There's Foxey Hall{28} can throw the line
With any Walton angler;
To tell his worth would task the Nine,
Or pose a Cambridge wrangler.
Next, Pickey Powell{29} at a ball
Is master of the wicket;
Can well deliver at a call
A trite essay on cricket.
Jem Flowers {30} baits a badger well,
For a bull _hank, or tyke_, sir;
And as an out and out bred _swell_,{31}
Was never seen his like.
27 A GUN--"He's a great gun," a good fellow, a knowing one.
Joe is a first rate waterman, and by the Etonians styled
"Admiral of the fleet."
28 "Not a better fellow than Jack Hall among the Cads," said
an old Etonian, "or a more expert angler." Barb, Gudgeon,
Dace, and Chub, seem to bite at his bidding; and if they
should be a little shy, why Jack knows how to "go to work
with the net."
29 Who, that has been at Eton, and enjoyed the manly and
invigorating exercise of cricket, has not repeatedly heard
Jem Powell in tones of exultation say, "Only see me '_liver
thin here_ ball, my young master?" And, in good truth, Jem
is right, for very few can excel him in that particular: and
then (when Jem is _Bacchi plenis_,) who can withstand his
_quart of sovereigns_.
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