taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and
that, whatsoever might be the future fate of my History, the life
of the historian must be short and precarious."

In June, 1888, just one hundred and one years after that pen had been
finally laid aside, I searched in Lausanne for the summer-house and
covered walk, and could find no very authentic record of its site. I
brought home a flower from the garden where it seemed probable the
summer-house had once existed, behind the modern hotel built there in
the intervening time, and laid it between the leaves of my Gibbon.

The pressed flower was still there when I last took the book down from
my shelves.

I hope my successors will preserve the little token of my reverence.

Your loving old
G.P.


[Footnote 1: First edition, 1794.]



14


MY DEAR ANTONY,

Some of the most eloquent orators in the world have been Irishmen,