HE last minutes which Nelson passed at Merton were employed of Lady Hamilton hung in his cabin; and no Catholic ever beheld the picture of his patron saint with more devout reverence. The undisguised and romantic passion with which he regarded it amounted almost to superstition; and when the portrait was now taken down, in clearing for action, he desired the men who removed it to "take care of his guardian angel.” In this manner he frequently spoke of it, as if he believed there was a virtue in the image. He wore a miniature of her also next to his heart. ROBERT SOUTHEY LORD NELSON AND LADY HAMILTON OBERT SOUTHEY, poet laureate, and conservative churchman wrote the Life of Nelson, wrote it on stolen time -sandwiched in between essays and epics. And now behold it is the one effort of Southey that perennially survives, and is religiously read-his one claim to literary immortality. Murray, the original Barabbas, got together six magazine essays on Lord Nelson, and certain specific memoranda from Lady Hamilton and Lord Nelson's sisters, and sent the bundle with a check for one hundred pounds to Southey asking him to write the "Life," and have it ready inside of six weeks, or return the check and papers by bearer. Southey needed the money-he had his own family to support and also that of Coleridge who was philosophizing in Germany. Southey needed the money! Had the check not been sent in advance Southey would have declined the commission. Southey began the work in distaste, warmed to it, got the right focus on his subject, used the wife of Coleridge as 'prentice talent and making twice as big a book as he had expected, completed it in just six weeks. Other men might have written lives of Lord Nelson but they did not, and all who write on Lord Nelson now, paraphrase Southey. And thus are great literary reputations won on a fluke o LITTLE JOURNEYS ORATIO NELSON, born in 1758, was one of a brood of eight children, left motherless when the lad was nine years of age. His father was a clergyman, passing rich on the proverbial forty pounds a year. It was the dying wish of the mother that one of the children should be adopted by her brother, Captain Suckling of the navy. This captain was a grand-nephew of Sir John Suckling the poet, and one of the great men of the family-himself acknowledging it. Captain Suckling promised the stricken woman that her wish should be respected. Three years went by and he made no move. Horatio, then twelve years of age, hearing that "The Raisonnable," his uncle's ship, had just anchored in the Medway, wrote the gallant Captain, reminding him of the obligation and suggesting himself as a candidate. The captain replied to the boy's father that the idea of sending the smallest and sickliest of the family to rough it at sea, was a foolish idea, but if it was the father's wish, why send the youngster along, and in the first action a cannon-ball might take off the boy's head, which would simplify the situation. This was an acceptance, although ungracious, and our youngster was duly put aboard the stage, penniless, with a big basket of lunch, ticketed for tide-water. There a kind-hearted waterman rowed the boy out to the ship and put him aboard, where he wandered on the deck for two days, too timid to make himself LITTLE known, before being discovered, and then came near JOURNEYS being put ashore as a stowaway. It seems that the captain had made no mention to any one on the ship that his nevy was expected, and in fact, had probably forgotten the matter himself. And so Horatio Nelson, slim, slight, slender, fairhaired, hollow-eyed, was made cabin-boy, with orders to wait on table, wash dishes and "tidy up things". And he set such a pace in tidying up the captain's cabin, that that worthy officer once remarked, "Dammittall, he is n't half as bad as he might be." Finally, Horatio was given the tiller when a boat was sent ashore. He became an expert in steering, and was made coxswain of the captain's launch. He learned the channel in low tide from Chatham to the Tower, making a map of it on his own account. He had a scent for rocks and shoals and knew how to avoid them, for good pilots are born not made. A motherless boy with a discouraged father is very fortunate. If he ever succeeds, he knows it must be through his own exertions. The truth is pressed home upon him that there is nothing in the universe to help him, but himself-a great lesson to learn. Young Nelson soon saw that his uncle's patronage, no matter how well intentioned, could not help him beyond making him coxswain to the long boat. And anyway, if he was promoted, he wanted it to be on account of merit and not relationship. So he got himself transferred to another boat that was about to sail |