4th of the ensuing month (June, 1812,) he over-fatigued himself by superintending some work-people at his countryhouse; and in a few days, was obliged to repair to Edinburgh, where he was again confined to his bed with the same painful complaint from which he had recovered so slowly in 1796. "We trust soon to have him out to Woodhouselee," (writes his son ;) "and in the meantime mamma, Aunt Christy, and I are constantly with him. He is busy

at present preparing the Essay on Translation for a third edition, and Lord Kames for a second edition. Aunt reads aloud to him during the day, while I study; and at night, I read Gil Blas or Miss Edgeworth."* At the end of six weeks, he was conveyed back to his beloved Woodhouselee in a sedan-chair; and, cheered by the literary occupation which he found himself as capable as ever of pursuing, he cherished a humble hope that he might yet recover; in a spirit of the most healthy piety, wishing for life only that it might prolong his opportunities of serving GOD. The severity of the disease had abated; and, at the request of his physician, he wrote that manly inscription which is found at the base of the statue of Lord Melville, in the Great Hall of the Parliament House in Edinburgh.† But his life was now "a period of continued pain and increased debility,borne, indeed, with the most calm and even cheerful resignation, and relieved by everything that filial and conjugal tenderness could apply; yet too visibly approaching to a period which neither tenderness nor magnanimity could avert."

The closing scene of this good man's life has been described with such affecting simplicity by the author of the Memoir so often already quoted, that I shall simply

*To his sister Ann, 27th June, 1812.

An interesting memorandum on the subject is found in his Common-place Book, under date 4th August, 1812.

transfer it to my pages:-"In the beginning of winter, he was prevailed upon to leave his favourite Woodhouselee, and to remove into town; * and from this time his disease appeared to make a more rapid progress. On the 4th of January 1813, he felt himself more than usually unwell; and in the evening, when his family, with their usual attentions, were prepared to read to him some work of amusement, he requested that they would rather read to him the evening service of the Church, and that they might once more have the happiness of being united in domestic devotion. When this was finished, he spoke to them with firmness, of the events for which they must now prepare themselves: assured them that, to him, Death had no sorrow, but that of leaving them: he prayed that Heaven. might reward them for the uninterrupted happiness which their conduct and their love had given him; and he concluded by giving to each of them his last and solemn blessing.

"After the discharge of this last paternal duty, he retired to rest, and slept with more than his usual tranquillity, and in the morning, (as the weather was fine,) he ordered his carriage, and desired that it might go out on the road towards Woodhouselee. He was able to go so far as to come within sight of his own grounds; and then, raising himself in the carriage, his eye was observed to kindle as he looked once more upon the hills, which he felt he was so soon to leave, and which he had loved so well. There was an influence in the scene which seemed to renew his strength, and he returned to town, and walked up the stairs of his house with more vigour than he had shewn for some time; but the excitement was momentary, and he had scarcely entered his study, before he sunk down upon the

*He resided at No. 108 Prince's Street,- -a house which, by an earlier method of numbering the houses, was reckoned in his time as No. 65.

Medical assistance was

floor, without a sigh or a groan. immediately procured, but it was soon found that all assistance was vain; and Dr. Gregory arrived in time only to close his eyes, and thus to give the final testimony of a friendship which, in the last words that he wrote for the press, Lord Woodhouselee had gratefully commemorated as having borne the test of nearly half a century.

"His remains were interred in the family burial-place in the Grey-Friars' Churchyard, beside those of his Father and Mother, to whose memory it was then found, that his filial piety had so exclusively dedicated it, that their epitaph occupied the whole of the tablet, and no room was left for any inscription to himself."

Let me conclude this chapter with an extract from the memorandum-book of the subject of the present Memoir, which will serve to connect him, as he well deserves to be especially connected, with the memory of his admirable Father. It was written on revisiting Woodhouselee in October, 1818,—almost six years after the date of his bereavement.-"To be resigned, I trust through the grace of GoD and the mercy of my SAVIOUR, I have already taught myself; but to forget, is impossible. My heart must cease to beat, my memory become a blank, my affections wither, and my whole being change, before the love and goodness of my Father, and the uninterrupted happiness of our life when he dwelt surrounded by his family in this earthly paradise, shall fade for a moment from my recollection. No-no. Woodhouselee will always be to me a word which calls up feelings that no other word can do; and in my meditations of what Heaven will be, I often feel myself mingling the recollections of earthly joys with the hopes of heavenly glories,

and so holding out to myself as my best reward that I shall again meet my beloved Father; again be pressed to his bosom; and again wander with him through the groves which my fancy (I hope not profanely) paints like those in which we once lived."

CHAPTER V.

(1813-1814.)

P. F. Tytler's grief at the death of his Father-Public events-Opening of the Continent-A visit to Paris, in 1814-The Duke of Wellington-Marshal Blucher-Louis XVIII. and the Duchesse D'Angoulême at the Theatre-A Russian dinner-Anecdotes, personal and historical-Wellington-Platoff— Review of Russian and Prussian troops-Return to Scotland.

66

THE eclipse which my friend's happiness sustained by the event last recorded may be easily imagined. He was now 21 years of age. He was the only remaining unmarried son; and he lived at home. He had therefore become, in a manner, the staff of the family, and on him the burthen of grief most heavily fell. It is indeed too true," (he wrote to his old tutor, Mr. Black, at the end of three months,) "that to me my excellent Father's death is quite irreparable; and that it has left a blank in my heart, which nothing earthly can supply. My brothers' affections were divided: they had wives and children; and, by previous separation, had been weaned from my Father. My affections were centred in him. I had no higher happiness than to see him smile on my studies: in all his literary labours he had the goodness to make me a sharer: my taste was moulded, my soul was knit to his; and from my infancy, till the moment he was taken from us, I was fostered in his bosom. Can you wonder then, that there are moments now in which I feel withered, like a plant that never sees the sun? Yet I comfort myself by thinking on the perfect happiness which is now enjoyed by that pure and sainted spirit, which has gone before us to Heaven. Animam

G