Notwithstanding this undoubted verity; there will, probably, always be found weak heads firmly believing, and vicious hearts basely pretending to believe, that this exalted man was actually of a gambling spirit.  So difficult is it entirely to eradicate the rank but fertile growth of once disseminated calumny; which, sown in darkness, by the arch-enemy of mankind, springs up, and spreads it’s pernicious influence, to check the fairer growth, and defeat the just hopes of the meritorious husbandman.

It has been already observed that, owing to the unaccommodating disposition of a neighbouring farmer, Lord Nelson had been unable to enlarge the grounds of his retirement at Merton, till he agreed to purchase the whole of Mr. Axe’s estate.  This, however, had been so far effected, at the latter end of the year 1802, that there wanted nothing, but certain legal formalities, for the conclusion of that business.  His lordship and friends had already rendered Merton Place a little paradise, by their tasteful arrangements.  They jointly directed the disposition of the most beautiful shrubs; and not unfrequently placed them in the earth, Sir William or Lady Hamilton assisting his lordship to plant them with his single hand.  A small mulberry-tree, now only a few feet high, and standing in front of the house, not far distant from the canal, where it was fixed by Lord Nelson’s own hand, may hereafter rival the celebrated mulberry-tree at Stratford upon Avon, planted by the immortal Shakspeare; the first dramatic bard, and naval hero, “take them for all in all,” the world is ever likely to know.  The prospect of immediately executing the desirable additional improvements in his lordship’s estate, the plan of which had already been long contrived, was a source of considerable satisfaction to their anticipatory minds, as the spring season advanced.  The purchase, indeed, was compleated the beginning of May 1803; but, events were now destined to occur, in the few intervening days, which rendered the possession of what had been so eagerly sought, of little value to either of the persons by whom it had been regarded as so sure a source of increased enjoyments.

Towards the latter end of March, Sir William Hamilton, then in his seventy-fourth year, suddenly felt himself more than usually indisposed.  He was a gentleman of the most exalted understanding; and knew, perfectly well, from the nature of his sensations, that the period had arrived, when his corporeal dissolution must hourly be expected.  This circumstance conveyed, to his excellent heart, no uncommon alarm:  the serious contemplation of death, had not been deferred to the last moment of his existence; and he therefore beheld, without dismay, every step of it’s awful approach.  With a calmness which he was unable to communicate to his lady, he announced the solemn certainty; and declared his resolution immediately to leave Merton Place, lest he should, by dying there, render it an insupportable future abode to the feelings of his tender and illustrious friend.  Sir William, on arriving at his house in Piccadilly, the 29th of March, instantly annexed the following remarkable codicil to his will—­