"io mwQB of the t)untino*3fielt> 



new guinea when he first broke cover, but now beaten 

 and begrimed with soil, bites the dust, and is torn, as Mr 

 Whyte Melville has it, into 



"A hundred tatters of brown." 



'But what of Russell ? On bringing back the hounds 

 to Helland Wood there they found him, sticking to his 

 fox like the Old Man of the Sea to Sinbad the Sailor ; 

 and driving him like wildfire through that great covert, 

 as if it was no bigger than a willow-spinney. 



' " A fresh hat in the ring," ' thought Russell, as he 

 greeted the nine hounds thrown in at head. " Now then, 

 Arthur, we shall have him in no time ; " and they killed 

 him in an hour and twenty minutes. 



' On counting the hounds it was found that three of 

 them were missing ; and, anon, came tidings that a third 

 fox had slipped away, and that those hounds had been 

 seen by a turf-cutter near the Jamaica Inn, streaming 

 away towards Brownwilly. Jemmy Reynolds, kennel- 

 man to Mr Pomeroy Gilbert, was then despatched after 

 them ; and on approaching a tor of that wild moor, he 

 heard the three hounds beneath it, marking among the 

 cavernous rocks that la}' at its base. In went his 

 terriers ; and Jemmy, soon handling his fox, brought him 

 home that night in great triumph to the Priory kennels. 

 I never knew,' adds the narrator, ' of a pack finding three 

 foxes at once — with scent breast-high — and accounting 

 for all three of them, as Russell's did on that day.' 



How popular Russell was and how thoroughly every 

 man, woman and child sympathised with him in his 

 love of sport, may be gathered from the following 

 anecdote, which I give in his own words : — 



' In the spring of 1830 I took my little pack down to 



