speed, was seen coming down upon them like lightning. The most
active of those in peril sprang back into their seats: Lord W----
saved his life only by rushing behind the duke's carriage, and
Count Matuscenitz had but just leaped into it, with the engine all
but touching his heels as he did so; while poor Mr. Huskisson, less
active from the effects of age and ill health, bewildered, too, by
the frantic cries of "Stop the engine! Clear the track!" that
resounded on all sides, completely lost his head, looked helplessly
to the right and left, and was instantaneously prostrated by the
fatal machine, which dashed down like a thunderbolt upon him, and
passed over his leg, smashing and mangling it in the most horrible
way. (Lady W---- said she distinctly heard the crushing of the
bone.) So terrible was the effect of the appalling accident that,
except that ghastly "crushing" and poor Mrs. Huskisson's piercing
shriek, not a sound was heard or a word uttered among the immediate
spectators of the catastrophe. Lord W---- was the first to raise
the poor sufferer, and calling to aid his surgical skill, which is
considerable, he tied up the severed artery, and for a time, at
least, prevented death by loss of blood. Mr. Huskisson was then
placed in a carriage with his wife and Lord W----, and the engine,
having been detached from the director's carriage, conveyed them to
Manchester. So great was the shock produced upon the whole party by
this event, that the Duke of Wellington declared his intention not
to proceed, but to return immediately to Liverpool. However, upon
its being represented to him that the whole population of
Manchester had turned out to witness the procession, and that a
disappointment might give rise to riots and disturbances, he
consented to go on, and gloomily enough the rest of the journey was
accomplished. We had intended returning to Liverpool by the
railroad, but Lady W----, who seized upon me in the midst of the
crowd, persuaded us to accompany her home, which we gladly did.
Lord W---- did not return till past ten o'clock, at which hour he
brought the intelligence of Mr. Huskisson's death. I need not tell
you of the sort of whispering awe which this event threw over our
whole circle, and yet, great as was the horror excited by it, I
co