ere attack of influenza he broke through this
habit a little during the last few months of his life, moved by the
advice of his physician and the instance of his friends. The writer of
these observations prevailed upon him a little the last year to fall
into the easy habit of dining at Bellamy's, which saves much time and
permits the transaction of business in conversation with a congenial
friend. But he grudged it; he always thought that something would be
said or done in his absence, which would not have occurred had he been
there; some motion whisked through or some return altered. His principle
was that a member should never be absent from his seat."

Disraeli thus describes the last farewell he took of Lord George and his
tragic death a few days afterwards:

"He goes to his native county and his father's proud domain, to breathe
the air of his boyhood and move amid the parks and meads of his youth.
Every breeze will bear health, and the sight of every hallowed haunt
will stimulate his pulse. He is scarcely older than Julius Caesar when he
commenced his public career, he looks as high and brave, and he springs
from a long-lived race.

"He stood upon the perron of Harcourt House, the last of the great
hotels of an age of stately manners, with its wings and courtyard, and
carriage portal, and huge outward walls. He put forth his hand to bid
farewell, and his last words are characteristic of the man, of his warm
feelings, and of his ruling passion: 'God bless you; we must work, and
the country will come round us.'"

A few days after this interview Lord George returned to Welbeck.

"Some there were who thought him worn by the exertion of the session,
and that an unusual pallor had settled upon that mantling and animated
countenance. He himself never felt in better health or was ever in
higher spirits, and greatly enjoyed the change of life, and that change
in a scene so dear to him.

"On the 21st of September, 1848, after breakfasting with his family, he
retired to his dressing-room, where he employed himself with some papers
and then wrote three letters, one to Lord Enfield, another to the Duke
of Richmond, and the third to the writer of these pages. That letter is
now at hand; it is of considerable length, consisting of seven sheets of
notepaper, full of interesting details of men and things, and written
not only in a cheerful but even in a merry mood. Then, when his letters
were sealed, about four o'clock he to