242 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



days afterwards, by one of our woodmen, in the Birch 

 Coppice. Jack immediately told me of what happened, 

 and requested that you should be informed of it, sir, for 

 which I gave him praise." 



" That was much to his credit," resumed our young 

 sportsman. "Jack always was a good fellow, and I am 

 sure he would almost as soon have had his own leg in 

 a trap of his own setting as that of a fox ; but, in future, 

 let him give over setting traps of any sort. I hear keepers 

 say rabbit-traps do no harm, but I know to the contrary ; 

 they not only will hold and maim foxes, but foxes will 

 not lie in covers where they are set." 



In our zeal for the success of the stables and kennel, we 

 have passed over the family at the Abbey without a word 

 of notice. After an absence of some months, and those 

 forming part of the second year after the melancholy 

 event that occurred, in the death of the eldest son, Frank 

 Raby was not void of anxiety, on his arrival at the Abbey, 

 as to the state in which he might find his father and 

 mother. In Mr. Raby he observed little, if any, visible 

 alteration either in person or manner. As regarded the 

 former, his uniform habits of life, a naturally sound con- 

 stitution, regular out-of-doors' exercise, and, up to a late 

 period, almost uninterrupted prosperity, if they had not 

 bidden defiance to the all-consuming power of Time, had 

 caused his hand to fall so lightly upon him, that, in the 

 eyes of Frank, he did not appear to be a day older than 

 when he first knew him as his father ; and as regarded 

 the latter his demeanour in the family circle he had 

 called both philosophy and religion to his aid in bearing 

 up against a blow which he had not the power to ward 

 off. But not so the amiable and motherly Lady Charlotte. 

 The loss of her favourite son the first-born of her love 

 had so scathed and scorched her soul, that neither the 

 sympathy and kind offices of her friends, nor the most 

 delicate and cherishing attentions of her family still less 

 the occupation and amusements sought out for her, were 

 able to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the recollec- 

 tion of her child, and the tragical scenes she had gone 

 through. She would occasionally appear joyless where 

 all around was gay ; the hue of health and contentment 

 had nearly forsaken her complexion ; and her smiles, 

 which were wont to be so redundant, were now as transient 

 and fleeting as an April sun, peeping from beneath a 



