ated to
him the soothing words of Sacred Writ, "Thy rod and Thy staff they
comfort me," the dying statesman exclaimed, "Yes; that is what I
want, Thy rod; Thy staff!" He was no hypocrite, and although he
prayed often and earnestly, he did not pretend that he felt that
peace "which passeth all understanding," but he did exhibit a
devoted submission and a true reliance on Almighty God. Craving
stimulants, he heard Dr. Jeffries tell an attendant, "Give him a
spoonful of brandy in fifteen minutes, another in half an hour,
and another in three quarters of an hour, if he still lives."
These directions were followed with exactness until the arrival of
the time last mentioned, when the attendants were undecided about
administering another dose. It was in the midst of their doubts
that the dying statesman, who had been watching a clock in the
room, partly raised his head and feebly remarked: "I still live."
The brandy was given to him, and he sank into a state of tranquil
unconsciousness, from which he never rallied.

Those who attended the funeral at Marshfield saw Mr. Webster's
remains lying in an open iron coffin, beneath the shade of a large
elm tree before the house. The body was dressed in a blue coat
with gilt buttons, white vest, cravat, pantaloons, gloves, and
shoes with dark cloth gaiters. His hand rested upon his breast,
and his features wore a sad smile familiar to those who had known
him in his later years. The village pastor conducted the services,
after which the upper half of the coffin was put on, and on a low
platform car, drawn by two black horses, it was taken to the burial-
ground on the estate. On either side of the remains walked the
pall-bearers selected by the deceased--six sturdy, weather-bronzed
farmer-fishermen, who lived in the vicinity--while General Pierce,
the Mayor of Boston, Edward Everett, Rufus Choate, and other
distinguished personages followed as they best could. There were
many evidences of grief among the thousands of Mr. Webster's friends
present, and yet death was for him a happy escape from trouble.
He was painfully aware that he had forfeited the political confidence
of the people of Massachusetts and gained nothing by so doing; he
had found that he could not receive a nomination for the Presidency,
even from the party which he had so long served, and his pecuniary
embarrassments were very annoying. Neither could he, under the
circumstances, have continued to hold office un