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CHAPTER XII. 



1895-1896. 

 LAST DAYS. 



THE quiet semi-invalid life which had crept on Joseph 

 Prestwich almost unawares was nevertheless a very 

 happy time. It continued to be his practice to walk 

 out a little in the garden before breakfast so as to 

 breathe the morning air and have a look at the vane, 

 always bringing in a rose or pink, or a handful of sweet- 

 scented flowers. Any lady guest found a rose by her 

 breakfast plate, or, when flowers were not within reach, 

 sprays of his favourite lavender took their place, several 

 plants of it being grown near the house so as to be 

 accessible for cutting. The old routine was maintained : 

 after reading the morning papers he adjourned to the 

 library, when longingly he looked at his books and 

 portfolios of MS., which he had been forbidden to touch. 

 Replies to letters and notes were the first occupation, 

 being dashed off in the old rapid style. Sometimes 

 plants had to be ordered for the garden, or some other 

 easy correspondence which could not be termed work. 

 Before lunch, at least an hour (which was always an en- 

 grossing time) was spent in the grounds ; he then often 



