MR. THORNHILL.— 1834. 289 



— ^i 



BY AN ADMIREU OF FOXHUNTING. 



MITFORD BRIDGE. FRIDAY, FEB. 4tH. 



We met this morning at Mitford Bridge, and proceeded 

 immediately to draw Wolford Wood. Boxall, the huntsman, 

 had no sooner put the hounds into the cover, than the cry 

 of Tally-ho ! resounded in all directions from the foot people 

 who had assembled to witness the sport. 



The scent in cover was so bad, that the hounds could 

 not press him, and reynard was some time before he could 

 be prevailed upon to leave. At length, he skulked away by 

 the side of a hedge, but the stanch pack were not to be so 

 easily deceived ; and after half an hour's cold hunting we 

 came to Sir George Philips's farm, at Ditchford. Some 

 of the old Sportsmen prophesied pug would wait for us in 

 the Honoural)le Baronet's new plantations ; and true were 

 their predictions, for in one moment after the hounds were 

 thrown in, the cry of \ Gone away,' proceeded from the lips 

 of that true lover of foxhunting, Mr. Charles Freeman. 



Instead of the dull and cheerless aspect which was 

 previously apparent on the countenance of every individual, 

 from the coldness of the day and badness of the sport, 

 might now be traced features glowing with anxiety and 

 animation, enlivened as we all were by the prospect of sport 

 so opportunely placed before us. Truly — 



' Never did men more joyfully obey. 

 Or sooner understand the sign to fly. 

 With such alacrity they bore away.' 



The hounds swept along after their game at a most 

 terrific pace, and crossing the Turnpike road about two 

 miles from Shipston, over the estate of Mr. Frederick 

 FiNDON, across the large open Common Field, on to Long 



