And now, my indulgent reader, we will make full sail southwards, with the brave north wind full astern, to the headquarters of the cricketing world, the abode of the all-powerful M.C.C. Here we find a slow bowler; I call him slow, for though bowling every conceivable pace, I always maintain that he is at his best when four or five out of the six sent down are leisurely in their progress up the pitch, mixed up with one or two so exceedingly fast that “eye cannot follow them in their flight.” I refer to Trott, or “Alberto,” as he is generally called. [Illustration: _WILLIAM LILLYWHITE._] [Illustration: _WILLIAM CLARKE_, _Famous for Underhand Bowling_.] A bowler of infinite resource—at times no doubt he gives many runs away through the persistence with which he tries new theories, new dodges, or a new action; but he is one of the few bowlers that the batsman is compelled to watch more closely than many another. Personally, I have retired from the conflict with Albert through every one of the exceedingly varied methods by which he has removed obstructing batsmen. As a rule he bowls with a decidedly low action, with any amount of off break on—with every degree of pace. Again the ball is held in the last three fingers, and a powerful upright thumb confronts the player opposed to him; this is generally a “pull-backed” one which hangs most uncomfortably in the air. The next comes as the lightning, and as likely as not catches you full pitch on the toe, or hits the bottom of the stumps as you are lifting the bat to play. At his best (for sometimes I have seen him bowl for hours without employing his fast one) it is as fast a ball as one wishes to meet, and its pace is made in the last of the few short steps Trott takes. Should he be unsuccessful, he will suddenly raise his arm and deliver one right over his head at a medium pace, which very often whips back sharply from the off, or, reverting to something like his original action, he will bowl an over or two of slow leg breaks, which, if their length is not all it should be, break about as much as Harry Trott was wont to break, and that is saying a good deal. He is a bowler that I have never seen tired, and a wonderful gatherer of unconsidered trifles in the way of almost impossible “c. and b.’s.” He stands in front of you like a brick wall, and you’ve got to hit it mighty hard for him to let it go by. Truly a great worker, this Anglo-Australian, as the papers so frequently call him.