n Gore,
I observed that great crowds had gathered, and rumors were rife that the
allied armies had entered Paris, that Napoleon was a prisoner, and that
the war was virtually at an end; and it was momentarily expected that the
park guns would announce the good news to the people.

"On entering the drawing-room at Mr. Wilberforce's I found the company,
consisting of Mr. Thornton [his memory must have played him false in this
particular as Mr. Thornton died some time before], Mr. Macaulay, Mr.
Grant, the father, and his two sons Robert and Charles, and Robert Owen
of Lanark, in quite excited conversation respecting the rumors that
prevailed. Mr. Wilberforce expatiated largely on the prospects of a
universal peace in consequence of the probable overthrow of Napoleon,
whom naturally he considered the great disturber of the nations. At every
period, however, he exclaimed: 'It is too good to be true, it cannot be
true.' He was altogether skeptical in regard to the rumors.

"The general subject, however, was the absorbing topic at the
dinner-table. After dinner the company joined the ladies in the
drawing-room. I sat near a window which looked put in the direction of
the distant park. Presently a flash and a distant dull report of a gun
attracted my attention, but was unnoticed by the rest of the company.
Another flash and report assured me that the park guns were firing, and
at once I called Mr. Wilberforce's attention to the fact. Running to the
window he threw it up in time to see the next flash and hear the report.
Clasping his hands in silence, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he
stood for a few moments perfectly absorbed in thought, and, before
uttering a word, embraced his wife and daughters, and shook hands with
every one in the room. The scene was one not to be forgotten."

We learn from a letter of his mother's dated June 27, 1815, that the
painting of the "Dying Hercules" had at last been received, but that the
plaster cast of the same subject was still mysteriously missing. The
painting was much admired, and the mother says:--

"Your friend Mr. Tisdale says the picture of the Hercules ought to be in
Boston as the beginning of a gallery of paintings, and that the
Bostonians ought not to permit it to go from here. Whether they will or
not, I know not. I place no confidence in them, but they may take a fit
into their heads to patronize the fine arts, and, in that case, they have
it in their power undoubtedly