128 NIINIROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



the fixture being within reach of Mr. Ward's and Sir John Cope's 

 Hunts, as also of the Oxford sportsmen. No small share of science 

 was present. 



We found our fox immediately, and he afforded us a capital run. 

 After taking a turn or two in what is called " the Kennel Wood," he 

 broke at the upper end of it over the Downs, pointing for Celbourn 

 Chase Woods. Being headed, which caused a trifling check, he 

 turned to the left by Baydon village, along the ridge of the wood- 

 lands to Eingwood ; across the inclosures to Mimbury Banks ; over 

 the earths by Mimbury House for White Hill ; and was killed at 

 Soleby farm, in the parish of Chilton, about three miles from 

 Hungerford, and twelve from the place where he was found. 



The hounds having slipped away over the Downs with their fox 

 when they first found him, several of the horses were overmarked in 

 their pace to catch them, which accounted for the many falls I saw 

 as soon as we entered the enclosures, although the fences were quite 

 easy. The finish also was extremely pretty, having run from scent 

 to view — killing in an open field. A curious and somewhat amusing 

 scene at this time presented itself. Two farmers, anxious for the 

 honours of the day, rode into the midst of the pack, quite regardless 

 of the hounds, and began to contend for the brush. Mr. Combe 

 followed them, and I thought another hrusli, if not another who- 

 whoop, would have been the consequence. Although no great 

 difficulties presented themselves, this day's sport was highly credit- 

 able to the Oldakers and their hounds, and a great traat to those who 

 saw it. 



On the following day we met at Uffingdon Wood, a beautiful place 

 for a find. Above it is a range of downs, and below it is as fine a 

 vale as can be found in Leicestershire or in any other country. 

 Over this vale our fox took, and we killed him after a bad beginning, 

 but an excellent finish — in all thirty-seven minutes. Uffingdon 

 Wood can never be without foxes so long as a farmer and his wife 

 by the name of Spackman are in existence — for they feed them as 

 they would part of the stock on their farm. The worthy dame was 

 this day in great alarm lest we should kill her vixen fox, as she called 

 it, which I fear we were guilty of doing ; but there is no help for 

 such things in the middle of the month of February. 



