“Finally, brethren, I pray you, have me often in your remembrance, and report to me such things as concern our common welfare, for I desire ardently to hear of you.
“Farewell, from one who loves you and counts himself your brother.
“T.B. Reed.”
Alas! “the coy nymph, ‘Health’ by name,” was never found. Within a week or two of the despatch of this letter, he became so much worse that he was advised by the Belfast doctors to return at once to London. He suffered from a hopeless internal malady, which he bore with heroic patience.
At Highgate, on 28th November 1893, he passed peacefully away.
It was given to him in his short life—for he condensed into the span of forty-two years the literary labours of a long life—to materially add by his charming boys’ books to the happiness of the youth of his generation. It was given to him also by his labour and research to make a solid contribution to the learning of his time. He has enriched many lives by his friendship, and by the example of his unceasing thoughtfulness for the welfare of others. To all who had the inestimable privilege of knowing Talbot Reed, there will be the remembrance of a man “matchless for gentleness, honesty, and courage,”—the very ideal of a chivalrous English gentleman.
John Sime.
Highgate, London, February 1894.