Cricket, as viewed from the fixed Stars.

“For this one purpose they appear to be kept and fed.  They do no other work, so far as I have been able to ascertain.  Carefully selected and trained, their mission is to go about the world looking for Balls.  Whenever they find a Ball they set to work to kill it.  But the vitality of these Balls is extraordinary.  There is a medium-sized, reddish species that, on an average, takes three days to kill.  When one of these is discovered, specially trained champions are summoned from every corner of the country.  They arrive in hot haste, eager for the battle, which takes place in the presence of the entire neighbourhood.  The number of champions for some reason or another is limited to twenty-two.  Each one seizing in turn a large piece of wood, rushes at the Ball as it flies along the ground, or through the air, and strikes at it with all his force.  When, exhausted, he can strike no longer, he throws down his weapon and retires into a tent, where he is restored to strength by copious draughts of a drug the nature of which I have been unable to discover.  Meanwhile, another has picked up the fallen weapon, and the contest is continued without a moment’s interruption.  The Ball makes frantic efforts to escape from its tormentors, but every time it is captured and flung back.  So far as can be observed, it makes no attempt at retaliation, its only object being to get away; though, occasionally—whether by design or accident—it succeeds in inflicting injury upon one or other of its executioners, or more often upon one of the spectators, striking him either on the head or about the region of the waist, which, judging by results, would appear, from the Ball’s point of view, to be the better selection.  These small reddish Balls are quickened into life evidently by the heat of the sun; in the cold season they disappear, and their place is taken by a much larger Ball.  This Ball the champions kill by striking it with their feet and with their heads.  But sometimes they will attempt to suffocate it by falling on it, some dozen of them at a time.

“Another of these seemingly harmless enemies of the human race is a small white Ball of great cunning and resource.  It frequents sandy districts by the sea coast and open spaces near the large towns.  It is pursued with extraordinary animosity by a florid-faced insect of fierce aspect and rotundity of figure.  The weapon he employs is a long stick loaded with metal.  With one blow he will send the creature through the air sometimes to a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile; yet so vigorous is the constitution of these Balls that it will fall to earth apparently but little damaged.  It is followed by the rotund man accompanied by a smaller insect carrying spare clubs.  Though hampered by the prominent whiteness of its skin, the extreme smallness of this Ball often enables it to defy re-discovery, and at such times the fury of the little round man is terrible to contemplate.  He dances round the spot where the ball has disappeared, making frenzied passes at the surrounding vegetation with his club, uttering the while the most savage and bloodcurdling growls.  Occasionally striking at the small creature in fury, he will miss it altogether, and, having struck merely the air, will sit down heavily upon the ground, or, striking the solid earth, will shatter his own club.  Then a curious thing takes place: all the other insects standing round place their right hand before their mouth, and, turning away their faces, shake their bodies to and fro, emitting a strange crackling sound.  Whether this is to be regarded as a mere expression of their grief that the blow of their comrade should have miscarried, or whether one may assume it to be a ceremonious appeal to their gods for better luck next time, I have not as yet made up my mind.  The striker, meanwhile, raises both arms, the hands tightly clenched, towards the heavens, and utters what is probably a prayer, prepared expressly for the occasion.”