rely-wounded yet quite conscious man. She saw
in a moment that he had medals on his coat, and had been very tall, so
that it could not be as she feared. The relief of that moment may be
imagined. Then the quiet presence of mind, by practice habitual to her,
and the ready flow of sympathy left her no time to think of anything but
the sufferer, who said to her pathetically, 'I shall not trouble you
long!' She had not only the will but the power to help, even to
supplying from her own medicine chest and stores, kept for the poor,
everything that the surgeons required.

It was Lord Wilton who suggested the removal of Mr. Huskisson to Eccles
Vicarage and improvised a tourniquet on the spot, while soon the medical
men who were in the train did what they could for him. Mr. Blackburne,
as will be remembered, was not with his wife, and only the presentiment
which had brought Mrs. Blackburne home had given the means of so readily
and quickly obtaining surgical necessaries and rest. Mr. Blackburne,
writing to his mother-in-law the day after this accident, referring to
Mr. Huskisson, remarks:--"To the last he retained his senses. Lord
Granville says when the dying man heard Wilton propose to take him to
this house he exclaimed, 'Pray take me there; there I shall indeed be
taken care of.'

But fancy my horror! _Not one word did I know of his being here till I
had passed the place_, _and was literally eating my luncheon at
Manchester_! In vain did I try to get a conveyance, till at last the
Duke of Wellington sent to me and ordered his car to start, and I came
with him back, he intending to come here; but the crowd was so _immense_
that the police dared not let him get out. To be sure, when my people on
the bridge saw me standing with him, they did shout, 'That's as it should
be--Vicar for us!' He said, 'These people seem to know you well.'

_Entre nous_, at the door I met my love, and after a good cry (I don't
know which was the greatest fool!) set to work. The poor fellow was glad
to see me, and never shall I forget the scene, his poor wife holding his
head, and the great men weeping, for they all wept! He then received the
Sacrament, added some codocils to his will, and seemed perfectly
resigned. But his agonies were dreadful! Ransome says they must have
been so. He expired at nine. We never left him till he breathed his
last. Poor woman! How she lamented his loss; yet her struggles to bear
with fortitude are