remember one morning the terrible fright
we were given by an uncle of ours; he swam out into the bay, was caught
by the current of an ebb tide and borne out of reach of our eyes. A
fishing boat picked him up still alive, though greatly exhausted. "It
was a world of horror and anguish crowded into four or five minutes of
dreadful agitation," wrote my father, "and to complete the terror of it
the entire family, including the children, were on the rock in full view
of it all, crying like mad creatures."

He loved animals, flowers and birds, his fondness for the latter being
shown nowhere more strongly than in his devotion to his ravens at
Devonshire Terrace. He writes characteristically of the death of "Grip,"
the first raven: "You will be greatly shocked and grieved to hear that
the raven is no more. He expired to-day at a few minutes after twelve
o'clock, at noon. He had been ailing for a few days, but we anticipated
no serious result, conjecturing that a portion of the white paint he
swallowed last summer might be lingering about his vitals. Yesterday
afternoon he was taken so much worse that I sent an express for the
medical gentleman, who promptly attended and administered a powerful dose
of castor oil. Under the influence of this medicine he recovered so far
as to be able, at eight o'clock, p.m., to bite Topping (the coachman).
His night was peaceful. This morning, at daybreak, he appeared better,
and partook plentifully of some warm gruel, the flavor of which he
appeared to relish. Toward eleven o'clock he was so much worse that it
was found necessary to muffle the stable knocker. At half-past, or
thereabouts, he was heard talking to himself about the horse and
Topping's family, and to add some incoherent expressions which are
supposed to have been either a foreboding of his approaching dissolution
or some wishes relative to the disposal of his little property,
consisting chiefly of half-pence which he had buried in different parts
of the garden. On the clock striking twelve he appeared slightly
agitated, but he soon recovered, walked twice or thrice along the coach
house, stopped to bark, staggered, and exclaimed 'Halloa, old girl!' (his
favorite expression) and died. He behaved throughout with decent
fortitude, equanimity and self-possession. I deeply regret that, being
in ignorance of his danger, I did not attend to receive his last
instructions.

"Something remarkable about his eyes occasioned Topp