Acton Beynald Park and Pctton. 37 



ring of one hour and eight minutes, over a very fair line, 

 that could not fail to please its votaries. I regret very 

 much to hear that Sir Vincent himself got a nasty fall, 

 which laid him on the shelf for three or four days. People 

 don't fall lighter as they get older, and it is gratifying to 

 know that he is none the worse. Still more gratifying, 

 in a foxhunter's point of view, is it to have such a 

 practical refutation of the stories which have been ban- 

 ded about, that our leading squires were going to give up 

 fox-hunting and preserving foxes. There was not, I be- 

 lieve, a member of the Corbet family who was not 

 enjoying the sport on Saturday in one form or another, and 

 no one can say but that Sir Vincent's coverts have been 

 full of foxes all the season. Of those that went 

 best to-day, Mr. Walter Corbet, Sir Eichard Sutton, and 

 Mr. Clement Hill certainly deserved the credit of having 

 cut out the work. Sir Richard, it is clear, inherits the 

 bold blood that was famous with the Quorn some twenty 

 odd years ago, and which will always be identified with 

 Skefiington Hall, as much as with Lord Lyon and the 

 Derby. 



On Monday, all the world and his wife went to Bas- 

 church ; that is, the world inhabiting the Great Western 

 line of country from Wrexham to Shrewsbury — the 

 Whitchurch and London and North- Western side 

 choosing Coton with the Shropshire. Petton being the 

 order of the day, Mr. Sparling soon showed them foxes 

 in plenty. Stanwardine Gorse behaved better than when 

 last visited, a good fox going away beautifully. For the 

 first ten minutes the crowd had to race, and very soon 

 there was no jostling. Hounds ran past Cockshut, as if 

 for Loppington, and then, turning right-handed, ran to 

 ground at Burlton Mill. After the first ten minutes the 

 pace became slower. Petton again produced a plethora 

 of foxes, one, if not more, of which were killed without 

 much fun of a decided character. Those happy men 

 with second horses, I understand, "had a run in the even- 

 ing, of which I hope to glean more anon. I hear that 

 B. and S. had the best of the first run — not Brandy and 

 Soda, my dear friends. 



The Shropshire and Coton, midway between Wem and 

 Whitchurch, had much fun to boast of. A stay-at-home 



