New York, and actually practised the art with credit as well as profit.

A visit to the splendid garden and grounds of Mr. Cushing at Watertown, perhaps the most extensive in the vicinity of Boston, awakened in Mr. Hill's mind an enthusiasm for elegant agriculture; and not having the fear of the "Rochester cow and calf" before his eyes, but moved and seduced by the fat kine, rich fields, magnificent graperies and conservatories, palaces, classic villas and cottages which abound in the rural districts in the neighborhood of the modern Athens, the property of gentlemen farmers, Mr. Hill resolved to possess the "acres" within the boundaries of which he would write lectures, study character and philosophy in such intervals of ploughing, hoeing, planting, sowing, mowing, ditching and all such improving processes as the seasons, or a proper care of the paramount agricultural interest, would permit.

The agricultural mania had seized him. He felt already like Cincinnatus substituting the stage for the battle field.

How many actors have retired upon a farm the reward of years of toil, buried in acres of used up land, from which they hoped that the products of the earth would rise at harvest time to fill their granaries and barns. A short time has proved to them that there is no play in the husbandman's life. By the sweat of the brow men live who till the ground. And the actor's return to the "shop" again is the usual sequel to the "farmer's story," there to make up the losses of the retirement, and if possible to secure a competence against

* That is, buy a place.

the wants that too often attend the final retirement of the veteran of the stage. The agricultural fever sub sided in a few days, though Hill never entirely convalesced from its invasion at this time.*

Now after the incidents of Mr. Hill's successful career in his professional triumphs, it required no ordinary amount of firmness to withstand temptations so frequently offered to his notice; to avoid influences, now of the most repulsive kind, and to begin anew the work of life.

The difficulties which beset his path onward were not lessened by his peculiar temperament, so liable to lead him into the pleasant rather than into the practical road; nevertheless he gave all his attention to his business, gradually weaning himself from the pleasures of wine and its associations; a spirit of prudence seemed to guide him.

In the year 1846, a return of the agricultural mania showed itself by some premonitory symptoms, the disease at this time being much modified in its character, and mild in its action. He purchased Chestnut Hill, in the town of Batavia, a beautiful country residence, and here he removed in 1847.

Mr. Hill had subscribed his name as one of the reformers of temperance, in this great progressive work of a progressive age. He had also secured the services. of a dramatist to furnish him with new pieces, and the public were prepared to greet him as the only correct

* He had undoubtedly reformed his plan of life, and one of the first steps towards future usefulness was his association with Enterprise Lodge, New York.

And was enthusiastic.

representative of American comic characters. Everything, so far as human wisdom could foresee, promised a long life of happiness and usefulness. To use his own words as expressed to a friend-"It seemed to him as if he had just began to live."

CHAPTER XXI.

LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MR HILL.

UNTIL August, 1849, Mr. Hill attended constantly to his professional duties; on some occasions giving his entertainments and comic lectures, and frequently performing his round of characters in the theatre.

He visited Saratoga for the purpose of lecturing at the fashionable season, and also for the purpose of recruiting his strength, which had been tasked too hard during this year.

He had announced his intention of giving a performance on a certain evening. On the day advertised he was suddenly attacked by a debilitating disease.

He had never disappointed an assembled audience in consequence of sickness; and having consulted a physician, he sanctioned his leaving his bed, and Mr. Hill most imprudently departed for the lecture-room. Arriving behind the time fixed for the commencement of the lecture, signs of disapprobation were manifested by a part of the audience. When order was restored, Mr. Hill explained the cause of his delay; and said although this was the first time he had kept an audience waiting, it was not the first time he had (silently) waited for an audience.

His explanation was satisfactory, and his performance was applauded throughout.

At its conclusion Mr. Hill left the lecture-room to repose on his death-bed.

This was his last effort on life's mimic scene.

The last scene of all that ends this strange eventful history was near at hand, and is briefly to be recorded. The one who had so often cheered him in the troubles of early life, was sent for from her peaceful home, to comfort him with her presence in the hour of death. She came the wife and mother-to return to a desolate home a widow, and to carry a father's blessing to the children of his love. On the 27th of September, 1849, George Handel Hill passed from this life, in the fortieth year of his age. He was buried in Green Ridge Cemetery at Saratoga.

The impressive funeral service of the Odd Fellows' ritual was performed at the grave, in which was deposited the body.

The news of his death was received with true sorrow by many who in life had known his stirling worth.

In many of the relations of life he had acted well his part, and the few errors involved in his passage through this bustling world, compared with his virtues and commendable qualities, only give him a title to the common frailties of man, and sink into obscurity when contrasted with the good he hath done in his day of life. When his name is mentioned in connection with the art which it was his pride to practice, the words of the great dramatist, as applied to the memory of a departed humorist, dear to him who spoke them, will be repeated time and again—

"Alas! poor Yorick

I knew him well

A fellow of infinite jest."

If it be true that it is better to have a bad epitaph when you die, than the players' bad report while you