burial-place in Georgetown
and borne with those of his father for final sepulture in the stately
mausoleum which the public mind had already decreed to the illustrious
martyr. The train which moved from the National Capital was attended
on its course by extraordinary manifestations of grief on the part of
the people. Baltimore, which had reluctantly and sullenly submitted to
Mr. Lincoln's formal inauguration and to his authority as President,
now showed every mark of honor and of homage as his body was borne
through her streets, Confederate and Unionist alike realizing the
magnitude of the calamity which had overwhelmed both North and South.
In Philadelphia the entire population did reverence to the memory of
the murdered patriot. A procession of more than a hundred thousand
persons formed his funeral _cortege_ to Independence Hall, where the
body remained until the ensuing day. The silence of the sorrowful
night was in strange contrast with the scene in the same place, four
years before, when Mr. Lincoln, in the anxieties and perils of the
opening rebellion, hoisted the National flag over our ancient Temple of
Liberty, and before a great and applauding multitude defended the
principles which that flag typifies. He concluded in words which,
deeply impressive at the time, proved sadly prophetic now that his dead
body lay in a bloody shroud where his living form then stood: _"Sooner
than surrender these principles, I would be assassinated on this spot."_

In the city of New York the popular feeling was, if possible, even more
marked than in Philadelphia. The streets were so crowded that the
procession moved with difficulty to the City Hall, where amid the
chantings of eight hundred singers, the body was placed upon the
catafalque prepared for it. Throughout the day and throughout the
entire night the living tide of sorrowful humanity flowed past the
silent form. At the solemn hour of midnight the German musical
societies sang a funeral-hymn with an effect so impressive and touching
that thousands of strong men were in tears. Other than this no sound
was heard throughout the night except the footsteps of the advancing
and receding crowd. At sunrise many thousands still waiting in the
park were obliged to turn away disappointed. It was observed that
every person who passed through the hall, even the humblest and
poorest, wore the insignia of mourning. In a city accustomed to large
assemblies and to unrestrained