THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 221 



That Milliner was a hound after Russell's own 

 heart. A light whimper from her — for she'd 

 occasionally speak on a drag — had a world of 

 meaning in it for his ears. 



"We shall find in this cover," he would 

 say; "that's a tongue that never told a lie." 



Then came the double-tongue, and the fox 

 was on his legs that instant. 



His best friend at this time, both as a fox- 

 preserver and a liberal supporter of his hounds, 

 was Sir Arthur Chichester, of Youlston, who, 

 although still with his regiment, the 7th Dra- 

 goons, not only gave Russell the benefit of his 

 territorial influence, but aided him handsomely 

 with the sinews of war. Sir Arthur, in early 

 youth, had been well entered by his father, 

 who kept hounds at Youlston, and who, when 

 Mr. Templer's packs were broken up, was 

 lucky enough to secure a fair share of the 

 " Let-'em-alones" for his own kennel — the best 

 of which, however, fell soon afterwards into 

 Russell's hands. 



The present baronet had succeeded to his 

 title and retired from the army for some time, 

 when Russell, paying him a visit on a beauti- 

 ful summer's morning, found him in the park 

 busily engaged in riding down the deer, which 

 he had made up his mind to get rid of and 

 kill, one by one, as they were wanted for his 

 own and his friend's use. His mode of operation 



