had come to communicate some very distressing intelligence, and she
exclaimed, "Oh, papa! Is Johnnie gone?" He made no reply, but still
continued standing still and regarding her with the same fearful
expression. She then cried, "Oh, papa! speak! Tell me, is it Sophia
herself?" Still he remained immovable. Almost frantic, she then
screamed, "It is Walter! it is Walter! I know it is." Upon which Sir
Walter fell senseless on the floor. Medical assistance was speedily
procured. After being bled he recovered his speech, and his first words
were, "It was very strange! very horrible." He afterwards told her he
had all at once felt very queer, and as if unable to articulate; he then
went upstairs in hopes of getting rid of the sensation by movement; but
it would not do, he felt perfectly tongue-tied, or rather _chained,_
till overcome by witnessing her distress. This took place, I think, on
the 15th, and on the 18th I was invited to dine with him, and found him
without any trace of illness, but as cheerful and animated as usual.

Not being very correct as to dates, I should scarcely have ventured to
name the day had not a trifling circumstance served to mark it. After
dinner he proposed that instead of going to the drawing-room we should
remain with him and have tea in the dining room. In the interval the
post letters were brought, and amongst others there was one from a
sister of Sir Thomas Lawrence (Mrs. Bloxam), enclosing a letter of her
brother's, having heard that Sir Walter had expressed a wish to have
some memorial of him, "rather of his pencil than his pen," said he, as
he handed the letter to me, who, as a collector of autographs, would
probably value them more than he did; and on referring to Mrs. Bloxam's
letter I find the Edinburgh post-mark February the 18th.

I received repeated invitations to Abbotsford, and had fixed to go on
the 17th of April, when, the day before, Mrs. Skene called upon me with