wicket, the bowling, whatever the quality of it, has a heavy problem to solve. And when he begins hitting there is no stopping him: it means hitting to all parts of the ground at a terrific pace, and the batsman at the other end is dwarfed by comparison.
I should say Mr. Hornby, with the exception of myself, has gone in to bat first man oftener than any man in England or out of it, and his record for first wicket down in the matches he has played—Lancashire county matches in particular—should be exceptionally high. He has a wonderful eye, and at his best was very quick on his legs for a short run, at times accomplishing extraordinary things which electrified his opponents and the spectators. I know he used to be the terror of some batsmen who were in with him, and one or two have said they never knew whether they were on their head or their legs while the partnership continued; but I never had any difficulty with him. If I said "No," he was prompt to respond; and no matter how far up the wicket he might be, he could always get back in time.
On one occasion, at Prince's, when we were in together, instead of trying to punish the bowling and make as many runs as we could, we played tip and run for half an hour, and completely demoralised the bowlers and fieldsmen. Each tried to outdo the other in desperate endeavour, and I should say that that halfhour was about the liveliest seen on a cricket-field. One run was a curiosity. I played a ball in front of me, and without looking where it was going yelled "Come on, Hornby!" I had no need to say "Come on" to him; for he was up like a flash of lightning, and had crossed before the words were out of my mouth. The ball travelled straight up the pitch to Willsher, the bowler, who ran up a yard or so to meet it, and I thought it was all over with me; for I was not more than half-
