attributed to his not being permitted by the climate to take that regular exercise, to which he had been accustomed, and which was absolutely necessary to him. He thought on the whole, however, that he left the Cape with amended health.

He set sail for England on the fifth of April. On the eighteenth day of the passage, and in fine weather, the ship suddenly sprung a leak, and took in water so rapidly, that several of the passengers were alarmed, and deserted her at the island of Ascension. Being assured by the captain that no real danger was to be apprehended, Mr. Thacher remained on board. The evil did not increase, though some rough weather was afterwards experienced, and he was safely landed at Hastings, on the twenty-fifth of June, from which place he went immediately to London.

There is little doubt that this voyage was highly injurious to his health. He himself allowed that it deprived him of much of the strength, and more than all the flesh which he had gained from his travels. It was tediously long, and was rendered uncomfortable by the excessive and continued heat, which was the consequence of the vessel's being compelled by the winds to keep near the African coast. The burning rays of an equinoctial sun beat down on the head of the invalid, and "he withered and shrunk," to use the language of an elegant tribute to his memory, "like a frail plant." A few weeks, however, passed in a milder climate, did much to restore and reanimate him.

In London, he again had recourse to medical advice; and the opinions of his physicians opposed the inclination which he now entertained to return home. They thought that after taking, as he had, three summers in succession, the severity of a New England winter would be more than he could bear. In deference to their judgment, he sacrificed his wishes to what appeared to be his duty, and dooming himself to a protracted absence from his country and friends, sought out once more a retreat for the winter.

Toward the end of August he repaired to Paris; and after a residence in that city of a few weeks, proceeded to Moulins, the chief town in the Department of the Allier. This place is near the centre of France, and was chosen by him on account of its great reputation for mildness and salubrity of climate. His health visibly declined from the period of his arrival in France; and though he himself indulged constant and soothing hopes of recovery and return to America, the friends who had opportunities of seeing him, perceived that in all probability the time of his final rest was at hand. The last letter which he wrote home bears the date of December 17th. On that day he was cheered by a visit from his countryman and friend Professor Everett, who had come from Paris on purpose to see him. The following extracts of two letters addressed by that gentleman to Judge Thacher, furnish an affecting narrative of the close of Mr. Thacher's life.

"In a letter which your brother has written you, and which you will probably receive with this, he says every thing to you of his health which I could say. To me, who had not seen him since I left him at home, near three years ago, he of course had the appearance of one reduced by long illness; but those who have seen him longer, and had some opportunity of comparing him at different periods of time, do not, as you are aware, speak discouragingly. Some symptoms, which in their continuance might have been unpleasant, showed themselves, as he writes you, on the journey from Paris, which being seventy-one leagues, was of itself rather fatiguing. The fatigue of journeying, and the indifferent quality of the food procured on the road, seemed to have produced a disorder in his digestion, which continued some days after his arrival, not without weakening him considerably. This, however, has ceased, and he is already regaining strength. His appetite is good, and the weather permits him to take daily exercise in walking abroad. He has only now to wait to see the effect on his illness of the climate of this place. It is certainly a beautiful country. The fields have not yet lost their verdure, and the flowers of the Tulip Tree, gathered from the open air, are to be seen in the flowerpots wherever you go. The Loire, all the way as I came, and the Allier, here at Moulins, that flows into it, instead of being covered with ice, like our rivers in December, is as blue and calm as on a summer's day. The English, that have passed years here, particularly Lord Beverly, who has been

here eighteen years, are delighted with the climate; and I am convinced it is more regular than that of the Mediterranean cities, where, with some warmer days in winter, there is often a vicissitude of trying blasts. Should however any circumstance make it desirable to your brother to go further south, he is on the main Lyons road, and can always pursue his journey.

"You can hardly judge of my sorrow at finding he had left Paris but four days before my arrival; though I could not but rejoice that he was getting out of the atmosphere of the Parisian rains, and the noise of that great city. I determined to seize the first moment of visiting him here, and have only to regret that my visit is too short."

The letter from which the above extract is made, was written at Moulins. That from which the remaining notices are taken, was written at Paris, after Professor Everett had received the intelligence of his friend's death.

"Other letters will perhaps inform you of every interesting circumstance relative to this event; and from Mr. Thompson's family you will gather in the spring the most particular accounts. Their constant attentions, which contributed not a little to render the last days of our dear brother as comfortable as could have been hoped, and far more so than might have been expected in a foreign land, will enable them to satisfy to its extent

your curiosity in this respect. But I cannot forbear mentioning to you what I had myself an opportunity of observing, or have learned from his servant.

"The journey to Moulins, as I have already mentioned in my other letter, was very fatiguing, and immediately followed by symptoms both distressing and alarming. This seems to have been the last effort of nature to throw off the disease, and not being successful—as, from the character of the complaint, such an effort could not be an unfavourable turn was to be anticipated. But as the local symptoms yielded, under the treatment of Dr. Bell, as the lost appetite began to return, and as there was the promise of a mild and pleasant winter, instead of apprehending any ultimate bad effect of this attack, it seemed only to have delayed awhile the experiment to be made of the climate. But I do not think that any considerable portion of the strength, lost in this severe attack, was ever recovered; and it seems to have put the delicate springs of life, already so long and greatly strained, to a trial beyond them to sustain. Nevertheless, he continued to go out in pleasant weather, and even declined being attended on his walks. He was able to take his food with appetite, he slept well, and was invariably cheerful and tranquil. His cough, however, appeared to gain, and without being at single efforts very distressing, or attended at all with loss of blood, was by its continuance very exhausting.

"It was in this condition, after an interval of about seven weeks from his arrival at Moulins, that I saw