Albert Neilson Hornby, nicknamed Monkey Hornby (10 February 1847 – 17 December 1925) was one of the best-known sportsmen in England during the nineteenth century excelling in both rugby and cricket. He was the first of only two men to captain the country at both rugby and cricket but is also remembered as the England cricket captain whose side lost the Test match which gave rise to the Ashes, at home against the Australians in 1882. Additionally, he played football for Blackburn Rovers. Early life He was the sixth son of William Henry Hornby, a cotton mill proprietor and director of the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway who was Member of Parliament (MP) for Blackburn from 1857 to 1865. His brothers, Edward and Harry, were also MPs for Blackburn from 1869 to 1874, and from 1886 to 1910 respectively. Edward and another brother Cecil also played first-class cricket. Albert attended Harrow School, for whom he played against Eton College at Lord's, and from there returned to Lancashire to join the family business. Cricket career Whilst at Harrow, his family had moved to Shrewbridge Hall, Nantwich, Cheshire, and he first played cricket for that county in 1862 and played in 20 matches between then and 1876. His club cricket was for the East Lancashire Club, Blackburn and he was first tried for Lancashire County Cricket Club in 1867. It was with his county that he was to play his finest cricket. From 1869 to 1899 he played 683 innings in first-class cricket with an average of over 24 runs. He played for Lancashire for 33 years, 17 as captain (in 1879–1893 and 1897–1898). For many years he provided an ideal attacking foil to the careful defence of his opening partner, Dick Barlow, with whom he was immortalised in one of the best known of all cricket poems, At Lord's by Francis Thompson which contains the following lines: It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red roses there may blow; It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red roses crest the caps, I know. For the field is full of shades as I near a shadowy coast, And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host As the run stealers flicker to and fro, To and