At twelve he drank some brandy and water from a teapot, and desired his favourite servant to stay with him.

These were the last words he pronounced articulately.

To the last he preserved his senses; and when he could no longer speak, his servant having asked a question, he made a sign to show that he understood him.

He was quite tranquil, and did not stir, his eyes half shut.

About a quarter before one he ceased to breathe." He wanted just eighty-three days of fifty-seven years of age.
Thus, in consequence of his own strange self-neglect and imprudence, was extinguished one of the most richly-stored minds that ever lived.
Occurring when it did, so near the last summons, Gibbon's prospective hope of continued life "for ten, twelve, or twenty years" is harshly pathetic, and full of that irony which mocks the vain cares of men.
But, truly, his forecast was not irrational if he had not neglected ordinary precautions.