12 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



them four times, that there was nothing the matter 

 with his muscles. 



A few minutes later Arthur Cayley and I stroUed 

 slowly through the peaceful grounds that surround 

 the semi-sacred precincts of the Head Master's house 

 at the back of the college. Although sore we were 

 young and cheerful, and the prospect of leaving the 

 birch at a remote distance in the future was very 

 pleasant. By this time I knew the call of nearly 

 every small British land bird, and could stand in 

 a wood or marsh and recognise all the different 

 species. It was not surprising, therefore, that as 

 we walked slowly along I was suddenly brought to a 

 standstill by the cry of a bird I had never heard 

 before. What was it? That I must discover at 

 once. The cry was frequently repeated, and passing 

 through the shrubbery, there was the bird sitting 

 on a willow- tree. 



I had a " secret " pocket on the inside of my 

 waistcoat in which reposed my favourite *' catty " 

 and a few shot. It was soon out, and at the first 

 shot there was a welcome " plunk," and the rarity 

 — a female Cirl Bunting — fell dead. With my 

 treasure in my pocket I made my way back to 

 Arthur Cayley, who had kept watch, and met the 

 other delinquents fresh from their chastisement. 

 They were all much interested in the " new " bird, 

 which I still treasure owing to the curious circum- 

 stances under which it was obtained. 



During one of my holidays I went with my parents 

 to stay at Condover Hall in Shropshire. The owner 

 of this superb Elizabethan mansion, crowded with 

 ancient treasures, was Mr. Reginald Cholmondely. 

 He was a very briUiant and handsome man, a good 



