yb Sportsmen Parsons in Peace and War 



pulpits for himself from which he delivered his addresses to 

 rows of chairs arranged around him, while becomingly robed in 

 his night-shirt. Perhaps it is not surprising that such a wildly 

 volatile nature should have developed a stutter during his early 

 childhood that clung to him more or less all his life. There 

 must have been so much to say that required saying quickly 

 that one can almost hear the stutter beginning. 



When twelve years old he went to school at Clifton, and 

 later to a grammar-school in Cornwall. It is a httle curious 

 that while he was never popular at school, he was a general 

 favourite when he went to Cambridge. As a schoolboy he did 

 not take the slightest interest in games. I admit it with 

 anguish, and public-school readers must forgive him as best 

 they can. His passion was science and art, but occasionally he 

 came out of his seclusion and performed lonely feats of school- 

 boy prowess, such as chmbing notoriously unclimbable trees, or 

 jumping the grimmest obstacles, which created sensations, even 

 if they only served to confirm the general verdict that he was a 

 " rum chap." 



Charles Eangsley never quite conquered his stammer, and 

 never lost his love of Devonshire, where he first made the 

 intimate acquaintance of birds, fishes, and all the beautiful 

 things of nature which were more to him than food and raiment. 



Speaking of his love for the home of his youth, he says : 

 " You must not despise their accent, for it remains of a purer 

 and nobler dialect than our own, and you will be surprised to 

 hear me, when I am merry, burst into pure unintelligible Devon- 

 shire. When I am very childish my own country's language 

 comes to me like a dream of old days." 



One of the stories I like best in Mrs. Kingsley's book of 

 memories, is, when her husband was dining with some officers 

 at Aldershot, someone present began to ridicule religion and 

 was reprimanded by Mr. Kingsley ; an apology followed at 

 once, the speaker having forgotten a clergyman was present. 

 " All right," said Eangsley, " but do not apologise on that 

 account. We are paid to fight these arguments, as you are paid 

 to fight in another way. If a clergyman is worth his salt you 

 will always find him ready to try a fall with you. Besides, it is 

 better for your friends, if they are to have poison, to have the 

 antidote in the same spoon." 



