and this was
wholly on my account. Amidst the world of emotions that were crowding
and increasing as his end approached, I could always see that his
generous concern for me in my isolated position at Rome was one of
his greatest cares. In a little basket of medicines I had bought at
Gravesend at his request there was a bottle of laudanum, and this I
afterwards found was destined by him "to close his mortal career," when
no hope was left, and to prevent a long, lingering death, for my poor
sake. When the dismal time came, and Sir James Clark was unable to
encounter Keats's penetrating look and eager demand, he insisted on
having the bottle, which I had already put away. Then came the most
touching scenes. He now explained to me the exact procedure of his
gradual dissolution, enumerated my deprivations and toils, and dwelt
upon the danger to my life, and certainly to my fortunes, from my
continued attendance upon him. One whole day was spent in earnest
representations of this sort, to which, at the same time that they
wrung my heart to hear and his to utter, I was obliged to oppose a firm
resistance. On the second day, his tender appeal turned to despair, in
all the power of his ardent imagination and bursting heart.

From day to day, after this time, he would always demand of Sir James
Clark, "How long is this _posthumous_ life of mine to last?" On finding
me inflexible in my purpose of remaining with him, he became calm, and
tranquilly said that he was sure why I held up so patiently was owing
to my Christian faith, and that he was disgusted with himself for ever
appearing before me in such savage guise; that he now felt convinced how
much every human being required the support of religion, that he might
die decently. "Here am I," said he, "with desperation in death that
would disgrace the commonest fellow. Now, my dear Severn, I am sure, if
you could get some of the works of Jeremy Taylor to read to me, I might
become _really_ a Christian, and leave this world in peace." Most
fortunately, I was able to procure the "Holy Living and Dying." I read
some passages to him, and prayed with him, and I could tell by the grasp
of his dear hand that his mind was reviving. He was a great lover of
Jeremy Taylor, and it did not seem to require much effort in him to
embrace the Holy Spirit in these comforting works.

Thus he gained strength of mind from day to day just in proportion as
his poor body grew weaker and weaker. At last I