I843-44' ILLNESS OF A COUSIN. 167 



partments of literature, and he has left tokens that the 

 poetic faculty in him was fresh and strong. His nature was 

 generous, loving, and true, and we wonder not that his very 

 name possesses a charm for those who knew him, and that 

 sweet memories are awakened by thoughts of him. 



Disease early laid its hand on him, and at the time of 

 which we now speak, he was sinking in its grasp. In the 

 following letter to a sister, George speaks of him : 



" James is, on the whole, as well as any such sufferer can 

 be, growing daily weaker, and wasting manifestly before our 

 eyes, but free from acute pain, and not much distressed 

 with sickness. Now and then, at long intervals, I have a 

 cheering conversation on the world to come with him, and we 

 talk of many matters quietly together. But often for days we 

 remain beside each other, saying very little about any matter. 



" I can now walk the streets alone, trusting to my stick 

 only for support. This is a great deal, like a new life to 

 me. Crocuses and snow-drops and hepaticas are growing 

 old, and tulips and hyacinths flinging forth their flowers. It 

 would sadden you to hear James dwell on the loveliness of 

 green parks filled with violets an4 buttercups and spring 

 flowers, as on things which he will never see. Where he is 

 going he will see ' better things than these,' and these may 

 not be wanting also. Nothing strikes me more in the Bible 

 than the exulting calmness with which the sacred writers 

 permit us to imagine our utmost as to the glories of heaven, 

 and then add, ' Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 

 have entered into the heart of man, the things which God 

 hath prepared for them that love him/ 



" I write in the laboratory at a moment hastily snatched 

 from other duties. Excuse scrawling, and believe me your 

 affectionate "GEORGE." 



