self, _impar congressus_, under the
fearful fire of the Trekroner battery, to redeem the failure
threatened by the grounding of the ships of the line,--have all been
told with a skilful pen, and forms a picture of a great sailor's last
hours, which is cherished with equal pride in the affections of his
family and the annals of his country.

Sir Hyde Parker's signal to "leave off action," which Nelson, putting
his telescope to his blind eye, refused to see, was seen, by Riou and
reluctantly obeyed. Indeed, nothing but that signal for retreat saved
the _Amazon_ from destruction, though it did not save its heroic
commander. As he unwillingly drew off from the destructive fire of the
battery he mournfully exclaimed, "What will Nelson think of us!" His
clerk had been killed by his side. He himself had been wounded in the
head by a splinter, but continued to sit on a gun encouraging his men,
who were falling in numbers around him. "Come then, my boys," he
cried, "let us all die together." Scarcely had he uttered the words,
when a raking shot cut him in two. And thus, in an instant, perished
the "gallant good Riou," at the early age of thirty-nine.

Riou was a man of the truest and tenderest feelings, yet the bravest
of the brave. His private correspondence revealed the most endearing
qualities of mind and heart, while the nobility of his actions was
heightened by lofty Christian sentiment, and a firm reliance on the
power and mercy of God. His chivalrous devotion to duty in the face of
difficulty and danger heightened the affectionate admiration with
which he was regarded, and his death before Copenhagen was mourned
almost as a national bereavement. The monument erected to his memory
in St. Paul's Cathedral represented, however inadequately, the widely
felt sorrow which pervaded all classes at the early death of this
heroic officer. "Except it had been Nelson himself," says Southey,
"the British navy could not have suffered a severer loss."

Captain Riou's only sister married Colonel Lyde Browne, who closed his
honourable career of twenty-three years' active service in Dublin, on
July 23rd, 1803. Within two years of her bitter mourning for the death
of her brother, she had also to mourn for the loss of her husband. He
was colonel of the 21st Fusiliers. He was hastening to the assistance
of Lord Kilwarden on the fatal night of Emmett's rebellion, when he
was basely assassinated. He was buried in the churchyard of St.
Paul's