doubt that Mr. Brown's struggle with the wretch alone prevented him finishing his work, as he tried repeatedly to fire off his pistol after Mr. Brown seized him.

The shock to the system from the shot, and the intense nervous excitement consequent on the struggle with the armed assassin, had a very injurious effect, and materially retarded his hoped-for recovery. Mr. Brown was removed at once to his private residence, and medical aid summoned. A fatal result was not anticipated by any one. Mr. Brown himself made light of the wound, and firmly believed that a few days' rest and care would set him all right again. His restless energy was probably quickened afresh by the nervous excitement, which never left him, as shown by his determination to transact business in his room. There was indeed no reason for apprehensions of evil, though the possibilty of a serious turn was clear to every one ; he was still in the fulness of his strength, and his cheerful, hopeful, sanguine nature must have been a favourable element looking to recovery.

The excitement through the country was very great as soon as the murderous assault was made known. This was particularly the case at Ottawa, where so many of his old political friends were gathered together for their parliamentary duties. When it was ascertained that, though the wound was serious, there was no likelihood of the danger proving very great, a great sense of relief was felt by every one on both sides of the House. When two weeks passed with no improvement, an uneasy feeling again became predominant: and one evening, when evil tidings respecting the patient's condition reached the House, there was no disposition among his friends to pursue their ordinary legislative duties.

The next morning telegrams were received which stated that the former report was not warranted, and that his early recovery was confidently anticipated. The writer well remembers the feeling of unalloyed pleasure which was expressed on all faces by the reassuring messages. The hope and pleasure so inspired were soon to be dashed to the earth, not suddenly, but slowly, steadily and gradually. Bright intervals occurred, and seeming progress made now and then, only to be succeeded with deeper gloom. Like the descending of the sun in a cloudy evening, while passing behind a cloud, the earth is enveloped in gloom; presently an opening appears in the cloudy pall, and the light streams out lighting up glen and mountain. Nearing the horizon, the greater compactness of the vapoury shade makes the glimpses of sunshine more and more brief, while the waning daylight shows the inevitable and near approach of night. So with the invalid : day after day developed some new sign of possible progress; physician and friend thought, as some fresh display of reserved physical strength

and mental power was made, that there might be-- there would be--a slow restoration. But soon the symptoms of increasing exhaustion would reappear, and close observers saw with sorrow that each day on the whole left him weaker than he was on the preceding one; and unless this continuous uniform loss of strength could be arrested, it was apparent to all that there could be but one result, though his own sanguine temperament and the illusive hopes of near friends buoyed the spirits of all inquirers to a belief that the probabilities were in favour of his recovery.

Hopes were entertained by the attendant physicians of his ultimate recovery up to within a few days of his death. His natural energy asserted itself in his illness, overcoming in the desperate struggle for life the nervous exhaustion and the waste of the system caused by the wound. The members of his family, who were in constant attendance upon him, were less sanguine as to the final result for the greater part of the time of his illness. Except for the first eight or ten days, he was afflicted by delirium and such clouding of his mental powers as made it unadvisable to add to his weakness by interviews with any but his medical attendants and members of the family. Throughout he hoped he would recover, but at the same time he felt that the chances were even, if not against him. Often in the stillness of his bedchamber he was heard, when he thought that none but God was near, praying earnestly for recovery in order to finish his work, but always expressing his resignation to God's will if it should be otherwise ordered. About two weeks before his death, at a time when his family and medical attendants entertained the most serious apprehensions, he had a long conversation with Dr. Greig, his old pastor, and members of his family, all of whom he had gathered round his bed. In/that conversation he spoke freely to them of his faith and hope, and, we are told. poured out his soul in a full and fervent prayer. He then asked them to sing some psalms or hymns, and in particular the well-known one, "Rock of Ages," in the singing of which he warmly joined. It was evident that his mind dwelt much on the future, and that while he desired that his life might be spared for his family, the hopes of the Christian burnt brightly within, and enabled him to look forward without fear to a possible unsuccessful issue of his illness. For about a week previous to his death it could scarcely be said that any one expected his recovery, though some of his physicians still thought it possible. The intervals of consciousness were gradually becoming less frequent and also more brief, but during their continuance they were characterized by inexpressible tenderness and love to the members of his family, all of whom he recognized almost to the last, even when, through growing weakness, the tongue refused its office of communicating to them his thoughts, hopes and desires. No

doubt the knowledge that he was walking very near towards the verge of the unseen world drew his mind away from all other things; his physical strength was also steadily waning and indisposing him to further exertion. The writer had the melancholy pleasure of seeing him on the Wednesday morning preceding his death, but the invalid was not conscious of the presence of any one. From this time forward he sank rapidly. He made no complaint, and no one could tell what his sufferings were. He lay quite still most of the time, neither inviting nor refusing the nourishment forced upon him, or conscious of the attempts made to minister to his comfort.

On Thursday and Friday there were still gleams of intelligence lighting up his countenance, and some hopes were even then entertained, soon to be clouded over, for on Friday evening the physicians ceased to press upon him nourishment or stimulants, as it became manifest any further effort would only do harın. After consultation the medical attendants were obliged to confess that the resources of their art were exhausted. Thenceforward all that could be done was to soothe the patient by the kindness of the grief-stricken But loving members of his family. On Saturday it was quite evident to all that the end was very near. The long struggle was at an end. The once strong frame became weak as an infant's. The massive head and expressive features indicated as much as ever the gigantic intellect and the warm heart, but the wasted form told at once the severity of the battle for life and the nearness of its close. The Angel of Death had entered the room and taken possession, and in the stillness of the quiet chamber his presence could be felt. Everything recalled Hood's description of a death-bed:

"Our very hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied;

We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died."

Early on Sunday, a beautiful May morning, shortly before the break of day, the sad scene closed. The Angel of the Covenant had come to convey the spirit home, and, to use Longfellow's words, "Two angels came out where only one went in," leaving in the room only that still, inanimate form to represent him who, but a few weeks before, strode through the rooms and halls of the happy home in all the vigour of matured manhood, rejoicing in his domestic peace and happiness. Many friends calling, as usual during his illness, on Sabbath morning learned of the sad event and spread the tidings through the city. Though a fatal ending was fully expected, yet it created the most painful and profound impression. In most if not all the churches, his death was referred to in solemn and touching terms. All felt that a great man had passed away, and that a great calamity had

overtaken the country. The tragic circumstances attendant on his death, and the high personal character of the lamented statesman, combined to evoke the most profound expressions of sympathy, and crused a feeling of deep gloom to pervade the city. Many eyes were suffused with tears in the several churches where reference was made to his character and death. Political and even personal differences were forgotten in the general desire to show kindness and sympathy. Every person showed themselves only anxious to say and do what could be said and done to assuage the grief and comfort the hearts of those who had been so suddenly and cruelly bereft of a tender husband and loving father.

Other cities, and the towns and villages, were informed by telegraph of his decease almost as soon as it was known in Toronto, and everywhere the same touching sympathetic feeling was shown. In many churches prayer had been publicly made for his recovery from the moment that danger was apprehended, while hope justified an expectation of recovery. The constant inquiries from all quarters could not be all answered, but the telegraph companies were good enough to give an extensive circulation to the physicians' reports from day to day. This in a large measure kept the country informed of the hopes and fears entertained. It should also be stated that the leading conservative journals showed the utmost kindness and good feeling throughout. A man so pronounced in opinion, and so energetic in expressing and giving effect to his views on all public questions, could scarcely be expected to escape much personal antagonism, more or less bitter and intense, but in the hour of his extremity few if any had the disposition to remember past feuds; while hosts of warm personal and political friends all over Canada felt a grief at his tragic death second only to that felt for intimate and near blood relations.

The arrangements for the funeral were made with the simple understanding that the friends of the deceased would themselves provide for order and regularity in paying the last mark of respect to his remains. Arrangements were made in many distant towns and villages to send deputations to represent the respective communities. The vast multitude that attended showed that the people of the nearer towns and country very generally attended. Many of Mr. Brown's old associates and opponents in public life were present. His old personal and political friends, Sir Antoine Dorion and Hon. Alexander Mackenzie, were placed at his head in the procession; the other pall-bearers were Hon. Edward Blake, Sir Alexander Campbell, Sir Richard J. Cartwright, Hon. Archibald McKellar, Professor Wilson, Judge Morrison, Hon. G. W. Allan, Hon. L. S. Huntington, Hon. David Christie, Hon. Wm. McMaster and Sir W. P. Howland.

The day was a beautiful May morning, and all without seemed bright and gay as the sad procession was formed. The streets in the vicinity of his late residence were so densely crowded by people from city and country that it seemed impossible to clear a way, yet a few moments sufficed to form into regular order. The various delegations promptly fell into line-that from the county of Lambton, led by Rev. Mr. Thompson of Sarnia, taking the lead, as the first county that had given Mr. Brown a seat in parliament. The streets by which the procession moved to reach the Necropolis Cemetery were lined the whole way by a multitude of sympathetic people, who reverently uncovered as the cortege passed.

With these manifestations of universal sorrow and regard all that was mortal of George Brown was laid to rest beside a revered father and mother. Canada mourned for her accomplished son. The voice which had swayed popular assemblies so long and so powerfully was hushed in the silence of the tomb. The commanding figure and kindly impressive face disappeared from public view. No one could be more missed from the social and political life of the country. The place he occupied in all relations of the citizen and statesman must remain vacant for the present. His death in the ordinary course of nature would have evoked much feeling and sympathy, but the violent and sudden rupture of all the ties of social, business, and political life made the bereaved home, the business office, and the council of the political party he was identified with, miss all the more the genial hearty face and the commanding intellect which had long been so well known and appreciated in almost every county in Ontario.