sed a handkerchief to her face.

The casket was partially opened when a number of the committee of
arrangements appeared and ordered the attendants to screw it up again.

"Why should the casket be opened?" he asked.

"This lady is a sister of the deceased and desires to view the remains,"
replied the stranger.

"Well, I don't know you and don't know whether you are his
brother-in-law or not. Where is Mr. Conklin?"

At this protest the attendants again commenced to screw up the casket.

"I am John Carroll," said the stranger, with dignity. "I came here
to-day with my wife from St. Catherines, Ont. I don't know Mr. Conklin
or anything about him. If I wanted to insist, I could take charge of the
remains and conduct the funeral myself, but all I ask is to let his
sister see the body."

The committeeman relented at this, and by a gesture indicated that the
attendants might open the coffin. When they had exposed the face,
covered as it was by the glass, the sister stepped forward, and gazing
long and intently at the features beneath, burst into a passion of
tears. Bending her gray head to the glass of the casket, she lifted her
veil and pressed her lips convulsively against the glass again and again
as she said: "Good-by, good-by, asthore!" She turned away in a burst of
passionate weeping. Her husband could not control his feelings as he
silently gazed at the remains of the brother they had loved, and he,
too, burst into tears. Mrs. Carroll was an elder sister of the deceased,
residing at St. Catherines, Ont., and neither she nor her husband had
seen him for fourteen years, but her heart warmed to him as it had in
childhood when they played together in the years gone by.

Between this occurrence and midnight, a period of nearly eight hours,
many thousands of people were admitted to the building. Four Knights of
St. Patrick, in plumed bonnets, long gloves and drawn swords, guarded
the casket, one being stationed at each corner of the catafalque. The
latter was imposing enough for the obsequies of a monarch. At the four
corners there were standards supporting cross pieces above at a height
of fifteen feet, and which, together with the supports, were draped in
black over-wound with white. Above, depending horizontally from the
beams of the great roof, were draped three immense flags, their centres
reaching down to the roof of black below. At the head of the casket was
a massive floral cross, nearly six feet in height, an