thing rising in my breast," putting his hand on his
left side, "which tells me so." And upon Beatty's inquiring whether his
pain was very great, he replied, it was so great that he wished he was
dead. "Yet," he added in a lower voice, "one would like to live a little
longer, too!"

Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit,
returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander,
congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the
enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them
distinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well," said
Nelson; "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he
said, "Anchor, Hardy, anchor." Hardy, thereupon, hinted that Admiral
Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while
I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to
raise himself from the bed: "do you anchor." His previous orders for
preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity for
this.

Presently calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, "Don't
throw me overboard:" and he desired that he might be buried beside his
parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise. Then
reverting to private feelings,--"Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt
down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank
God, I have done my duty!" Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment
or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said
Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And
Hardy then left him for ever.

Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, "I wish I
had not left the deck, for I shall soon be gone." Death was, indeed,
rapidly approaching. His articulation now became difficult, but he was
distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have done my duty!" These words
he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered.
He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after
he had received his wound.

The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public
calamity: men started at the intelligence and turned pale, as if they
had heard of the loss of a near friend. An object of our admiration and
affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us;
and it seemed as if we had never till then known how deeply we loved a