MR.

THE LAST SCENE OF ALL.

R. CHASE was six feet two inches high, with a frame and figure proportioned to his height. He had a singularly impressive presence, quite indescribable by words. It was the natural unconscious expression of the will which dwelt within him. He had an unusually large head; blue-gray eyes, under massive brows; wide nostrils and heavy lips, but of that peculiar shape which shows the presence of great firmness. He was remarkably near-sighted, and was sometimes unable to distinguish intimate acquaintances, even across a room. IIe had a rapid walk, and, in going from one place to another, rarely stopped on the way; and was one of those few men who, even in crowds, attract general observation. When he used to pass through the halls of the Treasury, men felt his presence, though it was unannounced, and an involuntary hush always followed upon his appearance.

Incessant labors taxed his physical resources beyond their power to respond. As early as December, 1868, in a short letter to Mr. Whitelaw Reid, he said, "I am worked beyond what I thought possible, and I endure, and am well. How long?" The warnings of friends were vain; but, in 1869, he began to feel some alarm. He rapidly lost flesh, and, in the spring of 1870, he felt he could no longer disregard repeated indications of danger.

In the summer of that year he went West, and spent some time in Minnesota, with the hope that mental rest and physical exercise would restore what had been lost. He had spent his life in-doors; he was now imprudent in out-door exposure. However, he enjoyed the excitements of these new experiences, and thought he was receiving benefit from them, but they hastened the disaster he was seeking to escape.

In August he returned to the East, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt (who had been his companions in the West), and, upon arriving at Niagara Falls, spent a day or two at that place. They left Niagara, in the two o'clock afternoon train, on the 16th of August. About an hour afterward, Mr. Chase was observed suddenly to sway and fall in his seat, and to lose command of his speech. It was instantly perceived that he had been attacked by paralysis. The train was stopped, at Rochester, long enough for some brief medical consultation, but it was thought bestbeing in a Pullman car-to continue on to New York. On arrival in that city, August 17th, a medical examination developed that the attack involved the whole of the right side, from crown to toe; but that, although serious, it was not necessarily fatal. After remaining in New York about a week, he went to Narragansett, the country residence of Governor Sprague, where he remained until near the end of the following January. His improvement at Narragansett was surprisingly rapid: he was soon able to take daily out-door exercise, sometimes walking four to six miles in a day. He bent his great will to the work of recovery, though he was an entirely docile patient, and followed Dr. Perry's directions with a scrupulous exactness. Nothing could be more noticeable, however, as he began to recover his strength, than his eager impatience to get back again to work. Still, he very well knew the nature and danger of his sickness, and, so soon as he was able to do any kind of labor, he proceeded to set "his earthly house in order."

The change wrought in his personal appearance, by the fearful malady under which he suffered, was rapid and extensive. His hair grew white, and his figure became greatly attenuated; but, even in ruin, he retained his old impressiveness of presence. He was patient under suffering, and, though the natural imperiousness of his temper would sometimes flame out for a moment, there was something inexpressibly pathetic in his resignation, and the constantly gentle, uncomplaining way in which he spoke of his sickness. There is no sight more ennobling than

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1 "It is one of the least pleasant thoughts connected with the close of Mr. Chase's life that it should have been sometimes clouded by malice or thoughtlessness. There sometimes came to him through stray newspaper paragraphs, or chance gossip, some evidence of the caprice of that cheap republican gratitude which endures only so

SEARCH AFTER HEALTH.

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that of a strong man suddenly stricken down by calamity, bearing the stroke with patience.

At the close of January, 1871, he went to New York, and remained there, under treatment, until March, when he returned to Washington, after an absence of more than eight months.

In June he went to St. Louis Magnetic Springs, Michigan. He spent two or three weeks there. Thence he went to Waulong as the public's faithful servant is of use, and which, when there is a falter in the hand that was once so strong and ready, demands his dismissal. But it is to the credit of the American heart that most of us remembered the services of Salmon P. Chase, and that, as a people, we dwelt on the memory of this arduous and unselfish life while, perhaps, here was a newspaper gossiping about the ‘succession,' or a lawyer grumbling because a case was delayed. These things, when they pierced the barriers solicitous relatives and friends raised around him, could be seen to affect him deeply, though he never confessed it. But he bore no malice for them. It was with no bitterness, then, but with a shrewd and kindly smile, that he sometimes said, when his health was inquired about, 'I'm not very well, but I'm a great deal better than some people wish I was.'

"His will was his great power. This faculty in him, probably more than any other, contributed to his success. It was dominating and indomitable; it yielded to no man and to no force; its persistency was measured only by the length of the task to be accomplished, and its firmness increased with the weight of interests that depended upon it, and while it no doubt shortened his life, it again prolonged it. The tension of the war was wonderfully sustained, the strong will ruled triumphant over the strong body; but it was a strain which could not last forever. Then followed the intense application to books and work which succeeded his accession to the bench, and the comoined weight soon began to tell. All through these exciting and arduous periods he held himself firmly to his post. Then came the great shock that prostrated him, and first set the term beyond which he could hardly endure. At this, the will turned to repair its own ravages.

"All its old force was now bent in the opposite direction of recovering his health. His food, his hours of rising, exercise, retiring, his continuance at work were regulated with precision and the rules inflexibly kept. By this careful ministering, he slowly brought himself up to comparative strength, and finally fairly lifted himself upon the bench. It is a question whether his wisest course would not have been to pass the rest of his days in quiet; and there can be little doubt, from a number of his expressions, that had Congress passed a law permitting the retirement of judges at sixty-five upon their salaries, he would have seriously considered the wisdom of such a step. He certainly at one time felt an interest in legislation looking to that end. But while he was on the active roll, he was too proud to seem neglectful of his work, and too conscientious to receive even the disgraceful stipend the republic doles out to her servants, without rendering what equivalent he could. That was rendered scrupulously to the very last; and, considering the faithful industry of his whole career and the height and nobility of that memorable life and figure, there was, after all, something fitting in the sudden crash with which he went down."DEMAREST LLOYD, "Home-Life of Salmon Portland Chase."

kesha, Wisconsin, to drink the waters of the Bethesda Springs. He derived some benefit from his stay at Waukesha, which lasted somewhat more than two months.

He began his return eastward in September, stopping several days at Chicago. He spent two days also at the Roman Catholic University of Notre Dame, at South Bend, Indiana, where he made a short address to the students; and a couple of days at Cleveland. From that city he went to the home of his old friend and co-laborer in the antislavery cause, Gerrit Smith, at Peterboro', New York, and spent nearly a fortnight in the house of that noble-hearted philanthropist.

He arrived again in Washington in October, so far recovered as to feel warranted in resuming his official labors, which he did, and occupied his seat in the Supreme Court during the whole of the term of 1871 and 1872, and also that of 1872 and 1873. He performed his full share of the regular business, and read a number of opinions, all of them showing that his mental faculties were as clear and vigorous as at any time in his life. He walked from his country-place, Edgewood-about two and a half miles from Washington-into the city and back again, almost daily, in all kinds of weather, and exhibited surprising physical vigor and endurance.

But toward the close of the term, in March and April, 1873, his strength manifestly diminished. "During the last few days he sat in court," says Mr. Lloyd, "a sudden weakness surprised him. His walk was not so firm; his breath hardly lasted the ascent of Capitol Hill, which his feet had trodden for a quarter of a century. His voice was weaker; his manner, always considerate, but sometimes abrupt through nervousness or illness, became gentler and kinder every day. His very silence was benignant. On the last day the court was in session, he relinquished his place to his venerable friend and associate, Justice Clifford, and remained seated at his side, for the first and last time of his life resting his head all day upon his hand. What thoughts oppressed him, or what shadow of the disaster so fast approaching drew its pall over his spirit, no man may know. In a little more than a week from that day his body lay in that very chamber robed in a more awful dignity than it had ever worn in life.”