if you understand."
'There is a friend of mine, an old sea-captain. He is the sort of man that when the three balls are lying in a straight line, tucked up under the cushion, looks pleased; because then he knows he can make a cannon and leave the red just where he wants it. An Irish youngster named Malooney, a college chum of Dick's, was staying with us; and the afternoon being wet, the Captain said he would explain it to Malooney, how a young man might practise billiards without any danger of cutting the cloth. He taught him how to hold the cue, and he told him how to make a bridge. Malooney was grateful, and worked for about an hour. He did not show much promise. He is a powerfully built young man, and he didn't seem able to get it into his head that he wasn't playing cricket. Whenever he hit a little low the result was generally lost ball. To save time--and damage to furniture--Dick and I fielded for him. Dick stood at long-stop, and I was short slip. It was dangerous work, however, and when Dick
The setting is more static and a bit more introspective than Three Men in a Boat, but I found it just as enjoyable.
A writer buys a country house and, while it is being remodeled, stays in a nearby cottage with his two almost-adult children and their 9-year-old sister. The kids are a handful, and his new acquaintance with bellowing cows, recalcitrant donkeys and other aspects of country life disturbing. Mostly, he ruminates on the upbringing of children and goes off on tangents. It's no "Three Men in a Boat," but there are some amusing bits.