It may not be necessary to say it, but I am persuaded that he was a firm believer in the truths of Christianity, and a conscientious member of the Church of England. One day, within about a fortnight of his death, he said, "There is a work which I have often heard you speak of, and which, it does so happen, I never read, though I have often wished to do so; I mean Paley's Horæ Paulinæ. I may say almost that I know his Evidences off by heart. Now, will you do me the favour of procuring me a copy of the other book, in as large type as you can, and as soon as you can, for," he added with a slight sigh, after a pause, "I have not much time to lose?" I immediately procured him the book in question; and about three days afterwards he said to me, "I have read the Horæ Paulinæ; it is a book of extraordinary merit; I very much wonder that I never read it before." I asked him if he had read "Butler's Analogy." "Oh yes, of course, several times, and know it well," he replied, rather quickly. Life was visibly ebbing fast away during the first week in December. He grew weaker and weaker almost hourly, and scarcely ever rose from his sofa, where he always lay in his dressing-gown, except to go to his bed-room, which adjoined and opened into his sitting-room. He would even then allow no one to be in his chamber with him during the might! not even his attentive and attached laundress, or his clerk! I once very strongly urged upon him to allow the former to sleep in the chambers. "Either she leaves my chambers at her usual hour," said he, peremptorily, "or I do." We felt it, however, impossible to allow this; and, without his being aware of it, his clerk and laundress by turns continued to spend the night in one of the adjoining rooms. It was well that such was the case, for he began to get delirious during the nights. About ten days before his death, a great and marked change came very suddenly over him: his eyes assumed a strange glazed appearance, and his voice was altogether altered. His mind, however, continued calm and collected as ever. He moaned continually, though gently, assuring us, however, repeatedly that he felt no pain, "but an exhaustion that is quite inconceivable by you." Not many days before his end, he gave us a signal proof of the integrity of his reasoning faculties. Two of his friends, I and another, were sitting with him, and he told us, as he often latterly had, that he heard strange voices in the room. He asked the one who sat next him if there were not strangers at that moment in the room speaking? When assured that there were not, he said very earnestly, "Will you, however, oblige me by looking immediately under the sofa, and tell me whether there is really no one there?" His friend looked, and solemnly assured him that there was no one there. "Now," said he, with some difficulty, after a pause, and suddenly looking at us, "how extraordinary this is! Of course, after what you say, I am bound to believe you, and the voices I hear are consequently imaginary: yet I hear them uttering articulate sounds; they are human voices; they speak to me intelligibly. What can make that impression upon the organ of hearing—upon the tympanum? How is it done? There must be some strange disorder in the organs. I can't understand it, nor the state of my own faculties!" Then he relapsed into the state of drowsy, moaning, half-unconsciousness, in which he spent the last fortnight of his life. For a few days previously, no more briefs or papers were taken in by the clerk: but one, a case for an opinion, which had been brought about a week before, Mr. Smith immediately read over with a view of answering it. In consequence of a communication from the physician, we at once summoned Mr. Smith's two brothers, the one from Dublin Castle, and the other (an officer on board the Devastation Steam Frigate) from Portsmouth. Both of them came as quickly as possible, and remained to the last in affectionate attendance upon their afflicted brother. About three days before his death, he was asked if he wished to receive the sacrament. "Yes," he immediately replied, "I was about to ask for it, but feared I was too ill to go through with it. I request it may now be administered to me as soon as can be, for I am sensible that I have no time to lose; and I beg that the rubric may be strictly complied with in all respects." This he said specially with reference to the prescribed number ("three, or two at the least") of communicants beside himself. The Rev. Mr. Harding, father of one of his intimate friends, being near at hand, immediately attended, and administered that sacred and awful rite: Lieutenant Smith, I, and another, partaking of the sacrament with our dying friend. He was in full possession of his faculties. He could not rise from the sofa, but made a great effort to incline towards the clergyman, lying with his hands clasped upon his breast. When the name of our Saviour was mentioned, he inclined his head with profound reverence of manner. It was, indeed, a very solemn and affecting scene, such as will never be effaced from my memory. When it was over, Mr. Smith gently grasped the hand of Mr. Harding, and faintly thanked him for his kindness in so promptly attending. He was unable, at night, to walk to his bed; to which he was assisted by his brother and a friend. The dark curtain was now rapidly descending between him and this life. He never rose again from bed; but lay therein the same moaning yet comparatively tranquil state in which he had been during the week. On the morning of the day of his death, I went early to sit beside him, alone; gazing at his poor emaciated countenance, with inexpressible feelings. Shortly after I left, his oldest friend took my place; and, after a while, to his great surprise, Mr. Smith, on recognising him, asked if a particular "case,"—"Exparte ——" was not still in chambers? On being answered in the affirmative, he requested his friend to get pen, ink, and paper, and he would dictate the opinion! His friend, though conceiving him to be wandering and delirious, complied with his request; on which Mr. Smith slightly elevated himself in bed, and, to the amazement of his friend, in a perfectly calm and collected manner, but with great difficulty of utterance, dictated not only an appropriate, but a correct and able opinion on a case of considerable difficulty! When he had concluded, with the words, "the case is practically remediless," he requested that what had been written might be read over. It was done, and he said, on its being concluded, "There is only one alteration necessary—strike out the words 'on the case,' leaving it 'action,' simpliciter;" thereby showing an exact appreciation of a point in the case, with reference to the suggested form of action, of much difficulty! After this effort he rallied no more, but lay in a dozing state all day; his friend, his brother, and myself, by turns, sitting at his bedside. He appeared to suffer no pain. I sate with him till about six o'clock, gazing at him with mournful intensity, perceiving that the struggle was rapidly drawing to a close. Being compelled to leave, I intended to have returned at eight o'clock; but, alas! a little before that hour, tidings were brought me that at shortly after seven o'clock our poor friend had been released from his sufferings. A few minutes before he expired, none being present but his brother and the laundress, he gently placed his left hand under his left cheek, and, after a few soft breathings, each longer than the preceding one, without apparent pain, ceased to exist upon earth. I immediately repaired to his chambers, and joined his brother and his oldest friend. They were sitting in mournful silence in his sitting room. Around us were all the evidences of our departed friend's very recent occupancy—his spectacles lay on the table;—many briefs, some of which I had seen his own feeble hands open only a few days before, so remained, as well as various books; among which were two large interleaved copies of his "Mercantile Law" and "Leading Cases," with considerable MS. additions and corrections in his own handwriting. When I looked at all these, and reflected that the prematurely wasted remains of one of my earliest and most faithful friends lay, scarce yet cold, in the adjoining room, I own that I felt it difficult to suppress my emotions.

Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus
Tam cari capitis?

He died on the 17th December, 1845. On looking among his papers, there was found a will which he had executed so long before as the year 1837, for a reason assigned in that document, viz., that on the 3d of July in that year, was passed the important Act of 7 Will. IV., and 1 Vict. c. 26, which rendered it necessary for all wills to be signed by the testator in the presence of two or more attesting witnesses, none having till then been necessary in the case of wills of personal estate, which alone Mr. Smith left behind him. This document contains some characteristic touches. It begins in this old fashioned and formal style:—

"In the name of God, Amen!

"I, John William Smith, of the Inner Temple, barrister-at-law, being minded to make my last will and testament before the act passed in the first year of the reign of Her present Majesty, (whom God long preserve,) entitled 'An Act for the Amendment of the Law with respect to Wills,' shall have come into operation, do make this my last will and testament; that is to say," &c. &c.: and he proceeded, after giving some trifling mementoes to his friends, to bequeath all his property to his two executors, in trust for his sisters. He directed that his coffin should not be closed till after decay should have visibly commenced in his body; a precaution against the possibility of premature interment: which he always regarded with peculiar apprehension. He proceeded to direct that he should be buried in the burying-ground around the Temple church, a right which he always contended was possessed by every member of the Inn. With this request, however, it was impossible for the Benchers to comply, though anxious, by every means in their power, to do honour to his memory. He was, therefore, buried, on the 24th December, 1845, at Kensal Green. Had it been deemed desirable by his brothers and executors, a great number of the members of the bar would have attended his funeral. As it was, however, sixteen only of those most intimate with him followed his remains to their last resting-place. A small stone, placed at the head of his grave, merely mentions his name, age, and profession, and the day of his death; and adds, that a tablet to his memory is erected in the Temple church. On the ensuing Sunday, the Benchers of the Inner Temple caused the staff, or pole, surmounted with the arms of the Inn, carved in silver, and which is always borne before the Benchers into church, and placed at the corner of their pew, to be covered with crape, and the vergers to wear scarves; a tribute of respect which had never before then, I believe, been paid to any but deceased Benchers. They expressed anxiety to pay every honour to the memory of so distinguished a member of the Inn, and cordially assented to the request that a tablet should be placed in the Triforium, where one of white marble now stands, bearing the following fitting inscription, written by his friend, Mr. Phillimore, of the Oxford circuit:—

JOH: GVL: SMITH
IN. STVDIIS. HVMANITATIS. AC. LITTERARVM.
A. PVERITIA. SUMMA. LAVDE. VERSATO.
LEGVM. ET. CONSVETVDINIS. ANGLIÆ.
TVM. JVRIS. NEGOTIANTIBVS PROPRII.
PERITISSIMO. VT. SCRIPTA. QVÆ. MAGNAM.
ETIAM. TRANSMARINAS. APVD. GENTES.
AUCTORITATEM. CONSECVTA. SUNT. TESTANTVR.
MEMORIA. DILIGENTIA. ACVMINE. DOCTRINA.
NECNON. FIDE. ET. BENEVOLENTIA. SINGVLARI.
A. FORO. VBI. QVOAD. VIXIT. INGENII. LAVDE.
CREVIT.
IMMATVRA. MORTE. ABREPTO.
H: L: S: E
NATVS. A.D. MDCCCIX. OBIT. IDIBVS. DEC. A.D.
MDCCCXLV.

Thus died, and thus was honoured in his, alas! premature death, John William Smith: leaving behind him a name of unsullied purity, and a permanent reputation, among a body of men noted for their severe discrimination in estimating character. He practised his profession in the spirit of a Gentleman, disdaining all those vulgar and degrading expedients now too often resorted to, for the purpose of securing success at the bar. He waited, and prepared for, his opportunity with modest patience, and fortitude, and indomitable industry and energy. He possessed an intellect of uncommon power, consummately disciplined, and capable of easily mastering any thing to which its energies were directed. Having devoted himself to jurisprudence, he obtained a marvellously rapid mastery, both theoretically and practically, over its greatest difficulties, leaving behind him writings which have contributed equally to facilitate the study and the practice of the law, in an enlightened spirit. Had Providence been pleased to prolong his life, the voice of the profession would, within a very few years, have called for his elevation to the judicial bench, and he would have proved one of its brightest ornaments. Nor did he sink the scholar in the lawyer, but cherished to the last those varied, elegant, refined, and refining tastes and pursuits, which, having acquired him early academical distinction, rendered in after life his intercourse always delightful to the most accomplished and gifted of his friends and acquaintance, and supplied him with a never-failing source of intellectual recreation. Above all, his conduct was uniformly characterised by truth and honour, by generosity and munificence, hid from nearly all but the objects of it; and by a profound reverence for religion, and a sincere faith in that Christianity whose consolations he experienced in the trying time of sickness and death, and which could alone afford him a well-founded hope of eternal peace and happiness.

Inner Temple, 8th January, 1847.