frequently expressed much desire to have his face wiped; repeating, to Dr. Scott—­“Wipe my face, doctor!  Doctor, wipe my face!” This being done, for a considerable time, he seemed to receive some comfort; but soon grew prodigiously anxious to see Captain Hardy.  His lordship had several times sent for him; and, not finding him come, began to imagine that he was no more.  It was found difficult to efface this idea; and Dr. Scott felt it necessary himself to call Captain Hardy, who had been unwilling to quit his post at such an interesting period.  About half past four, however, Captain Hardy attended on his lordship; who eagerly enquired, how many ships were captured.  On being informed, by the captain, that twelve, which he could see, had certainly struck; and that, probably, more might have surrendered, as the victory seemed nearly compleat:  the dying hero hastily exclaimed—­“What, only twelve! there should have been, at least, fifteen or sixteen, by my calculation!  However,” added he, after, a short pause, “twelve are pretty well!” He requested that Captain Hardy would bear his kindest remembrances to Lady Hamilton, and to Horatia; and inform them that he had left them as a legacy to his king and country, in whose service he willingly yielded up his life.  “Will you, my dear Hardy?” anxiously demanded his lordship.  “Kiss me, then!” Captain Hardy immediately kneeling, respectfully kissed the wan cheek of his adored commander.  The dying hero now desired that his affectionate regards might be presented to his brave officers and men:  and said, that he could have wished once more to have beheld his beloved relatives and friends, or even to have survived till he had seen the fleet in safety; but, as neither was possible, he felt resigned, and thanked God for having enabled him to do his duty to his king and country.  His lordship had, latterly, most vehemently directed Dr. Scott to rub his breast and pit of the stomach; where, it seems probable, he now felt the blood beginning more painfully to flow, in a state of commencing congelation—­“Rub me, rub me, doctor!” he often and loudly repeated.  This melancholy office was continued to be almost incessantly performed by Dr. Scott, till his lordship expired; and, indeed, for some time, afterward.  The last words the immortal hero uttered, were—­

    “Thank God, I have done my duty!”

He had, before, pronounced them in a lower tone of voice:  saying—­“Doctor, I have not been a great sinner; and, thank God, I have done my duty!” Then, as if asking the question, he repeated—­“Doctor, I have not been a great sinner?” Doctor Scott was too much affected immediately to answer.  “Have I?” he again eagerly interrogated.  A paroxysm of pain now suddenly seizing him, he exclaimed, in a loud and most solemnly impressive tone—­“Thank God, I have done my duty!  Thank God, I have done my duty!” After pronouncing these words, he had, apparently, suffered no pain; but gradually went off, as if asleep.  Indeed, every person who surrounded him, except Dr. Scott, who had long felt the current of life sensibly chilling beneath his hand, actually thought, for some time, that he was only in a state of somnolency.  It was, however, the sleep of death, the blood having entirely choaked up his incomparable heart.