sed; but, though the
legible record has perished, _opus vatum durat_.

AMELIA PLACE is a row of nine houses immediately beyond the Admiral
Keppel. Within the walls of the last low house in the row, and the
second with a verandah, the Right Hon. John Philpot Curran died on the
14th of October, 1817. It had then a pleasant look-out upon green fields
and a nursery-garden, now occupied by Pelham Crescent. Here it was, with
the exception of a short excursion to Ireland, that Curran had resided
during the twelve months previous to his death. [Picture: No. 7 Amelia
Place] Curran's public life may be said to have terminated in 1806, when
he accepted the office of Master of the Rolls in Ireland, an appointment
of 5000 pounds a year. This situation he retained until 1815, when his
health required a cessation from its laborious attendance. Upon his
retirement from office, he "passed through the watering-places with the
season," and then fixed himself at No. 7, Amelia Place, Brompton, which
house has now Kettle's boot and shoe warehouse built out in front. To no
other contemporary pen than that of the Rev. George Croly can be ascribed
the following glowing sketch of Curran:--

"From the period in which Curran emerged from the first struggles of
an unfriended man, labouring up a jealous profession, his history
makes a part of the annals of his country: once upon the surface, his
light was always before the eye, it never sank and was never
outshone. With great powers to lift himself beyond the reach of that
tumultuous and stormy agitation that must involve the movers of the
public mind in a country such as Ireland then was, he loved to cling
to the heavings of the wave; he, at least, never rose to that
tranquil elevation to which his early contemporaries had one by one
climbed; and never left the struggle till the storm had gone down, it
is to be hoped for ever. This was his destiny, but it might have
been his choice, and he was not without the reward, which, to an
ambitious mind conscious of its eminent powers, might be more than
equivalent to the reluctant patronage of the throne. To his habits
legal distinction would have been only a bounty upon his silence; his
limbs would have been fettered by the ermine; but he had the
compensation of boundless popular honour, much respect from the
higher ranks of party, much admiration and much fear from the lowe