CHAPTER XXXIV. FUNERAL SERVICES AND PROCESSION AT WASHINGTON. At 9 o'clock Tuesday morning, September 17, 1901, the funeral cortege of William McKinley, twenty-fifth President of the United States, third incumbent of the office to fall by an assassin's hand, started from the White House toward the capitol. President Roosevelt, accompanied by his wife and sister, arrived half an hour earlier at the Executive Mansion, and were given seats in the big Red Room. Almost immediately after came former President Cleveland, with Daniel Lamont. Others, notable in the official and social life of the nation, quickly assembled, and the rooms and corridors were filled with a silent, sorrowful throng. Just before 9 o'clock Senator Hanna came into the room. He is visibly aged by the events of the past fortnight. His face seems drawn and pallid, his form is less erect, and all that vigorous, quickly deciding manner seems gone. Precisely at the hour appointed the big men from the ranks of the Army and the Navy lifted the black casket of him who had been named "Our Well Beloved," and carried for the last time through the doors and down to the waiting hearse. There was on the part of the thousands, both those of the party and the throngs outside, an instant recognition of the contrast between this departure from the White House, and William McKinley's other passings through its doors. A long line of carriages waited in the streets, and scores of others were massed in the ample grounds at the east front of the mansion. The muffled drums beat the long roll, the military band played "Nearer, My God, to Thee;" and then, as the solemn march began, the mournful strains of the "Dead March from Saul" were borne by the morning breezes over the assembled thousands. President Roosevelt, with his wife and sister, occupied the first carriage behind the hearse, a band of black crepe bound about his arm. The carriage was drawn by four black horses. Next in order came the carriage of Grover Cleveland, who was accompanied by General John M. Wilson and Robley D. Evans. Following directly came the Justices of the Supreme Court, in their robes of office. Army and navy men, in full uniform, continued the slow moving procession. Representatives of foreign governments in all their trappings of state, followed in order. One carriage was occupied by Hon. Gerald Lowther, of the British Legation, assigned by a cabled order to personally represent King Edward VII. of England. Major-General John R. Brooks commanded the entire line, riding a splendid black charger. He was surrounded with his aides, all well mounted. A cold rain began to fall as the procession started from the White House. It at no time amounted to a heavy shower, but the chilling "drizzle” which marked Mr. McKinley's second inauguration was precisely repeated in this his last progress to the capitol. The flags were limp. The banners were drooping. The wealth of mourning decoration on buildings laid flat against the walls. As the cortege wound down into Pennsylvania avenue it passed between gathered thousands of people who banked the great highway from end to end, and stood in reverent silence while the dead went by. In that procession were soldiers and sailors from every service, civic societies, a camp of United Confederate Veterans from Alexandria, Virginia, and a host of miscellaneous organizations. The home of the nation's government awaited the cortege in silent simplicity. A flag, flying at half mast over the marble entrance, was the only sign of mourning. The law decrees that the government buildings in Washington shall not be draped, and they wore no visible sign of the nation's bereavement. Time and again as the line moved from west to east the notes of that plaintive song, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," rose on the air. At the steps of the capitola bugle sounded the silver notes of "Church Call." The soldiers and sailors lifted the casket again from the hearse, and carried it with solemn strides up the long flight of marble steps to the open portal, and deposited it on the catafalque directly in the center of the rotunda, beneath the mighty dome which crowns the capitol. The friends and late advisers of the nation's chief, the notable men of the country filed in and grouped themselves to the north of the center. Mrs. McKinley was not present. In her weakened condition it was thought wise to afford her all possible repose, as the trip to Canton will tax all her little store of strength. A hush as of death fell upon the assembly, and then, beginning softly, but swelling grandly as the hymn progressed, a choir sang Cardinal Newman's touching hymn: "Lead, Kindly Light.' Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see I loved to choose and see my path, but now I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. Rev. Dr. Naylor, presiding elder of the Washington District of the Methodist Episcopal church, stood close by the head of the casket, and with folded hands, glanced once around that assembled multitude, then bowed his head. Instantly there was a subdued rustling, a sigh of acquiescence, and every head was bent in reverence. His first words were scarcely heard. Outside the storm had risen, and the rain was driving with an angry roar against the great dome above them. Outside, also, a mighty throng of men and women were massed, insistent on admission, crowding for places sheltered from the rain. Dr. Naylor's prayer seemed echoed in the hearts of those bent in sorrow about the coffin. And this was his prayer: “O Lord God, our heavenly Father, a bereaved nation cometh to Thee in its deep sorrow! To whom can we go in such an hour as this but to Thee? Thou only art able to comfort and support the afflicted. Death strikes down the tallest and best of men and consequent changes are continually occurring among nations and communities. But we have been. taught that Thou art the same yesterday, to-day and forever; that in Thee there is no variableness nor the least shadow of turning. So in the midst of our grief we turn to Thee for help. "We thank Thee, O Lord, that years ago Thou didst give to this nation a man whose loss we mourn to-day. We thank Thee for the pure and unselfish life he was enabled to live in the midst of so eventful an experience. We thank Thee for the faithful and distinguished services which he was enabled to render to Thee, to our country and to the world. We bless |