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IV

FUNERAL AT WASHINGTON.

THE shadow of the bravo

Falls dark in the President's hall;
Mourning emblems shiver and swing
On turret and doorway and wall.
The places of trade are deserted-
The nation is drowned in tears:
No blow like this a people has cursed
In a thousand rolling years.

No marvel that the feeling

Is terrible, sad, and deep!

For a shudder lies in this dastard crime,
Like Macbeth "murdering sleep ;"

And no wonder that the nation

Thrills cold through its nerves and veins,

When the Borgia's crime, in this favored day,

In Freedom's Land obtains.

There may well be weeping and moaning
For the nation's future weal,
When the true conservative, caring for all,
Grows a mark for bullet and steel;
And we well may pause for an answer-
Where and how will the tragedy end,

And what must the fate of foemen be

When death is the doom of the friend!

But for him-no sorrow or wailing!

He died in that glorious hour

When his kindly stars had triumphed high

And the evil lost their power;

The best of his work accomplished,

The future easy and plain,

And forgiveness winning the wide world's heart,

As vigor had won its brain.

No-for him no tear-drop or murmur;

For, spite of the murderer's crime, He died as the best might pray to die, In the height of God's good time. And when the dark deed we punish,

As punish we can and will,

"Twill be nothing of his that we revenge

He is more than living still!

God shelter and keep the nation!

God give it enduring peace!

And soon may the happy moment come

When its long dark day shall cease!

But after the words that the Father
Spoke from Vernon's sacred sod,
We shall hold no richer legacy
Than the path the President trod.
Henry Morford.

IV.

THE FUNERAL AT WASHINGTON.

WHEN Mr. Lincoln's body had been removed to the President's House, the embalmers proceeded to prepare it for the grave. Mr. Harry P. Cattell, in the employ of Doctors Brown and Alexander, who, three years before, had prepared so beautifully the body of little Willie Lincoln, now made as perpetual as art could effect the peculiar features of the late beloved President. The embalming was performed in the President's own room, in the west wing, in the presence of President Johnson, Generals Augur and Rucker, and the attending physicians of the late President. The body was drained of its blood, and the parts necessary to remove to prevent decay were carefully withdrawn, and a chemical preparation injected, which soon hardened to the consistence of stone, giving the body the firmness and solid immobility of a statue.

The solemn sadness of every thing around the Executive Mansion, during the morning of Wednesday, was one of the characteristics of the day. No person was admitted except those who had charge of the arrangements for the funeral, or such as had some labor to perform in completing the preparations, and the invited guests. It was in reality the house of mourning, and those very rooms which the public have seen on State occasions filled with life, animation, and joy, were dressed in the habiliments of woe. Entering the front door, this stillness seemed almost deathlike. Every person moved along on tiptoe, as if fearful of disturbing the long and deep sleep of the great and good man whose body lay within those walls.

The Green Room, in which the body had been placed, was darkened, and a shade of night seemed to hang over it. The

blinds were nearly closed, allowing but a faint streak of light to enter the windows. The doors, windows, cornices, and chandelier were richly hung with the weeds of grief and mourning, through which could be faintly seen the rich damask and lace curtains which adorned the room on all other occasions. The numerous large mirrors were also heavily draped, with a panel of white crape covering the face of the glass. In fact, everywhere were the marks of sorrow, which spoke of the bereavement of hearts, of household ties severed, and of a nation weeping and mourning over a chief that has fallen.

Near the centre of the room stood the grand catafalque, upon which rested the mortal remains of the illustrious dead, inclosed in a beautiful mahogany coffin lined with lead, and with a white satin covering over the metal. It was finished in the most elaborate style, with four silver handles on each side, stars glistening between the handles, and a vein of silver winding around the whole case in a serpentine form. To the edges of the lid hung a rich silver tassel, making a chaste and elaborate fringe to the whole case. The silver plate bore the simple inscription: ABRAHAM LINCOLN,

SIXTEENTH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,

Born February 12, 1809.

Died April 15, 1865.

The catafalque stood lengthwise to the room, or north and south, and immediately in front of the double doors which lead to the wide hall. The floor of the catafalque was about four feet in height, and approached by one step on all sides, making it easy to view the face of the honored dead. Above this was a canopy, in an arched form, lined on the under side with white fluted satin, covered otherwise with black velvet and crape. This was supported by four posts, heavily encased with the emblem of mourning. The canopy, the posts, and the main body of the catafalque were festooned with crape and fastened at each fold with rosettes of black satin.

On the top of the coffin lay three wreaths of moss and evergreen, with white flowers and lilies intermingled. At the head of the coffin, standing upon the floor of the catafalque, and leaning against the metallic case, stood a beautiful cross, made of japonicas, lilies, and other white flowers, as bright and blooming

as though they were still on their parent stem, and had not been plucked to adorn the house of the dead, its pure and immaculate white furnishing a strong contrast with the deep black on all sides. On the foot of the coffin lay an anchor of flowers. Encircling the coffin, in a serpentine form, was a vein of evergreens, studded with pure white flowers, and within its meandering folds were deposited several wreaths of the same material. These had all been brought by some friendly hands, the tokens of love and affection, and deposited around and near the case that contained the mortal remains of the man who had been near and dear to them. Here, then, were the emblems of the dead, the marks of rank, the tokens of grief, deep and sorrowful, the signs of love and affection, and the living emblems of purity and happiness hereafter, as well as hope and immortality in the future. Surely the scene in honor to the illustrious dead was a worthy exhibition of the love, esteem, and pride of a free people in their fallen chief-fallen, too, in the midst of his usefulness, and just when his greatness and goodness were being recognized by all.

Steps were arranged rising to the back wall, to enable those behind to witness the ceremony as well as those in front.

The guard of honor which had been watching over the body of the illustrious dead were still there:-General Hunter, General Dyer, of the Ordnance Bureau; General Thomas, of the Quartermaster's Department, assisted by Captain C. E. Nesmith, of New York, and Captain E. Dawes, of Massachusetts. There they stood, guarding with a jealous and anxious eye the earthly casket of their late Commander-in-chief. Hunter, compact and dark and reticent, walks about the empty chamber in full uniform, his bright buttons and sash and sword contrasting with his dark blue uniform, gauntlets upon his hands, crape on his arm and blade, his corded hat in his hands, a paper collar just apparent above his velvet tips; and now and then he speaks to Captain Nesmith or Captain Dawes, of General Harding's staff, rather as one who wishes company than one who has any thing to say. His two silver stars upon his shoulder shine dimly in the draped apartment. He was one of the first in the war to urge the measure which Mr. Lincoln afterwards adopted. The aids walked to and fro, selected without reference to any association with the late President. Their clothes are rich, their

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