nderson, who had been his friend and companion in
arms for one-and-twenty years, he said to him, "Anderson, you know that
I have always wished to die this way--You will see my friends as soon as
you can:--tell them everything--Say to my mother"--But here his voice
failed, he became excessively agitated, and did not again venture to
name her. Sometimes he asked to be placed in an easier posture. "I feel
myself so strong," he said, "I fear I shall be long dying. It is great
uneasiness--it is great pain." But, after a while, he pressed Anderson's
hand close to his body, and, in a few minutes, died without a struggle.
He fell, as it had ever been his wish to do, in battle and in victory.
No man was more beloved in private life, nor was there any general in
the British army so universally respected. All men had thought him
worthy of the chief command. Had he been less circumspect,--had he
looked more ardently forward, and less anxiously around him, and on all
sides, and behind,--had he been more confident in himself and in his
army, and impressed with less respect for the French Generals, he would
have been more equal to the difficulties of his situation. Despondency
was the radical weakness of his mind. Personally he was as brave a man
as ever met death in the field; but he wanted faith in British courage:
and it is faith by which miracles are wrought in war as well as in
religion. But let it ever be remembered with gratitude, that, when some
of his general officers advised him to conclude the retreat by a
capitulation, Sir John Moore preserved the honour of England.

He had often said that, if he were killed in battle, he wished to be
buried where he fell. The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of
Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there, by a party of the
9th regiment, the aides-du-camp attending by turns. No coffin could be
procured; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it
was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened; for,
about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and they feared that,
if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered away, and not
suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his staff bore him
to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain; and the
corpse was covered with earth.

Thus, with a solemn splendour and a sad glory, closed the career of a
gallant but unfortunate commander.

We subjoin the beauti