water, and the other spasmodically grasping the edge of the bath; his frame waving in violent, almost convulsive heavings, sufficiently indicative of the process of dissolution. I hastened, though despairingly, to administer such stimulants as might possibly avert the threatening termination of life; and, as I sat by his side for this purpose, he threw his arm over my shoulders for support, with a look of evident satisfaction that I was near him. He said to me, I am dying; death is come at last: all will now be useless.' As I pressed upon him draughts of stimulants, he intimated that he would take them if I wished; but he believed all was useless. On my asking him if he suffered much, he replied, Dreadfully.' The rapidly increasing gasping soon overpowered his ability to swallow, or to speak, except in monosyllables, few in number, which I could not collect; but, whatever might be the degree of his suffering, (and great it must have been), there was no failure of his mental vigour or composure. Indeed, so perfect was his consciousness, that, in the midst of these last agonies, he intimated to me very shortly before the close, with his accustomed courteousness, a fear lest he should fatigue me by his pressure; and when his family, one after another, gave way in despair, he followed them with sympathising looks, as they were obliged to be conveyed from the room. This was his last voluntary movement; for, immediately, a general convulsion seized him, and he quickly expired.

"It is not in my power adequately to represent the solemn and awful grandeur of this last scene. Our beloved pastor died from a failure of the vital powers of the heart, amidst the vigorous energies of consciousness and volition; his placidity, and complacency of spirit, being in striking contrast with the wild and powerful convulsions of a frame yielding in its full strength. The last struggle was violent, but short. The pains of dying were extreme; but they were borne with genuine Christian magnanimity. Peacefully he closed those 'brilliant eyes which had so often beamed upon us rays of benignity and intellectual fire.' Calmly, yet firmly, he sealed

those lips which had so often charmed our ears with messages of divine mercy and grace.' And as he lay a corpse over my shoulder, he exhibited a countenance combining such peace, benevolence, and grandeur, in its silent expressions,' as have seldom been witnessed in the dead."-P. 37—39.

"I have never before seen, and scarcely shall I again witness, a death, in all its circumstances, so grand and impressive; so harmonious with his natural character, so consistent with his spiritual life.”—P. 42.

Accidentally taking up a life of Pascal whilst writing these remarks on Robert Hall, we have been struck with one or two marked similarities in the lives and deaths of these illustrious men. Both manifested at a very early age the mastering intellect that afterwards bore fruit and came to perfection. Pascal was not twelve when he reasoned his way into geometry; and Robert Hall was still younger when he comprehended Jonathan Edwards's metaphysical and profound treatise on the Freedom of the Will. Great part of the life of each was spent in acute and unceasing pain; which yet was not allowed to sour their spirits, or interrupt intellectual research. Both consecrated their extraordinary powers to the supreme study of Christianity; and, as their career approached its close, their minds and tempers shone more and more with that lambent light which issues in "perfect day." They grew into that serene simplicity, which is the last attainment even of Christianised greatness; and in their closing hours, when an agonising death brought them into communion with their Master, they reciprocally turned from their own sufferings, to think and speak, with emphatic interest, of the sufferings of the poor. It is not intended to press the parallel: the mind of Pascal, acute as it was, never fully emerged from some errors; and his spirit, lovely as it was, was not wholly free from weakness: but of Robert Hall we may say, without fear that any who knew him thoroughly will contradict us — he was preserved in the province of labour until age, if not death, must soon have terminated his work; and then, but not till

then, like a shock of corn in its season fully ripe, but without any symptom of decay, without any blight on his genius, or the least mildew on his reputation, he was gathered to the assembly of the just, to a sphere of loftier intelligence and perfect purity.

220

No. XV.

SIR MURRAY MAXWELL, KNIGHT,

AND A COMPANION OF THE MOST HONOURABLE MILITARY ORDER OF THE BATH; A POST-CAPTAIN IN THE ROYAL NAVY; AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY.

THIS distinguished officer was a son of Alexander Maxwell, Esq., merchant at Leith (third son of Sir William Maxwell, the fourth Baronet), by Mary, daughter of Hugh Clerk, Esq. Sir Murray was one of nine brothers, six of whom devoted themselves to the service of their county. His eldest brother, General William Maxwell, is now heir presumptive to the Baronetcy. One of his brothers, Keith, died a Post-Captain R. N.; and another, John, who survives, attained that rank in 1810. His cousin Jane, daughter of the late Sir William Maxwell, married Alexander, fourth Duke of Gordon.

Sir Murray commenced his naval career under the auspices of Sir Samuel Hood; obtained his first commission as a Lieutenant in 1796; and was promoted to the command of the Cyane sloop of war, at the Leeward Islands, in December, 1802. The Cyane formed part of Commodore Hood's squadron at the reduction of St. Lucia, in June, 1803; and Captain Maxwell was immediately after appointed to the Centaur, a third rate, bearing the broad pendant of his patron; with whom he also served at the capture of Tobago, Demerara, and Essequibo, in the following autumn. His post commission was confirmed by the Admiralty, August 4.

1803.

Captain Maxwell was subsequently employed in the blockade of Martinique ; and in April, 1804, he accompanied Commodore Hood and the late Major-General Sir Charles Green

on the expedition against Surinam, the only colony then possessed by the enemy in Dutch Guiana; Berbice having surrendered to the British soon after the above-mentioned settlements.

On the 25th of April, the Centaur anchored about ten miles from the mouth of the Surinam river; and the next day a division of the army, commanded by Brigadier-General Maitland, was sent, under convoy of the Hippomenes corvette, to effect a landing at Warappa creek, about thirty miles to the eastward. The object of this operation was to obtain a communication by water with the Commewyne, and to procure a sufficient number of plantation boats to transport the troops down that stream, towards its junction with the Surinam, and thereby facilitate their approach to a position in the rear of Fort New Amsterdam, situated on the confluence of those rivers, and mounting upwards of 80 guns.

In order that no time should be lost, preparations were also made for landing a body of troops to take possession of Braam's Point, on which was a battery of seven 18-pounders, completely commanding the entrance of the Surinam. Brigadier-General Hughes undertook to superintend this service; and the wind proving favourable, Captain Edward O'Brien, of the Emerald frigate, pushed over the bar with the rising tide, and anchored close to the fort, followed by the Pandour troop-ship, and Drake sloop of war. The enemy kept up a brisk fire as the Emerald approached; but it was soon silenced by a few broadsides from that ship and her consorts. party of the 64th regiment then landed, and secured forty-five prisoners, three of whom were wounded. In the course of the following day most of the ships were got into the river; but the Centaur was obliged to remain outside, on account of her great draught of water.

A

At this period Captain Maxwell and the Major-General's Aid-de-Camp were sent with a summons to the Dutch Governor; whose answer, conveying a refusal to capitulate, was not received until the morning of the 28th. Commodore Hood, and his military colleague, having previously removed to the