station itself was occupied by stalwart soldiers and sailors in uniform. The blue-coated policemen and the railroad employes were nearly all that stood for civil life.

It was not so on the broad stretch of avenue that led to the White House. There the people strained and crowded in a vast multitude against the stiff wire ropes which restrained them from the space marked out for the line of procession. The silence that marked the progress of the funeral party through the national capital was profound. The people as a whole did not talk even in whispers, and the only sign of agitation in the great crowd was the silent pressing and striving against the ropes to see the mournful cortege which swept slowly along. The afternoon was cloudy, and with the close of day began the dull, depressing boom of a great gun at intervals of five minutes. It was the signal which gave notice of the approach of the funeral train.

At the Pennsylvania Railroad Station men in bright uniforms gathered, a mixture of soldiers and sailors, and, with lowered voices, talked in groups while waiting to take up their parts in the ceremony. From the brigadier-general and naval captain down to the humblest lieutenant and ensign, every officer on duty in the Capitol was there, save a few of high rank who composed the guard of honor, and waited at the White House.

The casket was moved from the observation car, and tenderly received upon the bent shoulders of the body-bearers. Four artillerymen, from Fort McHenry, Maryland, were on the right and four sailors on the left. Straightening themselves under their burden, they walked slowly towards the hearse. As the casket emerged a bugle note rose clearly, and "taps" rang out. That was the only sound that broke the dead silence.

Just beyond the entrance to the station President Roosevelt, with the members of the Cabinet, had paused and had taken station so as to leave a broad space for the funeral cortege. They ranged themselves on the sidewalk in double rows opposite each other and stood with bared heads as the corpse was carried to the hearse,

drawn up at the side gate. The hearse was an exquisitely carved affair, and was drawn by six coal-black horses, each of which was led by a colored groom in black livery.

When the sad cortege arrived at the White House the hearse stopped under the porte-cochere. The body-bearers took the coffin upon their broad shoulders, and, passing up three or four steps, waited until President Roosevelt and the members of the Cabinet had alighted from their carriages, and then followed them through the wide-open doors into the East Room. Just in the centre of the room, under the great crystal chandelier, they deposited their precious burden upon a black-draped base, and stood at salute while the Chief Executive and Cabinet members, with bowed heads, passed by.

Following them came the chief officers of the army and navy now in the city, the guard of honor consisting of officers of the Loyal Legion, members of the Union Veterans' organization and the Grand Army of the Republic.

The casket was placed lengthwise of the East Room, the head to the north. Piled about it were a half hundred floral emblems of exceptional beauty, and as many more were placed in the inside corridor to wait the morrow. Two marines, a soldier and a sailor, stood guard, one at each corner of the casket, while seated on either side were two members of the Grand Army, and two members of the Loyal Legion. These were relieved at intervals of two hours during the night.

Before midnight the household had retired to rest, and the only lights to be seen were those in the room where his comrades kept watch over their dead chief.

There in the East Room of the White House, where for more than four years he had made his home as the Chief Magistrate of the great American Republic, he rested undisturbed. Upstairs his widow mourned for her dead in the family apartments that brought back but the saddest of memories.

CHAPTER XXII

The Impressive State Funeral Ceremonies

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HE last sad services at the Nation's Capital began on Wednesday, the 17th of September, when the body-bearers silently and reverently raised to their stalwart shoulders the casket, containing all that was mortal of the illustrious dead. As they appeared at the main door of the White House the Marine Band, stationed on the avenue opposite the mansion, struck up the hymn the President loved so well, “Nearer, My God, to Thee," and, as the last sad strain of the music died away, the throng in the building lifted their heads, but their eyes were wet.

Slowly along the White House driveway, through a fine drizzling rain, the solemn cortege wound its way down to the gate leading to the avenue and halted. Then, with a grand, solemn swing, the artillery band began the "Dead March from Saul," a blast from a bugle sounded "march" and the head of the procession was moving on its way to the Capitol. The casket, in a black carved hearse and drawn by six coal-black horses, caparisoned in black net with trailing tassels and a stalwart groom at the head of each, moved down through the gateway toward the distant Capitol. In the great funeral procession were bodies of troops representing the army and navy, high dignitaries of State, including the Judiciary, members of both houses of Congress and representatives of foreign governments; also many civic organizations from all sections of the country.

At 10.12 o'clock the head of the procession arrived at the north end of the Capitol plaza. The troops swept around to the south end of the plaza and then marched to position fronting the main entrance to the Capitol. As soon as they had been formed

at rest, the artillery band on the left and the Marine Band on the right of the entrance, the funeral cortege with its guard of honor entered the plaza from the north.

The guard of honor ascended the steps, the naval officers on the right and the army officers on the left, forming a cordon on each side, just within the ranks of the artillerymen, seamen and marines. As the eight sturdy body-bearers, four from the army and four from the navy, tenderly drew the flag-draped casket from the hearse the band sweetly wailed the pleading notes of Nearer, My God, to Thee." Every head in the vast attendant throng was bared. Tear-bedimmed eyes were raised to heaven and silent prayers went up from the thousands of hearts.

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With careful and solemn tread the body-bearers began the ascent of the staircase with their precious burden and tenderly bore it to the catafalque in the rotunda.

Here, under the great dome of the Capitol, on whose vast canopy the artist has painted the apotheosis of Washington, there rested the body of William McKinley, whose apotheosis is in the hearts of his countrymen. In the centre of the rotunda that has resounded to the tread of statesmen for almost a century stood the bier of the dead President, while on either side passed 60,000 men, women and children who sought a last glimpse of the face of the man they all loved so well.

The obsequies, from the moment the remains of the President were carried from the White House to the Capitol until they were placed upon the train which bore them to the old home in Canton, were simple and democratic. There was no display of pomp and splendor. The ceremonies were majestic in their simplicity. The occasion was historic, though sorrowful, and the greatest in the land paid humble tribute to the dead President. The new Presi-. dent of the United States, the only living ex-President, the Supreme Court, the highest officers of the army and navy, the Senate and House of Representatives, the representatives of the foreign powers, delegations of the great patriotic orders of the

country, representatives of States and municipalities, all met with bowed heads about the bier of William McKinley. Through its representatives a nation paid the last honors to its martyred President.

A DAY OF GLOOM

It was a genuine day of mourning, and Nature added to the gloom. Gray clouds overcast the sky early in the day and at intervals rain deluged the city. Despite the frequent downpours, the tens of thousands of Washington's citizens who besieged the Capitol to look upon the dead form of the President held their places in line, drenched to the skin, but determined to show their affection for him who had been so ruthlessly taken from them.

In the services in the rotunda of the Capitol all interest centred, as they expressed the sympathy of the nation and the acquiescence in God's will according to the President's last prayer of resignation. The place was well chosen and already hallowed by the religious services over the bodies of the other two martyred Presidents. President McKinley's remains rested directly in the centre of the Capitol beneath which it had been the purpose of the designers of the building to have placed the body of the Father of his Country, George Washington. On the walls surrounding the rotunda hang immense paintings depicting the great events in the early history of the country. Its discovery by Columbus, the embarkation by the Pilgrim Fathers, the surrender at Yorktown, and other great events marking the birth of the nation, are shown; while from pedestals on the east and west side of the circle the marble statues of Lincoln and Grant looked down upon the bier of the martyred President.

This was a spot which always attracted Mr. McKinley when a member of Congress. Hundreds of times had he stood gazing on these pictures, pointing them out to friends and visitors, and thousands of times, in the pursuit of his duties as Congressman, had he traversed this rotunda, a familiar figure to the guides and employees of the Capitol. To-day the guides, grown gray in the