thought most proper and convenient for the better management, order, and care, of my said Collection and premises.’ Provision is then made, in subsequent clauses of this codicil, for the replacement, by the Trustees surviving, from time to time, of vacancies occasioned by death in the ranks of the Trustees first appointed; and by surviving Visitors of vacancies so occasioned in those of the original Visitors. [Sidenote: LATER CODICILS.] In September, 1750, another codicil added to the list of Visitors—in order to supply vacancies which death had already wrought—the Earls of MACCLESFIELD and SHELBURNE, and the then Master of the Rolls, Sir John STRANGE, with proviso of succession for the Master of the Rolls of the time being. Sir John BERNARD, Sir William CALVERT, and Mr. Slingsby BETHEL were, in like manner, added to the roll of Trustees. The same codicil excepted the advowson of the Rectory of Chelsea from the bequest of 1749, and annexed it to the lordship of the Manor. By his marriage with the daughter and heiress of Mr. LANGLEY, an Alderman of London, Sir Hans SLOANE had issue two daughters, but no son. The elder of the daughters, Sarah SLOANE, married George STANLEY, of Poultons, in Hampshire; the younger, Elizabeth, married Lord CADOGAN. By the representatives of those co-heiresses the large inheritance was eventually enjoyed. A subsequent codicil of 1751, added nine other Trustees, five of whom were distinguished foreigners. Among the four English names are those of John HAMPDEN (‘twenty-fourth hereditary lord of Great Hampden,’ and last lineal male descendant of that famous stock) and William SOTHEBY. [Sidenote: THE CLOSING YEARS.] The declining years of a man to whom had been given, not only unusual length of days, but an unusual span both of bodily and of mental vigour, so that he remained in the rank of busy men until he had passed his eightieth year, were necessarily days of seclusion. He had enjoyed not only the honours[52] and the comforts, but the troop of friends which should accompany old age. Yet a man who reaches the age of ninety-two must needs lose the friends of his maturity, as well as the friends of his youth. Sir Hans SLOANE, in the old Manor House of Chelsea, had something of the experience which made a famous statesman of our own day, who was loth to leave the stir of London life, say—with a sigh—‘I see all the world passing my windows, but few come in.’