darkened his mind. No man could have spoken to him of the "ingratitude
of Republics," without meeting from him a stern rebuke. And so, content
with the consciousness of a great duty nobly done, he was happy in the
love of his fellow citizens.

Indeed, he may truly be said to have been in his old age, not only the
most beloved, but also the happiest of Americans. Many years he lived in
the midst of posterity. His task was finished, and this he wisely
understood. His deeds had been passed upon by the judgment of history,
and irrevocably registered among the glories of his country and his age.
His generous heart envied no one, and wished every one well; and
ill-will had long ceased to pursue him. Beyond cavil his fame was
secure, and he enjoyed it as that which he had honestly earned, with a
genuine and ever fresh delight, openly avowed by the charming frankness
of his nature. He dearly loved to be esteemed and cherished by his
fellow men, and what he valued most, his waning years brought him in
ever increasing abundance. Thus he was in truth a most happy man, and
his days went down like an evening sun in a cloudless autumn sky. And
when now the American people, with that peculiar tenderness of affection
which they have long borne him, lay him in his grave, the happy ending
of his great life may soothe the pang of bereavement they feel in their
hearts at the loss of the old hero who was so dear to them, and of whom
they were and always will be so proud. His memory will ever be bright to
us all; his truest monument will be the greatness of the Republic he
served so well; and his fame will never cease to be prized by a grateful
country, as one of its most precious possessions.