On Friday,
two days before his death, seated in his chair as the easiest position
he could obtain, he engaged in a game of chess with a friend; but his
tremulous hand refused to make the moves, which were made by another at
his suggestion, and were recorded by one of his daughters. He was too
weak, however, to finish the game, which was postponed with his consent
to another time. It was now plain that his disease, which was pneumonia,
could not be conquered, and that his end was nigh. On Saturday morning
his faculties became clouded. He was heard to call a long lost son by
the name known only to the family; then the name of his dear departed
wife was uttered; and presently the name of the master of the steamer
that plies between Norfolk and the Eastern Shore where that son and that
wife were buried; showing that his own burial by their side was passing
in dim review before his failing faculties. In the course of Saturday
his mind was wholly gone. On Sunday morning, a quarter after ten, he
drew a long breath, and it was thought that all was over; but he
rallied, and another long inspiration followed.
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