64 HUNTING AND SPORTING NOTES. 



Lythwood. Below the hill at Bomere snow and frost 

 had disappeared, but on the higher ground snow lay 

 sufficient to make riding unpleasant, and, as a climax, a 

 cold drenching rain came down unmercifully. Such 

 good judges as foxes invariably are in their choice of dry 

 and sheltered homes, on a day such as this, were, of 

 course, impossible to get at, and so no one was astonished 

 or indeed sorry, when Thatcher threw up the sponge, at 

 two pm., without finding one. 



Thursday mended matters considerably, and Whit- 

 church Eacecourse was the rendezous of the most select 

 field of the season, owing to the greater amount of snow 

 that lay on the Wrexham, Ellesmere, and Oswestry side 

 of the county. Sandford Pool covert and withybed 

 were too wet to hold their accustomed fox, so a trot had 

 to be made to Cloverley, which seemed full of foxes. A 

 peregrination of a not very interesting character took 

 place from the big wood to Shavington, and after toiling 

 in its miry clay for a short time, back went their fox to 

 Cloverley, and was lost. Scent did not appear brilliant, 

 and the going was so heavy that many had the shine 

 taken out of them before Lockey went in search of fresh 

 foxes in Cloverley Gorse. There they were in plenty. 

 One making a bolt for Ightfield sorely tried the humour 

 of the field, who wanted to pursue him, while the hounds 

 declined to leave another that took the opposite direction, 

 and soon landed them again in Shavington. This time, 

 however, with better intent, for he went straight on, 

 and out as if for Adderley, but more to the left to Burley 

 Dam and Kent's Kough, and then with a vastly improved 

 scent, he essayed to give his pursuers a taste of his 

 quality, and test their powers of going at high pressure 

 through deep pasture, by steering straight for Ash Gorse. 

 Without, however, entering it, he struggled on to his 

 home at Cloverley, and died there, after giving them a 

 fine ring of something over an hour, which, considering 

 the awful state of the country, was more than most of 

 the horses could do with comfort to themselves. 



On Friday Borderer had made up his mind to carry 

 out a long-cherished scheme of a day with the Wheat- 

 land. The meet was at Weston, right down the dale, and 

 the nine mile jog from Bridgnorth would have been 



