Addendum to Whitchurch, Saturday. 25 



him as an owner of racehorses unless tliey intended 

 to thoroughly forgive him. Mr. Abingdon will now owe 

 them a heavy grudge. All the racing world, Jockey Club 

 included, has long known of the jockeys' d-'linquencies 

 complained of in the circular. To further attempt their 

 repression by threats will only place a thicker veil over 

 them, and make them more dangerous. The ring men 

 are really masters of the situation in these degenerate 

 days of the turf, and just in proportion as honest owners 

 of racehorses fall off, so much the more must they create 

 dummy owners to deceive the public with ; and jockeys' 

 money to them is as sweet as other people's. By far the 

 wiser course, in my opinion, would be to make it obliga- 

 tory on every trainer or jockey who owns even a hair in a 

 horse's tail, to run that horse in his own name. We 

 should know then openly what we were doing, and those 

 who employed such interested people would know what 

 they were about. It would open the profession to fresh 

 aspirants, and honest men would have a chance. 1 do not 

 believe in repression. It has failed to put down Nihilism. 

 The turf is sick, and wants fresh air. 



Let us breathe the purer atmosphere of the hunting- 

 field. To begin with, I must hark back to Saturday 

 week, when thtit inopportune worry in Ash Withybed 

 sent me back to Whitchurch, sore at heart. Ash Wood, 

 in its remotest corner, it seems, had a redeeming feature 

 — a fox with a strong mind, that soon put some big 

 pastures, Shavington way, between himself and the pack, 

 and a splendid gallop resulted over a line not excelled in 

 any country — four miles to the wall — like pigeons — 

 through the Park to Adderley. and then, with the aid of 

 an empty stoaiach, he managed to circle back via 

 Wilkesley, and gain Ash, 15() yards in front of the 

 leading hound . A proud performance that gave him his life 

 and reputation. He had dusted his opponents for more than 

 an hour, over eleven miles of country, which only men with 

 second horses could give an account of. Sir Watkin will 

 be lucky if a better day is recounted this season.* 



Monday at Loppington is not a long story. A brace 

 were at home at Broughton Gorse, one of which slipped 

 across the railway for Besford Hill, and was soon lost. 

 Preston Spirngs was the home of another, who, after much 

 persuasion, crossed the Roden, and went to Soulton Wood, 



• A fox, believed to be this one, Avas found dead two fields on the oi.her side 

 of Ash Wood, a few days after this great run. 



