ad the same things over, and whispered the words like a
child. He liked to look over the "Advertiser," and was interested in the
"Nation." He enjoyed pictures in books and showed them with delight to
guests.

All this with slight changes and omissions is from the letter of Dr.
Emerson in answer to my questions. The twilight of a long, bright day
of life may be saddening, but when the shadow falls so gently and
gradually, with so little that is painful and so much that is soothing
and comforting, we do not shrink from following the imprisoned spirit to
the very verge of its earthly existence.

But darker hours were in the order of nature very near at hand. From
these he was saved by his not untimely release from the imprisonment of
the worn-out bodily frame.

In April, 1882, Emerson took a severe cold, and became so hoarse that he
could hardly speak. When his son, Dr. Edward Emerson, called to see him,
he found him on the sofa, feverish, with more difficulty of expression
than usual, dull, but not uncomfortable. As he lay on his couch he
pointed out various objects, among others a portrait of Carlyle "the
good man,--my friend." His son told him that he had seen Carlyle, which
seemed to please him much. On the following day the unequivocal signs of
pneumonia showed themselves, and he failed rapidly. He still recognized
those around him, among the rest Judge Hoar, to whom he held out his
arms for a last embrace. A sharp pain coming on, ether was administered
with relief. And in a little time, surrounded by those who loved him
and whom he loved, he passed quietly away. He lived very nearly to the
completion of his seventy-ninth year, having been born May 25, 1803, and
his death occurring on the 27th of April, 1882.

Mr. Ireland has given a full account of the funeral, from which are, for
the most part, taken the following extracts:--

"The last rites over the remains of Ralph Waldo Emerson took place
at Concord on the 30th of April. A special train from Boston carried
a large number of people. Many persons were on the street, attracted
by the services, but were unable to gain admission to the church
where the public ceremonies were held. Almost every building in town
bore over its entrance-door a large black and white rosette with
other sombre draperies. The public buildings were heavily draped,
and even the homes of the very poor bore outward marks of grief at
the loss of their frie