PREFACE 



BEFORE the war, while turning over the closely-filled 

 pages of my memory, I came across some pigeon-holes 

 containing packets tied up with ribbons of pink, blue, 

 and black ; they led me to some photograph-albums and scrap- 

 books redolent of things and people of yesterday and long 

 ago. There I found a number of what in pre-war days we 

 would have called the " sporting parson," and it occurred to 

 me what a wrong impression many folk had of them. This 

 decided me to write a book dealing with the lives of a few. 



There are many more I should like to write about, but want 

 of space forbids. 



I think a certain duty rests upon each successive generation 

 to pass on to the next as faithful a record as possible of the men 

 and women who have left pleasant echoes in the valleys where 

 they have wandered. 



My critics may say I have met some sublime specimens 

 amongst my parsons, and that I am a hero -worshipper. I 

 think I have met some sublime specimens, and that to be a 

 hero-worshipper is not a thing to be despised, for who can say 

 that it may not lead us to become heroes and heroines our- 

 selves ? 



It has become the fashion to abuse the sporting parson, in 

 consequence of a few having been a disgrace to their cloth, and 

 they have brought the rest into disrepute. But who are we 

 that we should judge human beings from a poUceman's point of 

 view ? Will the opinion of those who are narrow-minded and 

 can only think in kindergarten language or worn-out symbols 

 help us in our study of the deep, dark science of man ? Life 



