"March 25, 1.15 A. M., 1892.—We put him on the water bed at twelve o'clock. I have turned him twice since, and I can assure you from present indications if it does the old man no good, it will us. He turns just as easy again; can turn him with one hand, and then it does away with the ring. He was turned sixty-three times in the last twenty-four hours; how is that for business? Kind of beats when you were here.... Mama has one of her old headaches, has had it since yesterday, but hopes to be clear of it by morning.... We had a run of visitors to-day, and the old gent had four letters in the morning mail, of which three were applications for autographs." (Extracts from Warren's letter to Mrs. Keller.)
His last days were a repetition of the preceding ones; a flaring up of the torch, and a dying down; a fainter flare, and a gentle going out.
On the evening of March 26 a little card was printed and widely circulated.
Camden, N. J., March 26, '92.
Whitman began sinking at 4.30 P. M. He continued to grow worse and died at 6.43 P. M. The end came peacefully. He was conscious until the last.
There were present at the bedside when he died—Mrs. Davis, Warren Fritzinger, Thos. B. Harned, Horace L. Trauble and myself.
Alex. McAlister, M. D.
This young physician saw much of Mr. Whitman during the last three months of his life, and his faithful services were given without price.