home could not be continued beyond a few weeks, I was solicitous to leave him the charge of my patient. In conjunction with him again, before my departure, a critical examination was made of the state of his chest. I was gratified to find the disease still very circumscribed, having made no progress within now nearly three months, and that his general health had much improved. But, ah! what a treacherous disease is consumption; delaying oftentimes in its progress, just long enough to allow us to build up our hopes, and then hurrying its victim with rapid strides to the close of life, as if more than to make up for the momentary delay! I was happy to find in Dr. A- an entire concurrence of

opinion as to the plan of treatment to be pursued. I accordingly made my preparations to return homeward, having agreed with Dr. A, that our patient was to remain at Savannah, or pass on to Florida, according as his health, or the state of the weather, might render it desirable.

The season, however, was so far advanced, and there being a prospect of the mild weather's continuance, it was thought highly probable that Savannah would be the permanent place of sojourn, until his return north. Accordingly, it became necessary to remove our lodgings from the public house to a more retired location; and

here we were singularly fortunate in procuring accommodations in a private family, whose kindness and attentions to our invalid during his whole stay at Savannah were unremitting; they were remembered by him as long as life lasted; and after his return home were often referred to with feelings of the warmest gratitude.

Indeed, the kind attentions of many friends at Savannah call forth, even at this day, our best thanks. Should any of them be so situated as to need the acts of kindness they extended to our invalid, I trust they may meet with those who will as deeply sympathize with them, as they did with us; and then, and only then, can they fully appreciate our feelings of thankful

ness.

On the 17th of February, I bade adieu to my friends and my dear patient, with whom now for weeks I had been continually in the closest contact, and with whom I thought it highly probable I might again never meet on this side the grave. I shall never forget his farewell, his affecting farewell. I can now see his bright eyes suffused with tears, can feel his feeble arms thrown about my neck : he uttered not a word— his countenance bespoke all he felt.

I returned home by land, and shortly after my arrival received from him a letter stating,

very clearly, that he felt himself daily increasing in strength; that he rode out, continually enjoying the society of the kind friends he had met with there. This continued until the early part of April, when it became very evident, from his handwriting, that there was a decrease of strength. It became tremulous, instead of the usually bold and manly style natural to him. I felt that my worst fears were now about to be realized, apprehending that the loss of strength and nerve could arise from no other cause than the formation of the much dreaded abscess. Soon after I received a communication from Dr. A., confirming the fact. I immediately wrote to Mr. Ingalls, urging his instant return; this he did by easy journeys by land, during which you had an opportunity of seeing him when passing through your city. And here let me pause a moment in my narrative to remark, that the residence of Henry at Savannah formed an interesting period of his life, and especially showed forth in a clearer light than any former period the religious state of his mind; and this will be furnished you by our mutual friend, the Rev. Mr. Clapp. I might also remark here, that he was, in my view, most conscientiously attached to his particular faith, yet breathing at all times a most catholic spirit. I might relate a little in

cident by way of illustration during our journey. We had of course been constantly in close contact, yet separated in our morning and evening devotions; this appeared to me wrong; that two immortal beings, bound to the same eternal world, could not worship the great Author of their being in unison, seemed to me an absurdity. One morning, my book of Common Prayer laid on the table, and I observed he had but a few minutes before been reading it. I asked him if he were familiar with the prayers; he said he was, and thought them very beautiful. And could you, I remarked, join with me in the morning and evening family prayers, which you doubtless have looked over?" With pleasure," he replied, "although I might mentally put a different construction on certain expressions from what you would." It was enough-from that morning began our united prayers to the Giver of all good, and I believe were never once omitted while we remained together.

It was at this point of his sad progress toward the tomb, that he became known to the writer of this memoir. His sister, younger than himself, came as far as Baltimore to meet him on his return from the south, and was my guest till his arrival. She had evidently no idea of his des

perate condition, and expected to see him renovated in strength, or at least in no worse condition than when he went from home. She daily spoke of her anticipated pleasure in seeing him comparatively well. Forming my own anticipations by hers, I too expected to see him, if not recovered, yet restored to comparative health.

I had not seen him more than once since boyhood, and I recollected him rather as a sedate, reflective, retiring child, than as a young man, mature in mind, settled in character, and full grown in stature. The first intimation we had of his approach, was the present of a box of strawberries, sent us just at evening, by him, on his arrival in the steamboat from Norfolk. This delicious fruit was not then ripe in our latitude. From this, I augured favorably as to the condition of his health. To me, it did not seem possible that any one could be so thoughtful of others, who was himself an invalid, and in the last stages of weakness and decline. It was all explained, however, when I became acquainted with his character.

I attended his sister to the hotel, with raised, and rather pleasant anticipations. He had retired to his room, though not to rest. He first saw his sister alone. I was soon sent for, and followed to his room. It was a scene which I