CHAPTER XIII.

It was estimated that half a million people were on the streets. A procession, for which preparation had been making for several days, was already formed; men standing in marching order, from four to twelve abreast. A magnificent funeral car was in readiness, which had been specially constructed for the occasion. The corpse was transferred to this car, the coffin enveloped in the American flag, and surrounded with flowers. The grand procession, composed of eleven divisions, and including every organization in the city, both military and civic, was seven miles in length. It moved through the wide and beautiful streets of the city to the sound of solemn music, by a great number of bands. The insignia of sorrow seemed to be on every house. The poor testified their grief by displaying such emblems as their limited means could command, and the rich, more profuse, not because their sorrow was greater, but because their wealth enabled them to manifest it on a larger scale. It was eight o'clock when the funeral car arrived at the southern entrance to Independence Square, on Walnut street. The Union League Association was stationed in the square, and when the procession arrived at the entrance, the Association took charge of the sacred dust, and conveyed it into Independence Hall, marching with uncovered heads to the sound of a dirge performed by a band-stationed in the observatory over the Hall-the booming of cannon in the distance, and the tolling of bells throughout the city. The body was laid on a platform in the centre of the

THE NATIONAL LINCOLN MONUMENT. 133

Hall, with feet to the north, bringing the head very close to the pedestal on which the old Independence bell stands.

That old bell, with its famous inscription, rang out on the Fourth of July, 1776, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof." Leviticus, xxv, 10. As if in sorrow and shame for the degeneracy of mankind, when the curse of slavery crept into and controlled every department of our government, the old bell became paralyzed and broken. The descendants of its early friends gave it sepulture in this Hall, where the mighty deeds were enacted which it proclaimed to the world with such grand peals. These early notes, wafted on the free air of heaven, were heard by one of lowly birth, in his western home. As he pondered over them, they sank deep in his heart, and his whole soul answered to their vibrating touch, as he perused the historie pages of the war for American Independence. The years rolled on, and in his obscurity and poverty, he struggled for light and knowledge, with the love of human freedom for his guiding star. He then learned that our fathers indeed won their independence of a foreign foe, but left a fetter in the land for their children to break. At length he began to dispense light to his fellow men. At first, it was done with such modesty and gentleness that it could be appropriately likened to the moon; but as national events followed each other in quick succession, the wisdom of his words and the fervor of his patriotism were more like the shining of the noon-day sun, and were so apparent as to be known and read of all men. He was called to become the head of the nation, when the spirit fostered by slavery was threatening its destruction. He takes what proved to be a last look at the familiar scenes of his manhood; in feeling language he asks his old friends and neighbors to pray for him, and then sadly bids them an affection

ate farewell. In the course of his journey, he stood in this very Hall. While here, in a brief address, he said:

*

"It was something in the Declaration of Independence, giving liberty, not only to the people of this country, but hope to the world for all future time. It was that which gave promisc that, in due time, the weights should be lifted from the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal chance. Now, my friends, can the country be saved upon that basis? It it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world, if I can help to save it. But, if this country can not be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say, I would rather be assassinated upon this spot than to surrender it.”

He passes on, assumes the reins of government as the constitutionally elected president of the United States. A long and bloody war ensues. On the one side, the object was to destroy the government, because slavery could no longer rule it; on the other, it was to save the government. In the course of the war, he proclaimed freedom to the slave, and otherwise administered the government so wisely, that when the time arrived for choosing a man to fill his place, he was almost unanimously elected as his own successor. As soon as he entered upon the second term, the rebellion was so nearly crushed that he commenced the work of restoration where that of destruction began; by ordering the national colors to be replaced at the identical spot where they floated when first assailed by parricidal hands. His happiness seemed almost complete. authority of government was restored and all men free. But the slave power, in its death throes, slew him by the hand of an assassin, and his body is now again in this Hall, to make its report.

The

Let us imagine the inanimate clay, and the old bell both endowed with life. We hear the dead President say: "It was from you, Old Bell, as from the tongue of the

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:

OBSEQUIES OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN,

LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,

PHILADELPHIA, APRIL 22, 1865,

AT THE

MALL OF INDEPENDENCE,

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

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