THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 9 



Eclipse, who covered mares Xew Forest ponies amongst 

 them, of course at the low price of one guinea. In her 

 best days, it was difficult to blow this mare in a burst : no 

 fence that could be jumped by a horse could pound her ; 

 nor did I ever know her to come home to the stable tired, 

 after the longest day's work. She is now, however, as 

 you will perceive by her languid eye, her distended 

 carcass, low back, and fallen crest, in extreme old age, the 

 evils of which I have taken some pains to alleviate, in 

 consideration of her fourteen years' services, and I rejoice 

 in the reflection that a large offer did not induce me to 

 part with her when in her prime." 



Having sketched the character of Mr. Raby, that of his 

 lady shall follow, and a few words will suffice. It has 

 already been said that Lady Charlotte Raby was an Earl's 

 daughter. By uniting herself in marriage to a commoner, 

 she had descended a step in society, according to the 

 opinion of the world, although, in her own eyes her 

 husband was ennobled beyond the power of a coronet 

 to dignify him, by his conduct as a man and a hus- 

 band. Neither did she look back with regret towards 

 the theatre of her early life, in which her charms and 

 accomplishments had met with universal admiration. She 

 had enjoyed nearly seven years of what is called the 

 fashionable London World, and that in all its glory ; and 

 she had had enough of it. She had become the wife of a 

 country gentleman, and was the mother of four children ; 

 and she learnt, from the experience of the first seven years 

 of so very different a life, this great moral truth : that, 

 although pleasure, amusement, and oblivion of self are to 

 be found in the ballroom or at the opera, and, although 

 they occasionally hover around the stranger's hearth, still 

 of all the sources of human happiness, domestic life is the 

 richest and most productive ; and had Lady Charlotte 

 Raby read Horace, she would have exclaimed, with him, 

 whilst reviewing her situation at Amstead Abbey, in the 

 bosom of her own family, and surrounded by friends in 

 whose esteem she lived, " Quod petis hie est." In other 

 words, she might have added this postscript to her 

 answers to the letters of her London correspondents, who 

 transmitted to her the doings of the gay world : IVTiat 

 you look for elsewhere, I find here. 



There was, however, one feature in this amiable lady's 

 character which I am unwilling not to exhibit to my 



