at the last moment but, “Augusta–sister–Lady Byron–tell Harriet
Beecher Stowe”–etc., etc.,–but Shakespeare was ready and said, “England
expects every man to do his duty!” and went off with splendid eclat.
And there are other instances of sagacious preparation for a felicitous
closing remark. For instance:
Joan of Arc said, “Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are marching.”
Alexander the Great said, “Another of those Santa Cruz punches, if you
please.”
The Empress Josephine said, “Not for Jo-” and could get no further.
Cleopatra said, “The Old Guard dies, but never surrenders.”
Sir Walter Raleigh said, “Executioner, can I take your whetstone a
moment, please?” though what for is not clear.
John Smith said, “Alas, I am the last of my race.”
Queen Elizabeth said, “Oh, I would give my kingdom for one moment more–
I have forgotten my last words.”
And Red Jacket, the noblest Indian brave that ever wielded a tomahawk in
defence of a friendless and persecuted race, expired with these touching
words upon his lips, “Wawkawampanoosucwinnebayowallazvsagamoresa-
skatchewan.” There was not a dry eye in the wigwam.
Let not this lesson be lost upon our public men. Let them take a healthy
moment for preparation, and contrive some last words that shall be neat
and to the point. Let Louis Napoleon say,
“I am content to follow my uncle–still, I do not wish to improve upon
his last word. Put me down for ‘Tete d’armee.'”
And Garret Davis, “Let me recite the unabridged dictionary.”
And H. G., “I desire, now, to say a few words on political economy.”
And Mr. Bergh, “Only take part of me at a time, if the load will be
fatiguing to the hearse horses.”
And Andrew Johnson, “I have been an alderman, Member of Congress,
Governor, Senator, Pres–adieu, you know the rest.”
And Seward., “Alas!-ka.”
And Grant, “O.”
All of which is respectfully submitted, with the most honorable
intentions.
M. T.
P. S.–I am obliged to leave out the illustrations. The artist finds it
impossible to make a picture of people’s last words.