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On the morning of Sunday the 15th, himself in the old position, he smiled and he was again taken out into the little thanked us, and said “Now give me pleasaunce, and got as far as his favourite my pen, and leave me for a little to myterrace-walk between the garden and the self.'

self." Sophia put the pen into his hand. river, from which he seemed to survey and he endeavoured to close his fingers the valley and the hills with much satis- upon it, but they refused their office faction. On re-entering the house, he it dropped on the paper. He sank back desired me to read to him from the New among his pillows, silent tears rolling Testament, and after that he again called down his cheeks; but composing himfor a little of Crabbe; but whatever I self by and by, motioned to me to wheel selected from that poet seemed to be him out of doors again. Laidlaw met listened to as if it made part of some new us at the porch, and took his turn of the volume published while he was in Italy. chair. Sir Walter, after a little while, He attended with this sense of novelty again dropped into slumber. When he even to the tale of Phæbe Dawson, which was awaking, Laidlaw said to me “Sir not many months before he could have Walter has had a little repose.'

“No repeated every line of, and which I chose Willie,” said he — “no repose for Sir for one of these readings, because, as is Walter but in the grave. The tears known to every one, it had formed the again rushed from his eyes. “Friends," last solace 'of Mr. Fox's deathbed. On said he, “don't let me expose myself the contrary, his recollection of whatever get me to bed — that's the only place.” I read from the Bible appeared to be Perceiving, towards the close of August, lively; and in the afternoon, when we that the end was near, and thinking it made his grandson, a child of six years, very likely that Abbotsford might soon repeat some of Dr. Watts' hymns by his undergo many changes, and myself, at chair, he seemed also to remember them all events, never see it again, I felt a deperfectly. That evening he heard the sire to have some image preserved of the Church service, and when I was about interior apartments as occupied by their to close the book, said Why do you

founder, and invited from Edinburgh omit the visitation for the sick?” for that purpose Sir Walter's dear friend, which I added accordingly.

Sir William Allan whose presence, I On Monday he remained in bed, and well knew, would even under the circumseemed extremely feeble; but after break- stances of that time be nowise troublefast on Tuesday the 17th he appeared some to any of the family, but the conrevived somewhat, and was again wheeled trary in all respects. Sir William willingly about on the turf. Presently he fell complied, and executed a series of beautiasleep in his chair, and after dozing for ful drawings. He also shared our watchperhaps half an hour, started awake, and ings, and witnessed all but the last moshaking the plaids we had put about him ments. Sir Walter's cousins, the ladies from off his shoulders, said “This is of Ashestiel, came down frequently, for sad idleness. I shall forget what I have a day or two at a time, and did whatever been thinking of, if I don't set it down sisterly affection could prompt, both for now. Take me into my own room,

and the sufferer and his daughters. Miss fetch the keys of my desk.”

He re

Mary Scott (daughter of his uncle peated this so earnestly, that we could Thomas), and Mrs. Scott of Harden, did not refuse; his daughters went into his the like. study, opened his writing-desk, and laid As I was dressing on the morning of paper and pens in the usual order, and Monday the 17th of September, Nicolson I then moved him through the hall and came into my room, and told me that his into the spot where he had always been master had awoke in a state of composure accustomed to work. When the chair and consciousness, and wished to see me was placed at the desk, and he found immediately. I found him entirely him


self, though in the last extreme of feeble- for an instant on the arrival of his ness. His eye was clear and calm every trace of the wild fire of delirium

They, on learning that the scene was extinguished. “Lockhart,” he said, “I about to close, obtained a new leave of may have but a minute to speak to you. absence from their posts, and both reached My dear, be a good man - be virtuous Abbotsford on the 19th. About halfbe religious – be a good man. Nothing past one p.m. on the 21st of September, else will give you any comfort when you Sir Walter breathed his last, in the prescome to lie here." — He paused, and I



ence of all his children. It was a beautisaid — “Shall I send for Sophia and

so warm, that every window Anne?" – "No," said he, "don't dis- was wide open - and so perfectly still, turb them. Poor souls! I know they that the sound of all others most delicious were up all night — God bless you all.” to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed

With this he sunk into a very tranquil over its pebbles, was distinctly audible sleep, and, indeed, he scarcely afterwards as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest gave any sign of consciousness, except son kissed and closed his eyes.

ful day



Here is a fitting place to mention à few of the minor Scottish and English poets whose special poems, here reprinted, have become well known to all readers, The Burial of Thomas Moore by Charles Wolfe (1791-1823), The Bridge of Sighs and The Song of the Shirt by Thomas Hood (1799-1845), To the Grasshopper and the Cricket by Leigh Hunt (1784-1859), The Battle of Blenheim by Robert Southey (1774-1843), Ye Mariners of England, Hohenlinden, Battle of the Baltic, Lord Ullin's Daughter by Thomas Campbell (1777-1844), The Harp That Once through Tara's Halls, by Thomas Moore (1779-1852).

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Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,

With many a light
From window to casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood with amazement,

Houseless by night.

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.
Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful :
Past all dishonour,
Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's family Wipe those poor lips of hers

Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses

Where was her home?

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch,

Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,

Swift to be hurled
Anywhere, anywhere

Out of the world!

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In she plunged boldly --
No matter how coldly

The rough river ran
Over the brink of it,
Picture it

think of it, Dissolute Man ! Lave in it, drink of it,

Then, if you can! Take her up tenderly,

Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly,

Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly,

Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them,

Staring so blindly !

Who was her father?

Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity

Under the sun! 0, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full,

Home she had none.

Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing

Fixed on futurity.

Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly

Feelings had changed: Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence

Seeming estranged,

Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,

Into her rest
Cross her hands humbly,
As if praying dumbly,

Over her breast !

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