Never before in the history of the capital of this nation has such a scene been witnessed as that presented along the magnificent boulevard known as Pennsylvania avenue. Although it was well-nigh impossible to distinguish anything perfectly in the gloom of the night, mothers brought their children in arms, and stood patiently watching until the cavalcade passed up the avenue and was finally hidden from view in the grounds surrounding the Executive Mansion.
It was a distinguished party which awaited at the Pennsylvania railroad station the home-coming of William McKinley.
Among the first arrivals at the railroad station were Secretary of State Hay and Secretary Gage of the Treasury department. Both wore upon their high silk hats mourning bands for members of their own families—the Secretary of State for a son and the Secretary of the Treasury for a wife who was one of the most notable figures of the administration now closed.
While waiting the arrival of the funeral train a passenger train pulled into the station from the west, and among those who alighted and pushed his way through the crowd was Senator William E. Mason of Illinois, accompanied by his wife and little ones. As the Senator from Illinois passed through the crowd he was recognized, and amid the hum and buzz of conversation could be distinguished the words: “There goes Senator Mason.”
Meanwhile the crowd on the station platform was each second becoming augmented by the arrival of men distinguished in army and navy circles and the walks of civil life. Judson Lyons, Register of the United States Treasury, whose name adorns every bank note of the government, was conspicuous in the throng, not only on account of his towering height and figure but for his color as well, for the successor of General Rosecrans, formerly Register of the Treasury, is a negro.
Nodding plumes of yellow, red, and white, marking the different branches of the army, cavalry, artillery, and infantry, respectively, were conspicuous in the throng, while the gold laced and chapeaued naval officers present reminded the spectator of an army and navy reception night at the White House.
To add to this effect, there was Captain Charles McCauley of the Marine Corps and Captain J. C. Gilmore of the artillery, both of whom had been detailed at the Executive Mansion by President McKinley to assist him in receiving the public at the various receptions held during the gay season when in charge of the State, War, and Navy department here; Sergeant-at-Arms Ransdell of the United States Senate, the bosom friend and companion of the late President Harrison, who appointed him Marshal of the District of Columbia; Acting Secretary of War William Gary Sanger; Colonel Frank Denny, U. S. Marine Corps; Lieutenant Thomas Wood, President McFarland, and Commissioner John W. Ross of the District of Columbia; Chief Wilkie of the U. S. Secret Service; General George H. Harries and the members of the staff of the National Guard of the District of Columbia in full uniform.
Standing at attention in full dress uniform, with swords at their side, stood a dozen sergeants of the Signal Corps of the United States Army, under the command of Captain Charles McKay Saltzman. It was to be their solemn duty to act as body bearers for the President of the United States, relieving the sailors and soldiers who had performed this duty from Buffalo to the Capitol. These body bearers were George H. Kelly, Isaac Hamilton, Frank Gunnard, Harry T. Burlingame, Stephen Bledsoe, Eugene Lazar, Joseph H. Embleton, Harry S. Gribbelle, Charles G. Monroe, William H. Taylor, Thomas A. Davis, and James S. Holmes.
Not a loud word was uttered, and the scene about the station was of a most awe-inspiring and impressive nature as an engine draped with black came slowly puffing into the shed, and instantly all heads were bared. It was the engine drawing the funeral party, and a hush of expectancy pervaded the entire group gathered upon the platform to await its coming. Hardly had the driving wheels ceased to revolve before the body bearers were boarding the front car, which contained the casket and floral tributes, which almost concealed from view the earthly remains of William McKinley. Secretaries Hay and Gage led a mournful procession to the rear car of the train, in which President Roosevelt and the members of the Cabinet were seated.
In deference to the wishes of Mrs. McKinley, the family, and immediate relatives of the President, a passageway was opened for them at the lower end of the platform in order that they might evade the gaze of a curious crowd. Carriages were drawn up awaiting the arrival of the train, and, assisted by Colonel Bingham and Dr. Rixey, Mrs. McKinley was led to a victoria and driven to the White House. She seemed to be bearing up remarkably well under the strain to which she has been subjected, although the lines under her eyes and the haggard expression of the features showed it was only by the greatest exertion of will power that she was being restrained from a collapse.