Horatio, or Horace, which is thus once more destined to live for ever honoured, was doubtless adopted, and persisted in by Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, as a compliment to the memory of their noble relative, the first Lord Walpole; brother of the highly celebrated Sir Robert Walpole, afterwards first Earl of Orford. It was then little imagined, even by the boundless partiality of parental affection, looking forward to sanguine hopes of a powerful family patronage, that this infant could ever possibly live to eclipse all the glory of his most brilliant ancestors!

The name of Maurice, after Dr. Maurice Suckling the grandfather, and his son Captain Maurice Suckling, had been previously given to another son, born May 24, 1753: who held a situation in the Navy Office, and died so recently as the year 1801, three days after receiving news of the battle of Copenhagen; leaving a widow, but no issue.

Had this last gentleman survived his illustrious brother, he would, of course, have succeeded to his lordship's titles; which now devolve, augmented by an earldom, on the Reverend William Nelson, Rector of Hilborough; the sole remaining brother of this numerous family, most of whom died in their minority. The Earl, who was born April 20, 1757, married, in November 1786, Sarah daughter of the Reverend Henry Yonge, of Great Torrington in the county of Devon—cousin to the Right Reverend Philip Yonge, late Bishop of Norwich—by whom he has issue, Charlotte-Mary, born September 20, 1787; and Horatio, born October 26, 1788, successor-apparent to the honours of his immortal uncle.

Of the whole eight sons, offspring of Lord Nelson's parents, it seems remarkable that only the present Earl ever had any issue; while, of their three daughters, one died in her infancy, and the two who reached maturity, Mrs. Bolton and Mrs. Matcham, have both several children: Mrs. Bolton, as already noticed, having five now living; and Mrs. Matcham, her amiable younger sister, the lady of George Matcham, Esq. being the mother of no less than three sons and five daughters.

We usually expect, that the life of a great character should commence with some early indication of his future excellence. This, being an apparent principle in nature, is probably just. That divine genius, of whatever description, which "nascetur, non fit;" is born with a man, and not possible to be made or acquired; must, necessarily, exist at his birth, whatever may be the period when, or the circumstance by which, the dormant spark is first awakened into action. Parents, it is true, are in general great observers of infantine occurrences; and very apt to be presageful of wonderful results expected from trivial causes. Few parents, however, are so blessed, as to have children who possess genius: of those who are, some silently treasure up their hopes, which may be buried with them in an untimely grave; some are too incessantly busied in the cares of providing for a numerous offspring, to be capable of indulging minute attentions to any particular infant; and some are altogether unconscious, or regardless, of the presence of genius, amidst the clearest manifestations of it's existence. To most other persons, but the parents, if we except a good old grandmother, or an artful or affectionate nurse, the actions and the sayings of a child seldom afford much interest; and the relation of them often gives rise to no inconsiderable degree of animosity. The parents of other children, and even the other children of the same parents, not unfrequently hear such praises with distaste and aversion; and, if they do not soon entirely forget them, it is, perhaps, only because their unextinguishable envy condemns them to preserve the remembrance of the circumstance by which it was originally excited.

These, among various other causes, prevent our always becoming acquainted with the early occurrences which distinguish genius, even where they soonest appear: but, genius is not always apparent in early infancy; and, where it is, every hero does not, like Hercules, find a serpent successfully to encounter in his cradle.

Of Lord Nelson's infancy, from whatever causes, scarcely any anecdote is now preserved. That which may, probably, be considered as the first, has often been related; but never, heretofore, in a manner sufficiently accurate and circumstantial.

At the very early age of not more than five or six years, little Horatio, being on a visit to his grandmother, at Hilborough, who was remarkably fond of all her son's children, and herself a most exemplary character, had strolled out, with a boy some years older than himself, to ramble over the country in search of birds-nests. Dinner-time, however, arriving, and her grandson not having returned, the old lady became so excessively alarmed, that messengers, both on horseback and on foot, were immediately dispatched, to discover the wanderer. The progress of the young adventurers had, it seems, been impeded by a brook, or piece of water, over which Horatio could not pass; and, his companion having gone off and left him, he was found ruminating, very composedly, on the opposite bank. It is not ascertained, whether his companion had got across the water, or gone back again by the way they had approached it: whether the young hero was meditating how it might be passed; or too weary, or unwilling, to retread all his former steps. Who shall pretend to say, that this child, thus sitting, in a state of abstraction, by the side of an impassable piece of water, might not first feel that ardent thirst of nautical knowledge excited, the gratification of which has since led to such glorious consequences! Be this as it may—for even himself, if living, might not now be conscious of the fact—it is perfectly well remembered that, on his being brought into the presence of his grandmother, the old lady concluded her lecture respecting the propriety of children's rambling abroad without the permission of their friends, by saying—"I wonder, that fear did not drive you home."—"Fear, grandmama," innocently replied the child, "I never saw FEAR; what is it?"

Perhaps, the frequent repetition of this anecdote, and the admiration which the sweet simplicity of the child's wonderful answer must naturally create in the bosom of every virtuous friend, had no small share in fixing his heroic character. He had never seen fear, he knew not what it was. What a reflection for an incipient hero, when he became capable of comprehending the full force of his own artless expression! If he ever lived to see fear, it was only in the enemies of his country; if to know it, it was only by name.

There seems good reason to suppose, that his invincible spirit was visible at an early age, as well as his generally mild and amiable disposition. He was a prodigious favourite with his indulgent mother: who was herself a woman of considerable firmness and fortitude, though of a delicate habit, as well as of great meekness and piety: and, in one of the little customary strifes of brothers, the present earl being his antagonist, when requested, by some friends, who were alarmed at the noise, to interfere in behalf of the youngest, is well recollected to have replied, with the utmost composure, and a very visible satisfaction depicted on her expressive countenance—"Let them alone, little Horace will beat him; let Horace alone!"

The brother of Mrs. Nelson, Captain Maurice Suckling, married to a sister of the present Lord Walpole, was a naval commander of very considerable skill and bravery: he frequently visited his sister; and was, also, particularly fond of Horatio. He had, doubtless, heard the anecdote respecting fear; to which, in his own person, he felt himself as much a stranger as his little nephew: and, probably, was the first friend to hail and encourage the future hero.

His sister, partial to the honourable profession of her brother, would naturally interpret every proof of her darling