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advantage than immediately after his return. His chronic complaint of “impecuniosity” had been relieved by a seasonable legacy of a thousand pounds from his old friend Telford, the engineer. He had picked up much entertaining information in his tour, and told his “ traveller's stories” with animation and effect. The results of his observation he published in the New Monthly, under the title of Letters from the South, afterwards collected in two volumes.

The summer subsequent to his return he passed in Scotland, on a visit to his “ Northern brethren,” and the happiest he ever made. His residence during this period was chiefly in the house of his cousin, Mr. Gray, of Blairbeth, near Glasgow, and in that of Mr. Alison, at Edinburgh. He had been at Blairbeth but a day or two, when a deputation from the Campbell Club, of Glasgow, waited upon him, to the number of “ two coach-loads,” with a request that he would appoint a day for dining with them. The dinner was fixed accordingly for the 21st of June. Campbell, as the guest of the evening, sat on the right of the president, and Professor Wilson, who had come up from Edinburgh expressly to be present on this occasion, on the left. Some eighty gentlemen were present, and the poet was received and cheered with the greatest enthusiasm. From Glasgow he went to the Highlands, Inverary, Rothsay, Castle Towart and Greenock. " It would savor of vanity,” he wrote to a friend, “to tell you how I have been received. Cheered on coming aboard the steamboats, into public rooms, and cheered on leaving them. Yes: but Cobbett, you will tell me, had also his hand-shakings and popularity. True ; but were the motives of those who greeted him so pure as those of my greeters ? And yet, no small stimulus of happiness was necessary to help me over recollections which the scenes of Scotland have inspired the homes of my dead friends !-- above all that, “yesterday' my birth-day!which reminds me how soon I shall be gathered to my fathers !"

On returning to Glasgow, he found a communication from the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, inviting him to a public dinner in that city. It was a painful occasion for him, however; and when he came to speak of Dugald Stewart, Alison, and other of his old friends, “ the act of suppressing tears amounted to agony." A similar honor was proposed to him at Dublin, which he was compelled to decline. In September he spent three days with Brougham at his country-seat, whence he returned directly to London.

In 1836 he commenced the preparation of a new edition of his poems, with designs by Turner, in the style of the illustrated copy of Rogers' Italy. Campbell was much pleased with the great artist's drawing for O'Connor's Child, but seems to have been disappointed in the general result. He had not the same exchequer to draw upon as his friend the banker; and when the edition was out he found great difficulty in disposing of the drawings, for which he had paid Turner five hundred and fifty pounds. “I had been told,” he wrote to his friend, Mr. Gray, of Glasgow, " that Turner's drawings were like bank-notes, that would always fetch the price paid for them ; but, when I offered them at three hundred pounds, I could get no purchaser. One very rich and judicious amateur, to whom I offered them, said to me, I have no intention to purchase these drawings, because they are worth so little money that I should be sorry to see you sell them for as little as they are really worth. The truth is, that fifteen out of the twenty are but indifferent drawings. But, sell them by lottery, and either Turner's name will bring you in two hundred guineas, or Turner himself will buy them up. I went to Turner, and the amateurs prediction was fulfilled, for Turner bought them up for two hundred guineas."

Soon after the issue of this edition, Campbell took it into his head to make a present of his works to the queen. This was purely an act of gallantry and loyalty. No man ever lived who had less of the tufthunter in his composition than Campbell. When he had got up his Letters from the South, and a copy of the vignette edition of his poems, “ bound with as much gilding as would have gilt the Lord Mayor's coach,” he went to Sir H. Wheatley, to beg that he would present them to his sovereign. It was objected that the queen declined all presentation copies from authors. Campbell parried this objection skilfully and with dignity. Stranger as I am. Sir Henry,” he said, “I am known to you by character ; and may I beg of you to convey to the queen, if it can be done with tact and delicacy, — that I am in perfectly easy circumstances; that I covet no single advantage that is in the gift of her sceptre; and that I would rather bury my book in the ground than that the offering of it should be interpreted into a selfish wish to intrude myself on her notice.” Sir Henry finally consenting to take charge of the volumes


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and speak to the queen on the subject, Campbell sent them with a note, in these words :

“Sır : I thank you for your kind promise to take charge of my works, and to apply to her Majesty to receive them. I have been for nearly forty years one of the popular living poets of England, and I think it no overweening ambition to wish to be read by my sovereign.”

“ That evening,” says Campbell, “I had a note from Sir Henry, saying that the queen had been graciously pleased to accept the volumes, and desired that I should write my name in them. I repaired to St. James's next morning; Sir Henry began stammering out a dictation of what I should write about her Majesty's feet, loyal duty, and so forth, when I wrote on each blank leaf, . To her Majesty Queen Victoria, from her devoted subject, Thomas Campbell.” “Ah, that will do,' said Sir Henry.”

An edition of Shakspeare which he supervised for Mr. Moxon, a new poem, entitled The Pilgrim of Glencoe, and a Life of Petrarch, were now the literary task-work of his life. In the winter of 1840 he leased a house in Victoria-square, Pimlico, where he proposed to spend his declining years. This movement gave rise to another matrimonial rumor. “So you are to be married,his sister wrote him ; * that is reported, and quite certain. O, my good brother, is not this a rash step at your years?" Campbell replied that he suspected there was some mistake in the report, but did not know why she should be surprised at such a step at his young and giddy age of sixty-three. Instead of taking a wife (a dream that he seems never to have abandoned), he pursued the more prudent course of adopting a daughter, in the person of his favorite niece, Mary Campbell.

In the new residence, which he had very tastefully and comfortably fitted up, he corrected the last proofs of Petrarch ; but his health declined, and his powers failed rapidly. He became restless and whimsical. On one occasion he surprised his friends by advertising for a young child whom he had met in the streets, and who interested him so much that he desired to “ be allowed to see her again.” Soon after, he started suddenly for the Brunnens of Nassau, where he found himself without money, having left a quantity of bank-notes in his bed-room press, which he had forgotten. He wrote to his friend Dr. Beattie, in great dismay, and requested him to enter his house, and make search for the missing funds. After a minute and unsuccessful examination, the doctor accidentally lighted upon a redembroidered slipper, in which he was surprised and pleased to find three hundred pounds in bank-notes, twisted as if they were to be used as paper matches.

In his voyage up the Rhine, Campbell met on the steamboat the historian of the middle ages.

“ Hallam is a most excellent man,” said the poet, in one of his letters, “ of great acuteness, and of immense research in reading. I believe him to have neither gall nor bitterness ; and yet he is a perfect boa-contradictor! His powers of study are like those of the scholars of the Alexandrian Academy, whose viscera were alleged to be made of brass. He baits Sydney Smith himself, with his provoking accuracy as to matters of fact. Smith once said to me, If Hallam were in the midst of a full assembly of scientific men, and if Euclid were to enter the room, with his Elements under his arm, and were to say, “ Gentlemen, I suppose no one present doubts the truth of the Forty-fifth Proposition of my First Book of Elements,” Mr. Hallam would say, “Yes, I have my doubts.”

In another letter from Germany, he alludes to the admiration of children which appears in several of his poems, and which led to the eccentric advertisement just mentioned :

“ What pleases me most about the Germans is, that they indulge me in my ruling passion of admiration of fine children. Their children are not quite so beautiful as ours, but really some of them are great beauties. I have met with one of three, and another of six years old, both of them charming; and, like true young women, they are sensible to admiration. The younger has large round black eyes, that glow with triumph when you admire her ; and the other is a blonde, that blushes still more interestingly. Every one here, from the highest to the lowest, that has a fine child, seems to take it as a compliment that you stop and shake its little hand; whereas the same thing in England would be resented as a liberty."

Soon after his return to England, he published The Pilgrim of Glencoe, with other poems, dedicated to his friend Dr. Beattie. To say that the chief piece in this collection was regarded as a failure, would be but a faint expression of the truth. It is a feeble production, possessing little interest as a story, and no merit as a poem. His next literary enterprise was a subscription edition of his works ; but, before this was issued, he received the sum of eight hundred pounds, by the death of his only surviving sister, and the plan of publishing by subscription was abandoned. The new edition was transferred to Mr. Moxon. The poet now became more restless and uneasy than ever, and went to various places in France and England in pursuit of health, but derived no benefit from these changes. He felt the advances of age, which were only too visible to his friends. His constitution, never robust, was sensibly undermined ; and in the summer of 1843 he repaired to Boulogne, hoping to emancipate himself from the cares and expenses of London, and pass the remainder of his days in cheerful seclusion.

Not many days were left for him, and those were painfub ones, though they were solaced by the kind attentions of an affectionate niece, and towards their close by the presence of his best friend, Dr. Beattie. He was disa ppointed in his new residence. It was more expensive than he had anticipated. He found the climate keen and cold, and the winds - chilled his marrow.The society was very agreeable, though infested by rogues and swindlers. The streets, too, were “semi-perpendicular.” In regard to the importation of books from England, he was vexed by the custom-house restrictions. He missed his club, - a great loss for such a club-haunter as Campbell. His brother and sisters were now all dead. The wife to whom he was tenderly attached had gone before him many years.

His only surviving son was a lunatic. He had no “old familiar faces" about him. He was home-sick, and was dying in a foreign land. Not altogether cheerless, however, was his decline. His niece read to him from his favorite authors, and played the airs which he had loved in his youth. The notes which he wrote at this period were goodhumored, and his conversation continued cheerful and pleasant to the last.

In June, 1844, a letter from Mary Campbell brought Dr. Beattie and his wife to the chamber of the dying poet. He had now been more than three weeks confined to his bed, and for some time, excepting his physician, Dr. Allatt, had seen no one but his niece and a sister of charity, who watched with him during the night. When his old friends arrived, his words were " Visit of angels from heaven.” He smiled faintly, and spoke with his eye more express

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