was caused, perhaps, by scruples as to the use of live bait,
which led him to look up some elaborate recipes in Walton's 'Compleat
Angler.' Pike, though not very intelligent, have long seen through those
ancient secrets.

One of these friendships led to a characteristic little incident. In the
Christmas holidays of 1844 Fitzjames was invited to stay with the father
of his friend Beamont, who was a solicitor at Warrington. There could
not, as I had afterwards reason to know, have been a quieter or simpler
household. But they had certain gaieties. Indeed, if my memory does not
deceive me, Fitzjames there made his first and only appearance upon the
stage in the character of Tony Lumpkin. My father was alarmed by the
reports of these excesses, and, as he was going to the Diceys, at
Claybrook, wrote to my brother of his intentions. He hinted that
Fitzjames, if he were at liberty, might like a visit to his cousins.
Upon arriving at Rugby station he found Fitzjames upon the platform. The
lad had at once left Warrington, though a party had been specially
invited for his benefit, having interpreted the paternal hint in the
most decisive sense. My father, I must add, was shocked by the results
of his letter, and was not happy till he had put himself right with the
innocent Beamonts.

Under Balston's advice Fitzjames was beginning to read for the
Newcastle. Before much progress had been made in this, however, my
father discovered his son's unhappiness at school. Although the deep
designs of reform with which the masters seem to have credited him were
purely imaginary, my father had no high opinion of Eton, and devised
another scheme. Fitzjames went to the school for the last time about
September 23, 1845, and then tore off his white necktie and stamped upon
it. He went into the ante-chapel and scowled, he says, at the boys
inside, not with a benediction. It was the close of three years to which
he occasionally refers in his letters, and always much in the same
terms. They were, in the main, unhappy, and, as he emphatically
declared, the only unhappy years of his life, but they had taught him a
lesson.

III. KING'S COLLEGE

On October 1, 1845, he entered King's College, London. Lodgings were
taken for him at Highgate Hill, within a few doors of his uncle, Henry
Venn. He walked the four miles to the college, dined at the Colonial
Office at two, and returned by the omnibus. He was now his own master,
the only restriction impos