told me were England,
France, and Spain. 'Hey presto cockalorum!' cried the Doctor, and lo, on
uncovering the shillings, which had been dispersed each beneath a separate
hat, they were all found congregated under one. I was no politician at
five years old, and therefore might not have wondered at the sudden
revolution which brought England, France, and Spain all under one crown;
but, as also I was no conjurer, it amazed me beyond measure.... From that
time, whenever the Doctor came to visit my father, 'I plucked his gown to
share the good man's smile'; a game at romps constantly ensued, and we
were always cordial friends and merry playfellows. Our unequal
companionship varied somewhat as to sports as I grew older; but it did not
last long: my senior playmate died in his forty-fifth year, when I had
attained my eleventh.... In all the numerous accounts of his virtues and
foibles, his genius and absurdities, his knowledge of nature and ignorance
of the world, his 'compassion for another's woe' was always predominant;
and my trivial story of his humouring a froward child weighs but as a
feather in the recorded scale of his benevolence."

Think of him reckless, thriftless, vain if you like--but merciful, gentle,
generous, full of love and pity. He passes out of our life, and goes to
render his account beyond it. Think of the poor pensioners weeping at his
grave; think of the noble spirits that admired and deplored him; think of
the righteous pen that wrote his epitaph--and of the wonderful and
unanimous response of affection with which the world has paid back the
love he gave it. His humour delighting us still: his song fresh and
beautiful as when first he charmed with it: his words in all our mouths:
his very weaknesses beloved and familiar--his benevolent spirit seems still
to smile upon us: to do gentle kindnesses: to succour with sweet charity:
to soothe, caress, and forgive: to plead with the fortunate for the
unhappy and the poor.

His name is the last in the list of those men of humour who have formed
the themes of the discourses which you have heard so kindly.

-------------------------------------

Long before I had ever hoped for such an audience, or dreamed of the
possibility of the good fortune which has brought me so many friends, I
was at issue with some of my literary brethren upon a point--which they
held from tradition I think rather than experience--that our profession was
neglected i