The cortege reached the Sumner burial lot just as the sun was going down.
Reverently and by tender hands the casket was placed by the side of the grave.
At the foot stood Ralph Waldo Emerson
, Dr. Holmes
, and Vice-President Wilson
, and around them gathered the members of the Washington
At the head, was a beautiful cross of ivy, and sheaves of ripened wheat, with spring violets.
Outside the reserved space, were clustered thousands who had gathered to witness this scene of worship and love.
All stood bowed and uncovered when the brief services began.
After Chaplain Sunderland
had recited the Lord
's Prayer, a choir of forty gentlemen from the Apollo Club
sang that inimitable ode of Horace, Integer vitoe
. While this solemn music was rising, two ladies, the only mourners of their sex within the enclosure, stepped forward and placed upon the coffin, already laden with floral tributes of rarest beauty, an exquisite wreath, and a cross.1
Rev. Henry W. Foote
pronounced the words, ‘I heard a voice from Heaven saying unto me, Write:— From henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord
, for so saith the Spirit.
They have rested from their labors, and their works do follow them.’
And as the dust began to fall upon all there was mortal left of
the great sleeper, the bereaved multitude slowly left the City
of the Dead
The ashes of the Statesman
had at last found their congenial resting-place, by the side of those of his beloved mother.