THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 59 



"Do you see," he said, "that dark patch of 

 hanging gorse, hemmed in on the northern side 

 by yonder knoll ? Well, I've seen many a good 

 run from that sheltered nook. On one occasion, 

 however, I had found a fox which, in spite of 

 a trimming scent, contrived to beat us by 

 reaching Gray's Holts, and going to ground 

 before we could catch him." Now those earths 

 are fathomless and interminable as the Cata- 

 combs of St. Calixtus. They are so called 

 'Gray' from the old Devonshire name, signify- 

 ing a badger, a number of those animals having 

 long occupied that spot. Consequently such a 

 fortress once gained is not easily to be stormed, 

 even by Tip or the stoutest foe. 



"Again, we found that fox a second time; 

 and now, while the hounds were in close pursuit 

 and driving hard, to my infinite surprise I saw 

 Tip going off at full speed in quite a different 

 direction." 



" He's off, sir, to Gray's Holts ; I know he 

 is," shouted Jack Yelland, the whip, as he called 

 my attention to the line of country the dog was 

 then taking. 



That proved to be the case. The fox had 

 scarcely been ten minutes on foot when the dog, 

 either by instinct, or, as I believe, by some 

 power akin to reason putting two and two to- 

 gether, came to the conclusion that the real 

 object of the fox was to gain Gray's Holts, 



