Zhc lRev>. 5obn IRussell 345 



' Then they shan't go, John, if you don't like it. I 

 don't see why you shouldn't have your amusement 

 as well as other people.' Acting on this sensible 

 suggestion, Russell kept the hounds and did not cease 

 hunting them till 1871, when, fox-hunting being well 

 established in North Devon, he parted with the last of 

 his pack. 



There are countless stories told of his marvellous 

 endurance. Here is one of his own. 



' I left this house (Tordown) on one eventful morning, 

 rode to Iddesleigh, twenty miles, whither I had sent the 

 hounds the night before, found a fox and killed him 

 during one of the most awful storms of thunder, 

 lightning, and rain I ever saw. Scent breast-high from 

 first to last. I then rode to Ash, Mr Mallet's place, 

 dined there, and danced afterwards till one o'clock ; 

 went to bed and rose again at three ; pulled on my top- 

 boots and rode down to Bodmin, just fifty miles, and 

 met Tom Hext's hounds about five miles from that 

 town. Found a good fox and killed him, dined with 

 my old friend Pomeroy Gilbert, and again did not get 

 to bed — much against my rule — till the little hours. 

 Rested next day — if walking several miles to a country 

 fair can be called resting — then off next morning to 

 Iddesleigh, took out the hounds, found a fox in Dow- 

 land and killed him, close to the Schoolmaster Inn in 

 Chawleigh parish, twelve miles as the crow flies. I then 

 turned my horse's head for Tordown, and was sitting 

 down to dinner at my own table, and all the hounds 

 home at six o'clock, the distance being fully twenty 

 miles from the said Schoolmaster Inn to this house.' 



And his courage was equal to his endurance. 



' I myself,' writes Mr Stanley Lucas to a friend, 



