willingly obeyed. I confess that it made my heart bleed to see the Duke of Buckingham in so pitiful a place, and in so bad a condition; and what made it worse, he was not at all sensible of it, for he thought in a day or two he should be well; and when we minded him of his condition, he said it was not as we apprehended. The doctors told me his case was desperate, and, though he enjoyed the free exercise of his senses, that in a day or two at most it would kill him, but they durst not tell him of it; so they put a hard part upon me to pronounce death to him, which I saw approaching so fast, that I thought it was high time for him to think of another world, for it was impossihle for him to continue long in this. So I sent for a very worthy gentleman, Mr. Gibson, a neighbour of his Grace's, who lives but a mile from this place, to be an assistant to me in this work; so we jointly represented his condition to him, who I saw was at first very uneasy; but I think we should not have discharged the duty of honest men, or I of a faithful kinsman, if we had suffered him to go out of this world without desiring him to prepare for death, and look into his conscience.

"After having plainly told him his condition, I asked him who I should send for to be assistant to him during the small time he had to live: he would make me no answer, which made me conjecture; and having formerly heard that he had been inclining to be a Roman Catholic, I asked him if I should send for a priest; for I thought any act that could be like a Christian, was what his condition now wanted most; but he positively told me he was not one of that persuasion, and so would not hear any more on that subject, for he was of the Church of England; but hitherto he would not hear of a parson, though he had declared his aversion to my offering to

send for a priest. But after some time, beginning to feel his distemper mount, he desired me to send for the parson of this parish, who said prayers for him, which he joined in very freely, but still he did not think he should die; though this was yesterday at seven in the morning, and he died about eleven at night.

"Mr. Gibson asked him if he had made a will, or if he would declare who was to be his heir; but to the first he answered that he had made none, and to the last, whoever was named, he always answered No.' First, my Lady Duchess was named, and then, I think, almost everybody that had any relation to him, but his answer was always 'No.' And to see if he would change any way the answer or manner of it, they asked him if my Lord Purbeck was to be sent for, but to that he answered, 'By no means.' I did fully represent my Lady Duchess's condition to him, and told him it was absolutely fit, during the time he had the exercise of his reason, to do something to settle his affairs; but nothing that was said to him could make him come to any point.

"I then said, that since he would do nothing in his worldly affairs, I desired he might die like a Christian; and since he called himself of the Church of England, the parson was ready here to administer the sacrament to him; which he said he would take; so accordingly I gave orders for it, and two other honest gentlemen received with him, Mr. Gibson and Colonel Liston, an old servant of his Grace's. At first he called out three or four times, for he thought the ceremony looked as if death was near, which for the strength of his noble parts (they not being yet affected) he could not easily believe; for all this time he was not willing to take death to him; but in a few moments after he became calm, and received the sacrament with all the decency imaginable, and in an

hour afterwards he lost his speech, and continued so till eleven at night, when he died.

"The confusion he has left his affairs in will make his heir, whoever he be, very uneasy. To tell you truly, I believe there is no other will in being but what they say is in the trustees' hands; for all the servants say they knew there was a parchment sealed, which my Lord said. he would alter, which they looked upon to be his will: whether he has cancelled it I cannot find; some say one Mr. Burrell has it; but nobody here can give any distinct account of it. But my Lord himself said positively, in the presence of several, that he had no will in being; so what to make of this I cannot tell you. We supposed that it might be Sir William Villiers that he intended for his heir; but he said several times, before us all, 'No;' so that I cannot imagine, if he has any will, to whom he has given it, I myself being as nearly related to him as any by full blood. Mr. Brian Fairfax, and Mr. Gibson, have been witnesses of my proceedings since my being here; I hope they will give an account of it. I thought in honour I could not leave him in this condition, being so nearly related to him; especially his Grace being in such a retired corner, where there was nobody but myself till I sent for this Mr. Gibson. My. Lord Fairfax, of Gilling, came yesterday in the afternoon; but he was speechless when he came.

"I have ordered the corpse to be embalmed, and carried to Helmsley Castle, and there to remain till my Lady Duchess's pleasure shall be known. There must be speedy care taken; for there is nothing here but confusion, not to be expressed. Though his stewards have received vast sums, there is not so much as one farthing, as they tell me, for defraying the least expense; but I have ordered his intestines to be buried

at Helmsley, where his body is to remain till further orders.

"Being the nearest kinsman in the place, I have taken the liberty of giving his Majesty an account of his death; and have sent his George and blue ribbon, to be disposed of as his Majesty shall think fit: I have addressed it under cover to my Lord President, to whom I beg you would carry the bearer the minute he arrives.

“I have given orders that nothing shall be embezzled, and for that reason, as soon as my Lord died, I called to see his strong box, but not before Mr. Brian Fairfax and Mr. Gibson. I found nothing of moment in it, but some loose letters of no concern; but such as they are, I have ordered them to be locked up, and delivered to my Lady Duchess; so also the small plate and linen he had, I have committed it to the care of Lord Fairfax.

"So now that I have given your Lordship this particular account of everything, I have nothing more to do, but to assure your Lordship, that I am, my Lord,

"Your Lordship's most assured
“Friend and humble servant,

"ARRAN."

According to Lord Dover, in his Notes to "The Ellis Correspondence," the house in which Buckingham died, and which probably still exists, must formerly have been one of the best in the town of Kirby Moorside. We learn, from the same authority, that the only memorial of this once brilliant personage, which now remains in Kirby Moorside, is the following rude entry in an old register of burials :

"1687, April 17th, Gorges villus Lord dooke of bookingham!"

Buckingham died on the sixteenth of April 1688, in

the sixty-first year of his age. His body, having been embalmed, was conveyed to Westminster, where it was interred in the vault of his family in Henry the Seventh's chapel. He left no children by his Duchess, nor, apparently, by any of his numerous amours.

An affectionate attempt has been made by Fairfax to rescue the name of his master from entire reprobation. He dwells on his undoubted genius and varied accomplishments; he considers his intrigues with women to have been greatly exaggerated; and, finally, gives him the credit of good-humour, charity, and a forgiving disposition. There is something redeeming and agreeable in the reprobate Duke having left even one friend to regret his loss and respect his memory. But, after all, it is to be feared that the bitter censure of Warburton is

scarcely too severe. "It was the fortune," he says, "of

this wretched man to do as much mischief to the morals of Charles the Second's court, as his father had done to the politics of James the First's."

In taking leave of a character which has been so often drawn, we will conclude with one of the most finished passages from the pen of Walpole. "When this extraordinary man," he says, "with the figure and genius of Alcibiades, could equally charm the presbyterian Fairfax and the dissolute Charles; when he alike ridiculed that witty King and his solemn Chancellor; when he plotted the ruin of his country with a cabal of bad ministers, or, equally unprincipled, supported its cause with bad patriots, one laments that such parts should have been devoid of every virtue. But when Alcibiades turns chemist; when he is a real bubble and a visionary miser; when ambition is but a frolic; when the worst designs are for the foolishest ends, contempt extinguishes all reflections on his character."-"His portrait," adds the