198 RADNOR REMINISCENCES 



where Stuart's pack joined us, and, pushing slowly through 

 the big covert to the west side, raced away over that lovely 

 valley that Alec Brown crossed so beautifully years ago, 

 and checked on the opposite hillside at nearly the same 

 spot they did before. On turning around and looking back 

 across the vale, I thought of poor Brown; but the picture I 

 saw was far, far different from the one in which he had been 

 the central and heroic figure. To-day, there was a chap 

 pulling the top rail out of a fence in one field; a certain 

 lady, who rides astride, was just greeting Mother Earth 

 with outstretched arms in another pasture; and a gentle- 

 man in scarlet was having troubles of his own with a refus- 

 ing horse in another; what other excitement or tragedies 

 were occurring, I had not time to see, for some one said, 

 "Here comes Rose Tree," and from over the brow of the 

 hill came an apparently endless mass of hounds. It was not 

 only Rose Tree, but two other farmer packs as well, that 

 were harking to the Radnor. The countryside was alive 

 with hounds of all descriptions; and, on working through a 

 wood along the Street Road, picked up the line with a 

 burst of music that is hardly conceivable to any one who 

 was not there to hear it. The music from those sixty-five 

 and a half couples of American, near-American, and half- 

 bred hounds must have been sweet to the spirit of old 

 Jesse Russell, who lies buried on Hunting Hill, a couple of 

 miles away. 



The pace hounds set from here on was not fast, but just 

 fast enough for 'most all to keep abreast of the pack and 

 thoroughly enjoy themselves. Keeping the Street Road 

 on their right, hounds ran straight on up-country, finally 

 marking their fox to earth in fifty-five minutes, on the 

 southerly slope of Temple Hill, which lies halfway between 

 the Westtown School and Cheyney. 



