Four detachments of militia then marched into the hall and were drawn up in a line reaching from the entrance on the south to the bier. Another line stretched from the bier to the place where the hall diverged, and down each side hall were other lines. Strict orders were given to see that there was no delay in the crowd as it passed out of the building.
When everything was ready for the public to enter, Joseph Saxton, uncle of Mrs. McKinley, an aged man bowed deeply with the weight of years, entered from the east hall and passed up to the casket. He stood for fully two minutes gazing into the face of his distinguished kinsman. He then passed slowly down the hall, his head bowed low, his lips twitching convulsively.
A few final details were arranged and then the door was opened to the public. Two little girls were the first to approach the casket. Directly behind them was a tall powerful man with a red mustache. As he gazed into the casket he caught his breath in a quick sharp sob that was audible in every part of the hallway. He then gave way entirely, and, weeping bitterly, passed out.
For five hours the old friends and neighbors of the stricken chieftain marched by in two constant streams, fed by a river of men and women and children, which stretched away through the city for nearly a mile. These were no mere curiosity seekers, eager to see how a dead President looked. They were men and women who knew and loved him and children who planned in their youthful dreams to emulate him.
Tears came unbidden to wet the bier. Perhaps it was the great change that had come upon the countenance which moved them more than the sight of the familiar features. The signs of discoloration which appeared upon the brow and cheeks yesterday at the state ceremonial in the rotunda of the capital at Washington had deepened and the lips had become livid.
One of the first men in the line was an old farmer from the lower end of Stark County. He paused beside the casket and burst into tears. “His kindness and his counsel saved a boy of mine,” the old man murmured half in apology to the guards as he tottered out of the building.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
JAMES A. GARFIELD.