192 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



The pen of Nimkod cannot fail in being somewhat lavish of its 

 praise of so sporting a county as Shropshire, and therefore his 

 readers must make all due allowances. In the first place, there may 

 be seen in it — all on the same day — four packs of fox-hounds : — viz. 

 Sir B. Graham's, Sir Eichard Puleston's, Mr. Boycott's, and Mr. 

 Wickstead's. In the next, there are two Hunt weeks in the year at 

 Shrewsbury — attended by almost all the gentlemen of rank and 

 property in that and the neighbouring counties — each week also 

 affording a splendid ball and supper for the ladies. The Old Hunt 

 meets in November, and several pleasant days have I passed at it. 

 The Young One (as some call it) was only established five years 

 since ; but its ball is considered the best, being the more select of 

 the two. The uniform of the members is also a set-off to a ball- 

 room, being a scarlet coat, buff waistcoat and breeches, with gilt 

 knee buckles, and handsome uniform buttons to all. The champagne 

 also travels at a merry pace in the supper room, which is not the 

 case among the " old ones." In short, the tout ensemble is quite 

 imposing for the country. 



On Saturday the 7th, we met at Acton Eeynald, the seat of Mr. 

 Andrew Corbet, only son of Sir Andrew ; iDut owing to not being able 

 to keep our foxes above-ground, we had no sport worth detailing. I 

 mounted Mr. Mytton on this day (who had no horses at Shrewsbury), 

 and never saw any mare for five days afterwards ; but this is a trifle 

 among old friends, and she was very well taken care of at Halston. 



I have often seen hounds fed, but never in a more masterly way 

 than that which "Will Staples, Sir Bellingham's first whipper-in, 

 adopts, and which I will endeavour to explain. He throws open 

 the door of the feeding-house, and stands at a certain distance from 

 it himself. He draws a certain number of hounds, calling them by 

 their names. He then turns his back upon the open door-way, and 

 walks up and down the troughs, ordering hack such hounds as he 

 thinks have fed sufiiciently. During this time not a hound stirs 

 beyond the sill of the open door. One remarkable instance of 

 discipline presented itself on this day. Vulcan — the crowning 

 ornament of the dog-pack — -was standing near the door waiting for 

 his name to be called. I happened to mention it, though rather in 

 an under-tone ; when in he came — licked Sir Bellingham's hand — 



