rime of his powers. Such efforts as this, however, were but as the
spasmodic flickerings of a candle that is burning to its end, and were
followed by deeper plunges into the dissipations that were surely
killing him.

It was towards the close of the month of November, in 1779, that Lord
Lyttelton left London and its fatal allurements for a few days' peaceful
life at his country seat, Pit Place, at Epsom (in those days a
fashionable health resort), where he had invited a house-party,
including several ladies, to join him. And, it should be said, no host
could possibly be more charming and gracious; for, in spite of his
depraved tastes, Lord Lyttelton was a man of remarkable fascination--a
wit, a born raconteur, and a courtier to his finger-tips.

During the first day of his residence at Epsom the following
incident--which may or may not have had a bearing on the strange events
that followed--took place.

"Lord Lyttelton," to quote Sir Digby Neave, "had come to
Pit Place in very precarious health, and was ordered not
to take any but the gentlest exercise. As he was walking
in the conservatory with Lady Affleck and the Misses
Affleck, a robin perched on an orange-tree close to them.
Lord Lyttelton attempted to catch it, but failing, and
being laughed at by the ladies, he said he would catch it
even if it was the death of him. He succeeded, but he put
himself in a great heat by the exertion. He gave the bird
to Lady Affleck, who walked about with it in her hand."

On the following morning his lordship appeared at the breakfast-table so
pale and haggard that his guests, alarmed at his appearance, asked what
was the matter. For a time he evaded their enquiries, and then made the
following startling statement:--"Last night," he said, "after I had been
lying in bed awake for some time, I heard what sounded like the tapping
of a bird at my window, followed by a gentle fluttering of wings about
my chamber. I raised myself on my arm to learn the meaning of these
strange sounds, and was amazed at seeing a lovely female, dressed in
white, with a small bird perched like a falcon on her hand. Walking
towards me, the vision spoke, commanding me to prepare for death, for I
had but a short time to live. When I was able to command my speech, I
enquired how long I had to live. The vision then replied, 'Not three
days; and you will depart at the hour of twelve.'"

Such was the remarkab