1873—74.] THE QUORN IN LUCK. 117 



refused the offer of a sovereign for their booty from a gentle- 

 man who met them en route ; and hounds and huntsmen went 

 away puzzled as to how their well-earned prey had escaped 

 them. Equally unusual was an incident that took place two 

 days later with the Cottesmore at Witham Wood. Having run 

 a fox to ground in an old drain, they proceeded to bolt him 

 with a terrier. Not only did they succeed in doing this, but 

 the process of dislodgment extended to another brace ; and all 

 three, being hemmed in by the people on foot, unfortunately 

 ran in among the hounds and were kiUed. More than this, 

 there were still two others in the drain, who were ejected in 

 safety. The three slain were all old foxes. 



The Thursday at Willoughby was a bye-day, and was full of 

 varied sport. 



And now we come to Friday (December 25), when they met 

 at Great Dalbv, their farthest fixture from the Kennels. Of 

 the morning itself it is enough to sa}^ that it was one of the 

 most i^erfect specimens of the beautiful hunting days with 

 which we have been indulged of late — a day on wliich the 

 powers of sound, sight, and scent seem to enjoy their fullest 

 liberty. Gartree Hill was the origin of the first event of the 

 day. A few minutes in covert, and then a break away across 

 the line of the eager expectant crowd — a crowd, not in the 

 ordinary depreciatory sense of the term, but a chosen body of 

 Meltonians, Tailb3dtes, with good sportsmen and hard riders 

 from the hunts of Cottesmore and Belvoir. Two fields from 

 Gartree Hill, as all the world may know, is a narrow belt of 

 plantation, with two small handgates as its only passage. 

 The hounds dashed through close to these ; but 'twas only by 

 surging, squeezing, and wriggling that the train of pursuers 

 could issue through in their wake. Three fields more, and 

 then came Sii' Francis Burdett's covert to cause division and — 

 to too many — dismay. It seemed Lombard-street to a china 

 orange, or any less hackneyed but equally extravagant odds, on 

 the fox having entered the stronghold — at least, so thought 

 nine-tenths of the field, and by this calculation were thrown 



