When we reached the hotel, he recognized us with many marks of tenderness, but signified that he was totally exhausted; so no attempt was made to remove him farther, and he was put to bed immediately. To his children, all assembled once more about him, he repeatedly gave his blessing in a very solemn manner, as if expecting immediate death; but he was never in a condition for conversation, and sank either into sleep or delirious stupor upon the slightest effort. Mr. Ferguson, who was seldom absent from his pillow, says:-- When I first saw Sir Walter, he was lying on the second-floor-back room of the St. James Hotel in Jermyn Street, in a state of stupor, from which, however, he would be roused for a moment by being addressed; and then he recognized those about him, but immediately relapsed. I think I never saw anything more magnificent than the symmetry of his colossal bust, as he lay on the pillow with his chest and neck exposed. During the time he was in Jermyn Street he was calm but never collected, and in general was either in absolute stupor or in a waking dream. He never seemed to know where he was, but imagined himself to be still in the steamboat. The rattling of carriages and the noises of the street sometimes disturbed this illusion, and then he fancied himself at the polling of Jedburgh, where he had been insulted and stoned.... At length his constant yearnings to return to Abbotsford induced his physicians to consent to his removal,--a consent which, the moment it was notified to him, seemed to infuse new vigor into his frame. It was on a calm, clear afternoon of the 7th of July [1832] that every preparation was made for his embarkation on board the steamboat. He was placed on a chair by his faithful servant, Nicholson, half-dressed, and loosely wrapped in a quilted dressing-gown. He requested Lockhart and myself to wheel him towards the light of the open window, and we both remarked the vigorous lustre of his eye. He sat there silently gazing on space for more than half an hour, apparently wholly occupied with his own thoughts, and having no distinct perception of where he was, or how he came there. He suffered himself to be lifted into his carriage, which was surrounded by a crowd, among whom were many gentlemen on horseback, who loitered about to gaze on the scene. His children were deeply affected, and Mrs. Lockhart trembled from head to foot and wept bitterly. Thus surrounded by those nearest to him, he alone was unconscious of the cause or the depth of their grief, and while yet alive seemed to be carried to his grave.