he had a particular knack in
doing so--his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back
for combat; and when he fought he stood, so--if I remember
right--his skin, I say, was brown and dusky as that of a toad.
Oh me! I wish my elder son was here!'

Concerning the career of Borrow's father there seem to be no documents
other than one contained in _Lavengro_, yet no _Life of Borrow_ can
possibly he complete that does not draw boldly upon the son's priceless
tributes. And so we come now to the last scene in the career of the
elder Borrow--his death-bed--which is also the last page of the first
volume of _Lavengro_. George Borrow's brother has arrived from abroad.
The little house in Willow Lane, Norwich, contained the mother and her
two sons sorrowfully awaiting the end, which came on 28th February 1824.

At the dead hour of night--it might be about two--I was
awakened from sleep by a cry which sounded from the room
immediately below that in which I slept. I knew the cry--it was
the cry of my mother; and I also knew its import, yet I made no
effort to rise, for I was for the moment paralysed. Again the
cry sounded, yet still I lay motionless--the stupidity of
horror was upon me. A third time, and it was then that, by a
violent effort, bursting the spell which appeared to bind me, I
sprang from the bed and rushed downstairs. My mother was
running wildly about the room; she had awoke and found my
father senseless in the bed by her side. I essayed to raise
him, and after a few efforts supported him in the bed in a
sitting posture. My brother now rushed in, and, snatching up a
light that was burning, he held it to my father's face. 'The
surgeon! the surgeon!' he cried; then, dropping the light, he
ran out of the room, followed by my mother; I remained alone,
supporting the senseless form of my father; the light had been
extinguished by the fall, and an almost total darkness reigned
in the room. The form pressed heavily against my bosom; at last
methought it moved. Yes, I was right; there was a heaving of
the breast, and then a gasping. Were those words which I heard?
Yes, they were words, low and indistinct at first, and then
audible. The mind of the dying man was reverting to former
scenes. I heard him mention names which I had often heard him
mention before. It was an awful mome