eathing his last on the 30th of August, 1879.
Death, the master of princes and paupers, of saints and sinners, of the hale and broken, the happy and miserable—often so cruel—was merciful when he reunited them in the cold bosom of the earth.
He had lived fifty-eight years; not one fraction thereof had been allowed to pass without being devoted to the service of his fellowmen.
Refined by sorrow, purified by aspirations, strengthened through self-reliance, and made gentle by an earnest faith in the things unseen, he was genial, generous and indulgent towards others and severe with himself.
His aims were prompted by noble desires, and in politics his ideals for democratic action were high.
He knew his powers and also his limitations.
And he had his limits as the sun has its spots.
Above all, the strong force of his character yielded an influence no oratory can command, and that influence is not ended—nay, it is only just beginning to sprout in our hearts. Ida Richardson Hood