townspeople, old and young, in groups watching
him enter his own door once more, he turned suddenly back and
going to the gate said, 'My friends! I know this is not a tribute
to an old man and his daughter returned to their home, but to the
common blood of us all--one family--in Concord.'"

The exposure incidental to the fire seriously undermined Emerson's
already failing health; shortly after he wrote a friend in
Philadelphia, "It is too ridiculous that a fire should make an old
scholar sick; but the exposures of that morning and the
necessities of the following days which kept me a large part of
the time in the blaze of the sun have in every way demoralized me
for the present,--incapable of any sane or just action. These
signal proofs of my debility an decay ought to persuade you at
your first northern excursion to come and reanimate and renew the
failing powers of your still affectionate old friend."

The story of his last days is told by his son, who was also his
physician:

"His last few years were quiet and happy. Nature gently drew the
veil over his eyes; he went to his study and tried to work,
accomplished less and less, but did not notice it. However, he
made out to look over and index most of his journals. He enjoyed
reading, but found so much difficulty in conversation in
associating the right word with his idea, that he avoided going
into company, and on that account gradually ceased to attend the
meetings of the Social Circle. As his critical sense became
dulled, his standard of intellectual performance was less
exacting, and this was most fortunate, for he gladly went to any
public occasion where he could hear, and nothing would be expected
of him. He attended the Lyceum and all occasions of speaking or
reading in the Town Hall with unfailing pleasure.

"He read a lecture before his townpeople** each winter as late as
1880, but needed to have one of his family near by to help him out
with a word and assist in keeping the place in his manuscript. In
these last years he liked to go to church. The instinct had always
been there, but he had felt that he could use his time to better
purpose."

"In April, 1882, a raw and backward spring, he caught cold, and
increased it by walking out in the rain and, through
forgetfulness, omitting to put on his over-coat. He had a hoarse
cold for a few days, and on the morning of April 19 I found him a
little feverish, so went to see him next day. He was asleep on his