ength said to Mr. Lear: "I am just going. Have me decently buried, and
do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I
am dead."

Mr. Lear signified his assent by a nod.

As if not satisfied with that, Washington looked up to him again, and
said:

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Mr. Lear answered distinctly.

"It is well," added the dying man--the last words he spoke.

Mr. Lear describes the closing scene thus:

"About ten minutes before he expired, his breathing became much easier;
he lay quietly. He withdrew his hand from mine and felt his own pulse. I
spoke to Dr. Craik, who sat by the fire; he came to the bedside. The
general's hand fell from his wrist; I took it in mine and placed it on
my breast. Dr. Craik closed his eyes, and he expired without groan or
struggle."

Mrs. Washington had been sitting in silent grief all the while, at the
foot of the bed; but now she inquired with calmness:

"Is he gone?"

No one could answer; hearts were too full for utterance. But Mr. Lear
"held up his hand as a signal that he was gone."

"It is well," responded Mrs. Washington, with firm, unfaltering voice.
"All is over now; I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials to pass
through."

Mr. Custis says, "Close to the couch of the sufferer resting her head
upon that ancient Book with which she had been wont to hold pious
communion a portion of every day for more than half a century, was the
venerable consort, absorbed in silent prayer, and from which she only
arose when the mourning group prepared to lead her from the chamber of
the dead. Such were the last hours of Washington."

The news of the ex-president's death spread rapidly for that day when
railroads and telegraphs were unknown, and the sadness and mourning were
universal. Congress was in session at Philadelphia, but did not receive
the sad intelligence until the 18th of December, the day of the funeral
at Mount Vernon.

The members of Congress appeared to be overwhelmed by the calamity, and
immediately adjourned. On assembling the next day, they eulogized both
by speech and resolution the illustrious dead; ordered that a marble
monument, bearing the record of his great achievements, be erected at
Washington; and appointed General Henry Lee to deliver a eulogy before
both branches of Congress on the 26th. The Senate addressed an eloquent
and pathetic letter to President Adams, in which it was said:

"On this occasion it i