Roger. look up the bit about Jingle's cricket match against Sir Thomas Blazo, or some such name. I shall see if I can find it.
'Warm!--red hot--scorching--glowing. Played a match once--single wicket--friend the
colonel--Sir Thomas Blazo--who should get the greatest number of runs.--Won the toss--first
innings--seven o'clock A.m.--six natives to look out--went in; kept in--heat intense--natives all fainted--taken away--fresh half-dozen ordered--fainted also--Blazo bowling--supported by
two natives--couldn't bowl me out--fainted too--cleared away the colonel--wouldn't give in--faithful attendant--Quanko Samba--last man left--sun so hot, bat in blisters, ball scorched
brown--five hundred and seventy runs--rather exhausted-- Quanko mustered up last remaining strength--bowled me out-- had a bath, and went out to dinner.'
'And what became of what's-his-name, Sir?' inquired an old gentleman.
'Blazo?'
'No--the other gentleman.'
'Quanko Samba?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Poor Quanko--never recovered it--bowled on, on my account --bowled off, on his own--died, sir.' Here the stranger buried his countenance in a brown jug, but whether to hide his emotion or imbibe its contents, we cannot distinctly affirm. We only know that he paused suddenly, drew a long and deep breath, and looked anxiously on, as two of the principal members of the
Dingley Dell club approached Mr. Pickwick, and said--
'We are about to partake of a plain dinner at the Blue Lion, Sir; we hope you and your friends will join us.'
'Of course,' said Mr. Wardle, 'among our friends we include Mr.--;' and he looked towards the stranger.
'Jingle,' said that versatile gentleman, taking the hint at once. 'Jingle--Alfred Jingle, Esq., of No Hall, Nowhere.'
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