtation. But now all this is changed; croquet is no longer a game, it is a science. Time was when it was considered rather interesting in a girl to assume a nonchalant air, and pretend to be ignorant of the commonest rules of the game. "Blue" (I always chose the blue ball when I could, because of my hair, you know, and as I frequently dressed in blue too, it often provoked complimentary remarks)—" Blue's turn to play. Where's Blue ?" That was the old style, and all the gentlemen immediately looked about with the greatest concern in search of Blue, who, upon being discovered talking in an undertone to Red (in the Army), called up a blush in the most engaging manner possible, and said, “What! my turn again; oh! what shall I do! Please some one tell me which is my hoop ;" and so on for five or six minutes, when, having managed to do something very stupid, and been complimented upon her skill, she would the next instant be deep in a flirtation with Black (promising young curate), and forget all about the game.

That was always my plan, and it told immensely, I can assure you, to appear helpless, and ask for advice, and all

that sort of thing, besides affording such splendid opportunities for judicious flirtation. But now "Desdemona's occupation's gone " (that is a pretty alteration, isn't it?); no more flirting for me; there is no time for it. What with the forward stroke, and the following stroke, and the splitting stroke, and the side stroke, and the roque'ing, and helping one's friends, and one's friends helping themselves by your ball and taking you miles out of your way, a girl has to be all attention to keep up with the rest.

Formerly, as I have said, it was considered a pretty innocent sort of thing to seem ignorant and helpless, and as of course I only pretended not to know what to do (at least in simple cases), I could still put on an interesting appearance of confusion, and yet be sufficiently cool and collected to turn up my eyes in a beseechingly piteous manner to the most eligible parti present, who would forthwith, in his anxiety to be of service, offer some utterly ridiculous and outrageous suggestion; but now I often become really confused, and feel quite awkward, which is dreadful for a girl in society, you know, and what is worse, I receive no pity as I used to do. The gentlemen desert me to flatter some good player who knows very well what she is about, and that puts me out of spirits, and then I lose half my animation, which is generally considered to be my strong point.

Just to give you an instance of what I mean, George used to be the most agreeable fellow imaginable on the croquetground; he did not care twopence about the game, could scarcely hit the balls, and when he did, spooned dreadfully (in more senses than one, I can tell you), and was always dangling after me, and placing my ball for me, or keeping

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