all that was mortal of the departed, the military companies marched in, and stacked arms on one side of the hall. A body-guard was detailed, to stand watch over the remains; and sentinels were posted at various points, to assist the police-officers in managing the crowd. At one corner of the platform the battle-flag of the old Fifty-fourth Regiment, which is now in the possession of the Shaw Veterans, was borne. Opposite were the colors recently presented to the same association.

The assemblage in front of the Cradle of Liberty seemed to grow larger as the hours went on. Orderly and intent upon their mission as the great gathering proved, it was no small task for the officers of the police and the guard of honor to guide them aright. Nearly a quarter of an hour after the procession arrived at the hall, the doors were opened to the public. The police arrangements were admirably made, to preclude the possibility of any confusion. The incoming crowd was given entrance through the eastern portal of the hall; while those who had looked upon the face of the dead, made their departure through the other broad doorway.

The throng was emphatically a gathering of all sorts and conditions of men and women. Old anti-slavery workers, such as John W. Hutchinson, who sang the cause of freedom for the slave so effectively in early war-times, were there. The friends of the woman-suf

frage cause took the opportunity afforded of a last look at the remains of their lost leader. It was fitting that men in their working-clothes, toilers who could afford no time for preparation, should be noted here and there in the line. Next to one of these, perhaps, would come a dignitary of State Street, or some merchant well-todo, who had opposed the agitator all his life, but had yet respected all the while his absolute purity of motive and intensity of purpose. The crowd, adjured now and then to "Keep in line," "Keep moving, please," was as democratic, in truth, as such an occasion should have called together. Few words were spoken, but tears often gave keener expression to the thought of the great heart of Boston. Men of every race and of all. walks in life, agitators of all names, people widely differing in their views on well-nigh every other subject, were as one in this purpose of honoring, so far as their presence could honor, the memory and the great work of the "silver-tongued " orator, whose voice can no more be heard among men.

White-haired old gentlemen, whose tottering footsteps showed declining strength and years, passed by with bowed head, and dropped a reverent "God bless him!" Aged women stood with tears in their eyes as they thought of their boys who had fought and died for the same cause that Wendell Phillips had so grandly espoused. Young men and women looked in sadness upon the features of him whom they had

listened to with admiration in that very hall. Then, there were hundreds of boys and girls assembled, to obtain a single glance at one they had often heard of with pride. Occasionally a father would pass by with his child in his arms; and, as the tears flowed down his face, the little one would look as if dazed, and then burst into weeping. Children, whose heads barely reached above the casket, were lifted up, that they might look upon the face of him they had never heard, but whose addresses they will read and be thrilled by in the coming years.

The colored race, as a matter of course, was well represented in the long line of passers-by. In fact, it seemed as if the entire colored population of the city had assembled. They would gaze reverently upon the face of him whom they considered almost divine, and then, looking up at the battle-flag of the Fifty-fourth Regiment, would burst into tears as its tattered shreds brought vividly before them the scenes of their old bondage.

Many warm expressions of admiration for the deceased were heard on every side, but the colored people were the most demonstrative. "Bress de Lord! he am gone to de New Jerus'lem, shoah," said an old colored lady, as she reverently raised her hands, as if invoking a blessing. Another was heard to remark, feelingly, "He was de best fren' we ever hed. owes him a heap."

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