72 MEMOIR OF 



If, in adopting that particular recreation, his 

 object were to keep his muscles in strong play, 

 and at the same time to delight his eve with 

 the beauties of Nature, so profusely lavished 

 on the meads, the moors, and the combes of 

 that picturesque country, he could scarcely have 

 made a better choice. But, in all likelihood, 

 the low condition of his exchequer, coupled 

 with that innate impulse which prompted him 

 to long for the company of hounds at all 

 seasons of the year, had far more to do with 

 it than a craving for mere bodily exercise or a 

 love of scenery. 



The hounds, it has been said, were a 

 "scratch lot," and Russell, even then a some- 

 what experienced amateur, must have felt as 

 little proud of them as Jack Falstaff did of the 

 ragged scarecrows before whom he marched so 

 unwillingly into the town of Coventry. How- 

 ever, if they had only fulfilled the adage of 

 " handsome is that handsome does," he cer- 

 tainly would have been the last man to find 

 fault with anv amount of mere outward defects 

 in size, shape, or comeliness of form. 



But not so ; there was not a hound amongst 

 them that would touch a trail ; not one that 

 would come to a mark and give him the slightest 

 clue to the whereabouts of the hidden game ; 

 indeed, both his patience and energy were well- 

 nigh exhausted by the continuous ditftculty of 



