horse exercise in the grounds of his villa,
no amount of practice seems to have improved his seat. This covered way
has been removed, but a mulberry tree planted by Hayley still
flourishes.

Whenever Hayley was ill he became an object of intense interest to
visitors at Bognor. Binsted's Library in the town exhibited a daily
bulletin; and in 1819 the Prince and Princess of Saxe-Coburg called upon
him, while the Princess of Hesse Homburg on her return sent a
prescription from Germany.

[Sidenote: HAYLEY HOUR BY HOUR]

Mrs. Opie, the novelist, who stayed with Mr. Hayley every summer, and
also served as a magnet to devout sojourners at Bognor, has left an
account of the poet's habits which is vastly more entertaining than his
poetry. He rose at six or earlier and at once composed some devotional
verse. At breakfast, he read to Mrs. Opie; afterwards Mrs. Opie read to
him. At eleven they drank coffee, and before he dressed for dinner, a
very temperate meal, Mrs. Opie sang. After dinner there was more reading
aloud, the matter being either manuscript compositions of Mr. Hayley's,
or modern publications. Mr. Hayley took cocoa and Mrs. Opie tea, and
afterwards Mrs. Opie read aloud or sang. At nine, the servants came to
prayers, which were original compositions of Mr. Hayley's, read by him
in a very impressive manner, and before bed, Mrs. Opie sang one of Mr.
Hayley's hymns.

Hayley's grave is at Felpham, and his epitaph by Mrs. Opie may be read
by the industrious on the wall of the church. Among the many epitaphs on
his neighbours by Hayley himself, who had a special knack of mortuary
verse, is this on a Felpham blacksmith:--

My sledge and hammer lie reclined;
My bellows too have lost their wind;
My fire's extinct; my forge decay'd,
And in the dust my vice is laid;
My coal is spent, my iron gone;
The nails are driven--my work is done.

The last verses that Hayley wrote have more charm and delicacy than
perhaps anything else among his works:

Ye gentle birds that perch aloof,
And smooth your pinions on my roof,
Preparing for departure hence
Ere winter's angry threats commence;
Like you, my soul would smooth her plume
For longer flights beyond the tomb.

May God, by whom is seen and heard
Departing man and wandering bird,
In mercy mark us for his own,
And guide us to the land unknown.

[Sidenote: A FAIRY'S FUNERAL]

But it