everybody near her." Then she continues, "Oh! brave Nelson! Oh! God
bless and protect our brave deliverer! Oh! Nelson, Nelson! Oh! Victor!
Oh! that my swollen heart could now tell him personally what we owe to
him. My dress from head to foot is Allah Nelson. My earrings are
Nelson's anchors." She sends him some sonnets, and avers that she must
have taken a ship to "send all what is written on you." And so she
goes on, throwing herself into his arms, metaphorically speaking, at
every sentence.

When the _Vanguard_ arrived at Naples, Nelson invited Lady Hamilton on
board and she was no sooner on the deck than she made one dramatic
plunge at him, and proceeded to faint on the poor shattered man's
breast. Nelson, whose besetting weakness was love of approbation,
became intoxicated with the lady's method of making love. Poor
gallant fellow! He was, like many another, the victim of human
weakness. He immediately believed that he and Emma had "found each
other," and allowed himself to be flattered with refined delicacy into
a liaison which became a fierce passion, and tested the loyalty of his
closest friends to breaking-point. How infinitely pathetic is this
piteous story from beginning to end!

Like most sailors, Nelson had a fervent, religious belief in the
Eternal, and never went to battle without casting himself on the mercy
of the Infinite Pity which alone can give solace. He was fearless and
strong in the affairs of his profession, and it may be safely assumed
that, even if it went no deeper, he had a mystic fear of God, and was
lost to all other fear.

I think it was Carlyle who said, "God save us from the madness of
popularity. It invariably injures those who get it." There never was a