46 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. 



old stock, these Tumors, and have held office in and about 

 the forest for generations, Henry, son of Michael, who 

 came there from Hollybush with the bloodhounds, living 

 at Tumor's Lodge, Bagot's Park, as steward to Lord 

 Bagot till a few years ago. But if old Michael Turnor 

 had gentle manners, as became his birth, his manner could 

 be firm enough, as is proved by the way he took the deer- 

 stealer. This man actually covered him with his gun, 

 and set his authority at naught. But Turnor bade his 

 attendant bring his gun to bear on the culprit, charging 

 him, " Don't shoot unless he shoots me ; but, if he fires at 

 me, do you shoot him dead." Then, dismounting from his 

 famous old shooting-mare, Nan, he walked resolutely up 

 to the poacher. The latter surrendered, but, at the time 

 of the trial, showed cause why his captor should intercede 

 for him. It seems that this man and his brother had been 

 watching a buck for an hour to get a shot at him. At the 

 end of that time Turnor came by, and away went the buck. 

 The brother was so angry that he wanted to shoot the 

 man who had spoilt his shot, and was with difficulty per- 

 suaded from his purpose. ^4 propos of the bloodhounds, a 

 good story is told of how they were hunting some deer- 

 stealers, and how they came to a check at some cottages 

 by three cross roads — possibly the Robin Hood at the top 

 of Marchington Cliff. When their attendants came up to 

 them they found the hounds sneezing and whining, with 

 their heads up, nor could they be induced to try for the 

 scent. At last it was discovered that the road had been 

 freely sprinkled with black pepper, which effectually foiled 

 the line, so that the deerstealers escaped. 



Probably it is not every one who sits on his horse, 

 watching hounds draw Ash Bank, that knows that a 

 cottage hard by is the famous Venison Hall, the scene of 

 an amusing incident and a tragedy, and the home of 

 Malabar, king of the deerslayers. The amusing incident 

 is this. Looking out of his window one morning, he saw 

 a fine buck grazing. He promptly lathered his face, and 

 shaved off half the week's growth from his stubbly chin. 



