For example, in the University matches from 1878 to 1881, Oxford was so overmatched by Cambridge that in each of these years before the play began it was considered by the outside public as a foregone conclusion for the latter. The really knowing ones, however, who thoroughly understood the game, were aware that there was one man on the Oxford side who might any day get rid of the best side in England for a very small score. That man was Mr. Evans, the famous fast bowler. He was the only man on the side who, humanly speaking, seemed capable of turning the chances of the game. He consequently chose his own particular end--the one he thought most suited to his style, quite irrespective of any mediocre slow bowler that was on his side; and the havoc he played amongst the Cambridge wickets for those four years may be seen from the old scores. It is, however, an exception when a side depends almost entirely on its fast bowling, and it is only when this exception arises that a slow bowler (assuming him to be one who is competent to judge) must not have his choice of ends. Of course we mean his choice of ends at the commencement of an innings, as after that it is the captain’s duty to put any bowler on at either end, and it is the duty of every bowler to obey his captain cheerfully. As already remarked, every slow bowler should take advantage of every local peculiarity that may offer itself. For instance, there may be a ground where a high tree is behind one of the wickets; the slow bowler, if he thinks this tree will help him at all, should take his measures accordingly. We hope none will think we are advocating anything at all unfair in the game, or anything that is even on the line between fairness and ‘not quite straight.’ As a rifle-shooter takes advantage of a lull in the wind to pull his trigger, as a deerstalker of every rock and unevenness of ground to approach his game--in short, just as in every kind of sport natural facilities may be utilised--so in bowling every peculiarity of time and place should be enlisted on the side of the bowler in his (in these days of good wickets and good batting) by no means easy task of getting rid of the batsman. If a bowler, who, we will say, usually bowls over the wicket, perceive that by bowling round the wicket he may make his bowling more difficult to see, and consequently more effective, on account of a tree, house, or hedge that is directly behind that side of the wicket, he should most certainly change and make the most of that advantage. An injudicious and talkative batsman often materially assists a bowler by such remarks as, ‘I can’t see your bowling a little bit. When tossed high in the air that beastly tree is right behind;’ or, ‘When you bowl over the wicket the ball gets right in a line with the dark windows of the pavilion, and I can’t see it at all.’ Can anyone imagine for a moment that a bowler will not do his very best instantly to make the most of the dark