But we should do injustice to Mr. Repton's character did we leave it to be imagined, that these painful circumstances are dwelt upon by him in the spirit of complaint; on the contrary, it was one of his favourite maxims, that as there are more beautiful flowers and useful herbs in the world, than there are noxious or unsightly weeds, so the proportion of good in every person's life greatly outweighs that of evil, could we but persuade men to measure each with equal justice. Of this maxim his own life certainly affords us an example. Nature had bestowed on him one of her rarest gifts; a heart totally devoid of selfishness. This displayed itself in every trifling circumstance, as well as in the more important concerns of daily life. To give pleasure to another, was but adding to his own share of happiness; and, with an even flow of spirits that shed light and cheerfulness on all around him, he was peculiarly blessed in his own family circle. For more than thirty years of his life, success, beyond his hopes, attended him in the profession he had marked out for himself; and in the exercise of which, he not only felt pleasure himself, but frequently had the power of promoting it in others. And to these blessings was added that of health, which had never known a day's interruption, till the unfortunate night of January the 29th, 1811; when, returning with his daughters from a ball given by Sir Thomas Lennard, his carriage was overturned, owing to an accumulation of snow in the road;-he received an injury in the spine, from which he never entirely recovered. For many weeks this accident confined him to his bed, deprived of all power of motion. In a situation so trying to one of his active disposition, his mind still retained its energy; and his patient endurance of suffering, and cheerfulness of spirits, never deserted him for a moment. It was many months ere he was able to resume his usual pursuits; and there is little doubt that the loss of his accustomed exercise laid the foundation of that complaint which, for the remaining years of his life, occasioned him, at times, great agony; and which his physician pronounced to be Angina Pectoris. It was well known to himself (and he did not conceal it from those most dear to him), that the termination of this disease would be as sudden as it must be fatal;-but the stroke was so long delayed, that hope had almost raised a doubt in the minds of his friends as to the truth of that awful fate which he himself never forgot was hanging over him. On the morning of the 24th of March, 1818, he came down to breakfast, not more unwell than usual (the act of dressing had, for some time, been attended with a few moments of spasm in the chest), but he no sooner reached the breakfast-room, than he fell into the arms of his servant, and expired without a groan. So instantaneous was his death, that before his son could hasten from the adjoining room, his spirit had fled for ever.
