
          I do not know what you will think of my taste when I tell
 you that I saw nothing in England that delighted me so
 much as a fox chase.  It is the most exhilarating sport
 imaginable. Only think of a pack of fifty fine deepmouthed
 hounds going full cry & full speed over the fields followed by
 twice as many sportsmen dressed in scarlet & mounted on elegant
 horses, stopping at nothing (only that I observed the old fellows would
 sometimes turn out of the way for a wide ditch or a high slope)
 while Reynard is seen half a mile ahead of all making the best of
 his way for some wood or thicket where he hopes to [??]
 or elude his noisy pursuers. 


 Anyone that pleases may join the chase, though there is generally a party of gentlemen who
 hunt regularly with each pack and who are [crossed out: ar] always well
 mounted and wear a scarlet uniform. Frequently the fox takes
 off in a straight line and leads them a chase of twenty miles or
 more before he is killed, and these chases try the [bottom?] of the
 horses and the courage of their riders. The day that I went hunting
 however, the fox was so accommodating as to keep running in 
 a circle so that I was able by sometimes taking a short cut
 to keep up with the hounds & see all the sport, & finally [??] 
 at the death after going full gallop for about an hour. The
 hounds belonged to the Earl of Harewood who with his sons were
 in the field. But I forget you are no sportsman & probably
 can't see what enjoyment there can be in risking one's neck
 for the sake of catching up a fox, good for nothing when he is got,
 so I will spare you any further details.
        