But the continued vexation and chagrin arising from this perpetual contest with eager and powerful opponents, added to the effects of laborious service in hot climates, at length had a serious effect on his strength and constitution. He retired from the noise and tumult of the metropolis to his native place, where he flattered himself with the hope of spending a few tranquil years with a daughter whom he loved, and in the society of a few friends whom his spirit, his integrity, and his accomplishments had conciliated. But it was unfortunately too late—he died in the interval of a few months after the last object of his wishes was placed within his view. Few lamented him more than he who pays this affectionate, though fleeting tribute to his memory. His mind, as has before been remarked, was uprightness itself; and though in many hard fought contests, both by sea and land, he had given the most unquestionable proofs of his bravery, he was particularly mild, gentle, and unassuming. He had withal, a remarkably fine taste in the arts, and for painting more particularly; and having preceded the great ravager Bonaparte, and his myrmidons, in his excursion to Italy, he, by honest means, though for perhaps little money, obtained some very choice and valuable curiosities of art, both in sculpture and painting, from the finest galleries at Rome, and the most splendid collections of Naples, as well as in other places. Several of these specimens adorn the best Collections in this country. One of them in particular, strongly exemplifies the perverse fortune which seemed invariably to accompany him. The picture he most valued and esteemed, was one from the Villa Albani, at Rome. It was indeed exquisite, and, as since acknowledged, the undoubted production of a very great master. Unfortunately for its owner, circumstances required a supply of ready money.—He trusted to the force of truth and nature, and so confided in the intrinsic merit, and obvious excellence of the composition, that he sent it without any sort of restriction or reserve, to a celebrated auction-room. He was too proud and too honest, to resort to the usual methods on such occasions, and left his picture to its fate. On its exhibition, the dealers affected doubt and suspicion as to its being a genuine picture of the master to whose pencil it was assigned; and this so far prevailed, that an opulent tradesman, from the pure emotion of feeling, and the impulse of natural taste, was allowed to carry off the prize for the small sum of three hundred pounds. But the picture had excited curiosity; and these same dealers, on its being removed beyond their reach, went to visit and examine it again.—It is not long since, that one of these gentlemen sent to offer twelve hundred pounds for the picture, which was refused. Not unworthy of recital with respect to this personage, is an accident which once happened to him, and which nearly cost him his life: