“Mr. Kendall, previous to his decease, managed the case which has thus resulted.  The necessity of seizing some property of his in the city of Williamsburg, through the course of the legal proceedings, has aroused his revengeful feelings, and he has openly threatened that he would be revenged upon me for it, and he has for two or three years past with O’Reilly been concocting this mode of revenge.

“If the publishers are respectable men, I think they will regret that they have been the dupes of these arch conspirators.  If not too late to suppress that article I should be glad of an interview with them, in which I will satisfy them that they have been most egregiously imposed upon.”

This was the last flash of that old fire which, when he was sufficiently aroused by righteous indignation at unjust attacks, had enabled him to strike out vigorously in self-defense, and had won him many a victory.  He was now nearing the end of his physical resources.  He had fought the good fight and he had no misgivings as to the verdict of posterity on his achievements.  He could fight no more, willing and mentally able though he was to confound his enemies again.  He must leave it to others to defend his fame and good name in the future.  The last letter which was copied into his letter-press book was written on March 14, not three weeks before the last summons came to him, and it refers to his old enemy who thus pursued him even to the brink of the grave.  It is addressed to F.J.  Mead, Esq.:—­

“Although forbidden to read or write by my physician, who finds me prostrate with a severe attack of neuralgia in the head, I yet must thank you for your kind letter of the 12th inst.

“I should be much gratified to know what part Professor Henry has taken, if any, in this atrocious and absurd attack of F.O.J.S.  I have no fears of the result, but no desire either to suspect any agency on the part of Professor Henry.  It is difficult for me to conceive that a man in his position should not see the true position of the matter.”

This vicious attack had no effect upon his fame.  Dying as soon as it was born, choked by its own venom, it was overwhelmed by the wave of sorrow and sympathy which swept over the earth at the announcement of the death of the great inventor.

His last public appearance was on January 17, 1872, when he, in company with Horace Greeley, unveiled the statue of Benjamin Franklin in Printing House Square, New York.  It was a very cold day, but, against the advice of his physician and his family, he insisted on being present.  As he drove up in his carriage and, escorted by the committee, ascended to the platform, he was loudly cheered by the multitude which had assembled.  Standing uncovered in the biting air, he delivered the following short address:—­

“MR. DE GROOT AND FELLOW-CITIZENS,—­I esteem it one of my highest honors that I should have been designated to perform the office of unveiling this day the fine statue of our illustrious and immortal Franklin.  When requested to accept this duty I was confined to my bed, but I could not refuse, and I said:  ‘Yes, if I have to be lifted to the spot!’