reserve of his manners, and his extreme urbanity, always conciliating the good will of strangers who saw him for the first time. But he was most delightful when we were quite by ourselves. If I try to recall him on such occasions, I commonly see him smiling over a quaint sketch which he is intent on making in one of his own pocket-books. At last he lays it down, as if exhausted with the effort and proposes, with a submissive insinuating voice, that every one present shall sing a song; adding (to the relief of the whole party) that he should like to sing first, and earnestly requesting that we will all supply the ludicrous chorus, in which he proceeds to instruct us. Then he begins, in a fine rich strong voice, without a particle of hesitation, There were two flies upon a time,' &c. &c. It is needless to add that the song proves full of drollery; and leads to another, and another: so that, at the end of many years, the incident lingers in the memory; and the burden of the first song passes into a family proverb.

-

From the commonest incidents of the hour, he knew how to extract the soul of playfulness and humour. At Houghton Conquest, we had once been calling on a friend who possessed a museum of Natural History, and who pressed us to accept of several specimens on our departure. He took a great fancy to Tytler, whom he conducted through all his green-houses. On driving off, I asked Tytler what made him spring so nimbly into the carriage? Johnny,' he exclaimed, with a face drolly expressive of alarm and insecurity; 'I was so afraid your friend would insist on my putting one of those stuffed bustards into my pocket." -But you were pleased with his green-house plants, were not you?' asked my sister. 'O, very much pleased,' he replied; and paid the plants and their owner every compliment she could desire: but he explained that he feared he did not care enough for such objects to bestow upon them

all the attention they need; adding thoughtfully,--'I don't think I should like sitting up all night with a sick cactus.'

We had taken a cottage at Moulsey for the summer; and one day, after dinner, were looking at a cherry-tree on the lawn. Tytler, turning to one of my sisters, modestly inquired the meaning of an empty box of figs and a strip of red bunting, in the middle of the tree? She explained that she had put it there in order to frighten away the birds. 'O, I assure you, Miss Burgon,' said Tytler very gravely and thoughtfully, that's all a mistake. The birds stand upon the box to eat the cherries, and then wipe their beaks on the rag.'-When he heard that my brother-in-law was a rural dean, he said he thought it such a pretty title; adding,— 'Do you know, I always think a rural dean ought to walk about with a daisy in his bonnet.' . . . So trifling, at the end of a few years, are the sayings which linger in the memory!

CHAPTER XIV.

(1842-1843.)

Letters descriptive of his pursuits-Concluding portion of Miss A. Fraser Tytler's MS.-Domestic retrenchment-Anecdotes of home-Narrow escape from drowning-Conclusion of his History-"The Darnley jewel'—LettersTytler with his family in France.

I HAVE already reached the period when I began to see less and less of the dear Friend whose Life I am writing. The circumstances which about this juncture set me free to follow the dearest wish of my heart, and to proceed to Oxford, would be interesting to no one: but this passing allusion is indispensable. Henceforth, an occasional visit to London was my only chance of seeing one with whom for the last few years I had been on terms of such close intimacy. Accordingly, we communicated oftener than heretofore by letter. One or two agreeable specimens follow.

"34 Devonshire Place, March 22nd, 1842.

"My dear Johnny,-I wish much you would let me know by a single line that you are well, and not over-studying. I was sadly disappointed to miss you and dear Mr. Rose, when you came to see us, before leaving town for Houghton. I had gone to the Graphic Society with James Hall, but saw nothing among all the fine things there to make up for losing you two. As for ourselves here, we jog on pretty much in the old path in which you left us. Annie attacks the income tax, and I defend it, on the broad principle that literature and the Muses flourish only in quiet times, and that we ought to be happy to pay 3 per cent., any day, for

out.

a firm government that lays down a principle, and carries it Leila has come to the 180th page: volume VIIIth to p. 336, and I have sent down part of the Appendix. Did I ever show you, or tell you any thing of the MS. volumes which Sir George Warrender lent me? I had not examined them thoroughly till the other day, as they chiefly related to the period of my ninth, or last volume: but, to my astonishment, I have found in them a little nest of Elizabeth's letters, (in her own hand throughout,) addressed to James, similar to that letter which Mr. Dawson Turner has. Most of them are long and very private: some, contain four pages all written in the good old Lady's own hand. No other collection which I know either in England or Scotland has such a treasure. And the strangest thing of all is that Archbishop Spottiswood, and in later times Dr. Robertson had these volumes of Sir G. Warrender's in their possession, and although both were engaged in writing the history of the times, neither of the gentlemen availed themselves of these letters of the Queen! I suspect, as they are written in her running hand, (not her plain upright hand in which she signs her name,) and excessively difficult to make out, that they had given them up in despair.

"And now, dear Johnny, I have given you all my little news. Let me hear that you go to bed at 10 o'clock, and are stout and well."

"34 Devonshire Place, June 14th, 1842. "My dear Johnny,-It would be very kind in you if you would write me a 'wee bit letter,' and tell me how you came on at Oxford, and whether you were happy there. That you were busy, I know: that you will make a figure, I am sure; but it always pleases me best to hear that my friends. are happy; for when I think of you, or any other dear friend, the conviction of this comes like sunshine in a cloudy day.

6

"Our little circle here are well, and I am busy with my IXth volume. I have been mingling more than I usually do with the gay world, being pushed into it by that sweet moralist,' Miss Ann, who now that she has finished Leila thinks that she ought to spend all her remaining energies in poking me out of my hole, and counteracting my tendencies towards a monastic life.' . . ... God bless you, my dear Johnny. Give my kindest remembrances to dear Mr. and Mrs. Rose, and the little Rachel,*-a name I cannot yet write without feelings of tenderness and love that agitate me; but not with sorrow, for her memory is the sweetest thing in my life."

In August, he started for the Highlands; and on the moors between beautiful Moniack and Aldourie renewed hostilities against the grouse, 'drinking in great gulps of health,' as he expressed it, at every step. More delightful scenery, kinder hearts, or more congenial natures, are nowhere to be found; and he was perfectly happy, as well as braced into renewed vigour of mind and body by the fresh elastic air of those heath-clad hills. He wrote me one or two affectionate letters, too private, I fear, for insertion in this place; and returned home in November, paying a visit at Castle Ashby in his way. In December, I find the following letter from him.

"34 Devonshire Place, Dec. 12th, 1842. "My dear Johnny,-I hope I shall be in Oxford on Wednesday, 21st December,-see Johnny,-stay a night at the nearest Inn to Worcester College, and return to London on Thursday, the 22nd. What is the meaning of this sudden escapade? Shooting is the meaning, Johnny,-killing hares is the meaning,-and pheasants, and perhaps woodcocks. Still all is in the dark? Well

*The intended name of an infant niece.