Sale of library—Letters from Shetland and Aberdeen—Winter illness—Charities—Recovery—Magazine articles again—Literary executorship of late Mr Edward Ellice—Rev. James White of Methlick—Last illness and death—Concluding remarks—Burial at Dalmeny.
Would that in biography, as in romance, the story might end at its brightest point! But the true tale must follow its subject through the valley of the shadow of death, and on to his grave.
The remainder of '79 and beginning of '80 were spent at Morton in finishing the 'History of the Reign of Queen Anne;' but the work did not go on with the ease and pleasure of former works, and on its conclusion, Dr Burton formed the resolution to sell his library. This determination was combated by his family and friends, as well as by his friendly publisher, with all the arguments in their power, but in vain. Dr Burton never would allow that parting with his treasured volumes, the collection of which had been the pride of his life, cost him a pang. He had done with his books, he said. They were no book-hunter's library, but a collection made for use, and, that use over, had better be again turned into money. Dr Burton did not contemplate undertaking any other great work; and the possession of so extensive a library forced him to live in a larger house than was convenient, and rendered leaving it very troublesome. In the proceeds of its sale Dr Burton was again disappointed. But before it could be brought to sale, while he was engaged in the laborious task of cataloguing his books for sale, he refreshed himself by a summer trip to Shetland, taking Aberdeen on his return journey, where he had the gratification of being present at the baptism of his little grandchild, the daughter of Dr and Mrs Rodger.
He wrote from Lerwick, 8th July 1880:—
"My dear Love,—I am not in what might be called an interesting country—low hills, rocky, stony, heathery, and peaty—but a new country has always something of interest to pass the time with. I saw a valuable archæological phenomenon to-day. The Roman roads were all paved, and went straight over hill and across valley—never troubled about levels. In the parts of Britain where the Romans are historically known to have been, such roads have been fully identified. But there, as well as in other places, where it has been questioned if the Romans ever were—any road strewn or surfaced with stones that have been laid down in the paving of the road, is adopted as a Roman road. I have often supposed that this conclusion was too readily adopted. And to-day I walked for some distance on a road that has all the requisites—yet no one is wild enough to say that the Romans were in Shetland. The weather to-day was warmer than I have yet known it, the sun, such as he is, having nearly the whole twenty-four hours to do his work in. The next stage will be Kirkwall, then Wick.
"I shall intimate my motions as I find them coming up for consideration. I feel very elastic. There is nothing in my mind demanding either hard work or anxious adjustment. The 'Queen Anne' pressed very hard on me before I had done; and the press has rather too justly noticed a slovenliness about the conclusion. Then came immediately various cares and troubles, accompanied by the not very severe, but tedious, drudgery of the index; but I am not going to grumble more, since I am at present in comparative freedom and idleness.—Yours, my dear love, J.H. Burton."
The next is dated merely Sunday.
"My dear Love,— ... The weather here has been divine, with daylight, one may say, for twenty-four hours. The people are kind and cleanly, and all the necessaries of life are abundant. I do not know when I have enjoyed better health. There is nothing abnormal about me, except the extent of my appetite. Walking thirty miles here, is less fatiguing than from Morton to Edinburgh.
"Love to all the household, and remembrances to guests, from yours affectionately, J.H. Burton."