ould send for a
physician he stopped her, saying that he would go on with dinner, and
afterward to London.

He made an earnest effort to struggle against the seizure which was fast
coming over him, and continued to talk, but incoherently and very
indistinctly. It being now evident that he was in a serious condition,
my aunt begged him to go to his room before she sent for medical aid.
"Come and lie down," she entreated. "Yes, on the ground," he answered
indistinctly. These were the last words that he uttered. As he spoke,
he fell to the floor. A couch was brought into the dining-room, on which
he was laid, a messenger was dispatched for the local physician,
telegrams were sent to all of us and to Mr. Beard. This was at a few
minutes after six o'clock. I was dining at a house some little distance
from my sister's home. Dinner was half over when I received a message
that she wished to speak to me. I found her in the hall with a change of
dress for me and a cab in waiting. Quickly I changed my gown, and we
began the short journey which brought us to our so sadly-altered home.
Our dear aunt was waiting for us at the open door, and when I saw her
face I think the last faint hope died within me.

All through the night we watched him--my sister on one side of the couch,
my aunt on the other, and I keeping hot bricks to the feet which nothing
could warm, hoping and praying that he might open his eyes and look at
us, and know us once again. But he never moved, never opened his eyes,
never showed a sign of consciousness through all the long night. On the
afternoon of the ninth the celebrated London physician, Dr. Russell
Reynolds, (recently deceased), was summoned to a consultation by the two
medical men in attendance, but he could only confirm their hopeless
verdict. Later, in the evening of this day, at ten minutes past six, we
saw a shudder pass over our dear father, he heaved a deep sigh, a large
tear rolled down his face and at that instant his spirit left us. As we
saw the dark shadow pass from his face, leaving it so calm and beautiful
in the peace and majesty of death, I think there was not one of us who
would have wished, could we have had the power, to recall his spirit to
earth.

* * * * *

I made it my duty to guard the beloved body as long as it was left to us.
The room in which my dear father reposed for the last time was bright
with the beautiful fresh flowers which