remembered, and was as often brought home by some errand boy or stranger of whom he had inquired his way. On these occasions, he would bow and thank them with great politeness at the door, but never indulged them with a sight of the interior of the house.

During the winter of 1788, the last Mr. Elwes was fated to see, his memory visibly weakened every day; and from his unceasing wish to save money, he now began to apprehend he should die in want of it. Mr. Gibson had been appointed his builder in the room of Mr. Adam; and one day, when this gentleman waited upon him, he said, with apparent concern, "Sir, pray consider in what a wretched state I am; you see in what a good house I am living, and here are five guineas, which is all I have at present; and how I shall go on with such a sum of money puzzles me to death. I dare say you thought I was rich-now you see how it is!"

The first symptom of immediate decay was his inability to enjoy his rest at night. He was frequently heard at midnight, as if struggling with some one in his chamber, and crying out, "I will keep my money, I will-nobody shall rob me of my property." If any one of the family entered the room, he would start from his fever of anxiety, and, as if waking from a troubled dream, hurry into bed again, and seem unconscious of what had happened.

In the autumn of 1789, his memory was gone entirely; his senses sunk rapidly into decay, his mind became unsettled, and gusts of the most violent passion began to usurp the place of his former command of temper. For six weeks previous to his death he would go to rest in his clothes, as perfectly dressed as during the day. He was one morning found fast asleep between the sheets with his shoes on his feet, his stick in his hand, and an old torn hat on his head.

On this circumstance being discovered, a servant was set to watch, and take care that he undressed himself; yet so desirous was he of continuing this custom, that he told the servant, with his usual providence about money, that if he would not take any notice of him, he would leave him something in his will.

His singular appetite he retained till within a few days of his dissolution, and he walked on foot twelve miles only a fortnight before he died.

On the 18th of November he manifested signs of that total debility which carried him to his grave in eight days. On the evening of the first day he was conveyed to bed, from which he rose no more. His appetite was gone; he had but a faint recollection of anything about him, and the last intelligible words he uttered were addressed to his son John, hoping "he had left him what he wished." On the morning of the 26th November he expired without a sigh, leaving property to the amount of above 800,000l. The value of that which he had bequeathed to his two sons was estimated at half a million, and the remainder, consisting of entailed estates, devolved to his nephew, Mr. Timms.

Captain Topham winds up his relation thus ;—

"Mr. Elwes expired without a sigh, on the 26th of November, 1789, and he appears to have hastened the catastrophe by the miserable manner in which he both lodged and fed,-a truckle bed, and an egg,-a mouldy piece of pie, or meat that had become putrid, generally forming his chief sustenance. Mr. Elwes, as one of the commoners of England, in three successive parliaments, maintained a conduct which purer times might have been glad to boast, and which later times may be proud to follow. The minister that influenced him was-his conscience. He obeyed no mandate but his opinion. He gave that opinion as he held it to be right. In one word, his public conduct lives after him pure and with

out a stain. In private life, he was chiefly an enemy to himself. To others he lent much-to himself he denied everything. In the pursuit of his property, or the recovery of it, I have not in my remembrance one unkind thing that was ever done by him. But that great object which rises highest in the view out of the prospect of his varied life, let me again enforce upon this page-that object is, the insufficiency of wealth alone to confer happiness, for who, after the perusal of the life of Mr. Elwes, shall say I am rich, and therefore I shall be happy. Such be the wreath that my humble hand strews over his grave, a wreath where flattery has not furnished one single flower; but not wholly unadorned is it, for it is the tribute of truth! as such I give it to his memory, and at a moment when praise or blame can affect him no more."

The "Gentleman's Magazine," in noticing Topham's work, observes "That it should be possible for avarice to be personified in a human being will not appear strange after the perusal of these memoirs of a man who imbibed it with his mother's milk, studied it under his uncle, practised during a course of seventy-five years, in every action of his life, and fell a martyr to it at last." The same journal announces his decease in the following paragraph. "At Marcham, Berks, John Elwes, Esq., M.P. for that county. He had exceeded the age of fourscore; and a more respectable member never sat in parliament. His property in land and money was immense. The former devolves to his nephew, the son of the late Col. Timms, of the Horse Guards. This is estimated at 7000l. per annum. The latter, to the amount of some hundreds of thousands, excepting a few legacies, is equally divided between his two sons. Mr. Elwes had, during Lord North's administration, been offered an English peerage; but as,

under circumstances, it could not have been hereditary, he very disinterestedly declined it. Great part of the Circus Buildings, Seymour Street, &c., were his property. Till within a short time of his decease, he exhibited a fine head of an old man in the true interesting style of Rembrandt. His countenance resembled much that of the Calais monk, so beautifully pictured by Sterne. Mr. Elwes was a man of clear perception, sound judgment, and unshaken integrity. In such high estimation was he held for his love of justice, that numberless disputes amongst his constituents, and others, which would have been decided by courts of law, were left to his sole arbitrement; and his determination was sure to be thoroughly satisfactory to the judicious."

THE MAYOR OF GALWAY.

IN an obscure corner of the town stands a house of extreme antiquity, over the door of which are still to be seen a skull and crossbones, remarkably well sculptured in black marble. This house is called "the crossbones," and its tragical history is as follows. In the fifteenth century, James Lynch, a man of old family and great wealth, was chosen mayor of Galway for life, an office which was then nearly equal to that of a sovereign in power and influence. He was reverenced for his inflexible rectitude, and loved for his condescension and mildness. But yet more beloved-the idol of the citizens and their fair wives-was his son, according to the chronicle, one of the most distinguished young men of his time. To perfect manly beauty and the most noble air, he united that cheerful temper, that considerate familiarity, which subdues while it seems to flatter; that attaching grace of manner, which conquers all hearts without an effort, by its mere natural charm. On the other hand, his oft-proved patriotism, his highhearted generosity, his romantic courage, and complete mastery in all warlike exercises, forming part of an education singular in his age and country, secured to him the permanency of an esteem, which his first aspect involuntarily bespoke. So much light was not without shadow. Deep and burning passions, a haughty tem