the Chancellor and
the other Lords, out of great consideration for the distinguished and
enfeebled speaker, moving down to the lower end of the House, close to
the bar, in order to occasion him as little exertion and fatigue as
possible. He did not speak long, and the effort greatly exhausted him;
and it was not without difficulty, owing to something like partial
paralysis of the lower extremities, that he could walk from the House.
He returned from the Continent in March 1845, a little better than when
he had gone, and endeavoured to resume the discharge of such of his
less onerous, professional, and official duties as admitted of their
being attended to at his own house. He continued to listen to patent
cases, attended by counsel, till within a short period of his being
finally disabled; but every one saw with pain the total exhaustion under
which he was suffering. Finding himself rapidly declining, in May 1845,
he wrote a letter to the Prime Minister, proffering the resignation of
his office of Attorney-general.

He soon afterwards retired, for the advantage of some little change of
air, to the house of a relative in the Regent's Park, where he enjoyed
the soothing attentions of his family, and reverently received the
consolations of religion. The public manifested great anxiety to have
the state of his health, and the morning and evening newspapers
contained regular announcements on the subject, as in the case of
persons of the highest distinction. Her Majesty, Prince Albert, also,
with numbers of the nobility, sent daily to enquire concerning him. For
the last day, or possibly two days of his life, he became unconscious,
and slightly delirious--and expired, without apparent pain, on Saturday
afternoon, the 28th June 1845. For a long series of years, the death of
no member of the legal profession had excited a tithe of the public
concern which followed that of Sir William Follett, the
Attorney-general. The bar felt that its brightest light had been almost
suddenly extinguished. Its most gifted members, and those of the
judicial bench, heartily acknowledged the transcendence of his
professional qualifications, and the unassuming peacefulness with which
he had passed through life. Had he lived to occupy the highest judicial
seat--the woolsack--few doubted that, when relieved from the crushing
pressure of private practice, he would have displayed qualities
befitting so splendid a station, and earned a name worthy of ra