“Occasional rallies took place, raising hopes which were quickly abandoned.  From April 5th to April 12th these rallies occurred at frequent intervals, always followed by a condition of increased depression, more or less augmented fever and partial unconsciousness.  On Saturday, April 12th, a great change became apparent.  For many hours the patient had been unconscious.  As the day wore on, it became evident that he could not live through another night.  All of Dr. Talmage’s family—­his wife, his son, the Rev. Frank DeWitt Talmage, of Chicago; Mrs. Warren G. Smith and Mrs. Daniel Mangam, of Brooklyn; Mrs. Allen E. Donnan, of Richmond; and Mrs. Clarence Wycoff and Miss Talmage, were gathered in the chamber of death.  Dr. G.L.  Magruder, the principal physician, was also in attendance at the last.  At 9.25 o’clock p.m., the soul took flight from the inanimate clay, and the spirit of the world’s greatest preacher was released.”

The Rev. T. Chalmers Easton, an old and valued friend of Dr. Talmage, was in frequent attendance upon him, and never ceased his ministrations until the eyes of the beloved one were closed in death.  A brief excerpt from his address at the Memorial Service of the Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage held at the Eastern Presbyterian Church, Washington, may not be unacceptable to the reader: 

“A truly great man or eloquent orator does not die—­

    ’And is he dead whose glorious mind
      Lifts thine on high? 
    To live in hearts we leave behind
      Is not to die.’

“What shall we say of the prince in Israel who has left us?  Can we compress the ocean into a dewdrop?  No more is it possible to condense into one brief hour what is due to the memory of our beloved and illustrious friend.  His moral courage was only equalled by his giant frame and physical strength.  He was made of the very stuff that martyrs are made of:  one of the most remarkable individualities of our time.  A man of no negative qualities, aggressive and positive.

“His whole soul was full of convictions of right and duty.  A firm friend, a man of ready recognition, a human magnet in his focalising power.  He was true in every deed, and never needed a veil to be drawn....  If, as his personal friend for more than twenty years, I should attempt to open up the treasures of his real greatness, where shall we find more of those sterling virtues that poets have sung, artists portrayed, and historians commended?  He was truly a great man—­a man of God!

“The last years of his life were full of happiness in the living companionship of her who so sadly mourns his departure.  He frequently spoke to me of the great inspiration brought into these years by her ceaseless devotion to all his plans and work, making what was burdensome in his accumulating literary duties a pleasure....  The last fond look of recognition was given to his beloved wife, and the last word that fell from his lips, when far down in the valley, was the sweetest music to his ears—­’Eleanor.’