made on both, to leave the full force of the deadly missile to
strike his wicket instead of his leg; and to end the innings, so
far as his side was concerned, by being immediately bowled out.
Grateful for his escape, he was about to return to the dry ditch,
when he was peremptorily stopped, and told that the other side was
'going in,' and that he was expected to 'field.' His conception of
the whole art and mystery of 'fielding,' may be summed up in the
three words of serious advice which he privately administered to
himself on that trying occasion--avoid the ball. Fortified by this
sound and salutary principle, he took his own course, impervious
alike to ridicule and abuse. Whenever the ball came near him, he
thought of his shins, and got out of the way immediately. 'Catch
it!' 'Stop it!' 'Pitch it up!' were cries that passed by him like
the idle wind that he regarded not. He ducked under it, he jumped
over it, he whisked himself away from it on either side. Never
once, through the whole innings did he and the ball come together
on anything approaching to intimate terms. The unnatural activity
of body which was necessarily called forth for the accomplishment
of this result threw Thomas Idle, for the first time in his life,
into a perspiration. The perspiration, in consequence of his want
of practice in the management of that particular result of bodily
activity, was suddenly checked; the inevitable chill succeeded; and
that, in its turn, was followed by a fever. For the first time
since his birth, Mr. Idle found himself confined to his bed for
many weeks together, wasted and worn by a long illness, of which
his own disastrous muscular exertion had been the sole first cause.

The third occasion on which Thomas found reason to reproach himself
bitterly for the mistake of having attempted to be industrious, was
connected with his choice of a calling in life. Having no interest