comfort, and after the arrival of General Swaim, who was the nurse for the first part of the night, she left the sick room and retired. I afterward re-entered the room, took the pulse, and left the President quietly sleeping. I then returned to my room to prepare the directions for the night, where I was visited by Colonel Rockwell, who earnestly discussed with me the probability of a favorable night. The Colonel was to relieve General Swaim at 2:30 a. m. I myself did not intend to sleep until after twelve o'clock, as I had some special observations to make at that hour, should the President be awake, and his condition favorable. Col. Rockwell left the room to seek his muchneeded rest. At 10:10 I was looking over some of the wonderful productions of the human imagination which each mail brought me, when the faithful Dan suddenly appeared at the door of communication, and said: 'General Swaim wants you, quick!' He preceded me to the room, took the candle from behind the screen near the door, and raised it so that the light fell full upon the face, so soon to settle in the rigid lines of death. Observing the pallor, the upturned eyes, the gasping respiration, and the total unconsciousness, I, with uplifted hands, exclaimed: 'My God, Swaim, the President is dying! Turning to the servant, I added: 'Call Mrs. Garfield immediately, and on your return, Drs. Agnew and Hamilton.'

"On his way to Mrs. Garfield's room he notified Colonel Rockwell, who was the first member of the household in the room. Only a moment elapsed before Mrs. Garfield was present. She exclaimed, 'Oh! what is the matter?" I said, Mrs. Garfield, the President is dying.'

"Leaning over her husband, and fervently kissing his brow, she exclaimed: Oh! why am I made to suffer this cruel wrong?"

"Meantime, by what seemed some mysterious means of

communication, the whole household was present at once. Mrs. Garfield, Mrs. Rockwell, Miss Mollie Garfield, Miss Rockwell, Mr. C. O. Rockwell, Mr. J. Stanley Brown, Di. Agnew, Dr. Boynton, the servants, and myself, were the witnesses of the last sad scene in this sorrowful history. "While summoning Mrs. Garfield, I had in vain sought for the pulse at the wrist, next at the carotid artery, and last by placing my ear over the region of the heart. Restoratives, which were always at hand, were instantly resorted to. In almost every conceivable way it was sought to revive the rapidly yielding vital forces. A faint fluttering pulsation of the heart, gradually fading into indistinctness, alone rewarded my examination. At last, only a few moments after the first alarm, at 10:35, I raised my head from the breast of my dead friend, and said to the sorrowful group, "It is over." So gradual was the final passage across the dark river, that for a few moments I doubted the accuracy of my senses. The President's worn face changed but little in death.

'We thought him dying when he slept,

And sleeping when he died.'

"I cannot describe that scene. The vital spark had gone. No human skill or courage of heart could longer avail. The once magnificent physique, which had been so constantly and tenderly watched, lay untenanted before us. There was no sound-not even of weeping. All hearts were stilled.

"Noiselessly, one by one, we passed out, leaving the broken-hearted wife alone with her dead husband. Thus she remained for more than an hour, gazing upon the lifeless features, when Colonel Rockwell, fearing the effect. upon her health, touched her arm and begged her to retire, which she did."

And thus he died.

"The earth and sky were silent in their sorrow

The end had come at last

And burning tears of nature ere the morrow,

Told that the worst was past.

Upon the sea the stars were softly shining

And shimmering in the night,

As winds and waves their gentle arms entwining,

Wept sadly at the sight."

And despite the prayers, and tears, and earnest pleading, and piteous protest from myriad hearts

"Death cometh after all."

We enshrine in our memories this sorrow, for the expression of which mere words are inadequate; and we rest in the fond belief that the great sufferer by the sea was ready for the change, and when it came he gazed without alarm upon the "phantom wonders of the unseen."

24

CHAPTER XV.

FROM ELBERON TO THE GRAVE.

There was little more to do at Elberon. The physicians announced the fact of the death of the President, and before the morning of the 20th of September the lightning had carried the news to remotest boundaries, and in response came back the tears of the sympathizing nations of the earth.

The members of the President's cabinet notified VicePresident Arthur of the event that called him to the vacant post, and before the morning came the Nation had a new head and the army and the navy of the Union a new Commander-in-chief.

As each community in city or town learned its loss the darkness of a great sorrow fell upon it. There was no

formality in the expression of public grief. The deepthroated cannon and the tolling bells voiced the universal sorrow, and sleepless thousands walked the streets during all the hours of that memorable night, awaiting the particulars that followed hotly over the wire.

The official bulletin of the surgeons announcing his death is as follows:

"ELBERON, N. J., Sept. 19, 1881, 11:30 P. M. "The President died at 10:35 P. M. After the bulletin was issued at 5:30 this evening, the President continued in much the same condition as during the afternoon, the pulse varying from 102 to 106, with a rather increased