News of Ulysses Grant's Death

[From page 1 of The New York Times, July 24, 1885]

A HERO FINDS REST

GEN. GRANT'S PEACEFUL, PAINLESS DEATH.

THE END COMING IN THE EARLY MORNING.
THE LAST BREATH AT SIX MINUTES AFTER EIGHT O'CLOCK.
THE SORROWING GROUP AROUND THE DEATHBED.
HIS LAST WORDS FULL OF REGARD FOR OTHERS.

THE LONG STRUGGLE AGAINST DISEASE ONLY ENDED WHEN VITALITY WAS THOROUGHLY EXHAUSTED -- CONSCIOUSNESS PRESERVED NEARLY TO THE LAST WHEN ALL OTHER FACULTIES WERE DEAD.
HIS BURIAL PLACE.

     New-York. -- Because the people of that city befriended me in my need.

U.S. Grant.  

     Mount McGregor, July 23. -- Surrounded by all of his family and with no sign of pain, Gen. Grant passed from life at six minutes after eight o'clock this morning. The end came with so little immediate notice as to be in the nature of a surprise. All night had the family been on watch, part of the time in the parlor, where he lay, rarely venturing further away from him than the porch on which the parlor opens. There seemed no hope that death could be held off through the night. It was expected at 9 o'clock, again at about midnight, and again neat 4 o'clock. There was serious failure at 9 o'clock and at midnight, but not at 4 o'clock, and as day came, bringing but slight change, the hope was that he might last until midday.
     The General did not speak even in a whisper after 3 o'clock this morning. Before that it had been little more than an aspiration at any time of the night, and then only answers to inquiries. But when the respiration grew rapid and weak all his powers that depended upon it failed him. His normal respiration is under 20. It was quick during the evening, 44 at midnight, 50 at 3 o'clock, and 60 at 5 o'clock. Then it became quite faint.
     He coughed somewhat after midnight, and was able with the doctor's aid to dislodge the mucus and throw it off, but from about 3 o'clock he could neither dislodge it or expectorate, and it began to clog his throat and settle back into his lungs.
     It was about 4 o'clock when the rattle in the throat began. For an hour or longer, Dr. Shrady, in the hope of easing, rather than of sustaining the General, as he was past that, have been giving hypodermics of brandy with great frequency, and applying hot cloths and mustard to various parts of the body, especially the hands and feet, which were growing very cold.
     It was soon evident that the General was too far gone to be aided by stimulants.
     Then came the waiting for death. The family had all been near the General through the night. It was not kept from them that he was beyond saving. They moved quietly about the sick room and out on the porch.
     The General lay on the bed, his face leaden, yet with some warmth left in its hue. His eyes were closed. Power to open them had been restored to him, and it was occasionally invoked when some member of the family, or the doctor, or one of the attendants spoke to him. Then he would open his eyes. He could make no other recognition, but that of the eyes was clear. His lungs and pulse were failing, but there was yet no cloud on the brain.
     At about 4 o'clock Dr. Douglas, who had been resting a little at the cottage, joined Dr. Shrady at the sick bed. Dr. Sands, considering himself of no use in the case, had gone quietly to bed at the hotel early in the evening, and was not disturbed.
     Dr. Douglas walked to the hill top after he had looked at the General. "He is conscious," the Doctor said; "that is, he has not lost his power of recognition. He Breathed; his heart lives; his lungs live; his brain lives; and that is about all."
     At 5 o'clock, when Dr. Newman left the cottage for a few moments, came word of rapid sinking, of the death rattle, of cold extremities, and of the discoloration of the finger nails. All was failing except the brain, which would be the last to die, the Pastor said.
     "For an hour past," he went on, "Mrs. Grant has been sitting with the General. When she speaks to him he opens his eyes. She says little and bears up wonderfully. As he is going, there is a change apparent in everything except his head. The broad forehead is as fine and commanding as ever. The head has not been seen to advantage in his sick chair, but now that he is recumbent it stands boldly out in the wreck of body. It has reminded me over and over again to-night of the death mask of Peter the Great."
     While Mrs. Grant sat by the General the other members of the family kept either in the other parts of the room or on the porch, almost within whispering call. They did not care to risk annoyance to him by grouping about him before it became necessary.
     The rays of the morning sun fell across the cottage porch upon a family waiting only for death.
     The members of the family had gone to their rooms about 7 o'clock on the advice of Dr. Shrady that they seek rest. The General lay perfectly still. He was yet conscious but not alert. There had been frequent visits. When attendants touched his hands, stroked his forehead, or moistened his lips he did not heed them. At times he would open his eyes; the vision was clear, but there was no sign that he more than barely recognized the surroundings. Such had been his condition since 3 o'clock. The family took the doctor's advice and withdrew. The doctor said he would inform them instantly of any change. Dr. Douglas and Dr. Shrady remained at the bedside. They saw that the General was sinking, that he could not last long, yet the limit of his endurance could not be fixed at 7:30 o'clock. They went out on the porch and Dr. Sands, who had spent the night at the hotel, joined them. The Rev. Dr. Newman was there. Dr. Sands stepped to the bedside. The General's breath came in quick gasps. He had no color. The hands lay white, limp, and cold on the sheet that covered him. His wasted, feeble body could not bear heavier covering. The throat was exposed. It fluttered with every effort to breathe. There was no more motion of the chest. Dr. Sands returned to the porch, shaking his head. He agreed with his associates that the end could not be far off. None of them would say how soon it might come. Dr. Newman inquired if he ought to go to breakfast; he had staid through the weary watch of two nights. Dr. Shrady advised him to wait. The Pastor asked the nurse, Henry, who thought a decline unlikely within an hour. It was then 7:40. Mrs. Sartoris entered the sick room, and as she stood at the bedside the General opened his eyes. She bent over him, and, slipping her hand under his, asked if he recognized her. She thought she felt a slight pressure from the cold fingers. That decided Dr. Newman and Mr. Dawson, the stenographer, to go to breakfast.
     They had not been gone more than five minutes when the nurse, Henry, stepped to the parlor door and beckoned to the doctors. A change had come. Dr. Shrady sent for the family. The bed stood in the middle of the room. Dr. Douglas drew a chair to the head near the General. Mrs. Grant came in and sat on the opposite side. She clasped gently one of the white hands in her own. When the Colonel came in Dr. Douglas gave up his chair to him. The Colonel began to stroke his father's forehead, as was his habit when attending him. Only the Colonel and Mrs. Grant sat. Mrs. Sartoris stood at her mother's shoulder, Dr. Shrady a little behind. Jesse Grant leaned against the low headboard fanning the General. Ulysses junior stood at the foot. Dr. Douglas was behind the Colonel. The wives of the three sons were grouped near the foot. Harrison was in the doorway, and the nurse, Henry, near a remote corner. Between them, at a window, stood Dr. Sands. The General's little grandchildren, U.S. Grant, Jr., and Nellie, were sleeping the sleep of childhood in the nursery room above stairs.
     All eyes were intent on the General. His breathing had become soft, though quick. A shade of pallor crept slowly but perceptibly over his features. His bared throat quivered with the quickened breath. The outer air, gently moving, swayed the curtains at an east window. Into the crevice crept a white ray from the sun. It reached across the room like a rod and lighted a picture of Lincoln over the deathbed. The sun did not touch the companion picture, which was of the General. A group of watchers in a shaded room, with only this quivering shaft of pure light, the gaze of all turned on the pillowed occupant of the bed, all knowing that the end had come, and thankful, knowing it, that no sign of pain attended it -- this was the simple setting of the scene.
     The General made no motion. Only the fluttering throat, white as his sick robe, showed that life remained. The face was one of peace. There was no trace of present suffering. The moments passed in silence. Mrs. Grant still held the General's hand. The Colonel still stroked his brow.
     The light on the portrait of Lincoln was slowly sinking. Presently the General opened his eyes and glanced about him, looking into the faces of all. The glance lingered as it met the tender gaze of his companion. A startled, wavering motion at the throat, a few quiet gasps, a sigh, and the appearance of dropping into a gentle sleep followed. The eyes of affection were still upon him. He lay without a motion. At that instant the window curtain swayed back in place, shutting out the sunbeam.
     "At last," said Dr. Shrady, in a whisper.
     "It is all over," sighed Dr. Douglas.
     Mrs. Grant could not believe it until the Colonel, realizing the truth, kneeled at the bedside clasping his father's hand. Then she buried her face in her handkerchief. There was not a sound in the room, no sobbing, no unrestrained show of grief. The example set by him who had gone so quietly kept grief in check at that moment. The doctors withdrew. Dr. Newman, who had entered in response to a summons just at the instant of the passing away, looked into the calm face, now beyond suffering, and bowed his head. There was a brief silence. Then Dr. Newman led Mrs. Grant to a lounge, and the others of the family sought their rooms.
     The General was not fully conscious for several hours before he died. There never seemed an utter lack of consciousness, but the hold upon his mind was slight indeed at times all through the night. He began to sink at about 7 o'clock last night, when the doctors forecast the end as almost certain to come during the night. He had been dying, however, for 36 hours before that, when decline followed the fatigue of his ride to the Eastern Lookout. Nothing came from the General before death which could be called his dying words. He took no conscious leave of his family. There had been prayers at midnight, when it was supposed he was going. Mrs. Grant then pressed his hand and asked if he knew her. He replied with a look of reassurance. He was near collapse at the time, and Col. Grant, thinking him possible in distress, asked him if he suffered. He whispered a feeble "no." That question was asked several times with the same result. Once, about 3 o'clock, he seemed in need of something. The nurse bent over him and heard him say "water." He did not speak after that.
     At different times through the night up to that hour he made himself understood by some sort of response to questions bearing on his comfort. His last voluntary and irresponsive act of speech which embodied the idea that governed him in all his sufferings, and which will on that account stand probably as his last utterance, dates back to yesterday afternoon, when, noticing the grief that the family could not restrain, he said, whispering in little above a breath, yet quite distinctly:
     "I don't want anybody to feel distressed on my account."
     He was then past rallying to an effort to hide his weakness, but did not forget his solicitude to spare others pain.
     Dr. Shrady was in charge at the cottage all of last night. Dr. Douglas was worn out and needed rest, which he took at the cottage, so as to be at call at a critical moment. Dr. Sands, assuming that he could be of no use, went early to bed at the hotel, and rose of his own accord in the morning, just in time to see the General die.
     It was a folding bed, that had been put into the cottage for use by the attending doctor, to which the General was moved early last evening. He wanted to change from the sitting posture, of which he was thoroughly tired. A reclining position was thought dangerous for him of late months, because it brought on a stuffy throat and choking. That was not to be feared last night; the muscles of the throat had relaxed. No spasmodic power was left; the pulse had not been less than 100 for 36 hours before death, or the respiration less than 30. Both ran up steadily to the end, the pulse touching 120, 140, 160 in quick succession, and then mounting so fast that it could not be counted. It was flighty most of the night. Respiration reached 44 at midnight. It was 60- by 4 o'clock, with a quickening tendency to the end. It ceased to move the diaphragm about midnight. It touched the lungs only slightly at daybreak. Air went little below the throat toward the last. The arms and feet became cold early in the evening. Hot appliances were made to them and to various parts of the body, and were frequently renewed. This was not done in the expectation of reviving him nor was brandy injected for that purpose. Both the injections and the appliances were made for his comfort -- to ease him. They would have served also as a help to a rally if one had temporarily set in. But that was not anticipated. The treatment sought only to comfort him. It was applied whenever pulse or heart of lungs threatened distress -- sometimes every few minutes and again at intervals of an hour or longer.
     The General, knowing his disease, foreseeing the result, and apprehending death sooner than did the doctors, had only one wish in regard to it. He wanted to die painlessly. The brandy, the hot appliances, and anodynes made the end what he wanted it to be. Otherwise the feverish coursing of the pulse, the panting, shallow breath, and the sense of dissolution which he might have felt extending upward to the brain may have made the end anything but a peaceful sinking into sleep. These symptoms and the treatment for them make a basis for doubt if the General could have been at any time during the night in clear mind. His posture in bed was most of the time on the right side. The head was bolstered. Toward the end he was turned on his back, dying in that position.
     The end was characteristic, the doctors say, of the disease as diagnosed by them. It was a case of clear exhaustion, the emaciation having left him, it is said, weighing less than 100 pounds. This morning, when the first shock was over, the doctors recalled to the family the question raised in regard to the diagnosis, and asked the privilege of an autopsy. The family would not hear of it. They were satisfied, they said, with the diagnosis. The matter was dropped at once.
     Dr. Douglas said there was nothing peculiar about the death except the resisting force of remarkable vitality. It was nine months yesterday since Dr. Douglas took charge of the General. The General had not been dead two minutes when the wires were sending it over the country. It was known in New-York before some of the guests heard of it at the hotel, where it spread very quickly. Undertaker Holmes was on his way from Saratoga almost as soon as the family had withdrawn to their rooms from the bedside. A special train which had waited for him all night was at once dispatched for him. A message was sent to Stephen Merritt, at New-York, to come on at once to take charge of the funeral services.
     Sculptor Gohardt was informed that he might take the death mask. The General's body still lay on the bed clad in the white flannel gown and the light apparel that he had last worn. The face seemed to have filled out somewhat, looking more as in familiar portraits of him.
     It was yet early in the morning when dispatches of condolence and offers of help began to come in on the family. One was from the Managers of the Soldiers' Home at Washington, offering for the place of interment a site in the grounds at the Home, carefully selected and on an eminence overlooking the city. That dispatch suggested the urgency of fixing upon plans for the coming few days and for interment.
     Col. Grant said that recently the General had written a note embodying his wishes in regard to the subject of removal from here. He was then anticipating death during this month. It would be too bad, he wrote, to send the family back to the city in the hot weather on account of his death. He proposed, therefore, that his body be embalmed and kept on this hill until the weather should become cool enough to let them go back to the city in comfort, and allow an official burial if one should be desired. The General's supposition in writing this note was that he would be buried in New-York. He had designated, one week after his arrival here, three places from which choice of burial place might be made. His note is given elsewhere regarding this matter. Washington was not one of the places named. He did not know that the family had been in correspondence with Gen. Sheridan, in April, about a burial place in Washington, or that Gen. Sheridan had selected a site on the grounds of the Soldiers' Home. The arrangement was then considered settled. Family preference naturally leaned that way when arrangements had gone so far. Only the Colonel and one or two others knew, until to-day, that the General had given expression to a preference. It was urged this morning the General might have preferred Washington above any other place, but that he had omitted to mention it because of modesty. The disposition of the family, however, when it was explained to-day what he had done, was to follow his wishes.
     Plans in this direction were facilitated this afternoon, when a telegram came from Mayor Grace making an official tender of a burial site in any park in New-York City. Col. Grant, in reply, asked that a messenger be sent here to confer on the subject. A messenger will also come from the President to urge Washington. Several telegrams arrived later, one from Thomas L. James, expressive of the universal opinion that the interment should be in New-York. John A. Logan advises Washington. Such is the drift the matter is taking to-night.
     There has been talk also on the less important but more urgent subject of what should be done immediately. Joseph W. Drexel came up this morning from Saratoga and begged the family to consider themselves at liberty to use the cottage as they hose and for as long a time as might suit them. W.J. Arkell placed his cottage at the disposal of the family. It is the only cottage here except Mr. Drexel's. These offers helped a decision rapidly. It was thought that arrangements for burial could be definitely made in 10 days; that the body might be taken to the Arkell cottage and left there under guard for that time; that then it might be removed to the place selected for burial, after which the family might return to the Drexel cottage to stay into the Fall. This discussion, in which Col. Grant represented the family, was, of course, merely tentative. A suggestion by Paymaster Gilbert A. Robertson, of the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States, fitted well into these plans. It proposed to Gen. Hancock, through Gen. Charles A. Carleton, Recorder of the Loyal Legion, that a Lieutenant and 13 men be sent here to guard the body until its removal. A Brooklyn Grant Army Post, which Gen. Grant last visited and which is to bear his name, sent a request to be allowed to act as guard of honor from this place to the place of burial.
     The family are bearing the trial well. Few persons have been allowed to visit the cottage. It has been the intention to keep away those whose business was not of the first importance. There have been no willful intruders. The ladies have kept up stairs. They were excessively wearied by the long strain. As the end could not be averted, and as the General could be kept alive only in suffering, the family sorrow seeks comfort in the reflection that death has brought him the only possible relief. It is hard to find consolation with grief yet fresh, but the thought that it has happened for the best has so far averted such violent scenes as had been dreaded. Mrs. Grant is especially brave in her affliction. All have been deeply touched by the many expressions of sympathy from every quarter. Col. Grant has undertaken general direction of affairs. He has had all he could do to-day, and is likely to be employed to his full capacity for work until every arrangement can be completed. The conferences with Mayor Grace's secretary and the President's messenger to-morrow will no doubt go far toward settling the question to which all others are subservient. Dr. Sands went home to-day. Dr. Shrady wanted to try again to persuade the family to consent to an autopsy. They positively declined again, repeating that they were perfectly satisfied with the treatment and diagnosis. The undertakers have been embalming the body to-day. It will be finished to-morrow.

WHILE AWAITING THE END.

DISCUSSING DEATH CALMLY AND PREPARING HIS FAMILY FOR THE INEVITABLE.

     New-York. -- Because the people of that city befriended me in my need.

U.S. Grant.  

From Tennyson's "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington."
                    I.
Bury the Great Duke
  With an Empire's lamentation,
Let us bury the Great Duke
  To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation,
Mourning when their leaders fall,
Warriors carry the warrior's pall,
And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall.

                    II.
Where shall we lay the man whom we deplored
Here, in streaming London's central roar.
Let the sound of those he wrought for,
And the feet of those he fought for,
Echo round his bones forevermore.

     When Gen. Grant became convinced of the fatal character of his illness he set about to prepare his worldly affairs in anticipation of the end. He felt, when the arrangements for taking him to Mount McGregor were in progress that he would not return alive to New-York. Shortly before his departure he prepared explicit directions in regard to his effects. This was done quietly, only one or two of the family knowing of it. His object in not acquainting the others with the occurrence was based on the motive that governed him throughout his sickness -- a desire to save them pain. He knew to what tension their nerves had been strained by what they saw, and it seemed to be his chief concern to spare them distress beyond that. Yet in the arrangement of his plans a deeper motive than this often appeared. Having reconciled himself to death, he sought to bring those dear to him to a realization of the stern event that was approaching, and to do it in a way that would blunt the shock whenever it might come. It was clear from many things he said and wrote that he would like to discuss with his family the subject of his departure -- to discuss it as a journey on which he was to precede them. The prospect was gloomy to him only so far as it was to carry with it distress to his family. Death in itself had no terrors. So far as his feelings were concerned, he looked forward to it rather as a relief. He knew perfectly well that his disease was incurable, and that at best he could only linger and suffer, tortured by constant pain, feeling his strength ebb and his flesh waste. He could control in a measure signs of his suffering, but its physical results were apparent. And knowing and feeling all this, to which others could not be wholly blind, he considered it his duty to prepare them for the end, and to get them to enter into his spirit of submission, as though it were an event to be deplored, perhaps, but not shunned, and, as it was inevitable, to be discussed calmly.
     His wishes in this respect were not met. Whenever he broached that subject it was the occasion either of painful outbursts of grief or of efforts on the part of his family to divert his mind from the subject, to hold out encouragement, to strive to rebuild hope within him. Such repulses, although well meant, had a depressing effect upon him. Instead of allaying his wish to make his plans complete and to bring his family to the state of composure that he had attained, it stimulated his longing for sympathetic interest in this matter. He did not see, since death was certain, why it should not be talked of, whenever occasion might prompt, as freely as anything else that might involve arrangements. The family abhorrence of suggestions of that nature curbed, but did not subdue, the inclination of his mind. This restraining influence accounts for the secret preparation of his memoranda before he left New-York, and had he not believed himself to be dying on the day after his arrival it is doubtful if the family would have heard of such memoranda. That painful family scene on June 17, consequent upon the memoranda he wrote after the unfortunate walk to the top of the hill, was precipitated because when he went to his room that night it was with the expectation of not leaving it. The next day, having recovered somewhat from the hopeless feeling that had oppressed him the night before, he could not resist the pleadings of tearful faces, and, to prevent further distress, he confessed to regret that he had touched the subject.
     Yet the desire to bring it up and to make it something for calm contemplation was not quenched. On June 24, just one week after the "Memoranda for My Family" episode and when he seemed to be getting along fairly, he stepped into the office room early in the evening and handed to Col. Grant a slip of paper on which was written substantially this:
     "There are three places from which I wish a choice of burial place to be made:
     "West Point. -- I would prefer this above others but for the fact that my wife could not be placed beside me there.
     "Galena, or some other place in Illinois. -- Because from that State I received my first General's commission.
     "New-York. -- Because the people of that city befriended me in my need."
     When he had delivered this slip to the Colonel he walked back into the sick room. In a few minutes he reappeared, walking round in front of the Colonel.
     "I don't like this, father," the son said, holding out the slip.
     "What is there about it you don't like?" asked the General, in his husky whisper.
     "I don't like any of it. There is no need of talking of such things."
     The General took the slip, folded it, tore it lengthwise, across, and again until the pieces were so small that hardly a word could have been made out from any of them, and throwing them in the waste basket went back to his room without speaking.
     This was the first time the General indicated any wish in regard to his burial. The family, however, had done something toward it in April, when he was supposed to be dying. At that time, while some of them had not abandoned hope, the matter was discussed as a possibility. It was agreed that if he should die there would be little time, in the confusion sure to prevail, to decide on that matter. Correspondence was then accordingly opened with Gen. Sheridan, who thought, as did many others, that at the Soldiers' Home in Washington would be the best place for burial, because the General saved that city; and arrangements were made to take his body there. In view of his expressed wish, however, that arrangement will probably not hold. It is more than likely that he will be buried in New-York. The spot selected, whether it be Central Park, as was talked of in the Spring, or elsewhere, will certainly be accepted by the family only on condition that Mrs. Grant may be laid beside him.
     During the few days following the preparation of the burial memoranda by the General alarming features in his malady were manifested. There was not unusual pain or sleeplessness. On the contrary, the comparative absence of pain was a cause for anxiety. By such absence was meant that the twinges of agony that for months had daily darted through his neck, like needles which not only pricked but gashed, subsided leaving simply an aching, gnawing sensation at the base of the disease. It was thought when the sharp pains stopped without checking the disease that perhaps susceptibility of pain in extreme form had been lost. But it was not on physical signs alone that alarm was raised. Rather it was because the General seemed then about to resign himself to death. To such a degree did apprehension grow among the gentlemen of the household, including the doctor, that whenever a fit of coughing attacked the General there was a thrill of dread that it might be his last; and from the way the General acted, it was then thought that he felt as they did.
     From the beginning of his visit, indeed, he showed a full appreciation of his condition in all its phases. The alarm with which July was ushered in led to a very slight rally, which was directly traceable to the assertion of his will power. Reports of his condition had been so distressing to the family that he sought this way of changing them, assuming an activity to which his strength was hardly equal, but to which, happily, for a day or two his physical powers rose responsive to his will. This effort accomplished what it had set out to do, but there were those to whom the General made no secret of what it had cost him. It left him feebler than before, but determined to betray no further anxiety for the sake of his family. The ladies, from his brave manner and his cheery notes, were quite ready to dissuade persuade themselves against hope. If they did not believe he could recover -- that was almost beyond the belief of any one -- they gathered assurance that his life would be prolonged for weeks, and possibly for months. The doctor and the sons were not misled by brave appearances, nor did the General try to mislead them. He knew that he could not discuss with them the subject of death, and so avoided it, but it did not escape him that they saw his growing diffidence, his weariness, his disposition to be left alone, to keep his room, caring less and less for outdoors, for his book, for the things that formerly excited his interest. He knew that they saw him wasting before their eyes, and that they construed all the signs as intelligently as he did. His cheerful notes to the doctor during this failing period raised the spirits of the ladies, and they talked of some relaxation from the strain and confinement of cottage life under such circumstances, but a warning from the doctor that they might regret even a short absence put an end to such plans, and they declined many invitations to visit friends at Saratoga. This was the only indication by Mrs. Sartoris and the other young ladies of the family of a distrust in their hope of a prolongation of the General's life. TO all appearances they includes strongly to the steadfast belief of Mrs. Grant that the end was yet far off. She went much further, indeed, clinging to faith in his ultimate recovery. Yet, although her conviction was strong, it took little to overpower her. It was the General's wish,created by the April crisis, to prepare her for the inevitable. The subject was exceedingly difficult of approach with her, because of her particularly emotional temperament. Up to the April crisis she was purposely kept in ignorance of the gravity of the case, partly because the General wished it. She was overcome when the truth was disclosed to her, but, with Christian faith and zeal, on the night when the doctors said he had but five minutes to live, she roused herself, and, laying hands on the General, offered prayers in his behalf. She always believed that he tided that crisis in response to her prayer. Afterward, whenever danger threatened, she applied the same means of relief, persistently crediting recovery from downward turns to supernatural intervention as solicited by her. Her faith in this was boundless. It pained and grieved her to have others suggest that his condition was hopeless. Especially did she give way to her emotions when the General tried to prepare her. This indulgence of grief was naturally frequent. It was due, however, to the amiability of her nature and her ready sympathy rather than to shaken faith, for despite the gloomy faces that at times surrounded her she was quick to rise equal to her convictions.
     An illustration of the tenderness of her feelings and of her quick recovery of faith occurred in the early days of July. One evening, as the General sat in the parlor with the family, the Colonel mentioned having that day received a letter from Webster & Co., the publishers of the memoirs, saying that subscriptions to the book already guaranteed $300,000 to the General. Taking up his pad, the General wrote:
     "That will be all for you, Julia," and handed the slip over to Mrs. Grant.
     She began to cry, and could not be calmed for some time. That evening she regained courage in prayer, and the next morning she talked as hopefully as ever of the General's recovery.
     "I have seen the General in trouble before," she often said. "Those about me were despondent over him during the war. The newspapers and my friends did not believe he would take Vicksburg. They were skeptical about what he could do in Virginia. But no one knew him as I did. I was always confident that he would succeed. I am equally sure he will come out of this trouble, for the old faith sustains me."
     The General found no one to whom he could open his mind on the subject of death until Senator Chaffee came to spend the Fourth with him. Senator Chaffee did not repulse him, or seek to divert him from what he saw was uppermost in his mind. They were together a good deal and talked over it freely. The General wrote that early in his disease he hoped for recovery, but that now no spark of hope ever brightened his existence, and he wanted the end to come; delay was only irksome to him.
     "You feel as I would," Senator Chaffee responded. "You can do nothing and you suffer always. If you hadn't this disease, but were now well, you could hope to live only a few years longer. You and I are past 60. Our race is about run. We can live on little more than memories at our age. What difference can a few years make?"
     In conversation such as this the two friends passed much of their time together. It was the thing for which the General had been hungering. There was nothing melancholy or dispiriting about it, but it forecase the end soberly, calmly, and as something, by no means dreadful, that was to occur in natural course. The General expressed to his friend a regret that he could not bring his family to that philosophic view of it. Senator Chaffee agreed with him that it was a matter of regret, but advised him not to allude to it with the family, unless he thought it could be done without distressing them.
     On the night of July 5, while this advice was yet fresh in his mind, the General wrote his physician a short note, which clearly anticipated the end, under an appearance of shielding the physician from possible future criticism. He said he believed nature, meaning his surroundings, had done much for him; that medical skill had been applied in the highest degree, and that now he was content to await patiently the natural result of the disease. This was not the first time that the General had intimated to his devoted attendant that he understood the hopelessness of his condition; but it was the first time that the doctor, from the General's manner and expression as much as from the note, saw that the General realized that any day might be his last. No one was more mindful than the General of the significance of his growing weakness and diffidence.
     The completion of work on his book knocked away from the General a prop that had sustained him through many reverses. His first feeling was of relieve. He was glad that it was over. It was especially fortunate, he thought, that this work was disposed of before the meeting with the Mexican editors, on July 8, prostrated him. But when, by careful watching, he rallied from that fatigue in the following week, he became very despondent over his want of occupation. On the morning of July 16, when Dr. Douglas visited him, the General wrote him a note which showed how he missed occupation. The note said he felt that his life work was done, and there was nothing more to keep him here. He did not want to seem unappreciative of all that was done for him to make him comfortable, but his condition was such that he could only be a burden to others and of no use to himself. For these reasons he wished to go, and he hoped and felt that the end was near.
     It was this note that led Drs. Douglas and Shrady to try to find mental occupation for the General, and which resulted in laying out a plan of reading and writing for him. The suggestions seemed to please him, but he could not dispel the conviction that his life work was done and that he could be of no more use. He kept up a brave front before his family, but the well meant tasks set by the doctors appeared to the General as mere diversion, for which his taste was gone. So complete was the failure of the suggestions at first to appeal earnestly to him that on July 18, as Dr. Shrady was about to go away, having relieved Dr. Douglas for several days, the General wrote him a note saying that it was useless to think of magazine or other article writing, for he was past caring for such things and did not expect or want to live the month out. The doctor tried to cheer him up, advising him to entertain himself by reading, and that afternoon, at Mrs. Grant's request, an order was sent for "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" for the General.
     Dr. Shrady relieved Dr. Douglas for four days. He had not seen the General for two weeks. The General in that time had noticeably lost flesh, until he was a pitiable sight, and the doctor then foresaw that exhaustion would be the cause of death, not a visible eruption of the cancer, as had before been considered among the possibilities. Dr. Douglas was of the same opinion. Although always prepared for a relapse or a low turn for the General, he was not apprehensive that the General's vitality was irreparably leaving him until several days after the General's note saying that his life work was done. The indications to Dr. Douglas on July 19 were that death would be preceded by stupor.

HIS LAST RESTING PLACE.

THIS CITY FAVORED AS THE MOST FITTING TO DO HIM HONOR.

     The tomb of a hero is a patriot's shrine. When Napoleon's countrymen were enabled to carry out their cherished desire they brought the remains of their most famous military captain and ruler back to the land he served and gave him fitting interment, marking the spot with a monument whose beauty alone is worth a pilgrimage to see. In the last hours of Gen. Grant's illness, when death was imminent, many of his friends discussed the matter of his interment as one in which the Nation he did so much to preserve had an interest. It was felt to be delicate ground, and no public expression of opinion was made for obvious reasons. No one would obtrude his sentiments lest some knowledge of the fact might be brought to the attention of the anxious watchers in the Mount McGregor cottage, and thus add another pang to their sufferings. The long illness of the General and the fact that its fatal nature was so early manifest prepared the public mind in great measure to look forward to the end. When it became known, too, that Gen. Grant had himself expressed an opinion as to the place of his burial the announcement of it was awaited with a respectful interest. Of the three places for which he expressed a preference, one -- West Point -- was rendered out of the question because of the General's desire that the remains of his beloved wife might some day repose beside his. The other two places were Galena and New-York City. Public sentiment, as far as it could be ascertained, was almost entirely in favor of this city. Here, in the Nation's real capital, which he himself had selected as his residence for his declining years, it was regarded as fitting that his tomb should be. Some great public place like Central Park, daily visited by thousands, was deemed to be the most appropriate spot. The opinions of many well known citizens voicing this desire are given below:
     Mayor Grace -- There is no man for whom, as an American, I have a higher respect than for Gen. Grant. Above all places New-York is the spot where he should have a final resting place. He has passed a great part of his life here, and the people have looked upon him as one of themselves. As a general statement, of course, I would say let the great General be laid at rest wherever he has expressed a wish to be buried. The people of New-York would unitedly favor his interment in any suitable place.
     Controller Loew -- Gen. Grant's wishes should be carried out above all things. New-York would be a most suitable place to bury him. As the first city in the country its claims should be fully considered, and if the people demand it it will be done.
     Commissioner John D. Crimmins, Department of Parks -- I assure you that no place would be more suitable to receive the remains of the Nation's hero than the largest park in the leading city of his country. In saying this I can safely speak for my colleagues. Not one of them would raise a dissenting voice, but, on the contrary, they would further the movement in every possible manner. Even if a good spot could not be selected in Central Park, Riverside Park could be chosen. This park is growing in popularity every year, and in a short time promises to take the place of Central. We could easily give a large space of ground in the vicinity of Clermont, One Hundred and Twenty-sixth-street, where there is a very prominent plateau. If his remains were interred in that portion of the park a monument could be seen from the decks of the Hudson River steamboats. On the whole I am in favor of Riverside Park, and especially at the portion named -- Clermont. At this point the surface of the plateau is 113 feet above the level of the river. This would enable persons to see a monument for miles around, and it could be seen up and down the river for a long distance. Taking everything into consideration, I am inclined to believe that Riverside is the proper place, and it would be more suitable than Central. At any rate the American people ought to pay a grand tribute to the memory of this soldier, and I see no better way of doing this than by burying his remains in one of our leading parks and erecting a handsome monument to mark the spot.
     A. Stranger, Commissioner of Public Works -- Let the General be buried in New-York. Here we have splendid parks and many places in which the great old hero may be laid at rest. Unless he has expressed a contrary opinion, by all means let us receive him here and lay him at rest among a people that fully appreciate his services to the country.
     Senator Evarts is heartily in favor of New-York as a burial place for Gen. Grant, and has telegraphed to Col. Grant to that effect. Senator Warner Miller is also understood to be warmly in favor of the project.
     Register Reilly -- I think no place is more suitable than this city as the final resting place of Gen. Grant. While he is beloved by the whole people, I think the people of New-York have an especial feeling for him on account of the matters that hat embittered the last year of his life. We have many eligible places -- Central Park among the number.
     Deputy Controller Storrs -- By all means let Gen. Grant be buried in New-York. The people here look upon him as one of themselves, and the fact that he voluntarily chose to reside in this city for such a great part of his latter life is proof that he loved the city as the people honored him.
     County Clerk Keenan -- I think this city is by far the most suitable place to bury the General. He has been so much identified with our city that the idea of his finding a final resting place here is most appropriate.
     President Sanger, of the Board of Aldermen, and all the other members of the Common Council thought this city the most suitable place where the General should be buried. They all spoke about in the one strain. Gen. Grant had passed the last years of his life here, had formed many ties of friendship, and had been looked upon as a citizen of New-York. He had gone away from New-York to die, and it was eminently fitting that he should be brought back here, to rest forever in the greatest city of the country he loves so well. Alderman Haehne, the Vice-President of the board, and others spoke strongly and feelingly on the subject. The feeling everywhere prevailed among the members of the board that the city authorities should not lose the opportunity to show that Gen. Grant possessed the fullest confidence of the people among whom he dwelt so long and with whose interests he was so much identified. An informal talk among the members of the board yesterday showed that everything the Common Council could do would be done to carry out the wishes of the General and his family. This feeling was also shared in by Tax Commissioners Coleman, Donnelly, and Feitner, Assessment Commissioner Marshall, and Assessors Gilon, Haverty, and Livingston.
     Gen. Franz Sigel -- He should be buried either in New-York or Washington. The chief city of the Nation is a fit resting place for the Nation's chieftain. The choice should only lie between it and Washington, the nominal capital of the country.
     A.S. Hatch -- I think it would be a good idea to have Gen. Grant buried in Central Park, and his resting place marked by a handsome monument. The fact that Grant's body was interred within its borders would not only distinguish Central Park for all time, but it would also be an added mark of respect for the great soldier's fame, inasmuch as no other person would probably ever be buried in the Park.
     Washington E. Connor -- This is the metropolis of the country, and it seems to me that it is the fittest place to inter the country's greatest hero.
     Joseph J. O'Donohue -- If Gen. Grant expressed a desire to be buried in New-York, I think he should be buried here by all means. His tomb should be one of the conspicuous features of this country.
     O.P. Huntington -- I have not given the subject much thought. New-York, having been Gen. Grant's home, would be a very proper place for his tomb.
     William H. Townley, lawyer -- This city is the proper spot for the General's last resting place.
     Police Justice O'Reilly -- As Gen. Grant made this city his home it would be proper to have him buried here.
     Ex-Judge A.J. Dittenhoefer -- The General should be buried in this city.
     Hubert O. Thompson -- New-York is the place. We can give the General as fine a place as can be found in the country.
     Police Justice Henry Murray -- I should say without hesitation that the city of New-York would be the most appropriate place in which to bury the remains of the General. There are many sites that might be chosen. Central Park furnishes many eligible spots.
     Dock Commissioner Joseph Koch -- Most certainly New-York is the place, not only because of the years that the General has lived here, but because this is the greatest city in the country, which he did so much to preserve.
     Police Justices M.J. Power and J. Henry Ford also commended the idea. They all united in saying that in New-York the General would find the most appropriate resting place.
     Supervisor of the City Record Thomas Costigan -- By all means let the General be brought here. I am sure the people would be only too glad to have a chance to show their affection for the old hero.
     John D. Coughlin -- Gen. Grant, in my opinion, could find no more fitting resting place than New-York. He has become identified with the city, and has been looked upon as one of us.
     Excise Commissioners Mitchell and Haughton also thought New-York the best place in which to bury the General, and Mr. Mitchell added that the city authorities could undoubtedly arrange the matter satisfactorily if prompt action were taken.
     Senator Michael C. Murphy -- This is the place to lay the General at rest. See how many of his old comrades in arms are here! And then the people at large would be only too glad to have the General's body interred anywhere in their midst. Probably no man of the century has crept closer to the heart of the people than Gen. Grant. Let him then be buried here, where within an hour over two millions of his people can come to do honor to his name.
     Senator James Daly -- New-York would be a most appropriate place, for has he not spent his last years, if not his last hours, here?
     Police Justice Gorman -- New-York, I think, would be the proper place to bury the dead hero.
     Senator Plunkitt -- Most decidedly let him be brought here and buried here. Central Park is a most eligible spot, and there are others within the limits of the city.
     Assemblyman Edward F. Reilly -- This city is the place. Many spots could be selected, notably in Central Park.
     Ex-Alderman Hugh J. Grant -- I would like to see the General's remains interred in or near this city, and if the city authorities can do so I hope they will take the proper measures to insure that result.
     Ex-Alderman Bernard Kenney -- New-York would be my choice most certainly for the final resting place of the deceased General. I think the city could in no better way show its respect for the General than by extending an offer of a suitable site -- say in Central Park.
     Commissioner of Jurors Charles Reilly -- This city would appear to me to be the best place to bury the General.
     Coroner M.J.B. Messemer -- I favor New-York, and I do not think any city has greater claim to the honor.
     Coroner Bernard F. Martin -- I think this city by all means should have the honor of burying the General.
     John Roach -- Gen. Grant should be buried in New-York.
     Gustav Schwab, of Oelrichs & Co. -- I think New-York is the place where the General should be buried.
     S.F. Pierson, Assistant Commissioner Railway Pool -- I think New-York should be chosen.
     United States Commissioner Shields -- I think New-York would be the most appropriate place in which to bury Gen. Grant.
     Assistant District Attorney Foster -- I think precedents should be followed as to the place of interment of a President, in burying him at or near his place of abode. For this reason I believe New-York should be chosen.
     Col. John Tracy -- I think New-York is the proper place.
     Edward Selleck, Deputy County Clerk -- Gen. Grant identified himself with New-York in the closing years of his life. It is the metropolis of the Nation and the fittest place of burial for the Nation's hero.
     Jordan L. Mott, iron manufacturer and ex-President of the Board of Aldermen -- Let the city set apart a spot in Central Park where Gen. Grant shall be buried, and let the Constitution of the State be amended so as to provide that no other man shall be buried there.
     Henry A. Root, lawyer -- It will be a great thing for the city of New-York.
     Capt. William M. Conner, proprietor of the James Hotel -- If I had my way about it, I should say, bury Gen. Grant in the finest spot in Central Park, and erect over him the grandest monument that was ever erected over a soldier.
     Judge F.G. Gedney -- I favor Gen. Grant being buried in this city, visited as it is by so many more people than ant other city in the country, and the erection of a fitting monument over his grave. He is to-day the first in the hearts of his countrymen as much as Washington was, and this reminds me of the clause inserted in his will by the great Napoleon to this effect: "I desire that my body be placed on the banks of the Seine among the French people whom I love so well." Gen. Grant's monument should be as elaborate as the tomb of Napoleon, which may be seen from almost every part of the city of Paris.
     Judge William H. Robertson, ex-Collector -- I believe New-York City, the greatest city and metropolis of the Union, to be the proper place for the burial of Gen. Grant, the greatest citizen and soldier of the Union. It is a place most accessible to the masses and where the greatest and most fitting honors could be paid him. Put me down for New-York.
     Rufus Hatch -- New-York City is the place, by all means, for the hero's tomb.
     Messrs. Nash & Crook, restaurateurs -- We both agree that this city is the place
     Assistant District Attorney Edward L. Parris -- Gen. Grant should be buried in New-York.
     Assistant District Attorney Ambrose H. Purdy -- New-York was Gen. Grant's home; he should be buried here.
     George C. Clarke, of Tefft, Weller & Co. -- I think that New-York is the proper place for Gen. Grant's burial. It would certainly be very proper for him to rest in the city where most of his friends live.
     Levi M. Bates -- I certainly think that Gen. Grant should be buried in this city, where a monument worthy of his fame would be visited by more people than in any other city in the land.
     Postmaster Pearson -- The resting place of the foremost soldier of his day should unquestionably be in the foremost city of his country. Gen. Grant ought certainly to be buried in Central Park.
     Assistant United States District Attorney S.B. Clarke -- It strikes me on the first presentation as a good idea. I think there ought to be some special mark of the feeling on the subject.
     Charles R. Flint, of W.R. Grace & Co. -- Central Park is the finest public resort in the country. No one has been buried there, and it would be a distinctive mark of respect to bury in that beautiful place, within view of his latest home, the greatest soldier of the age.
     Michael P. Grace -- Undoubtedly the proper place to bury Gen. Grant is in New-York, and either the Central or Riverside Park. The latter, I think, would be the better site.
     C.L. Lawrence, of Lawrence, Gross & Co., brokers at No. 1,247 Broadway -- I think that New-York is the most appropriate place for Gen. Grant's burial.
     C.D. Shepard, No. 1,245 Broadway -- I sincerely hope that Gen. Grant will be buried in or near this city.
     H. Gilsey, manager of the Peter Gilsey estate -- I should like to hear that Gen. Grant was going to be buried in New-York.
     Henry Miller, hatter, No. 1,147 Broadway -- I shall be gratified if Gen. Grant's family consider it best to bury him here.
     William Neergaard, druggist, Broadway and Twenty-eighth-street -- If it is in accord with the wishes of the General's family I think New-York is the best place.
     Mr. Samuel Colville, theatrical manager -- My opinion is that Gen. Grant should be buried in New-York in as conspicuous a spot as possible. I don't see how any one could think otherwise.
     Mason W. Tyler, lawyer -- Gen. Grant should be accorded the sole honor of being buried in Central Park. It would be a place for pilgrims to visit as they do Mount Vernon.
     William C. Traphagen, lawyer -- I think Gen. Grant ought to be interred in some such public space. I would favor it.
     Guy R. Pelton, lawyer -- I believe that to put the body of Grant in Central Park would meet the favor of the American people, and certainly that act would be most proper.
     Charles F. Bauerdorf, lawyer -- I think it very appropriate to bury him in Central Park, as he has spent the latter part of his life here.
     William W. Cook, lawyer -- It would be eminently proper to bury Gen. Grant in the Park. He was an honored citizen and a civilian as well as a soldier.
     Thomas G. Ritch, lawyer -- I am in favor of what Mrs. Grant favors, but hope she may allow New-York to do the General the great honor of burying him in our beautiful Park.
     John R. Dos Passos, lawyer -- I think Gen. Grant's monument ought to be erected in the most conspicuous place. He stands with Washington and Lincoln, and to put him in Central Park would be a splendid and correct thing. We have been too neglectful about our heroes. The tomb of Washington is in an inaccessible place, while we now have it in our power to have Grant's tomb accessible to all. A mausoleum should be erected in Central Park, outvying anything of ancient or modern times.
     Algernon S. Sullivan, lawyer -- It is an excellent suggestion that we, Gen. Grant's neighbors, should enshrine his ashes, and with fit ceremonies commemorate his virtues, his lofty services, and his lasting fame.
     Luke F. Cozans, lawyer -- I am heartily in favor of having the body of Gen. Grant rest under a magnificent monument in Central Park.
     Henry Clews, the Broad-street banker -- I think New-York is the only and proper place to erect a fitting memorial tribute to Gen. Grant. It should be a tomb upon which future generations may look with reverence. It should excel in grandeur anything of its kind in the world. When we shall thus perpetuate the memory of his deeds we preserve one of the two greatest epochs of our history. Washington made the Republic possible; Grant preserved it. I have conferred with Col. Fred Grant about the Generals burial. He said that his father was quite pronounced in the wish that Mrs. Grant should be buried by his side, and recently suggested the Soldiers' Home at Washington for their final resting place. I suggested New-York, the imperial city of the Nation, as the most suitable locality, in which the Colonel acquiesced, and said that if a burial place here was tendered it would be accepted.
     Col. Robert A. Crawford, of Atlanta, Ga. -- By all means bury Gen. Grant here and erect a monument, where it will be most convenient for our people from the North, from the South, and from the West, and for those who come from foreign countries, to visit.
     Ex-Postmaster-General Thomas L. James -- I am heartily in favor of having the interment in this city. This is the greatest city in the country, and Gen. Grant was the greatest man of his time. It would be almost inappropriate to bury him elsewhere.
     H.K. Thurber, wholesale grocer -- I think it would be a grand testimonial of the affection of the citizens of New-York for them to erect a monument over Gen. Grant in Central Park. I am enthusiastically in favor of the proposition.
     Dr. Robert W. Taylor, No. 40 West Twenty-first-street -- I am in favor of New-York by all means.
     Mr. Henry Darian, theatrical customer -- I favor New-York as Gen. Grant's burial place.
     Mr. Andrew Dam, of the Union-Square Hotel -- I believe the dead hero should be buried in New-York, say in Woodlawn, and that a magnificent memorial should be erected in Central Park.
     Mr. Frank Curtis, theatrical manager -- I think the General should be buried inn New-York.
     Mr. Frank W. Sanger, theatrical manager -- I think the General should be buried in Central Park, and that a monument should be erected over his grave that shall be the pride of the Nation.
     Ex-Mayor Edward Cooper -- I think it entirely desirable that New-York should be the final resting place of the dead General.
     Mr. Edwin L. Abbett, lawyer -- Gen. Grant should be buried in New-York City.
     Mr. John R. Lydecker, ex-Deputy Collector -- This city has been Gen. Grant's home, and he should be buried here. I know how much he thought of some of the friendships which he formed in New-York, and I am sure he would want to be buried here.
     Mr. John Mullaly, ex-Assessor -- New-York would by all means be the best choice. Gen. Grant has had interests here and formed ties that have made him practically a native of New-York. By all means let his remains by buried here, and then for a great monument.
     John Hoey, Long Branch -- I think very favorably of the project to bury Gen. Grant in Central Park. Both the city and the State of New-York ought to feel proud to give the Nation's foremost citizen a burial place.
     D.M. Hildreth, proprietor of the West End Hotel, Long Branch -- I cordially approve of the idea. The General deserves to be treated as a national benefactor, and no honor that the city of New-York can do his memory will be too great.