SOMETHING LIKE A REPORT.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1795, 21 November 1879, Page 2

SOMETHING LIKE A REPORT.

The Geeat Ceicket Match. The following outrageous report appears in . a Canadian paper : r The infernal lies, Mr Editor, which newspaper correspondents are in the habit of i telling has made the proverb to “ lie like a penny-a-limr’’ proverbial all over the world. But, in the whole course of my professional ■ career, I never saw or heard of such barefaced lying as has been practised on the public at large in regard to the great cricket match lately played at Hoboken. I need not refer to particulars ; but anyone who will compare the following report of the match with those already published, cannot but see that there has been dreadful misrepresentation somewhere or other. I feel somewhat reluctant in thus, in a wholesale manner, making my brethren of the goose-quill amenable to public strictures ; but “ honesty is the beet policy,” as the thief sa'd when gazing on the royal jewels in the Tower of London. It is comforting, however, to reflect that Canadian journalists' “ withers are unwrung” in the matter, since the reports that have been hitherto published have all been American. The following report, Mr Editor, you may rely upon as correct, as I witnessed every action I here record with my own eyes The game commenced at a quarter past twelve a.m. The twenty-two best cricketers that could be scared up in all America went in high feather, showing their muscles and developing tricks with the ball in such a manner that betting immediately rose to 60 to 1 against the Britishers. However, when the game commenced, the eyes of the Yankees were opened somewhat, and their countenances began to wear a kind of “skeered” expression, which time, which cures all things, failed to remove. You know the result—the Yankees wore skinned to death, only making thirty-eight runs. The Britishers went in, and now commenced some tall playing. The first ball was delivered by the American Wright. You’d think, from the manner he sent it in. that the Britishers were about to be bowled off the world immediately. A cheer rose from the Americans as the ball whizzed from the hands of the almighty Wright. But it was of short duration, The Britisher let drive with the bat, and instantly the ball was seen to make a bee line for the Alleghany Mountains, and then was lost to sight. The running commenced. The two Britishers scored 156, and then sat down to smoke until the ball was found. The Yankee Twenty-two rushed pell-mell in a body after the ball, which they pursued for about two miles and a half, when, to their great relief, its further progress was arrested by policeman XYZ, who restored it to their custody. The Britishers might have objected to this as unfair, but they scorned to do so. Play commenced again, as soon as the Yankee Twenty-two had arrived on the ground. The next ball was a slow one—one of those ’cute balls that slip under the bat unawares, and put the batter out. The English fellow saw the dodge. The assembled thousands hung in anxious suspense on the effect of the ball. It came along in a sneaking manner. Just as it rcaached the bat, the Britisher let drive like lightning. The ball disappeared as quickly! Here was a mess for the Yankees, The English scored 116, and sat down to lunch. Meanwhile the American Twentytwo turned out to look for the ball. Various large rewards wore offered for information respecting it. Messages wee despatched by telegraph to all parts of the Union, inquiring if the ball had been seen, and, if so, to have it at onco stopped and sent back. After an hour’s fruitless search, the ball was at last discovered in the breast pocket of the long stop. It had been so skilfully played by the Britisher that the Yankee never felt it dodging into his pocket, and it was only in looking for his life preserver that he riiscovored it. Play again commenced. This time the Yankees were determined not to lose sight of the ball. Flora Temple, Greased Sneaker, and some other of the best trotting horses in the country, were harnessed close at hand. Men with telescopes were stationed at all parts of the field, and one or two express trains were chartered to start at a moment’s warning, if the ball should be seen to take its fl : ght in their direction. Everything was done that Yankee ingenuity could devise. The exciting moment at last

'Came. Away wenb the ball with desperate precision towards the wicket. Bang went the Britisher’s hat! Away flow the bail, with forty thousand balloon power, and away flow, Shelter skelter, pell mell, topsy turvey, one oyer the other, the United States Twenty-two, and the trotting horses, the crowd, the express trains, and about 150 cabs and carriages-, in pursuit of the ball. Never was seen such a chase and a race since the world began. Ihe women screamed, the children roared, the men yelled, tore their beards, and cursed their natal days. The tumult was awful. The ball was seen about a mile and a half in the distance, making dreadful headway for Canada. An express engine upon the Troy road was almost upon it. But the ball regularly dodged the engineer every time he made a grab at it, and he lost it altogether by the engine running off a bank 200 ft high. The great trotting horse, Flora Temple, was next upon the track. The gallant mare seemed imbued with the national order so infectious under the stars and stripes, for she ‘ out flared’ herself entirely. She took houses and hills in splendid style, leaped six canals, each sixty feet wide; threw sixteen somersaults, and twice actually caught the ball in her teeth, but unfortunately it dropped out again, and poor Flora was at last obliged to give in, having ran into a deep morass, when she sunk up to her notrils. The poor girl, like a true American horse, was observed to weep when obliged to give up the chase. At the time I am writing this despatch, she is engaged in digging herself out of her unpleasant situation. It is hard to say what became of the ball. It is stated that Messrs La Mountain and Haddock, the lost balloonists, who recently so inconsiderately turned up like barnacles on a ship’s bottom in the inhospitable regions of the Hudson’s Bay Company, far beyond the bounds of civilisation, after their families had gone to the expense of ordering several suits of mourning—it is said that these gentlemen, when making their unpropitious descent, saw something like a cricket ball proceeding through the air with unabated speed in the direction of the North Pole. So ended the great international game, Mr Editor, in which the Yankees were skinned alive, much to the satisfaction of every Canadian, to none more so than to your faithful correspondent, Hickory Broom.