148 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
One landlord told me they did not get many 
“orousers” at his fishing hotel. “If we do 
chance on one,” he remarked, “‘ when he wants to 
come again we are always full up!” 
The name of the fishing inn is generally short, 
not so lengthyas the Australian sign, “Come in and 
see Wiggins!” The best name, perhaps, is that 
which tells you where you are, such as Tushielaw 
Inn, Cound Lodge Inn, Stokesay Castle Hotel, and 
so forth, Then there is the Swan Hotel at Ten- 
bury, with a picture of the bird, quite at its ease, on 
the outside. It has sat so long that one wonders 
whether there will ever be any cygnets. An illus- 
tration of crossed-keys indicates the title of the 
Cross Keys Hotel, whilst often a family name is 
employed, such as the Crew and Harpur Arms 
Hotel at Longnor, or the Arundell Arms Hotel, 
Lifton, Some hotel names suggest queer adven- 
tures, the “ Dog and Duck,” for instance ; or 
the “Swan and Bottle.’’ Others may be heraldic, 
like the “ Purple Goat.” Occasionally you get a 
Trout Inn, an Angler’s Arms, and other piscatorial 
titles. Cambridge men will remember the famous 
Pike and Eel, while Oxford is not ignorant of the 
Trout at Lechlade. 
A shrewd business man once said he reckoned 
it took as much brains for a housewife to run a 
household well as for her husband to steer a busi- 
ness organization. If this is so, then the landlady 
of an hotel—a’ big house, indeed !—has to be 
competent. Personality, too, is necessary. One 
country hotel at which I stayed had twenty-five 
