e streets of Leipzig were flooded with sunshine, though November had
just entered upon its course, and though the approach of winter was
apparent in the crispness of the air. Yet a cloud overhung the town
which no degree of atmospheric brightness could dispel--a cloud of
sorrow which took its birth from the placards affixed to the street
corners, and spread its shadow over street after street, from one knot
of inquirers to another, until the brief announcement which those
placards conveyed became the common news, the common sorrow, of all.
Mendelssohn was dead. On the evening of the previous day (November 4,
1847) the master whose bright, genial spirit had endeared him to so
many hearts beyond the confines of his own circle, had passed to his
rest. The blow had fallen with terrible swiftness, and we who love
his music can only faintly realise how keenly those who knew and loved
him, and who had come within the influence of his happy nature, must
have felt the sudden break in that continuous flow of harmony which
his life presented. Sweet as summer wind across the garden, wafting
scents of choicest flowers, his life had passed over like a breath of
heaven.

Without doubt his was a beautiful life--one of which, as it has been
truly said, 'there is nothing to tell that is not honourable to his
memory, and profitable to all men.' We cannot separate--we can have no
wish to separate--such a life from the genius which enriched it,
because the noble ideals which governed it throughout were embodied
and expressed in the creations of that genius, as well as in his
private conduct; rather should we be content to accept his life as it
stands--in actions, deeds, and works--as a priceless gift, an
indivisible whole.

Mendelssohn's funeral was a very imposing one. The first portion of
the ceremonies was performed at Leipzig, and was attended by crowds of
musicians and students--one of the latter bearing on a cushion the
silver crown presented to the composer by his pupils, side by side
with the Order 'Pour le Merite' conferred upon him by the King of
Prussia. As the long procession went on its way to the Pauliner Church
the band played the 'Song without Words' in E minor, and at the close
of the service the final chorus from Bach's 'Passion' was sung by the
choir. At night the body was conveyed to Berlin for interment in the
family burial-place in the Alte Dreifaltigkeits Kirch-hof. His
resting-place, marked by a cross, is beside th