same time placed in
the board room of the bank. The painting is by Partridge, and is a
very excellent characteristic likeness of Mr. Geach in the prime of
his life.

In the autumn of 1854 he was somewhat enfeebled by the pressure of
Parliamentary and commercial duties, and took a trip to Scotland to
recruit his strength. Soon after his return to London, he was seized
with an internal disorder, which reduced his strength very much. He
was recovering from this attack, when a return of an old affection
of one of his legs took place. From this time his ultimate recovery
seemed doubtful. It was at one time contemplated to amputate the left
foot, but in his prostrate condition this was considered unsafe and
hopeless. He gradually became weaker, and on Wednesday, November 1st,
1854, he died, in his 46th year. He left a widow and four children
to mourn his loss, and a larger circle than most men possess, of
warmly-attached friends to honour and respect his memory.

WILLIAM SANDS COX, F.R.S., &c.

Rather more than thirty years ago, I was very desirous to obtain an
influential introduction to Dr. Jephson. I mentioned my wish to an old
friend in Birmingham, who undertook to obtain one for me, and in a
few days told me that if I called upon Mr. Sands Cox, at his house in
Temple Row, some morning early, that gentleman would give me a letter
introducing me to the great Leamington physician. I accordingly
presented myself as directed, and was shown, by a somewhat
seedy-looking old woman--who evidently looked upon me with
considerable suspicion--into a small room in the front of the house,
where, seated at a writing-table, I found the subject of this sketch.

I had expected to see a man of commanding appearance, with some
outward indication of mental power, and with the intelligent
brightness of eye and face which generally distinguishes men of
the consummate skill and extensive knowledge which I was told
he possessed. I was, however, greatly surprised to see only a
heavy-looking, middle-aged, rather bulky man, with a miser-like
expression of face. There was no fire in the room, and, for a cold
morning, he seemed to be rather thinly clad, his only attire being a
pair of trousers, without braces, and a night-shirt. The wearer
had evidently hurried from his bed-room to his study, without the
customary ablutions, and his tangled hair and scrubby beard were
innocent of comb and razor. On being invited to be seated, I with some