I will tell you--his--skin when he flung off his clothes--and he had a particular knack in doing so--his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back for combat; and when he fought he stood, so--if I remember right--his skin, I say, was brown and dusky as that of a toad.
Oh me! I wish my elder son was here!' Concerning the career of Borrow's father there seem to be no documents other than one contained in _Lavengro_, yet no _Life of Borrow_ can possibly he complete that does not draw boldly upon the son's priceless tributes.

And so we come now to the last scene in the career of the elder Borrow--his death-bed--which is also the last page of the first volume of _Lavengro_.

George Borrow's brother has arrived from abroad.
The little house in Willow Lane, Norwich, contained the mother and her two sons sorrowfully awaiting the end, which came on 28th February 1824.
At the dead hour of night--it might be about two--I was awakened from sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below that in which I slept.

I knew the cry--it was the cry of my mother; and I also knew its import, yet I made no effort to rise, for I was for the moment paralysed.

Again the cry sounded, yet still I lay motionless--the stupidity of horror was upon me.