I took it out on my lawn, set it upright, put a broad brim hat on top of it, and there the figure stood erect, and my neighbors, as they passed by thought they saw the old farmer of Marshfield standing out under his trees." Some of his sarcastic attacks upon Mr.Day were very bitter, and when he showed his great, white teeth he looked like an enraged lion.
A few months after that Trenton speech in October, 1852, he went to his Marshfield home to die.

His spirits were broken and he was sore from political disappointments.

His last few days were spent in a fight by his powerful constitution against the inevitable.

The last time he walked feebly from his bed to his window he called out to his servant man: "I want you to moor my yacht down there where I can see it from my window; then I want you to hoist the flag at the mast head, and every night to hang the lamp up in the rigging; when I go down I want to go down with my colors flying and my lamp burning." He told them to put on his monument, "Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief." In the final moment he started up from his pillow long enough to say: "I still live." He does live, and will ever live in the grateful memories of his countrymen.
While no one can deplore more than the writer the weaknesses and mistakes of Daniel Webster, yet when I remember his intellectual prowess and his magnificent services in defense of the Constitution, and the integrity of our national union, I am ready to say: "Let us to all his failings and faults be charitably kind and only remember the glorious services he wrought to the country he loved." During the summer of 1840, when I was a college student at Princeton, I went with a friend to the office of the _Log Cabin_, a Whig campaign newspaper then published in Nassau Street, New York.

It was during the famous Tippecanoe campaign, which resulted in the election of General Harrison.