THE REV. JOHN RUSSELL. 269 



marvellous. I remember well that, on one occa- 

 sion in Dorset, after a fast and straight run 

 from Thresher's Gorse, in the Buckland Vale, 

 over the Monument country, the fox was headed 

 and the hounds brought to a slight check. At 

 that moment a fresh fox was halloed ahead, 

 while some of the field who viewed him did 

 their best to get the hounds on to his line. 

 Russell never moved ; and some one remarking 

 that he was taking matters very coolly (being 

 so well placed in so good a run up to that 

 point), he quietly answered, ' The hunted fox is 

 behind ; that is a fresh fox.' My huntsman 

 was of the same opinion ; and while he was 

 making his cast, I viewed the hunted fox, 

 which had laid down ; we got on him again, 

 and, in a sharp burst of ten minutes more, 

 rolled him over in the open. Many of the 

 field — a large one — had galloped of^" to the 

 halloa of the fresh fox, and, being on those 

 downs where hounds can race, were thrown out, 

 nor did they make their appearance till many 

 minutes after the fox was killed. One man on 

 coming up remarked to my huntsman, ' Where 

 have you been ? Why didn't you come to my 

 halloa?' 'Eating my fox,' was the answer; 

 Russell, who was close by, adding to the man, 

 ' I told you, sir, it was a fresh fox you halloed ; 

 the hunted fox was headed, and had laid down 

 behind us.' " 



