/I 4 8 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



One landlord told me they did not get many 

 " grousers " at his fishing hotel. " If we do 

 chance on one," he remarked, u when he wants to 

 come again we are always full up ! " 



The name of the fishing inn is generally short, 

 not so lengthy as the Australian sign, "Come in and 

 see Wiggins ! " The best name, perhaps, is that 

 which tells you where you are, such as Tushielaw 

 Inn, Cound Lodge Inn, Stokesay Castle Hotel, and 

 so forth. Then there is the Swan Hotel at Ten- 

 bury, with a picture of the bird, quite at its ease, on 

 the outside. It has sat so long that one wonders 

 whether there will ever be any cygnets. An illus- 

 tration of crossed-keys indicates the title of the 

 Cross Keys Hotel, whilst often a family name is 

 employed, such as the Crew and Harpur Arms 

 Hotel at Longnor, or the Arundell Arms Hotel, 

 Lifton. Some hotel names suggest queer adven- 

 tures, the " Dog and Duck," for instance ; or 

 the "Swan and Bottle." Others maybe heraldic, 

 like the " Purple Goat." Occasionally you get a 

 Trout Inn, an Angler's Arms, and other piscatorial 

 titles. Cambridge men will remember the famous 

 Pike and Eel, while Oxford is not ignorant of the 

 Trout at Lechlade. 



A shrewd business man once said he reckoned 

 it took as much brains for a housewife to run a 

 household well as for her husband to steer a busi- 

 ness organization. If this is so, then the landlady 

 of an hotel a big house, indeed ! has to be 

 competent. Personality, too, is necessary. One 

 country hotel at which I stayed had twenty-five 



