148 sportsmen Parsons in Peace and War 



friend, a Mr. George Oliver. Most of his school holidays, and 

 later his vacations, were spent in his stables, as he lived only 

 half a mile from the Honeys'. There were always a few colts 

 and made hunters there, and he rode the youngsters for Mr. 

 Oliver. Sometimes he would find himself on a capital mount, 

 and at others he would have to deal with most awkward brutes, 

 which was excellent training for him. One hunting morning 

 Mr. Oliver said, " Now, Reg, I am going to mount you on the 

 five-year-old chestnut, and if we get a decent run I want you to 

 send her along, as I fancy she has a good turn of speed. I will 

 give you a lead on a made hunter if you require it, and if she 

 proves as fast as I expect, I shall run her in the Brocklesby and 

 Southwold point -to-points, and you shall ride her." 



Young Honey was elated at this prospect, but it never 

 materialised, as a week later the horse landed with its forefeet 

 in a grip, or shallow drain, and strained its shoulder so badly it 

 was never sound again. The fine big pastures and flying fences 

 of thorn, with occasional guard rails, were a great treat to him 

 and a complete contrast to the tiny fields of Devon, where there 

 is no chance of letting a horse out between the fences. 



His first and only curacy was under the Rev. George 

 Clark Green, at Modbury, near Plymouth. The vicar was a 

 dear old man, an old Etonian and a great gentleman, who lived 

 a gentle life in the love of his parishioners and the mild pleasure 

 classical scholarship seems to give its possessors. He liked 

 shooting, which he did badly, and was fond of fishing, which he 

 did well, and had some fifty years at his vicarage to dream over 

 on sunny afternoons when the fish were not rising. He had 

 never hunted, but when the new curate said he was fond of a 

 day with hounds, and he hoped the vicar did not object, the old 

 man woke out of his day-dreams and remembered that he was a 

 bit of a sportsman himself, so all he said was, " So long as you 

 do not neglect your duty I shall not mind." And then, thinking 

 perhaps that this was the occasion for a little homily, he added, 

 " I would sooner see a young fellow have a good day's hunting 

 once a week than spend three or four afternoons at tea-parties 

 talking tittle-tattle." So the thing was satisfactorily arranged. 



After some years the old vicar's health began to fail, and he 

 drifted into a bath-chair, in which he continued to come to 

 church, but could take no active part in the service ; so that all 



