THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 223 



jump through a gate, dashed its brains out 

 against the bars and died on the spot. Will 

 Rawle — Russell's henchman, kennel-man, and 

 faithful servant for forty years — was inconsolable, 

 declaring he would rather have lost his Christmas 

 pig than that fawn. 



Perhaps at no period of Russell's life was 

 his pack stronger, or more efficient, than about 

 the year 1840 ; but as, with the exception of a 

 few hounds bred by himself from the old Stover 

 strain, it consisted mainly of drafts from other 

 kennels, the lot as a whole were, of course, 

 unlevel and ill-matched, and on that account 

 would scarcely have passed muster at a flag- 

 scrutiny even in those days ; still, if taken 

 individually, every hound had a character of his 

 own, and bore the tower-stamp impressed on 

 his face, and, we may be very sure, was fairly 

 entitled to his daily meal. Deeds, and not 

 looks, were the prime consideration ; for, as in 

 the celebrated Tom Hodgson's case, " no 

 Modishes and Merkins were kept, because they 

 were too handsome to hang, and too bad to 

 give away ; but almost every hound looked like 

 his master, as if he knew how to kill a fox." 



It is almost needless to add that, notwith- 

 standing the care of the kennel-man already 

 referred to, the condition of his hounds was 

 closely and constantly supervised by Russell 

 himself ; nor is it too much to say that, the 



