THE END.

New Zealand Graphic, 27 June 1906, Page 46

THE END.

Mr. Seddon and his party came doWn'tOthe "Oswestry Grange” at Wooloomooloo wharf, and went on board at about 2 o’clock on Sunday morning. Even at that hour he did not pass unnoticed; and his last recorded public utterance was the following brief speech that he made to the passengers who cheered him as he came up the 'gangway “F thank you very much. Under the circumstances I should not have thought of addressing you here, but taking into consideratiort the extreme lateness of th.’ hour your welcome is all the more appreciated, and I am very much obliged ’tiiyiu.” Hr appeared to be in the befit of health; courteously Wafted for a flash-Itgh-t" photograph, and, with his usual kindliness, made sfttne'tfitharks to two steerage passengers about the weather, and turned in. According to the capthin’B adcohii*,

next morning he seemed much refreshed, by his night’s sleep, and spoke of what Bi intended to do during the voyage. ‘*l’ll rest to-morrow,” he said, “and then get to work. We’ll put in some hard work when we start.” But as the day wore on, MrSeddon did not seem to be getting the rest that his exhausted mind and body sn urgently required. Early in the day he complained of pains in the arms and chest, and the ship’s doctor was soon in attendance. But, apparently, the Premier was nothing more than "run down,” and towards evening he lay down in his cabin 'netyc the saloon to wait for dinner. Mrs. Seddon, Miss May Seddon, and hie secretary, Mr. Andrews, were with him, conversing light-heartedly enough about things past and things to come, when the symptoms that had troubled him earlier in the day came back again. “I wish I was back in Wellington,” he said wearily, “and could go for a ride.” These were the last consecutive words that he uttered. His wife was sitting by his side, when suddenly he straightened himself, and put his hand to hia heart. With a single half-heard whisper to the faithful and loving helpmeet who had been for nearly forty years wife, counsellor, and friend, he leaned forward on her shoulder. Alarmed, they called for the doctor; but the great statesman was already past all human aid —Richard Seddon was. dead. those who have felt free to speak of the hours that followed have confessed that the voyage back to Sydney- was the most trying time in all their lives. It is not for us to surmise the feelings of the widow and her children, as the great ship slowly ploughed its way baek to the port whence the dead man had started only a day before on his homeward voyage for “God’s own country.” Precautions were taken to prevent the sad news from being made public prematurely; and Mr. Seddon’s relatives in New Zealand were at least spared the pain of learning their sad loss casually- or abruptly. At last the vessel with the dead and the mourners reached Sydney, and preparations were made to secure for New Zealand the mournful consolation of providing the last resting place for the great man whom she had so long d lighted to honour.