158 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



schools, some of the best in the land, were men- 

 tioned, one by one. None seemed to satisfy. 

 The father's anxiety appeared great. All were 

 only too desirous to help in a case so deserving 

 of the loftiest advice. A stage further was 

 advanced. The father announced that what he 

 really wanted was a school where they gave the 

 boys beer and plenty of Rugby football. Beer 

 there must be, he insisted. This rather puzzled 

 the intellectuals. It was an item which they had 

 not seriously considered. They could all tell him 

 of schools where Rugby football was played indeed, 

 but of a school where home-brewed beer was dis- 

 pensed, as part of the curriculum, they could not 

 be sure. The father stuck to his point. t( Let 

 the lad have a little beer at school with plenty of 

 Rugby football, and then he will have to look 

 after himself," he said. Somebody inquired : 

 "And how old is your son now, sir?" The 

 reply was unexpected : " At present the lad is 

 two years old." The company decided that the 

 matter was not pressing. 



Generally, when March browns, red palmers 

 and all the rest of it have had their due in the 

 way of conversation in the smoking room after 

 dinner, somebody branches off into humorous 

 reminiscences. A good many have stayed in my 

 memory. 



One concerned a revival meeting. A man 

 down at heel, but possessed of extraordinary inner 

 fervour, kept saying in a loud voice : " Amen. 

 Hallelujah ! Praise the Lord ! " A lady next to 



