THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 257 



supreme. So Dr. Doran was quite right when 

 he said, "A good dinner sharpens wit; while a 

 hungry man is as slow at a joke as he is at a 

 favour." 



*' On one occasion, and one only," writes an 

 old member of the club, "do I remember a 

 breach of the peace taking place at those merry 

 meetings. Somebody, utterly ignoring that 

 precept of St. Peter, which warns us not to 

 *' speak evil of dignities," was abusing the Bishop 

 of Exeter (Phillpotts) in round terms, when a 

 young squire (Tom Carew, of Collipriest) a 

 staunch friend and admirer of that stout-hearted 

 prelate, seized a pound of butter and threw it 

 with all his force at the speaker's head. 'There! 

 take that,' he said; 'and don't attack in his 

 absence a better man than vourself ; I'll not 

 hear him abused by you or any other man with 

 impunity ! ' " 



To most men whose years have been chiefly 

 spent amid the stirring scenes of a sportsman's 

 life, some adventures have occurred which, 

 being so exceptional in their character, can 

 scarcely be written or related without causing 

 the shadow of doubt to darken their credibility. 

 Many such have happened to Russell ; but 

 there is one he is wont to tell, which, at any 

 risk, claims a passing notice in this memoir. It 

 is the story of a wild fox taking his prey while 

 hotly pursued by hounds — a circumstance not 



