On the following day, the 3rd of June, the King left England. On the night of that day week he died at Osnaburgh, aged sixty-seven years and thirteen days. The King had landed at Vaer, in Holland, on the 7th, and he travelled thence to Utrecht, by land, escorted by the Guards to the frontiers of Holland. On Friday, the 9th, he reached Dalden, at twelve at night, when he was apparently in excellent health. He partook of supper largely, and with appetite, eating, among other things, part of a melon, a fruit which has killed more than one emperor of Germany. At three the next morning he resumed his journey. According to the story to which allusion has just been made, the letter of Sophia Dorothea was then given to him. He read it, appeared shocked, and became ill. He was probably moved by something more than mere sentiment, for he had not travelled two hours when he was attacked by violent abdominal pains. He hurried on to Linden, where dinner awaited him; but, being able to eat nothing, he was immediately bled, and other remedies made use of. Anxious to reach Hanover, he ordered the journey to be continued with all speed. He fell into a lethargic doze in the carriage, and so continued, leaning on a gentleman in waiting who was with him in the carriage. To this attendant he feebly announced in French, ‘I am a dead man.’ He reached the episcopal palace at Osnaburgh at ten that night; was again bled in the arm and foot, but ineffectually; his lethargy increased, and he died about midnight. The King’s mistress, the Duchess of Kendal, who had gone thither to meet him, tore her hair, beat her breast, and uttered loud cries of despair at this bereavement. She repaired to Brunswick and shut herself up, for three months, as the most afflicted of widows. Subsequently, she returned to her house near Isleworth. A raven was the last pet of this lady; and the familiarity of the two gave rise to the popular legend that George had promised to visit his old mistress, after death, if such circumstance were allowed, and that he was keeping his word in the shape of the much caressed bird in sables.