desirous to have beheld him, at least, a Commissioner of the Excise or Customs.  This, in fact, was what had been repeatedly promised; but his lordship experienced not the happiness of seeing it performed.  The present Earl Nelson, indeed, his lordship’s only surviving brother, had been presented to a prebendal stall at Canterbury; but, with this not over splendid exception, nothing had been given by government to his lordship’s relatives, and very little to any of his chief friends.  The claim of Lady Hamilton’s pension, too, which he had so earnestly solicited, though it had been candidly acknowledged, remained still unnoticed:  and, during the few days he continued in England, it does not appear to have been revived; probably, on account of the changes in administration which had taken place while his lordship was abroad, as well as the necessity of now confining himself to the requisite arrangements for undertaking his newly extended command.

As the day approached when Lord Nelson must take his departure from Merton Place, Lady Hamilton began severely to suffer for having advised the tender of his services.  Her mind, no doubt, anticipated all the terrible consequences to be dreaded from his excess of valour, and his heroic disdain of death; nor is it at all improbable, that she now most sincerely regretted her enthusiastic zeal for the hero’s glory.  The consideration of that other impelling principle, the fearful apprehension of seeing him fall a prey to disappointment, should the desired victory be atchieved by any other hand, brought no solace to her bosom, for it scarcely entered her mind.  Even the spirit and magnanimity of his lordship, were unable entirely to preserve his feeling breast from painful intrusions.  Though commonly gay, he was sometimes thoughtful.  He could not be insensible, that his post was that of danger; and, though he scorned all personal apprehension, he well knew what must ever be expected by a commander resolved never to yield.  Before Lord Nelson quitted London, he called at Mr. Peddieson’s, his upholsterer, in Brewer Street, where the coffin presented him by Captain Hallowell had been sent; and, with his usual gaiety and good-humour, desired him to get the attestation of it’s identity engraved on the lid—­“For,” added his lordship, “I think it highly probable, that I may want it on my return.”

That he wished to live, however, is as certain, as that he feared not to die.  Of a social, tender, and affectionate heart, amid all the corporeal agonies he had suffered, and was doomed during life to suffer, in consequence of his various wounds, added to the still severer and more numerous inflictions on his mental tranquillity, he preserved a chearfulness of disposition which commonly diffused joy and gladness to all around him.  If he saw, or suspected, any difficulty or distress, his mind was that moment occupied in endeavouring to afford some adequate remedy.  “What will be of service!  How shall I obtain