on wider information, which he afterwards showed.  His ambition was yet limited to the sphere of the “Agamemnon,” his horizon bounded by the petty round of the day’s events.  He rose, as yet, to no apprehension of the mighty crisis hanging over Europe, to no appreciation of the profound meanings of the opening strife.  “I hardly think the War can last,” he writes to his wife, “for what are we at war about?” and again, “I think we shall be in England in the winter or spring.”  Even some months later, in December, before Toulon had reverted to the French, he is completely blind to the importance of the Mediterranean in the great struggle, and expresses a wish to exchange to the West Indies, “for I think our Sea War is over in these seas.”

It is probable, indeed, that in his zeal, thoroughness, and fidelity to the least of the duties then falling to him, is to be seen a surer indication of his great future than in any wider speculations about matters as yet too high for his position.  The recent coolness between him and Lord Hood had been rapidly disappearing under the admiral’s reviving appreciation and his own aptitude to conciliation.  “Lord Hood is very civil,” he writes on more than one occasion, “I think we may be good friends again;” and the offer of a seventy-four-gun ship in place of his smaller vessel was further proof of his superior’s confidence.  Nelson refused the proposal.  “I cannot give up my officers,” he said, in the spirit that so endeared him to his followers; but the compliment was felt, and was enhanced by the admiral’s approval of his motives.  The prospective occupation of Toulon gave occasion for a yet more nattering evidence of the esteem in which he was held.  As soon as the agreement with the city was completed, but the day before taking possession, Hood despatched him in haste to Oneglia, a small port on the Riviera of Genoa, and thence to Naples, to seek from the latter court and that of Turin[18] a reinforcement of ten thousand troops to hold the new acquisition.  The “Agamemnon” being a fast sailer undoubtedly contributed much to this selection; but the character of the commanding officer could not but be considered on so important, and in some ways delicate, a mission.  “I should have liked to have stayed one day longer with the fleet, when they entered the harbour,” he wrote to Mrs. Nelson, “but service could not be neglected for any private gratification,”—­a sentiment she had to hear pretty often, as betrothed and as wife, but which was no platitude on the lips of one who gave it constant demonstration in his acts.  “Duty is the great business of a sea officer,” he told his intended bride in early manhood, to comfort her and himself under a prolonged separation.  “Thank God!  I have done my duty,” was the spoken thought that most solaced his death hour, as his heart yearned towards those at home whom he should see no more.