together with his other papers, he has left to your care. My account,
therefore, shall begin where his ends.

He set out for London towards the end of April, and at Morpeth met
with Mr. John Home, and myself, who had both come down from London on
purpose to see him, expecting to have found him at Edinburgh. Mr.
Home returned with him, and attended him, during the whole of his stay
in England, with that care and attention which might be expected from
a temper so perfectly friendly and affectionate. As I had written to
my mother that she might expect me in Scotland, I was under the
necessity of continuing my journey. His disease seemed to yield to
exercise and change of air, and when he arrived in London, he was
apparently in much better health than when he left Edinburgh. He was
advised to go to Bath to drink the waters, which appeared for some
time to have so good an effect upon him, that even he himself began to
entertain, what he was not apt to do, a better opinion of his own
health. His symptoms, however, soon returned with their usual
violence, and from that moment he gave up all thoughts of recovery,
but submitted with the utmost cheerfulness, and the most perfect
complacency and resignation. Upon his return to Edinburgh, though he
found himself much weaker, yet his cheerfulness never abated, and he
continued to divert himself, as usual, with correcting his own works
for a new edition, with reading books of amusement, with the
conversation of his friends, and sometimes in the evening with a party
at his favourite game of whist. His cheerfulness was so great, and
his conversation and amusements ran so much in their usual strain,
that, notwithstanding all bad symptoms, many people could not believe
he was dying. "I shall tell your friend, Colonel Edmonstone," said
Doctor Dundas to him one day, "that I left you much better, and in a
fair way of recovery." "Doctor," said he, "as I believe you would not