On the evening before this 3rd of December, a Dr. Hume, assistant staff-surgeon--only child of Dr. John Hume, of Almada Hill, Lanark, Scotland, in whose family the medical profession was hereditary, the father being in Egypt under Abercrombie, and a cousin-german surgeon to the Duke of Wellington--dined at the house of a friend in Sandwich. He wore his undress uniform, and during the evening went to the Park Farm, partly to see the Colonel, as times were exciting; partly to give professional advice for Mrs. Prince, who was ill to distraction from nervous fever; partly to prescribe for the Colonel himself, who “was extremely ill and worn out by fatigue both night and day;” and chiefly to see the third ill person in this afflicted family, Miss Rudyard. Hume was a fair-complexioned fellow, of easy and gentlemanly manner, with a look and countenance peculiarly mild; altogether a pleasing personality, handsome and distinguished-looking. On the morning of the attack, he and Commissary Morse directed their steps from the Park Tavern to where the sounds of firing came, the former to tender his professional services. They rode, the staff-surgeon still in uniform, and the horse in its usual military trappings. Someone suggested that to be in plain clothes might be safer, but he laughingly replied that no one would touch a doctor. As the incendiaries returned from burning the _Thames_ they met the two. Hume mistook them for Loyalists. A woman came out from her house and warned him that they were a detachment of patriots, but she was too late. The patriot account is that their captain demanded Hume’s surrender. To his question, “To whom shall I surrender?” came the answer, “To the Patriots.” He then quickly dismounted, with the uncomplimentary rejoinder, “Never, to a ---- set of rebels!” Then a dozen bullets pierced him. “Only part of our force fired--the rest, among whom I was one, thinking it quite unnecessary to go to extremes with so brave a man.” The surgeon’s body told a different story. Colonel Prince’s official despatch says that, not content with firing several balls into him, the savages stabbed him in many places with their bowie knives and mangled his body with an axe. Another Loyalist appears to have been near enough to call out, “Don’t shoot that man--he is the doctor!” This interruption and their absurd query, “Then why does he not surrender?” enabled him to slip past the corner of a house under cover of which he tried to reach a friend’s. The first man who fired must have been satisfied with his aim, for he turned to a companion and said, “You may go and take the sword, he won’t run farther.” At any rate, he retreated, pistol in hand, facing his enemies. The legends of the time say he was barbarously mutilated, dismembered, and his heart cut out, and preparations made to skin him, with a view to drumheads. It was said that these barbarities were committed under the impression that he was the dreaded Prince