344 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



lighter and in better spirits from my lying up yesterday and in 

 coming down stairs was surprised to find Francis Pym, just 

 arrived by the train from Leicester, where he had stopped last 

 night, being on his way up from Scotland, having heard from 

 his brother Alan of my being here and having travelled up 

 with Sir Richard Sutton, who had entered into an animated 

 conversation on foxhunting, which had inspired him with a 

 desire to have at least a taste of it. He had therefore deter- 

 mined to have a day at Melton and afterwards visit his friend 

 Potchin of Barkby Hall ; while partaking of an excellent break- 

 fast provided by Mason, to which Pym's excitement would not 

 permit him to do equal justice with myself, we arranged for the 

 hiring of a horse for him from Cuttage, while I went on with 

 " Carlow " to the meet at Little Dalby Hall, the seat of Mr. 

 Hartopp, very prettily placed on rising ground amidst trees and 

 near the church, with a very neat lodge approach, presented 

 an interesting spectacle. 



A large field generally, superbly mounted and looking like 

 going, and Sir Richard Sutton and his whole establishment 

 exceeding in neatness of appearance and style and the quality 

 of their cattle anything I have ever seen. Sir Richard himself 

 pleased me amazingly ; he is a middle-aged man, about the 

 middle heio"ht, of small reo"ular features, dressed in a scarlet 

 frock coat, cap, and cords, taking the management of his own 

 hounds, which he does well and with spirit, and looking like a 

 gentleman and sportsman. His two sons are slim and spare, 

 dressed like sportsmen, mounted superbly, and going very well. 

 The Huntsman, whips and some of the second horsemen were 

 all mounted equally well, all dressed in new coats, cords and 

 caps and with new whips, and stirrup leathers over the 

 shoulders, looked the beau ideal of a first-rate establishment. 

 The hounds are of a stamp and breeding suited to this excellent 

 turn out. 



We immediately proceeded to draw the small plantations 

 and coverts of Mr. Hartopp, Sir Richard handling his hounds 

 with great spirit and energy, and soon found, in a small covert 

 called the Punch Bowl, the exciting "tally-ho! gone away!" 

 being heard from the top of the covert. Sly Reynard had 

 faced the hill and took a round at best pace by Thorpe Burrow 

 Hill, Somerby, Pickwell, and back again to a singular dry stick 

 covert adjoining the Punch Bowl where, after hanging a short 

 time, he was killed. During this ringing run, which lasted for 

 about three-quarters of an hour, including a longish check at 

 the finish, owing to another fox having got up and the hounds 



