urally falls to a successful commander; but when I am
called upon to speak of the merits of the captains of his Majesty's
ships, and of the officers and men, whether seamen, marines, or
soldiers, whom I that day had the happiness to command, I then say, that
never was the glory of this country upheld with more determined bravery
than on that occasion: and if I may be allowed to give an opinion as a
Briton, then I say, that more important service was never rendered to
our king and country. It is my duty, my lord, to prove to the brave
fellows, my companions in danger, that I have not failed at every proper
place to represent, as well as I am able, their bravery and meritorious
conduct."

Another honour, of greater import, was withheld from the conquerors. The
king had given medals to those captains who were engaged in the battles
of the 1st of June, of Cape St. Vincent, of Camperdown, and of the Nile.
Then came the victory at Copenhagen, which Nelson truly called the most
difficult achievement, the hardest-fought battle, the most glorious
result that ever graced the annals of our country. He, of course,
expected the medal; and in writing to Earl St. Vincent, said, "He longed
to have it, and would not give it up to be made an English duke." The
medal, however, was not given:--"For what reason," said Nelson, "Lord
St. Vincent best knows." Words plainly implying a suspicion that it was
withheld by some feeling of jealousy; and that suspicion estranged him,
during the remaining period of his life, from one who had at one
time been essentially, as well as sincerely, his friend; and of whose
professional abilities he ever entertained the highest opinion.

The happiness which Nelson enjoyed in the society of his chosen friends
was of no long continuance. Sir William Hamilton, who was far advanced
in years, died early in 1803; a mild, amiable, and accomplished man,
who has thus in a letter described his own philosophy: "My study of
antiquities," he says, "has kept me in constant thought of the perpetual
fluctuation of everything. The whole art is really to live all the DAYS
of our life; and not with anxious care disturb the sweetest hour that
life affords--which is the present. Admire the Creator, and all His
works, to us incomprehensible; and do all the good you can upon earth;
and take the chance of eternity without dismay." He expired in his
wife's arms, holding Nelson by the hand; and almost in his last words,
left her to h