When I was next in London he was gone.
It was not, however, the actor, Newton, whom I had in mind in offering a bread-upon-the-water moral, but a certain John Hatcher, the memory of whom in my case illustrates it much better.

He was a wit and a poet.

He had been State Librarian of Tennessee.

Nothing could keep him out of the service, though he was a sad cripple and wholly unequal to its requirements.

He fell ill.