Of that paternal soul.’”
Venerable Bishop I. W. Joyce of Minneapolis then led in brief prayer. He had been conducting the East Ohio Methodist Episcopal conference at New Philadelphia when the President died. The conference adjourned, and Bishop Joyce and his cabinet have been ever since at the disposal of the friends of the President. He especially remembered President Roosevelt in his petition this afternoon.
The choir then sang “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” at first softly, and then rising into the passionate declaration, “Still all my song shall be.” It was as if the whole nation were being brought closer to the great white throne by the sacrifice of their President’s life.
Rev. Father Edward J. Vattmann of Chicago pronounced the benediction. He is chaplain of the United States Army at Fort Sheridan.
It was after 3 o’clock when the silent and anxious throngs outside the church saw the solemn pageant reappear through the church doors. A more impressive sight than the cortege of the President from the church to the cemetery has seldom been witnessed in this country. Nominally it was a private funeral. Actually it was a national demonstration. More than 12,000 marching men were in line. About 6,000 were the citizen soldiery of Ohio. The others were old soldiers and members of civic and fraternal organizations from all quarters of the state.
The head of the cortege arrived at Westlawn Cemetery at 3:30 o’clock. The roadway from the gate to the receiving vault was carpeted with flowers. Geraniums, carnations, sweet peas and roses had been strewn in great profusion. The old soldiers who had marched the weary march to honor their old comrade a last time could not forego the chance to take away a fragrant souvenir of his earthly end. One by one they stooped to gather a flower, and when they had passed the roadway it was almost bare.
The funeral car reached the cemetery gates at 4 o’clock. From the hilltop the President’s salute of twenty-one guns, fired at intervals of one minute, announced its coming. The military guards came to a “present” with a snap as the funeral car approached for the last scene in the life and death of William McKinley—a scene beautiful and impressive as his life had been.
After the arrival of the casket there was a moment’s pause as Colonel Bingham looked to see that all was in readiness. He then looked toward Bishop Joyce, who read the burial service of the Methodist church, slowly but in a voice that could be heard distinctly by all who were grouped about the vault. Instantly from the eight buglers rang out the notes of the soldier’s last call, “taps.”
With bared heads the President and members of the cabinet, who were followed by the officers of the army and navy, stood on each side of the walk, the lines reaching just to the edge of the roadway. Within a minute after the formation of the lines, the funeral car came up to the walk. The casket was gently lifted from the hearse, and borne to the floor of the vault, where it was rested upon the catafalque.
The last of the procession passed the bier at 5:45 o’clock, and then orders were given by Captain Riddle that the cemetery be cleared. This was quickly done, and the President was left in the care of his guard of honor. The first sentry to be posted in a tour of guard duty before the doorway was Private Otto White of Company C, Fourteenth Infantry, whose home is in Genoa, Ohio.