lking up to Captain Maitland, addressed him with great
eagerness for nearly ten minutes.

How distinct is every feature, every trait, every line of that
majestic countenance in my mind's eye at this moment, now that
two-and-twenty years have passed away; but who could witness such a
scene and ever forget it? The Romans said that a "great man struggling
with adversity was a sight that the gods looked on with pleasure."
Here, indeed, was adversity, and here was true greatness struggling
against it; but to a mere mortal it was a heart-rending sight. The
ship's deck looked like a place of execution, and we only wanted the
headsman, his block, and his axe, to complete the scene.

The purport of his speech to Captain Maitland, was thanking _him_, his
officers, and ship's company, for the polite attention he had received
while on board of the Bellerophon, which he should ever hold in kind
remembrance. Something more he would have said after the first pause,
and a feeling of deep emotion laboured in his face, and swelled his
breast, he looked earnestly in Maitland's face for a moment, as if he
was about to renew his speech, but utterance seemed denied; and,
slightly moving his hat in salutation, he turned to Savary and
L'Allemand, who were not allowed to accompany him to St Helena, and
spoke to them for a few minutes.

What a horrid gloom overhung the ship: had his execution been about
to take place there could not have prevailed a more dead silence, so
much so, that had a pin fallen from one of the tops on the deck, I am
convinced it would have been heard; and to any one who has known the
general buzz of one of our seventy-fours, even at the quietest hour,
it is a proof how deeply the attention of every man on board must have
been riveted. Before leaving the ship he turned to us on the
quarter-deck, once more waved his hand in token of adieu, took hold of
the man-ropes, and walked down the side, taking his seat in the
Northumberland's barge between Lord Keith and Admiral Cockburn.

Even in this hour of hopeless misery, he lost not sight of that
indescribable charm by which he won the hearts of men. On looking back
to the ship he saw every head, that could get stuck out of a port,
gazing after him; even the rough countenances of the men bespoke a
sympathy for his cruel fate, and, apparently conscious of their
feelings, the exiled chief again lifted his hat, and inclined his head
to the gazing ship's company.

THE END.