Hunting Sires in SJiropsJiire. 09 



than it has done in the past. Inasmuch as there is 

 such an acknowleged scarcity of good horses, that their 

 price is sure to rise in the market. I have thought 

 it worth while to give a Hst of the hunter sires 

 that I know of in the locahty, and shall be happy 

 to supplement it next week, if particulars are sent me. 

 Alphabetically, they are as follow : — 

 Canterbury, by Cathedral, out of Queen of Trumps ; 



near Wellington. 

 Cardinal York, by Newminster, out of License (by Game- 

 boy) ; near Oswestry. 

 Linnasus, by Stathconan, out of Sweet Violet (by Volti- 



guer) ; at Mr. Litt's, Shrewsbury. 

 Mayfly, by Underhand, out of Debonnaire ; at Oswestry. 

 Polardine, by Beadsman, out of Eegalia (by Stockwell) ; 



at Lythwood, Shrewsbury. 

 Eoscius by the Eake, out of Tragedy, at Ludlow. 

 Sugarplum, by Saccharometer, out of Limeflower ; at 



Shifnal. 

 Traveller, by Adventurer, out of Acropolis (by Citadel) ; 



at Lea Bridge Kennels. 

 Victor 11. , by Victor ; at Meole Brace, Shrewsbury. 

 Mr. T. C. Cotton has a French-bred horse at Ash, 



called Montresor, whose pedigree I forget. 



It would be found an excellent plan to have a sire 

 show every spring in the county, giving prizes to sires of 

 every class that will stand in the county for the ensuing 

 season, at reasonable fees. This plan has answered 

 remarkably well in Suffolk, and is acknowledged to 

 have improved the breeding j)i-'ospects of that locality 

 more than anything else. 



And now for yet a few more words on hunting. Scent 

 last week was remarkably good on the grass, as was 

 evidenced on Wednesday and Thursday. On the former 

 day, at Baschurch, Sir Watkin, who by the by I rejoice 

 to hear is rather better, began by chopping a fox — a 

 vixen I fear — close on the Shropshire border at Walford. 

 Then an incursion was made into the Lordship, and 

 America was invaded. A brace of foxes were found in this 

 beautiful but much too seldom visited covert, and one 

 looked like affording a run, as the hounds went like greased 

 lightning for ten minutes, until a drain blighted the hopes 

 of the enterprising emigrants. Grig Hill, in, the evening 

 wound up the day satisfactorily with a fast ring for 



