YONGE STREET AND DUNDAS STREET. 639 



loving him; and that he was always happy to oblige those in common 

 with whom he had any recollections of good-humoured festivity." 



I have said that the tide of Lord Melville's good fortune began to 

 ebb when he received the appointment of First Lord of the Admiralty, 

 in 1804. But previous to that date, his bed had not always been 

 one of roses. " Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown;" and the 

 sovereign's lot in this respect is often shared by his servant, the states- 

 man. To this effect we have in Sir John Sinclair's Memoirs a remark 

 of Lord Melville's noted. Sir John had waited on him on the new 

 year's morn of 1796, to wish him a happy new year. Melville's reply 

 was: "I hope this year will be happier than the last; for I can scarcely 

 recollect spending one happy day in the whole of it." This confes- 

 sion, coming from one whose whole life had hitherto been a series 

 of triumphs, and who appeared to stand secure on the pinnacle of 

 political ambition, Sir John Sinclair used often to dwell upon as 

 exemplifying the vanity of human wishes. 



Lord Melville's death was a sudden one. He had come into Edin- 

 burgh from his country residence, to attend the funeral of President 

 Blair, an old friend, when a fit of apoplexy seized him. He had 

 retired to rest in his usual health, but was found dead in his bed 

 next morning. These two early-attached, illustrious friends were 

 thus lying, both suddenly dead, with but a wall between them. Their 

 houses on the north-east side of George Square, Edinburgh, were 

 next each other. 



That Lord Melville's end was quite unexpected by himself at the 

 moment, is shewn by a curious circumstance. A letter was discovered 

 lying on the writing table in the room where he was found dead, con- 

 taining, by anticipation, an account of his emotions at the funeral of 

 President Blair. It was addressed, ready to be sent off, to a member 

 of the Government, with a view to obtain some public provision for 

 Blair's family; and the writer had not reckoned on the possibility of 

 his own demise before his friend's funeral took place. " Such things 

 are always awkward when detected," Lord Cockburn observes, " espe- 

 cially when done by a skilful politician. Nevertheless, an honest 

 and true man might do this," Lord Cockburn observes; " it is easy to 

 anticipate one's feelings at a friend's burial, and putting the descrip- 

 tion into the form of having returned from it, is mere rhetoric." 



Sir Walter Scott speaks with' great feeling of the decease of Lord 

 Melville. Thus he writes in a letter to Mr. Morritt: "Poor dear 



