Unhappily, a change of care was in prospect, for Mrs. Keller was to leave him the second week in March, in consequence of an engagement previously made. She had mentioned this to Dr. Bucke, who had assured her that it could not possibly conflict with his friend's case. But when the sick man lingered until late in February, it was seen that some steps must be taken. And yet his span of life was so uncertain, that even at this late day it was deemed wiser not to mention the subject to him until it could no longer be postponed. The matter was talked over between his executors, his sister-in-law and the doctors, and all agreed that under the circumstances a stranger in the house would not be desirable. Mrs. Davis in particular dreaded it, and had made provision against it. The friend who had before kept house for her, while she made her trip to Southern California, was to come again to do the housework, so that her own undivided time and attention might be given to the dying man. The nurse left on March 8. From this time on Mr. Whitman grew more and more uneasy in bed, and as he could now lie upon his left side but a few moments at a time, he required almost constant turning; and for eighteen days and nights his two faithful attendants did this. A water bed was bought for him; he only had the comfort of it for a single night. "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.