the illness had overtaken him which ended
in death.

On the other hand time had, in some respect, mollified his own feelings.
Many things had occurred to make him more gentle and forbearing. Much of
this was certainly due to the increasing strength of his (p. 266)
religious convictions, which as has been noticed, steadily deepened
during his last years. It is clear from much that appears in his later
novels that these had, to some extent, been perverted from their
legitimate effect, and had made him at intervals illiberal and even
bitter. But they had brought calm to an excitable nature, and healing to
a spirit which had been sometimes sorely wounded. In 1851 he carried out
a plan long before determined upon. In March of that year he became a
communicant in the Episcopal church, and in the following July was
confirmed by his brother-in-law, Bishop DeLancey.

In the summer of 1850 he was in New York city. "At this time," says
Bryant, "his personal appearance was remarkable. He seemed in perfect
health, and in the highest energy and activity of his faculties. I have
scarcely seen any man at that period of life on whom his years sat more
lightly." But even then the disease which was to destroy him was lurking
in his system. In the beginning of April, 1851, he came again to New
York partly for medical advice, and his changed appearance struck all
his friends with surprise and sorrow. The digestive organs were
impaired, the liver was torpid, and a general feebleness had taken the
place of the vigor for which he had previously been distinguished.
He remained several weeks in the city and then returned to Cooperstown.
That place he never left again. The disease made rapid advances, and at
last became a confirmed dropsy. In the latter part of August his old and
intimate friend, Dr. Francis, of New York, went up to Cooper's country
home to make a full examination of his condition. He found him worse, if
anything, than he expected. There was, in fact, little hope of (p. 267)
recovery. The physician told him frankly of the danger he was in, and of
the possibilities of restoration to health that still existed. Though
his own perception of his condition was too clear to make the
announcement a shock, it could not have been other than a
disappointment. He had many projects still unfulfilled. Plans of new
works were in his mind; and one of them on the "Towns of Manhattan,"
partly written, was at that very time in press