bust and his own, by Chantry, and a full-length portrait of his eldest son, in military costume, are among the ornaments of this noble apartment. It is a pleasing instance of the filial piety of this eldest and only surviving son, that every article throughout the mansion remains, by his orders, in exactly the same situation in which it was left by his father. The books, the antiquarian relics, all remain in their places, and the last suit of clothes that he wore is preserved under a glass case in his closet.
But it was in the smaller room, used as a study, that one most feelingly realizes the truth, that
"Hushed is the harp, the minstrel gone!"
It is lighted by only one window, and its furniture is extremely simple. I think there was but one chair in it, beside the one that he was accustomed to occupy. Here was the working spot, where, dismissing all ex-traneous objects, he bent his mind to its mighty tasks. We were told that the lamp over the mantel-piece, by which he wrote, he was in the habit of lighting himself. It was still partially filled with oil. But the eye that drew light from it, and threw the mental ray to distant regions, was closed in the darkness of the grave.
It was in this apartment that, after his mind had received its fatal shock from disease, he made his last ineffectual effort to write. The sad scene can never be as well described, as in the words of Lockhart.
