the funeral procession formed. It was a great parade of military, but it was intensely solemn. Slowly through the streets the solemn cortege moved to the sound of the dead march, while a pall of grief seemed to settle upon the vast throng through which it passed.

The Last Rest.-It was after three o'clock when the procession reached the vault in Westlawn Cemetery. On all sides of the vault were laid the tributes of flowers which had been sent by men and the rulers of almost every nation of the globe. The casket was carried within, and President Roosevelt and his Cabinet and others grouped themselves about the door. A Knights Templar quartette sang, and Bishop Joyce prayed. There was a sound of "taps," and the great doors closed amid the strains of "Nearer, My God, to Thee" and the sobbing of men and women. It was the end.

XXII.

A MARVELOUS TRIBUTE.

At the moment the casket was placed in the vault an honor was paid to the memory of the dead President such as was never paid before to any man in the history of the world. At that instant, by preconcerted arrangement, all America stood still.

A Solemn Hush.-All the great activities of American life paused in a solemn hush. Wheels ceased to turn. The railway trains speeding across the country were arrested in their flight. The screws of great steamships ceased to turn; the murmur and clang of the trolley car was hushed. Even the cabmen on the street all stopped; and for one, two, three, four, five minutes scarcely a sound was heard except the subdued notes of the hymn that had been sung so often during the week, while millions of people stood with uncovered and bowed heads, thinking of him whom they loved. It was perhaps the most impressive incident ever witnessed by man.

Pulseless Cables.-The entire telegraph system of the country was hushed, and in all the huge network of wires from one end of the land to the other there was not a single tick. Even the great ocean cables were pulseless. In the Western Union Chicago office the hundreds of operators all arose at their desks and joined with deep feeling in the President's hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee." The same hymn was sung in New York City by the gathered crews of steamships and railway trains. There, the policemen were lined up, and with uncovered heads followed their sergeant in repeating the words of the Lord's Prayer. Ten thousand men, women and children massed in Herald Square listened for ten minutes to the tolling of the bells, and for half that time the place was as silent as a country churchyard. The clang of the trolley gong was missing. Some magic spell all in a moment had quieted the ceaseless whir of the surface car and the

rattle and din of the elevated trains. It was as though the hand of death itself had suddenly clutched the throbbing heart of the mighty city and stilled its beating pulse.

The same scenes were repeated in a lesser degree in all the cities of the land. In Philadelphia the old Liberty Bell tolled out its solemn requiem. In Jersey City seven hundred Italians belonging to uniformed organizations participated in a memorial parade. At the head of the procession four men bore a floral temple of fame, in which, in flowers, was the word, "McKinley." Following this was a band, and then a heavily draped hearse, inside of which was a handsome casket, flag-draped. The paraders attended divine services after which all attended a public meeting, at which eulogistic addresses were made in Italian.

All the World Murmurs "Rest." "When murdered Cæsar was buried," said the New York Journal, "only the people of a single city knew what was happening. When Washington was laid to rest the toiling messengers were still galloping over muddy roads with the direful news of his death. The people of the United States were mourners at the tomb of Lincoln, but there was no cable to bring them into communication with sympathic hearts in Europe. But now the whole earth quivers with a single emotion. A shot was fired in Buffalo, and, as if by an electric impulse, flags dropped to half-mast by the Ganges, the Volga and the Nile. The captive Filipino chieftain laid his tribute of homage on the tomb of a magnanimous conqueror. Boer and Briton joined in sorrow for the distant ruler who had sympathized with the sufferings of both. All the world murmurs to-day: Rest in Peace.' And the American people-his own peopleto whom he gave his love and his life, echo, reverently: 'Rest.''

In Westminster Abbey.-In London, memorial services, held in Westminster Abbey by command of King Edward, were attended by throngs almost as deeply moved as those who filled our own churches. A most impressive moment of the service was a pause for silent

prayer in behalf of the widow and family of the President. As the great organ's note, like a deep sigh, faded into solemn silence, the last jarring clang of the chimes outdoors momentarily punctured the stillness, as though for a record of passing time. "Then a hush fell upon the densely thronged church, and for fully five minutes every head was bowed in silent prayer-hushed and silent as the unnumbered dead who sleep beneath the Abbey stones. It was an awful, soul-stirring moment. One could not help recalling the scene five years ago, at St. Louis, when at the mention of the name of McKinley ten thousand men had cheered like half-demented savages for half an hour by the clock. Some of those present on that occasion were even now kneeling with bowed heads, their subdued attitude beneath the Abbey's towering roof being more expressive of genuine feeling than the wildest cheers and frantic flag-waving in that memorable yellow pine board convention hall."

The Westminster Gazette said: "To us in this country the loss of President McKinley is a family bereavement. We have had our differences with the American people. We know full well how more true it becomes every day that they are our keenest and most dangerous outstanding fact that they are our next of kin. We are linked by trade competitors, but above and beyond the conflict of competition is the common ties that exist nowhere except with the United States. Just as Queen Victoria was sincerely mourned on the other side of the Atlantic, so now we claim a special right to share the sorrow and indignation which the American feels at the death of its President."

In Paris there was a great crush in the effort of the populace to reach the Church of the Holy Trinity, where a distinguished assemblage was gathered to honor the memory of our dead.

The Paris Gaulois said: "The death of President McKinley will have a greater reverberation throughout Europe than that of Garfield, Lincoln or Carnot."

Salutes on Distant Seas.-The warships of Great Britain and Germany throughout the world joined in the salute due to the head

of our stricken Republic. In every capital of Europe and in nearly every civilized country in the world there were displayed symbols of grief. An Austrian paper said: "The ocean is not wide enough to hold all the sympathy that is streaming from the Old to the New." In far-away India commerce was stopped, batteries were fired, flags were half-masted, and there was general mourning. Solemn, weeping crowds assembled in Berlin, Brussels, Dresden, Vienna, Copenhagen Cologne, Rio Janeiro, Kingston, Pekin, Constantinople, St. Petersburg, Rome, Manila, San Juan, Havana, almost every city of consequence in the world, and took part in the most impressive memorial services ever rendered in honor of any dead.

Among the incidents of the day in America none perhaps was more touching or more significant than the tribute which came from the heart of a little Atlanta girl. The story, as told by the Constitution, forms a fitting close for this chapter:

"Just about a half an hour before the shadows of twilight commenced to shroud the silent tombs of Oakland Cemetery, a minister of one of Atlanta's churches had occasion to pass the enclosure of this city of the dead.

"As he reached the main entrance, on Hunter street, the clergyman's attention was drawn to a little girl of probably not more than nine years, who was standing outside the gate. Although a tired look, as though from some long vigil, was to be plainly seen upon the child's face, there was an eager, expectant look in her bright eyes as they were directed inquiringly toward his.

""Please, sir,' she asked of the clergyman, as she saw his kindly faced turned toward her, 'can you tell me how long it will be until the funeral comes?"

"What funeral, my dear?' he answered, thinking it might be that of some friend or relative of hers.

"The minister was scarcely prepared for the reply the little girl made, for, with the sweet and absolute simplicity of childhood she answered: