HUME. 233 



alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it, become mor- 

 tal and incurable. I now," adds the philosopher, 

 reckon on a speedy dissolution. I have suffered 

 very little pain from my disorder, and what is more 

 strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of 

 my person, never suffered a moment's abatement of 

 my spirits ; insomuch that, were I to name the period 

 of my life which I should most choose to pass over 

 again, I might be tempted to point to this latter 

 period. I possess the same ardour as ever in study, 

 and the same gaiety in company, I consider, besides, 

 that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a few 

 years of infirmities ; and though I see many symptoms 

 of my literary reputation breaking out at last with 

 additional lustre, I could have but few years to enjoy 

 it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than 

 I am at present." 



While he continued to decline by a gradual ex- 

 haustion, he continued to see his friends about him as 

 usual, and his gaiety was never clouded by the pros- 

 pect before him now drawing to a close. A few weeks 

 before his death, when there were dining with him 

 two or three of his intimate companions, one of them, 

 Dr. Smith, happening to complain of the world as 

 spiteful and ill-natured, "No, no," said Mr. Hume, 

 " here am I, who have written on all sorts of subjects 

 calculated to excite hostility, moral, political, and 

 religious, and yet I have no enemies ; except, indeed, 

 all the Whigs, all the Tories, and all the Christians.'* 



When his strength gradually failed, he was un- 

 able to remain so long as before in the company of 

 his friends. By degrees he became confined to his 



