eased; the gout, his principal enemy, occasionally mounted
high up in his system, and we had considerable difficulty in keeping it
from the stomach, where it generally proves fatal. I now devoted almost
the whole of my time to my father, on whom his faithful partner also
lavished every attention and care. I read the Bible to him, which was
his chief delight; and also occasionally such other books as I thought
might prove entertaining to him. His spirits were generally rather
depressed. The absence of my brother appeared to prey upon his mind. "I
wish he were here," he would frequently exclaim; "I can't imagine what
can have become of him; I trust, however, he will arrive in time." He
still sometimes rallied; and I took advantage of those moments of
comparative ease, to question him upon the events of his early life. My
attentions to him had not passed unnoticed, and he was kind, fatherly,
and unreserved. I had never known my father so entertaining as at these
moments, when his life was but too evidently drawing to a close. I had
no idea that he knew and had seen so much; my respect for him increased,
and I looked upon him almost with admiration. His anecdotes were in
general highly curious; some of them related to people in the highest
stations, and to men whose names were closely connected with some of the
brightest glories of our native land. He had frequently
conversed--almost on terms of familiarity--with good old George. He had
known the conqueror of Tippoo Saib; and was the friend of Townshend, who,
when Wolfe fell, led the British grenadiers against the shrinking
regiments of Montcalm. "Pity," he added, "that when old--old as I am
now--he should have driven his own son mad by robbing him of his plighted
bride; but so it was; he married his son's bride. I saw him lead her to
the altar; if ever there was an angelic countenance, it was that girl's;
she was almost too fair to be one of the daughters of women. Is there
anything, boy, that you would wish to ask me? now is the time."

"Yes, father; there is one about whom I would fain question you."

"Who is it; shall I tell you about Elliot?"

"No, father, not about Elliot; but pray don't be angry; I should like to
know something about Big Ben."

"You are a strange lad," said my father; "and, though of late I have
begun to entertain a more favourable opinion than heretofore, there is
still much about you that I do not understand. Why do you bring up t