As his life slowly drew to its close, one after another of the few of his old friends who remained dropped from the road. Early in 1848 Adams fell in harness, on the floor of the House of Representatives; Lord Ashburton died in May. Finally, nearest, dearest of all, the companion of his triumphs and disappointments, the sharer of his honors and his joys, his wife, was taken from him by the relentless hand. The summer of 1849 found him crushed by this last affliction, and awaiting his own summons of release. He was taken to Mount Bonaparte, the country-seat of his son-in-law, at Astoria on Long Island, where he died in his daughter's arms on Sunday, August 12, 1849. The funeral services were held in Trinity Church on the Tuesday following, and his body was laid to rest in the Nicholson vault,[30] in the old graveyard adjoining. The elegant monument erected during his lifetime is one of the attractive features of this venerable cemetery, in whose dust mingle the remains of the temple of no more elevated spirit than his own. The season was a terrible one--the cholera was raging, the city was deserted. In the general calamity private sorrow disappeared, or the occasion would have been marked by a demonstration of public grief and of public honor. As the tidings went from city to city, and country to country, the friends of science, of that universal wisdom which knows neither language nor race, paused in their investigations to pay respectful homage to his character, his intellect, and to that without which either or both in combination are inadequate to success--his labor in the field. On October 2, 1849, at the first meeting of the Historical Society after the death of Mr. Gallatin, Mr. Luther Bradish, the presiding officer, spoke of him in impressive words, as the last link connecting the present with the past. He dwelt upon the peculiar pleasure with which the presence of Mr. Gallatin was always hailed, and the peculiar interest it gave to the proceedings of the society, and many an eye was dimmed, as he recalled the venerable form, the beautifully classic head, the countenance ever beaming with intelligence, and summed up the long and useful career of the departed sage in these impressive words:--