Retirement of Mr. Wichsted. 69 



ground in a drain there, which had sufficient water in it 

 to mate a terrier decline closer acquaintance with it. A 

 fast twenty minutes. Pitchford big wood held a fox, but 

 thanks to the bad behaviour of some of the field, who 

 were three-parts through it before hounds entered (it is 

 no use preaching to them), he stole away, and was seen to 

 enter the gardens, where terriers up and down trees, and 

 various kinds of ferreting, failed to put him out. Golding 

 Coppice held a brace, one of which got nailed in covert, 

 and the other went away to Eaton Mascott, and was there 

 lost. A not very satisfactory day. 



Things again looked blue in their hunting aspect for 

 the rest of the week. Haughmond Abbey was a failure, 

 which was a universal disappointment, seeing that hounds 

 have not been into Holly Coppice since October, probably 

 an unprecedented event, and one that does not please the 

 sporting associations of Sundorne Castle. 



On Saturday, in worse frost, if anything, than the day 

 before, the Shropshire essayed a bye day at Shawbury, 

 found a fox, and ran him to ground, when the rest of the 

 day was profitably (?) expended in digging him out. 



I dare say they will hunt to-day at Baschurch, but 

 Borderer doubts the wisdom or pleasure of trusting 

 valuable horses (or their riders either) to do their best 

 while there is an unmistakeable bone in the air. 



Rumours are unusually rife of the retirement of 

 masters of hounds. I have already alluded to one which 

 is threatened in Shropshire, but which I hope will not be 

 carried out. There is another retirement, however, that 

 comes with a heavy thud upon South Shropshire. Mr. 

 C. W. Wicksted has for more than twenty years guided 

 the destinies of the Ludlow country, and in his hands one 

 of the most beauteous pack of hounds, full of the choicest 

 blood that English kennels and long practical experience 

 and good judgment could bring together, has been main- 

 tained. The inheritance of a famous hunting name from 

 the country of Woore was not an empty phrase with Mr. 

 Wicksted, for if ever a thorough love of sport in all its 

 branches was endued by inheritance on man, so certainly 

 its example is the present Master of the Ludlow, who is 

 now about to give up the reins of government to, I 

 believe, a young and worthy successor. Of this I would 



