writing is
rubbed and only partly decipherable, but the letters "Dr." are distinct.
I take the meaning to be that the doctor attending him heard him murmur
the words. They are: "But it grows late, boys, let us dismiss!" One can
easily realise the kind of picture that floated before the mind of the
dying navigator. It was, surely, a happy vision of a night among friends
and companions, who had listened with delight to the vivid talk of him
who had seen and done so much in his wonderful forty years of life. In
such a company his mates would not be the first to wish to break the
spell, so he gave the word: "it grows late, boys, let us dismiss."

Flinders died at 14 London Street, Fitzroy Square, and was buried in the
graveyard of St. James's, Hampstead Road, which was a burial ground for
St. James's, Piccadilly. No man now knows exactly where his bones were
laid.* (* The vicar of St. James's, Piccadilly, who examined the burial
register in response to an enquiry by Mr. George Gordon McCrae, of
Melbourne, in 1912, states that the entry was made, by a clerical error,
in the name of Captain Matthew Flanders, aged 40.) A letter written years
later by his daughter, Mrs. Petrie, says: "Many years afterwards my aunt
Tyler went to look for his grave, but found the churchyard remodelled,
and quantities of tombstones and graves with their contents had been
carted away as rubbish, among them that of my unfortunate father, thus
pursued by disaster after death as in life."

On the 25th of the same month died Charles Dibdin, who wrote the elegy of
the perfect sailor:

"Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling.
The darling of our crew,
No more he'll hear the tempest howling
For death has broached him to."

During his last years in London, Flinders lodged in six houses
successively, and it may be as well to enumerate them. They were, 16 King
Street, Soho, from November 5th, 1810; 7 Nassau Street, Soho, from
January 19th, 1811; 7 Mary Street, Brook Street, from 30th September,
1811; 45 Upper John Street, Fitzroy Square, from March 30th, 1813; 7
Upper Fitzroy Street, from May 28th, 1813; and 14 London Street, Fitzroy
Square, from February 28th, 1814.

A letter from the widow to her husband's French friend Pitot, evidently
in answer to a message of sympathy, is poignant: "You who were in a
measure acquainted with the many virtues and inestimable qualities he
possessed, will best appreciate the worth of the treasure I have lost,
and you