[Illustration: THE OLD LADY OF THREADNEEDLE STREET. From "Punch."]
I have often wished that he had employed those last weary years of his
in writing a history of his life. I am sure it would have interested all
classes of readers, but I suppose he was too sad and out of heart. He
was forty-one years of age at the time of my birth, having been born in
Dumfries in 1658. He was one of those who may be said to live before
their time. He possessed great ability, knowledge, and experience, and
was a great traveller, yet, with all this, his life was a series of
disappointments and failures.
His great friend, Michael Godfrey, who had worked so faithfully by his
side, would, I am sure, never have forsaken him, but he was struck down
by a ball in the trenches of Namur, in 1695, while seeking the king in
my interests.
He was a great loss to me, although I was too young at the time to
estimate it fully. He has left behind him a quaint and graphic account
of my infancy, with which I shall hope to make you acquainted later on.
Should you feel any interest in him, look in St. Swithin's Church some
day when passing, and there you will find a monument to his memory,
which records that he "died a batchelour, much lamented by his friends,
relations, and acquaintances for his integrity, his knowledge, and the
sweetness of his manners.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35