2o8 MEMOIR OF 



in his top-boots, and stroking his head deferen- 

 tially announced himself as the churchwarden 

 of St. B. 



" I am very sorry to hear," said the bishop, 

 addressing him, "the sad things that reach me 



respecting your vicar " 



"My lord," said the yeoman, interrupting 

 him, "don't believe a word of them. I hear 

 strange tales about your lordship, but I don't 

 believe a word of them, not I." 



Another story is told of the bishop and a 

 clergyman in his diocese, who, if not Russell 

 himself, must have been some one very like 

 him: "I am told, my lord," said the latter, 

 "that you object to my hunting." 



"Dear me," said his lordship, with a per- 

 fectly courteous smile, "who could have told 

 you so? What I object to is that you should 

 ever do anything else." 



Sarcasm could scarcely go farther. 



I will now give a few extracts from the 

 letters of an old friend, Mr. Trelawny, of Cold- 

 renick, who writes thus respecting Russell and 

 his hounds : — 



"The rising generation — the gormandising, 

 battue-shooter, and similar people — should learn 

 something of the heroes of old, who, alas ! are 

 dying out and leaving few behind them to fill 

 up the gaps. Where now are your Osbaldes- 

 tones, Kintores, Rosses, and such-like men? 



