_20th-28th._ These days have been to me days of extreme anxiety, and often of fearful anticipation. On the 20th Sir Humphry was attacked with a renewed stroke of palsy, which had nearly proved fatal to him. In the morning he had, after breakfast, been dictating to me his dialogues, which he had nearly finished, and he appeared even to be better, and more gay than I had seen him for some time. I left him at eleven o'clock, and went to my adjoining room to continue the fair copy, but had scarcely seated myself, when I heard him hastily call me, and upon entering the room I found him fallen upon the sofa, and deprived apparently of the use of his limbs. He evidently thought himself dying, but his voice was quite audible, and he told me, that on attempting to rise from the sofa, he felt that he had no power over his limbs, more especially those of his right side, and that he felt sick at his stomach. With the assistance of the servants I got him into bed as quickly as possible, and I sent immediately for Dr. Jenks, who came directly, bringing with him Dr. Morichini. They each did all that was possible to relieve Sir Humphry's apprehensions, and assured me the danger was not so immediate as he imagined. After they left, I wrote both to Doctor and Lady Davy, and then read to Sir Humphry during the remainder of the day, which seemed to quiet and calm him. He slept very little in the night, and continued much in the same state through the next day, though he was able during it to dictate some codicils to his will, and to finish the little that remained of the Dialogues. On the 22nd he was rather better, although he had much fever, and was able, with the help of my guiding his hand, to sign two or three papers of importance. On the 23rd, however, he became worse, and he dictated a letter to his brother, Dr. Davy, to say that he was dying; but the physicians who visited him daily three times, said he was not materially worse. He has often taken large doses of laudanum and acetate of morphine, (of the latter in one day upwards of twenty grains,) even more than his physicians approved, and on the 24th he was much worse, having passed a sleepless and very restless night. He was extremely weak, and his voice had sunk to a whisper scarcely audible; he said he felt his forces going, and that he should not outlive the day; yet his mental faculties maintained their power and activity, and seemed to be always occupied with the same subject, his Dialogues, the title of which, "Philosophical Dialogues," he said he wished to have changed for "The Last Days of a Philosopher; or, Consolations in Travel." I could not persuade him to take anything during the morning, and even the little which he had spoken to me seemed to have exhausted him. The idea that his dissolution was close at hand, was fixed in his mind, and saying that he had but a few hours longer to live, he begged to be left quiet and alone, and pressing my hand said, "God bless you,