HAMPSHIRE 117 



Wishing to see the whole of Mr. Villebois' country, I sent my 

 horses to Ah'esford, which is the head-quarters of the Hunt, and 

 arrived there on the 21st of December (1824), which is called the 

 shortest day ; but it was long enough for us, for it rained the whole 

 morning, and we drew blank. Considering the weather, however, I 

 was very fortunate — having seen one beautiful burst of forty 

 minutes, and tw^o fine runs (one two hours and twenty-seven 

 minutes, and the other one hour and thirty-seven minutes — killing 

 both foxes), in seven days' hunting. I missed one very fine run of 

 an hour and forty minutes (and killed) , by going to London ; and 

 these hounds had the best run of the year the day after I returned 

 home. It was upwards of fourteen miles in a straight direction, and 

 over so severe a country that there w^ere several bad falls, and it was 

 for some time doubtful whether or not the Coroner would not have 

 been in requisition. Mr. "William Heysham rode at a stile, which 

 his horse refused. On turning him at it again, he saw the cause of 

 his refusal : Mr. Hugo Mildmay was lying on the ground on the 

 other side of it covered with dirt, with his head under his shoulder 

 apparently dead ; and an hour intervened before animation was 

 restored. The fox on this day was so pressed that he ran into a 

 dwelling-house, and secreted himself in the pantry among the bacon. 

 Foster said it w^as one of the severest and most brilliant day's 

 sport he had ever seen with hounds. This run was with the small 

 pack. 



Not having hunted last season in Hampshire, I missed some of Mr. 

 Villebois' field. Amongst them I looked in vain for Mr. John Willan, 

 who was one of their best performers, but who, with his family, has 

 left this part of the world. Captain Price (son of that well-known 

 sportsman Mr. Barry Price) has also taken up his quarters in Sir 

 Thomas Mostyn's country, where I hear he is considered a teazer 

 when things go straight. Mr. Charles Beaufoy and Mr. Thompson 

 are gone on a tour to the Continent. Surely there can be nothing 

 to be seen there equal to Dick Foster and Mr. Villebois' fox-hounds ! 

 and a writ of nc exeat regno should be served upon such men in 

 October. It is gratifying, however, to see the rising generation of 

 young men of fortune in this country entering so well to the sport. 

 The Messrs. Knight, of Chawton Park, all ride hard ; and from what 



