The Last Moments

Realizing that his sands were numbered, the stricken chief magistrate bade farewell to his adoring and adored wife, repeated to himself the familiar lines of Sarah F. Adams’s hymn, “Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee,” faintly whispered, “Good-by all, good-by. It is God’s way. His will be done, not ours,” and then lapsed into a state of unconsciousness, which lasted for hours, a few of his kindred, Secretary Cortelyou and the physicians and nurses being the witnesses of his last tremor.