The Revs. Chard, Froude and Michell 121 



would gladly have jumped out of the window if it had been 

 low enough, but he was out of the house in a surprisingly short 

 time, murmuring something about coming another time, which, 

 however, he never did. Perhaps he was wise. 



I have been told that once more Mr. Froude quickly recovered 

 and was galloping away from home directly his ecclesiastical 

 superior had left the premises. 



I cannot vouch for the truth of these stories of Mr. Froude's 

 endeavours to avoid coming into collision with his Bishop, but 

 they are very generally known in Devonshire. Amongst the 

 first things you are told on going to stay with friends in that 

 county are stories of Jack Russell and Mr. Froude, and they are 

 repeated every time you return to the land of beautiful cream. 

 It is obligatory that you should be surprised and interested, as 

 if you had never heard them before. 



There is one story of parson Froude that always amuses me, 

 and people have sworn to me it is true. 



Mr. Froude, who was always surrounded with dogs, was out 

 walking one day with a favourite whippet, when the Bishop hove 

 in sight and enquired in a strained but studiously polite voice 

 and manner, " And may I enquire, Mr. Froude, what kind of 

 dog you call that ? " 



In broad Devonshire accents came the reply, " Oh, that is 

 what we call a lang dog, and if your lordship war just on'y to 

 shak' yere appern at un he'd go like a dart ! " 



This story will not be amusing to those who are unaware of 

 the rules appertaining to whippet-racing, the signal for these 

 dogs to start their race being given by the shaking of a hand- 

 kerchief. 



The picture of the dignified Bishop shaking his apron 

 strikes me as funny. 



At the time of which I am writing there were numbers of 

 hunting parsons in the west country. I do not know why Mr. 

 Froude was especially marked for correction by Bishop Phillpotts 

 who was then Bishop of Exeter. Perhaps he did not know that 

 under his very nose there were clergymen who hunted foxhounds, 

 harriers, and otter-hounds. 



Once the Bishop, smelling rats (if ever these dignitaries do 

 such things), sent for a churchwarden to ask him if it were true 

 his vicar hunted and neglected his work. 



