84 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



Khartoum Cathedral, and it carried me back to 

 Shropshire on the wings of melody. 



Further along the Newport road, at Chet- 

 wynd End, is typical English woodland scenery. 

 Hither every springtide, in order to see the haw- 

 thorn and the may, used to walk from Newport 

 the late Mr. Charles Home, M.A., father of the 

 late Rev. C. Silvester Home, M.A., M.P., pastor 

 of Whitefield's tabernacle. 



Coming back to Pell Wall, I remember how 

 the grounds of this mansion were periodically the 

 scene of the annual local flower show, when, in 

 the cool of the evening, 



"... many a rose-lipt maiden 

 and many a lightfoct lad " 



danced merrily on the lawn. Many of those lads 

 went away on or soon after that fateful Fourth 

 of August, and some of them . . . the roll of 

 honour . . . the cenotaph . . . the glorious 

 dead. 



Market Drayton itself is rich in history. In 

 his fifth book of " Pilgrimages to Old Homes " 

 Mr. Fletcher Moss reminds us how the effect of 

 the first Edward's iron-handed rule was felt there. 

 At Market Drayton were born the father, and the 

 grandfather, of a great official, whose writing is 

 very popular, in fact warmly welcomed in every 

 home, none other than Sir John Swanwick Brad- 

 bury, G.C.B., late Permanent Secretary to the 

 Treasury, whose name became a synonym for 

 the twenty and ten shilling notes bearing his 



