VARIOUS ARTICLES IN “ THE VETERINARIAN.” 353 
inasmuch as Mr. Turner has found a case in which the seat of 
roaring did exist in the nasal fossa, or air-passage of the face, and 
as that part of the animal is more within reach of the operator 
than those in which it almost exclusively belongs, successful 
means will not be wanting to remove this cause. I can men- 
tion one case in which it struck me that roaring commenced in 
the nose. The well-known and enterprising Mr. John Price, of 
Ryal, near Upton-on-Severn, asked me to give his Bobadil 
horse a gallop in the large meadow close to that town ; and be it 
known, that he had refused a very large price for this said 
Bobadil horse. “ A most delightful goer,” said I, when I pulled 
him up ; “ but he makes a nasty noise in his nose.” “ Non- 
sense !” replied his owner ; “ a sounder animal never breathed.” 
Now for the sequel. Mr. Price gave him a gallop, admitting 
that he heard something in his nose; and in less than two months 
he was a roarer, and sold for an old song. 
My own experience in roarers is not worth detailing. It con- 
sists of a hack I called “ The Bull”, for when in deep ground he 
roared not unlike a bull ; and a whistler, which I purchased at a 
small price for a hunter, but, having nearly killed me from want 
of the needful (one Berkshire turnip field, after a frost, pumped 
him out), I soon got rid of him. Many years back I took Sir 
Henry Peyton’s advice : “ Never buy a whistler,” said he ; “he 
cannot improve on your hands, and he is almost sure to get 
worse.” Still — and this is in favour of the seat of the disease 
varying — I have seen some first-rate hunters that have been 
roarers. I remember General Harry Warde’s Star, for which 
six hundred guineas were refused ; Will. Barrow’s Grey, when 
he hunted the Warwickshire hounds; Tom Hill’s Grog horse, 
over the Surrey hills ; a horse ridden over Warwickshire by a 
gentleman who — fortunately here perhaps — had lost the tym- 
pana of both ears. It was something bordering on the “ awful” 
to see this person riding this horse at stiff timber, perfectly un- 
conscious of the noise he was making, and still he seldom gave 
him falls. Mr. Tatchell’s famous Black Sultan horse was pur- 
chased as a roarer for £30, Mr. T. refusing £300 for him; and 
Mr. Francis Charton, on a roarer that he purchased for £30 
from Mr. Parker, then master of the Worcestershire fox- 
hounds, was one of two only whose horse’s pipes were good 
enough to attempt a high stile, at the top of the Brill hills, 
with Sir Thomas Mostyn’s hounds, which he cleared without 
touching, and in my presence. So much for degrees of roar- 
ing, depending, perhaps, but I speak diffidently, on the seat 
of it ; and I could produce half a score more instances, if 
