bullies who had set themselves to steal by
force the possessions to which they had not an atom of right. The
sight of these fine frigates and line-of-battle ships manoeuvring to
come to grips with their cowardly antagonists who were assailing their
national rights has been revivified during a long course of study of
Nelson's naval warfare, and makes the awful vision of Trafalgar appear
as it really was, and makes me wish that I were gifted with the art of
words so that I might describe it in all its gruesome wreckage and
magnitude, as the recollection of the majestic sight of the Danish
ships before they even went into action makes it appear to me.

My mind's eye pictures one after another of the French and Spanish
ships surrendering, the hurricane of cheers that followed their
defeat, and the pathetic anxiety of the dying chieftain for the safety
of Captain Hardy, who was now in charge of the flagship acting as
commander-in-chief. Hardy is long in coming; he fears that he may be
killed, and calls out, "Will no one bring Hardy to me?" At last the
gallant captain sees an opportunity of leaving the deck, for the
_Victory_ is shielded by two ships from the enemy's gunfire. "Well,
Hardy," says Nelson to him, "how goes the battle?" "Very well, my
Lord," says Hardy; "fourteen or fifteen of the enemy's ships are in
our possession." "That is well," said Nelson, "but I bargained for
twenty"; and then followed the memorable order, "Anchor, Hardy,
anchor." "If I live," he says, "we will anchor"; and in answer to
Hardy's supposition that Collingwood should take charge, he
impulsively resents the suggestion and expresses the hope that this
will not happen while he lives, and urges again on Hardy that the
fleet may be anchored, and asks him to make the signal. He hopes that
none of our ships have struck, and his devoted friend reassures him
that none have and never will. He commissions Hardy to give "dear Lady
Hamilton his hair and other belongings," and asks that his "body shall
not be thrown overboard." Hardy is then asked in childlike simplicity
to kiss him, and the rough, fearless captain with deep emotion kneels
and reverently kisses Nelson on the cheek. He then thanks God that he
has done his duty, and makes the solemn thoughts that are troubling
his last moments manifest in words by informing Doctor Scott, with a
vital sailorly turn of speech, that "he had _not_ been a _great_
sinner," and then bids him remember that he leave