THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 139 



brought down a hound to Flete from the Hayne 

 kennels. On asking Blatchford how the world 

 went with him, he replied : " Well enough, sir, 

 thank 'ee, on the whole ; but, Lor, my stum- 

 mick be almost a wored out by lying so long, 

 wi' the fox in a bag, on that cold ground up 

 to Xewton Wood, a-w^aiting for the squire's 

 hoUey, and for Parson Rissell to bring up 

 they hounds, and then to let un goo. Lve 

 scarce no stummick left, yeur honour ; 'tis 

 fairly stived up wi' th' cold." 



The foxes, however, were no bagmen, but the 

 real old Hectors of the moor, as they so often 

 proved themselves to be by going straight aw^ay 

 for their native and far-distant homes. Vixens 

 and game were scarce in those days, and to 

 satisfy the cravings of nature, it was marvellous 

 how far a fox would travel in search of the 

 one and the other. The cubs fostered in the 

 artificial earth on arriving at maturity soon 

 brought immigrants to the colonv from a 

 distant land, and with one of these before him, 

 whether found in the drain or a neighbouring 

 cover, it was no child's-play for Russell and 

 his hounds to pull him down ere he reached 

 his own diggings in some inaccessible tor on 

 rugged Dartmoor. 



Oh I it would stir a man's heart to the core 

 to hear Russell describe some of those Broad- 

 bury runs, which the brush of a Carter, or the 



