gainst the tyranny of Sir Hudson Lowe (I hate to write that
man's name,) should follow Napoleon to St Helena in the character of
surgeon, his own, who looked a poor creature, and was continually
sea-sick while on board, having declined, I believe, to accompany him
farther, and the 7th was appointed for Napoleon leaving the ship.

The 7th came; it was a dull cloudy sunless day, and every countenance
was overcast with gloom. We had not seen the Emperor for a week, and
we were all anxious to observe the change that the horrible tidings of
his destination had made upon him. Lord Keith, Admiral Cockburn, and
Captain Ross, came on board about eleven o'clock; and it was intimated
to Napoleon, that they were ready to conduct him on board the
Northumberland. A general's guard of marines was drawn up on the
quarter-deck, to receive him as he came out of the cabin; while part
of his suite, and we officers, were ranged about, anxiously waiting
the appearance of the future exile of St Helena.

Napoleon was long of attending to the intimation of the Admiral's; and
upon Cockburn's becoming impatient, and remarking to old Lord Keith
that he should be put in mind, Keith replied, "No, no, much greater
men than either you or I have waited longer for him before now; let
him take his time, let him take his time." This was nobly said of the
fine old Scotchman; and although Cockburn and I are blood relations,
and I have a particular penchant for my lineage, I cannot help
remarking that his manner denoted a great want of feeling. I suppose
he was pitched upon by Castlereagh as a proper tool to execute his
harsh commands.

At length Napoleon appeared, but oh, how sadly changed from the time
we had last seen him on deck. Though quite plain, he was scrupulously
cleanly in his person and dress, but that had been forgot, his clothes
were ill put on, his beard unshaved, and his countenance pale and
haggard. There was a want of firmness in his gait; his brow was
overcast, and his whole visage bespoke the deepest melancholy; and it
needed but a glance to convince the most careless observer that
Napoleon considered himself a doomed man. In this trying hour,
however, he lost not his courtesy or presence of mind; instinctively
he raised his hat to the guard of marines, when they presented arms as
he passed, slightly inclined his head, and even smiled to us officers
as he passed through us, returned the salute of the admirals with calm
dignity, and, wa