"A few days before--it was the day after the Derby, May 25, 1848--the writer met Lord George Bentinck in the library of the House of Commons. He was standing before the bookshelves with a volume in his hand, and his countenance was greatly disturbed. His resolution in favour of the Colonial interest, after all his labours, had been negatived by the Committee on the 22nd; and on the 24th, his horse, Surplice, whom he had parted with among the rest of the stud, had won that paramount and Olympic stake, to gain which had been the object of his life. He had nothing to console him, and nothing to sustain him, except his pride. Even that deserted him before a heart, which he knew at least could yield him sympathy. He gave a sort of superb groan. "'All my life I have been trying for this, and for what have I sacrificed it?' he murmured. It was in vain to offer solace. "'You do not know what the Derby is,' he moaned. "'Yes, I do; it is the Blue Riband of the Turf.' "'It is the Blue Riband of the Turf,' he slowly repeated to himself; and, sitting down at a table, buried himself in a folio of statistics." Just a few months later, on 21st September 1848, his body was found lying, cold and stiff, in a meadow about a mile from Welbeck. That very morning he had risen full of health and spirits, and at four o'clock in the afternoon had set out to walk across country to Thoresby, Lord Manvers' seat, where he was to spend a couple of days. He had sent on his valet by road in advance; but the night fell, and Lord George never made his appearance. A search with lanterns was instituted, and about midnight his body was discovered lying face downwards close to one of the deer-park gates. He had been dead for some hours. What was the cause of his mysterious death? The coroner's jury appear to have found no difficulty in coming to a decision. Their verdict was, "Died by the visitation of God--to wit, a spasm of the heart." Thus vanished from the world one of its most brilliant and picturesque ornaments, in the very prime of his life and his powers (he was only forty-six), and when he seemed assured of a political future even more dazzling than his Turf fame.