The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1885-07-30
The Last Hours.

the correspondent of the New Y ork Time
furnishes the following touching detail!
of the last incidents and hours of Gen
Grant
This has been day of weary anxiety
for the family of Gen. Grant. The Gen
eral was very low until afternoon, when
aided by slight nourishment and some re
yiyal of spirits, his condition grew less
dispiriating. at evening. however, he
seemed to be sinking. His feebleness be-
came more alarming. For more thar
three hours those at the cottage thought
him dying Prayers were said for him
Then the immediate crisis passed and he
slept. The doctors at midnight were still
apprehensive that morning might not fine
him alive. From midnight on there was
constant apprehension. All the unfayora
bic conditions remained. DR.. Shrady, who
was in charge, eased the General with by
podermics and warm applications. All Of
the family remained up, expecting the END
at.any time. The General was barely kept
alive. 1t was thought at O'Clock, when
the expected midnight crisis had been
passed, that the General might live until
O'Clock.
The day began hopelessly. The early
morning hours, although very quiet and
as restful as the constant attendance and
the most tender care could make them,
brought no relief from the Generals utter
WEAKNESS and languor. An anxious group
sat with him in the parlor from midnight
until daybreak, taking turns at tanning
him, at changing his position in his chairs,
smoothing his pillows-watchful ever for
his slightest want There was no light
in the parlor, but the electric burners on
which all the figures could be plainly seen.
The general with his black cap and a gown
of white, leaned back among the pillows.
Often he let his head droop forward !; then
he could be seen, with loving arms about
him, shifting his body to ease the racking
pain. Mrs. Grants was the figure always
near him, cooling the air for him with her
fan, bending tenderly at every sign that
he was in need Of attention, anticipating
his wants and directing their relief. The
white nurse, Henry, was rarely away from
the chair, helping the General in every
movement, while DR.. Douglas and Col.
Grant were rarely out of the field of Wis
ion that centred from outdoors on the
patient, helpless sufferer.
About o'clock the General, having
been apparently in doze for some time,
reached out for his writing pad. A lamp
was brought from the table on which it
was set. 1t glared full on his face. The
eyes were lowered, the head bent forward,
the expression tranquil. 1t was face of
repose, not Of suffering. No one could
picture it as that of a man who was dying.
He wrote for five minutes. The writing
partly covered one of his small slips. 1t
was addressed to DR.. Douglas, to whom he
handed it. The family had bespoken
everything he might write, and without
stopping to read the slip, DR.. Douglas
passed it over to Col. Grant, who read and
put it in his pocket without a word.
When the lamp was taken away Henry
moved the General back among the pillows
In al instant he fell to one side. Henry
caught him. The throat was in fresh
trouble. DR.. Douglas stepped up. The
General was laid back in the pillows. He
looked plainly exhausted. Resort was had
again to the hyperdermic of brandy, which
had sustained the General in his rally be-
fore midnight, although the rally began
without it.
With daybreak came a promise of rest
for the faithful watchers The General
was quiet. The restless night had brought
something like wholesome fatigue, so far
as nature could act over the combined
effect of stimulant and anodyne sparingy
used. His nerves seemed composed at
last. Mrs. Grant and the Colonel went to
their rooms. Gen. Grant was left with
his usual sick room companions-th doc
tor and the nurse. DR.. Douglas could see
nothing more than a respite in the Cen
erals composure. He believed that it was
artifcially sustained. There was hope
that the effort to keep the General alive
until his son Ulysses could come would not
fail. Beyond that the doctors foresight
anything could be done except to relieve
the Generals last hours. Yet to prevent
regret over omissions to do all possible
at such time he sent dispatches for Drs.
Shrady and Sands. This was five o'clock
this morning. For the next two OF three
hours the General lay quite still, with a
red shawl thrown over his shoulders to
protect him from the morning air, which
came in at le window in cool puffs. AS
the sun got high the parlor was closed to
outside view. The shades were drawn and
the doors shut for the first time since the
General came here. DR.. Douglas and the
nurse still sat by the pillowed chairs.
Members of the family came in softly.
The General awoke again, glancing at the
arrivals with his eyes but partly opened.
Milk was brought in. 1t was put aside
after feeble but vain attempt to take a
little Of it. There were no signs for the
worse, but none for the better. While
DR.. Douglas was at breakfast, about 8
O'Clock, the milk was again handed the
General. He took several gulps of it,
swallowing nearly all.
Midday brought no special change There
was perfect quiet at the cottage. Visi-
tors who had come by the train avoided
the cottage path but walked slowly up the
hill by longer way, looking with curious,
yet sympathetic interest at the darkened
family home. The General kept his eyes
closed during the morning, but not in
sleep. He was simply listless. The morn
ing food had not frightened him. His
position in the chair was passive. AS the
attendant placed him.so he remained. His
breath was like gasping. He did not need
to struggle for it but it came with an au-
dible effort, long pauses intervening be-
tween the coming and going. His lower
jaw had fallen. The darkened room veil
ed his pallor, but the sight was sad. 1t
affected the ladies to tears. The General
heard them sobbing. He reached out for
his pad. With difficulty he wrote the date.
The pencil lay loose in his fingers: he