The death of two fine children at last entirely subdued Lady Finlay's remaining spirits--She died in child-bed, (the infant surviving her a few hours) leaving behind her only two children. It was then Lord Finlay's cup of affliction was filled. He had reason to fear, the deceased, dearest object of his tenderest affections, had perished for want of proper assistance. _Assistance!_ their scanty circumstances denied! If previous to this, when he perceived in her any marks of sorrow, it was to him as if all nature had been eclipsed; what must have been his sensations _then_? they were too great for humanity to support! His reason forsook him; and the third day after her decease, he expired in the delirium of madness. Nothing can give a better sense of the consideration man ought to have of his latter end, than the following lines of Sir Thomas More: 'You'd weep, if sure you'd but one month to stay; Yet laugh, uncertain of a single day!' Few are the happy marriages contracted contrary to the consent of parents.--Disobedience to them, like murder, seldom goes unpunished in this life[1]. Mr Burt wrote Lady Frances Finlay a letter informing her of the melancholy catastrophe of this unfortunate couple, and beseeching her interest with Lord Munster, in behalf of their helpless progeny. 'Could tears, Madam,' said he, 'write as legibly as ink, my streaming eyes would be an inexhaustible fund, to assist me to send you the woes of a poor old man, and to pour forth the sorrows of my soul! But _Cicero_ could not have _described_, _Apelles_ could not have _painted_, nor _Roscius_ have _represented_, the heartrending scenes I have lately witnessed.' Lord Munster died the day before his daughter received the above letter. He had for some time before lost all sensation. The pleasures or pains of others were to him of so little importance, that he lived as if he had been the only creature himself in the universe. He could not bear to hear of the applause some of his opponents in politics had acquired, and grudged them a reputation he thought only suitable to his own distinguished abilities. Different from that conqueror, of whom it is said he silenced the whole earth, he fancied that the whole world must talk of his disgrace. He could not support it; and a pistol put an end to his wretched existence. A careful observer of events will frequently see, that flagrant vices are punished by some remarkable strokes of wretchedness, and bad dispositions made sensible of the evils they bring on others. Never did any Greek or Roman commit suicide, from too quick a sense of private misfortunes.--Vain glory in the vulgar may be supportable, nay, may be diverting; but in a great man it is _intolerable_: nothing is greater in a man, than to be above even greatness _itself_.