xxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



and genial. He dined with liis friends ; consented to the wish of 

 Mr. Parkes, of Brooklyn, to sit for his portrait, to be presented to 

 his wife ; and, finally, had the pony (the fifty-miler), brought into 

 the parlor, among his friends, in order that he might expatiate 

 upon his rare merits. Six days after that we saw Hiram for the 

 last time, a fortnight before his death ; and never, since our friend- 

 ship began, did we see him more cheerful, bright, and genial than 

 he was upon that day. It was a spring day, light and mild : we 

 found Hiram in the yard, and he hailed us with a cheery halloa, 

 " I'm glad you've come : I'm getting ready for the next campaign ! 

 First of all, come and look at Quicksilver and Rosamond." 



We answered that we were impatient to look at Pocahontas and 

 Strideaway. He said, " Time enough." We looked at the 

 horses. We looked at his hogs. We surveyed the renowned 

 mare and her son. He never was more happy, never more plea- 

 sant and wise. We said how we rejoiced to find him looking and 

 feeling so well. He put his hand upon our shoulder ; and, with the 

 smile we all knew and loved so well, he said, " I am not as well 

 as I look, but I am better than I was most of the winter." 



We then went and looked over his wagons and sulkies, which 

 had all been painted and put in order for the season he was never 

 to see. We talked about his book, and the plan of its conclusion 

 was settled. " You must come here often," said he : "I want to 

 see you very often." 



We replied, that, when the roads got good, we would often drive 

 over : but he replied that there was no need to wait for the roads. 

 He had a plan to meet that difficulty : it was, that he would get a 

 saddle and bridle, and we must ride over on horseback. " You 

 can jump up and slip over here anytime on horseback; and I'll 

 see about the saddle and bridle to-morrow." 



It is in some sort a consolation, that, at our last parting from this 

 valued friend, he felt so happy, and was so kindly disposed to us. 

 On the Sunday week following, he was taken sick with bilious 

 vomiting in the middle of the night. Andrew Howe, his relative 

 and confidential steward, was lying in the house sick, and died the 

 next day. Hiram got worse ; and a despatch was sent for his 

 friend Mr. Marshall, who arrived on Thursday morning at day- 

 light. Sim Hoagland had been constant in his attentions to his 

 friend. Mrs. Woodruff was, of course, in sore distress, but still 

 hopeful. The doctor, as Mr. Marshall entered, declared that a 



