“About five o’clock Dr. Craik came again into the room, and upon going to the bedside the General said to him:  ’Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go.  I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it.  My breath cannot last long.’  The Doctor pressed his hand, but could not utter a word.  He retired from the bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in grief.  The physicians, Dr. Dick and Dr. Brown, again came in (between five and six o’clock), and when they came to his bedside, Dr. Craik asked him if he could sit up in the bed.  He held out his hand to me and was raised up, when he said to the Physicians:  ’I feel myself going.  I thank you for your attention—­you had better not take any more trouble about me; but let me go off quietly; I cannot last long,’ They found out that all which had been done was of no effect.  He lay down again, and all retired except Dr. Craik.  He continued in the same position, uneasy and restless, but without complaining; frequently asking what hour it was.  When I helped to move him at this, he did not speak, but looked at me with strong expressions of gratitude.  The Doctor pressed his hand, but could not utter a word.  He retired from the bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in grief.  About eight o’clock the Physicians came again into the Room and applied blisters, and cataplasms of wheat bran, to his legs and feet:  but went out (except Dr. Craik) without a ray of hope.  I went out about this time, and wrote a line to Mr. Low and Mr. Peter requesting them to come with their wives (Mrs. Washington’s granddaughters) as soon as possible.

“From this time he appeared to breathe with less difficulty than he had done; but was very restless, constantly changing his position to endeavor to get ease.  I aided him all in my power, and was gratified in believing he felt it:  for he would look upon me with his eyes speaking gratitude; but unable to utter a word without great distress.  About ten o’clock he made several attempts to speak to me before he could effect it.  At length, he said:  ’I am just going.  Have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the Vault in less than three days after I am dead.’  I bowed assent, for I could not speak.  He then looked at me again, and said, ‘Do you understand me?’ I replied, ‘Yes, sir.’

“‘’Tis well,’ said he.  About ten minutes before he expired his breathing became much easier; he lay quietly; he withdrew his hand from mine and felt his own pulse.  I spoke to Dr. Craik who sat by the fire; he came to the bedside.  The General’s hand fell from his wrist.  I took it in mine and laid it upon my breast.  Dr. Craik put his hand on his eyes and he expired without a struggle or a Sigh!  While we were fixed in silent grief, Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, asked, with a firm and collected voice, ‘Is he gone?’ I could not speak, but held up my hand as a signal that he was. ‘’Tis well,’ said she in a plain voice.  ’All is now over.  I have no more trials to pass through.  I shall soon follow him.’"[1]