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Almighty, that I received the command to 'Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof.' I have obeyed your orders, but see, I too am broken, like thyself; these acts have cost me my life's blood, but what need we care, our race is run. Is it not enough that four millions of bondmen are free, and the only free government on earth saved, to be an asylum for the down-trodden of all lands? I am content."

Then we hear the old bell say: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful unto the end. Henceforth thou shalt wear a crown, even the martyr's crown."

It was eminently proper that the remains of Abraham Lincoln should rest over the holy Sabbath in what may, without irreverence, be termed the sanctuary of the Republic. The interior of Independence Hall has been decorated on many occasions, but never before had such skill and taste been displayed as on this occasion. The scene was a combination of enchantment and gloom of unexampled brilliancy and splendor. Evergreens and flowers of rare fragrance and beauty were placed around the coffin. At the head were boquets, and at the feet burning tapers. The walls were hung with the portraits of many great and good patriots, soldiers and civilians, who have long since passed away. Among these, in a conspicuous place, was seen the benignant countenance of William Penn, who was the embodiment of peace, and yet he was not a more ardent lover of peace than Abraham Lincoln, who died the commander-in-chief of more than a million of soldiers.

In the procession and on the houses along the line of march, there were many mottoes displayed, some of them touchingly beautiful in their expressions of love and sorrow for the departed statesman. The walls of Independence Hall were adorned with them also. I can only

give space for some that were on wreaths of flowers about the coffin. A cross near its head, composed entirely of flowers artistically intertwined, bore the inscription:

"To the memory of our beloved President, from a few ladies of the United States Sanitary Commission." A beautiful wreath, presented on Saturday evening, bore the modest words:

"A lady's gift. Can you find a place?"

An old colored woman managed to find her way into the Hall, and approached the Committee of Arrangements with a rudely constructed wreath in her hand, and with tears in her eyes requested that it might be placed on the coffin. When her request was granted, her countenance beamed with an expression of satisfaction. The wreath bore the inscription:

"The nation mourns his loss. He still lives in the hearts of the people."

One of the wreaths that lay near the head of the coffin contained a card with a quotation from one of Mr. Lincoln's conversations with his cabinet officers, the day before his death. It was in these words:

"Before any great national event, I have always had the same dream. I had it the other night. It is of a ship sailing rapidly."

Arrangements were first made to admit those who desired to view the remains, by means of printed cards, which read:






FROM 10 TO 12 O'CLOCK, P. M.

Entrance at the Court House, on Sixth street, below Chesnut.

Within the hours designated, a constant stream of men and women poured through the Hall, which was closed at midnight. By three o'clock Sunday morning, a large crowd of persons, of both sexes, were congregated on Chesnut street, between Fifth and Sixth, who patiently waited until six o'clock-the time for again opening the Hall to visitors. When it was opened, the people were formed in lines extending from Independence Hall to the Delaware river, on the east, and to the Schuylkill on the west. Thousands spent from three to four hours in the lines before reaching the Hall. Throughout the entire day and night, men and women, of all classes, continued to move in solid phalanx past the remains of the fallen chieftain. The crowd was so great at times that the people were almost suffocated. On the afternoon of Sunday, many women fainted in the crowd. During the day, about one hundred and fifty soldiers were taken in ambulances from the different hospitals in and around the city; and at a late hour, seventy-five veterans, who had each lost a leg in their country's service, hobbled into the Hall, there, amid the sacred surroundings, to take a last look at the face of him whose heart had always beaten in unison with their own.

Appropriate funeral sermons and orations were delivered in many of the churches of the city during the day. Among them may be mentioned the Rev. Dr. March, of the Clinton Street Presbyterian Church; Rev. Dr. Jeffrey, in the Fourth Baptist Church; Rev. H. A. Smith, in the Mantua Presbyterian Church; Rev. F. L. Robbins, of the Green Hill Church; Rev. N. Cyr, at the French Protestant Chapel, and Rev. J. Hyatt Smith, at Mechanics' Hall.

Both nights in Philadelphia, Independence Hall was brilliantly illuminated, as also the Ledger, Transcript and other newspaper offices, and many other public and private buildings. The funeral escort were the guests of the city, and were quartered at the Conti

nental Hotel. While here, the hearse car was additionally decorated, the materials being furnished and the work done by the citizens, who regarded it a privilege to add this testimony of their respect to the memory of Abraham Lincoln.

At two o'clock a. m., Monday, April 24, the coffin was closed and preparations made for the departure. At four o'clock, the funeral train moved out of the Kensington depot. After leaving Philadelphia, the track was lined on both sides with a continuous array of people. At Bristol and Morristown, large crowds stood in silence, with uncovered heads. From the time of leaving Washington, at many points where no stoppage was expected, entire neighborhoods, old and young, men and women, the latter frequently with children in their arms, turned out by the roadside by night and by day, and anxiously watched the gorgeous funeral train as it passed. Flags at half mast, mourning inscriptions and funeral arches, testified the sorrow that was in every heart. Clusters of people were collected at various points between stations. The men reverently uncovered their heads as the funeral train glided by.

The train reached Trenton at half past five in the morning, and was greeted by the tolling of bells, firing of minute guns and strains of solemn music. Crowds of people were assembled, the number estimated at twenty thousand, and the array of mourning inscriptions and other evidences of sorrow were abundant. This is the only State capital passed by the funeral cortege on the entire journey, at which they failed to stop for the people to engage in public demonstrations of respect. Its location between the two great cities, and so near them, is, no doubt, the cause of its being made an exception. Governor Parker and staff, with many citizens were taken on board here, and accompanied the remains to New York. At Princeton, a large number of college students were standing with

reverent bearing and in silence. At New Brunswick, the train stopped for a few moments, to find an immense crowd at the depot. Minute guns were fired from the time it came in sight until it passed from their view. Large numbers were assembled at Rahway and Elizabeth City, also.


At Newark, every house seemed to be dressed in mourning. It appeared as if the inhabitants had turned out en masse to pay their respects to the memory of Abraham Lincoln. Many of the women shedding tears, and the men stood with uncovered heads. For more then a mile, those on the train could only perceive one sea of human beings. The United States Hospital was appropriately decorated, and many of the soldiers on crutches were formed in line near it. Minute guns fired and bells tolled from the time the cortege arrived until it passed out of sight.

At Jersey City the scene was still more impressive. The depot was elaborately draped in mourning, bells tolled and cannon boomed, bringing back sad echoes as the train moved into the depot. The crowd was not admitted into the vast edifice. When those on board the train disembarked and the coffin was borne along the platform, the funeral party were startled by a vast choir, composed of German musical associations, which had been stationed in a gallery of the building. As they chanted an anthem or requiem for the dead, many who were unused to weeping were affected to tears. As the remains were conveyed from the depot to the boat, the choir chanted a solemn dirge and continued it until the ferry boat reached the opposite side of the Hudson river. The shipping of all nations in the harbor displayed their flags at half-mast.


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