done so much with my small force.  If I had fallen in with them, you might probably have been a lord before I wished; for I know they meant to make a dead set at the Victory.”  These lines alone show how reverently the writer adhered to the brotherly tie of the profession.  He seems to say, “Let us have no more talk of puerilities.  I am the stronger.  I have recently been frustrated myself.  I know this business better than Calder’s traducers do, and therefore conceive it my duty to defend him.  He also has rendered great services to his country.”

When it was known that he had arrived in England, he was overwhelmed with generous tokens of affection and gratitude from all classes.  Thousands crowded into Portsmouth to see him land, and the cheering was long and lusty.  In London the mob, drunk with excitement, struggled to get sight of him, many crushing their way so that they might shake him by the hand or even touch him.  Lord Minto said he met him in Piccadilly, took him by the arm, and was mobbed also.  He goes on to say:  “It is really quite affecting to see the wonder, admiration, and love for him from gentle and simple the moment he is seen,” and concludes by stating that it is beyond anything represented in a play or in a poem of fame.

Commercial men everywhere passed resolutions of gratitude for the protection he had secured in their different interests.  The West India merchants sent a deputation to express their never-to-be-forgotten thanks, and would have loaded him with material tokens of their goodwill had it been proper to do so.  He lost no time in getting to Merton, which was the thought and happiness of his soul.  He was invited here, there, and everywhere, and always replied that he could not accept, as all his family were with him.  Lord Minto, who was a devoted friend, visited him on the 15th August, and says that he “found him in the act of sitting down to dinner with his brother the Dean, his wife, and their children, and the children of a sister.  Lady Hamilton was at the head of the table, and her mother, Mrs. Cadogan, at the bottom.  His welcome was hearty.  Nelson looked well and was full of spirits.  Lady Hamilton,” he continues, “had improved, and had added to the house and place extremely well, without his knowing she was doing it.  She is a clever being, after all the passion is as hot as ever.”

These glad moments of keen rapture, which filled Nelson with a sort of mystic joy, were soon to be cut short.  Swiftly the sweet days were passing away, and the sombre parting from “dear Merton and loving hearts for evermore” was drawing near.  In his day-dreams he saw more fame, more professional gladness, more triumph.  He saw, too, as he pensively walked in his garden, the grave nearly ready to receive him and the day of his glory and brightness coming.  These were his abiding premonitions, which were jerked out to his close friends, and even during his last sojourn at Merton, to those he loved so well.