s extant, he dying
young, and for years previous struggling to succeed in a profession where
the "battle is not always to the strong," though in the long run the best
man often succeeds, as with few exceptions, perhaps, the long race,
barring accidents, is usually won by the best horse. He left no writings
behind him save a few letters, beautifully expressed, but mostly relating
to family matters, and, therefore, uninteresting to the general reader,
with the exception of five or six preserved by my mother, which I will
give the reader ere I have ended this biographical sketch; and the few
friends with whom he corresponded, and to whom, occasionally, he showed,
and gave the productions of his pen, though they considered him a man of
considerable talent, set such small value on his effusions, that,
however, pleased at the time they might have been with them they were put
aside forgotten and most probably destroyed, and what he himself chanced
to write and was pleased with for the instant, was, from the natural
carelessness of his disposition, hastily cast aside, and, no doubt, often
burnt with the waste paper of his chambers; so that every endeavour I
have made to possess even a shred of these scraps, has been futile. All
I have been able to gather are the few letters alluded to, with a few
poetical lines which will be given to the reader; and, as we often judge
of character from trifles, he must, from the slight sketch I have given,
and the small crumbs I have been able to collect, form a judgment of HIM
I have endeavoured to describe. He had all but reached the height of his
profession, when he was taken away, no doubt for a wise purpose, to the
deep and lasting regret of those who not only fondly loved him, but who
had begun to take, and no wonder, a warm pride in the object of their
affections.

He died on September 19th, 1824, having been attacked some days previous
by a severe attack of diarrhoea, which, by some fatal mischance, was
mistaken by the surgeons who attended him, for brain fever; he was,
consequently, bled, and drastic medicines were administered, which must
have hastened if they did not cause his death, which happened at the
house of a friend of his, by the name of Hill, at Chelsea, where he was
buried, but his body was afterwards removed by his sister and deposited
where it now lies, near his father's in the cloisters of Norwich
Cathedral.

I will now lay before the reader the few letters I possess