shall we do?"--"Break their line, sir, and draw up on the other side, where they will not be so well prepared."--"Do it, then, Fairfax." So my father signalled accordingly. The circumstances of the battle, which was nobly fought on both sides, are historical. Nine ships of the line and two frigates were taken, and my father was sent home to announce the victory to the Admiralty. The rejoicing was excessive; every town and village was illuminated; and the Administration, relieved from the fear of a revolution, continued more confidently its oppressive measures. When Admiral Duncan came to London, he was made a Baron, and afterwards Earl of Camperdown; and, by an unanimous vote of the House of Commons, he received a pension or a sum of money, I forget which; my father was knighted, and made Colonel of Marines. Earl Spencer was First Lord of the Admiralty at the time, and Lady Spencer said to my father, "You ask for the promotion of your officers, but you never have asked a reward for yourself." He replied, "I leave that to my country." But his country did nothing for him; and at his death my mother had nothing to live upon but the usual pension of an Admiral's widow, of seventy-five pounds a-year. Our friends, especially Robert Ferguson, junior, of Raith, made various attempts to obtain an addition to it; but it was too late: Camperdown was forgotten. I remember one morning going to Lord Camperdown's house in Edinburgh with my mother, to see a very large painting, representing the quarter-deck of the "Venerable," Admiral Duncan, as large as life, standing upright, and the Dutch Admiral, De Winter, presenting his sword to my father. Another representation of the same scene may be seen among the numerous pictures of naval battles which decorate the walls of the great hall at Greenwich Hospital. Many years afterwards I was surprised to see an engraving of this very picture in the public library at Milan. I did not know that one existed. At a great entertainment given to Lord Duncan by the East India Company, then in great power, the President asked my father, who sat at his left hand, if he had any relation in India? He replied, "My eldest son is in the Company's military service." "Then," said the President, "he shall be a Writer, the highest appointment in my power to bestow." I cannot tell how thankful we were; for, instead of a separation of almost a lifetime, it gave hopes that my brother might make a sufficient fortune in a few years to enable him to come home. There was a great review of the troops at Calcutta, under a burning sun; my brother returned to the barracks, sun-struck, where he found his appointment, and died that evening, at the age of twenty-one. * * * * *