84 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
Khartoum Cathedral, and it carried me back to 
Shropshire on the wings of melody. 
Further along the Newport road, at Chet- 
wynd End, is typical English woodland scenery. 
Hither every springtide, in order to see the haw- 
thorn and the may, used to walk from Newport 
the late Mr. Charles Horne, M.A., father of the 
late Rev. C. Silvester Horne, M.A., M.P., pastor 
of Whitefield’s tabernacle. 
Coming back to Pell Wall, I remember how 
the grounds of this mansion were periodically the 
scene of the annual local flower show, when, in 
the cool of the evening, 
“. . . many a rose-lipt maiden 
and many a lightfoot lad ” 
danced merrily on the lawn. Many of those lads 
went away on or soon after that fateful Fourth 
of August, and some of them... the roll of 
honour . . . the cenotaph ... the glorious 
dead. 
Market Drayton itself is rich in history. In 
his fifth book of “ Pilgrimages to Old Homes” 
Mr. Fletcher Moss reminds us how the effect of 
the first Edward’s iron-handed rule was felt there. 
At Market Drayton were born the father, and the 
grandfather, of a great official, whose writing is 
very popular, in fact warmly welcomed in every 
home, none other than Sir John Swanwick Brad- 
bury, G.C.B., late Permanent Secretary to the 
Treasury, whose name became a synonym for 
the twenty and ten shilling notes bearing his 
