of rosebuds. Beneath was an anchor of white balsams. A large Bible of white balsams lay open, its pages studded with rose-buds, carnations and tuberoses. Part of a beautiful altar-piece consisted of an open book of pink and white balsams and tuberoses, with pale yellow buds on the pages. A cross of white balsams, white asters, white roses and carnations towered above it. A tyre of balsams and rosebuds lay against a green column, over which birds hovered. Another piece represented a dreary stubble-field, brown and bare, bearing one garnered sheaf, at the foot of which, lay a sickle of balsams and rosebuds and tuberoses, and the word "Gathered" in purple immortelles. A monument of white balsams and tuberoses had its base banded with pink, and upon the apex was a dove with folded wings. A lighthouse of balsams, tuberoses, begonias and geranium leaves, with a broad base of fern leaves and begonias, bore a shield on which in purple immortelles were the words: "Garfield-a beacon to posterity." In another structure the States were represented by columns of ivy or smilax, with the name of each in white immortelles, while over all was an arch which bore the words, "Columbia mourns her son."

When the, police reached the archway at the entrance of the public square, the space within the pavilion was guarded by soldiers, who mournfully paced to and fro. The breeze from the lake

fitfully shook the great black banners which hung from the corners of the pavilion. As the head of the procession entered the public square, the bell of the First Presbyterian Church, near at hand, began to toll. The band, continuing the dirge, filed in and stood at one side of the space between the arch and the pavilion. The Templars followed them, and formed in lines extending on each side of the way from the arch to the catafalque. The delegates from Columbia Commandery entered the pavilion. The remaining Templars guarded the space over which the body had to pass. Marshal Henry and the local committee came up the inclined plane, and the grooms led the black horses into the public square. The Templars presented their swords. The band began the mournful strains of Pleyel's Hymn, playing softly and tenderly. Governor Foster and his staff took places in the pavilion, and then the eight artillerymen took the coffin from the hearse and bore it slowly up the inclined plane to the catafalque, upon which they placed it. The clay which had been James A. Garfield was lying in the city of his dearest friends. It had almost reached its last resting place.

There

The scene was one to be remembered. was a deep solemnity about every action and every whispered word. The eye glancing down between the lines of Templars and through the archway, saw the troops quietly wheeling and preparing to depart. So still was it in the

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presence of the great multitude which surrounded the square that the rustling of the plants which adorned the pavilion as the breeze swept by them was plainly heard. The coffin having been deposited in its place, the hearse was taken away. The Templars wheeled before the pavilion and prepared to depart. Twelve privates of the Cleveland Grays marched to the front of the pavilion and then, three at a time, went up and took their places as guards around the catafalque. They allowed no one to enter the pavilion. The remainder of the company departed, and the Templars followed them, leaving four of their number to act as guard. Three minutes afterward the war-worn veterans of the Forty-second Ohio Volunteers marched up to the entrance of the pavilion, and passed out of the square by a gate at the right. The ceremony was over.

The structure and the whole square was illuminated by electric lights at night. At the head of the coffin was placed a large portrait of the late President. Upon the coffin lay the palm leaves and the wreath sent by Queen Victoria, which had not been removed after the body was placed in the Capitol. At the head of the coffin lay a scroll bearing the following words:

"Life's race well run,

Life's work well done,

Life's crown well won

Now comes rest."

CHAPTER XLI.

THE LAST ACT.

A

SAD Sunday it was for the fair city of Cleveland, on September 25th, 1881. Right in the heart of the place lay the dead ruler, dead, though, only in the flesh, a President of his people, still in their hearts and homes. An endless throng paid him the silent homage of respect, streaming by his coffin from early morn till the shades of night had long kissed the grieving city. In every church the preacher dwelt lovingly on the character and glories of the deceased. Everywhere else the masses were busy with the arrangements for the day followingthe day upon which the last that mortality could do for man would be done, and then would come the tomb.

During the night a gentle shower fell upon the shadowed city, and when morning was ushered in a bright September sun shone through fast disappearing clouds. All night the park was carefully guarded by soldiery, and up to the hour of midnight, a throng was constantly passing in a regular, solemn procession, with uncovered heads. It is not probable that more than half of the people

went to bed at all. At any rate, they were out again before the sun, and moving about. Some dissatisfaction was expressed when it was known that the crowd would not be admitted to the park during the funeral exercises, but no attempts were made to break through the guard, and all contentedly accepted the poor satisfaction of beholding the funeral pageant as it impressively passed along the streets.

Promptly at 10.30 o'clock the ceremonies at the pavilion began. The immediate members of the family and near relatives and friends took seats about the coffin. At each corner was stationed a member of the Cleveland Grays. The committee members on duty about the pavilion wore heavy crape.

Dr. J. P. Robinson, president of ceremonies, announced that the exercises would open by the singing of Beethoven's funeral hymn, by the Cleveland Vocal Society, whereupon the hymn was sung as follows:

Thou art gone to the grave,

But we will not deplore thee;

Though sorrow and darkness encompass the tomb,

The Saviour has passed its portals before thee,

And the lamp of His love is thy light thro' the gloom.

Bishop Bedell, of Ohio, then read some appropriate selections from the Scriptures, after which the Rev. Ross C. Houghton offered a most appropriate prayer.