THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 45 



equally at home ; the prince of all coachmen, 

 gentle or simple, and as brilliant a performer 

 across country as ever rode to hounds. 



A small knot of gentlemen had now gathered 

 round the drag, admiring the well-appointed 

 team, and exchanging short greetings with its 

 pleasant owner, when at length a horseman in 

 green plush, pricking along at a quick trot 

 towards the meet, was viewed in the distance, 

 and at once recognised as Will Long. 



" His Grace's compliments to the field," said 

 the well-mannered whip, as he lifted his cap 

 respectfully to one and all, " and begs to say 

 the frost is too hard to take the hounds out 

 of kennel." 



"Then," said Russell, in an agony of dis- 

 appointment, " I hope when you get back that 

 you'll find them all dead on their benches." 



It is almost needless to say that, if such a 

 calamity had occurred, no man on earth would 

 have deplored it more than John Russell, as 

 every one who knew the humanity of his nature 

 and his love for a hound will readily understand. 

 Hard words they were, it is true ; but, beyond 

 all doubt, they were words only, and not wishes, 

 which he thus allowed himself to blurt out ; 

 and, as the keenest remorse overtook him with 

 no limping foot, let us hope that the recording 

 angel has long since blotted out the angry 

 speech for ever. Will Long, however, never 



