Even in this letter, written under the conditions described, the never-failing love of fun crops out in the reference to a family joke about Mrs. Kern getting the boys’ birthday checks.
After the collapse the serious nature of his illness was so impressed upon him that he reconciled himself to another absence from Kerncliffe and the family, and to returning to Asheville for an indefinite stay. Going by way of Washington he stopped for a day at the Congress Hall hotel, where he smilingly told Louis Ludlow, the correspondent, that he was “going to Asheville for a post-graduate course,” and wrote a brief note to Billy, the younger son, inclosing a birthday check.
“Washington, August 8, 1917.
“My Dear Billy:
“You are fourteen to-morrow and here is your check. You are now a great big boy, almost a young man, and I know you are going to be a good man, for it is in you. When I left you the other night I would have been glad to have told you how much I loved you and your dear brother and mother and sister, but I was too full to talk. I doubt if you will ever know what deep love your father has for all of you. My earnest prayer is that you boys will grow up to be good, honest, square, manly men.
“Lovingly,
“Your Father.”
He stood the trip to Asheville fairly well, but arrived on the morning of the 9th tired and with his lungs and throat irritated by the smoke of the numerous tunnels, and with a cough—“not a hard cough, but a hacking one.” Writing to Mrs. Kern on his arrival he said: “Doctor Von Ruck said I looked better than he expected to see me and if I would only stay with him long enough to give him a chance he felt sure he could fix me up, unless the examination to-morrow develops something unexpected. I told him I would stay with him this time until he has all the chance he needs.” On the following day after the examination, and just one week before his death, he wrote of the result of the examination in the last letter he ever wrote. The doctor found his lungs in practically the same condition as in May, but his general condition much worse “owing to overwork and too great a tax on my energies.” He had lost eight pounds since leaving the sanatorium in May. It almost instantly developed that the danger was in his general condition, and as disturbing symptoms developed and he grew weaker, Mrs. Kern was summoned from Kerncliffe. His mind was not at rest and he was disturbed in his sleep. The war distressed him and was constantly in his thoughts. When he fell into a doze he was busy with his work in the senate, or in making a Labor day speech which he had promised to deliver the first of September in Indianapolis. He realized that the end was near. Conscious to the last his death was peaceful.
The news that flashed over the wires announcing his death was the first indication most of his friends had that he was seriously ill. Telegrams from the highest station in the land down to the most humble poured in upon the stricken family. On the announcement of his death by Senator New in the senate that body adjourned after placing on the record the testimony of its appreciation of his life and public services. In Indiana particularly the shock was great. Press and public men, regardless of party, hastened to pay tribute to his character. Plans were being made to have the body lie in state in the rotunda of the state house, where honor has been paid to Voorhees and Harrison, to Gray and Fairbanks and other distinguished servants of the commonwealth, when it was learned that he would be buried at Kerncliffe, where he had so longed for the opportunity to “rest.” A week after his death a great throng filled the state house to hear tributes to his memory from William J. Bryan, former Governor Ralston, and Secretary of State Jackson, acting for Governor Goodrich, who was ill.
The simple and impressive story of the burial has been told in the World News of Roanoke:
“The burial of John W. Kern at Kerncliffe yesterday was in keeping with the character of the man.