Previously to Mr. Loudon's illness, I had agreed to write a little book on the Isle of Wight, and to visit it for this purpose. This arrangement I now wished to give up, but his medical men advised us to go, as they thought the air of the Isle of Wight might re-establish his health. Strange to say, up to the time of our leaving home, I had no idea that his illness was at all dangerous; but the fact was, I had seen him recover so often when every one thought he was dying, that I had become accustomed to place little reliance on what was said of his attacks by others. When we reached the Isle of Wight, however, I was struck with a degree of listlessness and want of energy about him that I had never seen before. He became rapidly worse while we were in the island, and most eager to leave it. On our arrival at Southampton, where he was laying out a cemetery, he felt better, and, taking a lodging there, he sent Agnes and myself back to town. In a fortnight I went down to see him, and I shall never forget the change I found in him. The first look told me he was dying. His energy of mind had now returned.

He not only attended to the laying out of the cemetery at Southampton, but, during his stay in that town, he corrected the proofs of the second Supplement to his Encyclopaedia of Agriculture, and then went alone to Bath, in spite of my earnest entreaties to be permitted to aecompany him. At Bath, he inspected the ground for another cemetery, and also the grounds of a gentleman, though he was obliged to be wheeled about in a Bath chair. He then went, still alone, to the seat of Mortimer Ricardo, Esq., near Enstone, in Oxfordshire, where he was also obliged to be wheeled round the grounds in a chair. When about to leave, he appeared so ill, that Mr. Ricardo offered to send a servant with him to town.

He returned to Bayswater on the 30th of September, 1843, and at last consented to call in medical aid, though he was by no means aware of his dangerous state. He supposed, indeed, that the pain he felt, which was on the right side, proceeded from an affection of the liver, as, both times, when he had inflammation of the lungs, the pain was on the left side. On the 2d of October, I went with him to call on Mr. Lawrence, in whom he had the greatest confidence, and that gentleman told him, without hesitation, that his disease was in his lungs. He was evidently very much struck at this announcement, but, as he had the fullest reliance on Mr. Lawrence's judgment, he was instantly convinced that he was right. I think, from that moment, he had no hope of his ultimate recovery, though, in compliance with the wishes of different friends, he afterwards consulted several other eminent medical men, of whom Dr. Chambers and Mr. Richardson attended him to the last.

As soon as Mr. Loudon found that his disease was likely to prove fatal, be determined, if possible, to finish the works he had in hand, and he labored almost night and day to do so. He first, with the assistance of his draughtsman, finished a plan for Baron Rothschild, then one for Mr. Ricardo, another for Mr. Pinder, and, finally, a plan for the cemetery at Bath. He had also engaged to make some additional alterations in the grounds of Mr. Foiler at Streatham; he went there on the 11th of October, but' he was unable to go into the garden; this was the last time he ever attempted to visit any place professionally. He continued, however, to walk in the open air in his own garden, and in the grounds of Mr. Hopgood, nurserymanj at Craven Hill, for two or three days longer, though his strength was fast decreasing; and, after the 16th of October, he did not leave the house, but confined himself to his bedroom and a drawingroom on the same floor. Nothing could be more awful than to watch him during the few weeks that yet remained of his life. His body was rapidly wasting away, but his mind remained in all its vigor, and he scarcely allowed himself any rest in his eagerness to complete the works that he had in hand.

He was particularly anxious to finish his Self-Instruction for Young Gardeners, which is published nearly in the state he left it, though, had he lived, it would probably have been carried to a much greater extent. About the middle of November, the medical men who attended my poor husband pronounced his disease to have become chronic bronchitis; and this information, combined with the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, had a powerful effect upon him. He now made an effort that can only be estimated by those who knew the natural independence of his mind, and the pain it gave him to ask even a trifling favor. He wrote a letter stating his situation, and that the sale of three hundred and fifty copies of the Arboretum would free him from all his embarrassments. This letter he had lithographed, and he sent copies of it to all the nobility who took an interest in gardening. The result was most gratifying. The letter was only dated the 1st of December, and he died on the 14th of that month; and yet, in that short space of time, the noblemen he appealed to, with that kindness which always distinguishes the English aristocracy, purchased books to the amount of 360. Mr. Loudon had intended to forward similar letters to all the landed proprietors and capitalists; though only a few were sent, they were responded to with equal kindness.

Our munificent and noble-minded friend, Joseph Strutt, Esq., took ten copies,* and letters from two of our kindest friends (William Spence, Esq., and Robert Chambers, Esq.), ordering copies of the Arboretum, arrived the very day he died.

This appeal was principally rendered necessary by the pecuniary difficulties I have alluded to, and which, undoubtedly, hastened his death. The debt on the Arboretum, which, as already stated, was originally 10,000, had, by the sale of that book and of the Cottage Architecture, been reduced to 2,400; but he had incurred an additional debt of 1,200 by publishing the Encyclopaedia of Trees and Shrubs, his edition of Repton, and other works, on his own account, though all his creditors agreed to the same terms, viz: to wait for their money until they were paid by the sale of the works themselves, on condition of Messrs. Longman holding the stock of books in trust, and not paying any of the proceeds of the works to Mr. Loudon till the demands of his creditors were fully satisfied. Unfortunately, however, one of the creditors, the engraver, became a bankrupt, and his assignees began to harass Mr. Loudon for the debt due them, which'was about 1,500, threatening to make him a bankrupt, to arrest him for the sum, Ac. I believe they could not have carried their threats into execution without the consent of the other creditors, and who behaved most kindly and honorably throughout But the agitation attendant on the numerous letters and consultations respecting this affair, proved fatal to my poor husband.

On Wednesday, the 13th of December, 1843, he sent me into London to Bee the assignees, and to endeavor to bring them to terms, oar kind and excellent friend, the late Mr. Joseph Strutt, having promised to lend us money for that purpose. The assignees, however, refused to accept the terms we offered, unless [r. Loudon would also give up to them his edition of Repton, which he was most unwilling to do, as the debt on that work was comparatively small; and, consequently, he had reason to hope that the income produced by it would be soonest available for the support of his family. He was accordingly very much agitated when 1 told him the result of my mission, but he did not on that account relax in his exertions; on the contrary, he continued dictating Self-Instruction till twelve o'clock at night. When he went to bed he could not sleep, and the next morning he rose before it was light He then told me he had determined to sacrifice his edition of Repton, in order to have his affairs settled before he died, adding, "but it will break my heart to do so." He repeated, however, that he would make the sacrifice, but he seemed reluctant to send me into town to give his consent; and most fortunate was it, as, if I had gone that morning, I should not have been with him when he died.

He now appeared very ill, and told me he thought he should never live to finish Self-Instruction; but that he would ask his friend, Dr. Jamieson, to whom he had previously spoken on the subject, to finish the work for him. Soon after this he became very restless, and walked several times from the drawing-room to his bedroom and back again. I feel that I cannot continue these melancholy details: it is sufficient to say, that though his body became weaker every moment, his mind retained all its vigor to the last, and that he died standing on his feet. Fortunately, I perceived a change taking place in his countenance, and I had just time to clasp my arms round him, to save him from falling, when his head sank upon my shoulder, and he was no more.

I do not attempt to give any description of the talents or character of my late husband as an author; his works are before the world, and by them he will be judged; but I trust I may be excused for adding, that, in his private capacity, he was equally estimable as a husband and a father, and as a master and a friend. He was also a most dutiful son and most affectionate brother.

It was on the anniversary of the death of Washington (the 14th of December) that Mr. Loudon died, and he was buried, on the 21st of December, in the cemetery at Kensall Green. When the coffin was lowered into the grave, a stranger stepped forward from the crowd and threw in a few strips of ivy. This person, I was afterwards informed, was an artificial flower maker, who felt grateful to Mr. Loudon for having given him, though a stranger, tickets for admission to the Horticultural Gardens, and who, never having been able to thank Mr. Loudon in person, took this means of paying a tribute to his memory.