The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1879-09-16 00:00:00

FUNERAL OF SIR ROWLAND HILL
(By Special Corrapondea.)

To be politely asked by a lady outside the Abbey of
St. Peter, on Thursday morning, September 4th,
whether the gathering crowds were , ' waiting for •
wedding" did indeed seem to us Indium:se Surely
everyone most have been aware that the great Portal
Reform Prophet and inventor of the postage stamp
had been leathered to his fathers. At least many
thousands did, and as they crowded the pavements we
could not help contrasting this day with the grander
but lees universel mourning over the last addition to
the Abbey. Arrived within, we note that down the
centre of the nave ere placed heavy benches to keep
room for the cortnis to paw, and as thus wine in
danger of yielding to pressure at the burial of Lord
Lawrence, the precaution hes been taken to allow •
row of people to use them on this occasion. Up the
antra black cloth has been laid, as usual, the promis-
cuous public are fairly wedged in on the left., and
the ticket-holding Wares are, for the in at part,
pro, ided with seats on the right ; while relatives end
friends of the family and other distinguished persons
have a more abundant entrance into the choir and
behind the alter-rails. All persons on the right are
supposed to appear in mourning; if se, in some cases
it is very "slight," and in a few cases rather attOgiw,
for there are flower gardens in full bloom on fair heads
behind no. Ladies seem very eager—especially young
onee—t catch a glimpse of the prooeedinge in some
cuss it lead them to stand on their seats and clamber
up barriers. The outside crowd are more eager, and
on the stroke of twelve all eyes are turned westward,
and a loud unseemly bags indicated that a rush is felt
at the doors. Inspector Denning, of "the House •
police, hurries thither, trying to get the people off the
monuments, and superintending the more difficult
operation of shutting the doors against the in-pouring
crowd. This momentary confusion rendered the open.
log words of faith and hope quite unintelligible, as the
clergy and choir advanced before the coffin, which is
borne on bearers' shoulders, through the cloister-door.
The confusion yielded to the soul-moving chant
from Purcell and Croft's service, it silenced all and
visibly move 4 many. Aye, they are glorious tones
with which to be borne to the sleeping-place. Lord
Las/ream's pall was a robe of state; this was of dull
or violet velvet, upon it lying the wreaths and roses so
customary among us now. Some of the pall-bearers
are themselves decrepit. The city is represented by
the Lord Mayor, the Government by the Right Hon.
C. P. Villiers, H. P. ; an old companion in hardship of
the deceased is the Astronomer Royal; the Post-
office, which ought to have stilt its chief at any Moon-
vt:rniy7sra ik°4:looPinionikLlP.,r9Oritedeyw:d,l73r.S...,
Mr. Chadwick, C. 8., and Mr. Gregory, C. 8., com-
plete the honourable company of bearers. It wee an
honour even to these to heehaws to touch the hem of
the noble man's robe during his unconscious journey,
if such • brain can rest, and is still. His son, Mr. l'.
Hill, was chief mourner, and the white head of Mr.
Frederick Hill, brother of Sir Rowland, is noticeable
among the family representatives. New came • long
train of mourners, among whom are Lord Granville,
our honest nobleman, and Knights of such different
calibre as Sir Henry Cole, Sir Joseph Whitworth, and
the people's favourite, Sir John Bennett; behind the
latter comes his talented but less eccentric brother, the
author of "Songs for Sailors," and many a thoughtful,
useful man with "solemn step and slow." Of course
the native Vacs of the deceased (Kidderminster) sande
Its Mayor and • deputa..ion. Men of all nations testify
to the universal value of Sir Rowland's thoughts.
Hid not so many of the great and gifted been out of
town at this season we should never have forgotten
the length of the tuner.' procession. We mimed the
pals, thin, but pronounced face of one, whom thousands
will some day follow with tears to the same ascred temple
and who was expected to be present, whose years we
trust will more than equal tie years of him we put out
of sight. We speak with reverence of him, our mighty
chief tain—W. E. Gladstone, (hi the rear come the
Post-office and Civil Service Volunteers. who have
been drawn up to receive the trocession. Their
military habit is certainly notpreposseesing the step be-
in: decidedly shuffling, and they seemed to lack super-
vision. No one gives any command, not even in a
whisper, and so we are not uto lobed that the flint
pert of the service is interpersed with the banging of
butt ends on the stones, till the men gradually fall
into the "eau" posture at their convenience. The
inte.lissnt foreigner would certainly receive no favour-
able impression of the youth and manners of our
citizen aorta. A moldier at such public places is ever
" on his guard."
The restlessness of the uncomfortable crowds is very
marked during the reading of the burial service, per-
haps because Canon Duckworth's utterance, though
manly and powerful, is indistinct at the end of the
nave; but directly the organ peals forth, • solemn
hush 0311311/ over the people, the anthem "Blamed
are the Departed," mending sweetly even to the heated
crowd; end as the far-off voices of the choir Bung
" When our heads are bowed with woe," th,Linted
hymn for the ceremoTdzignd wonderful ran it is,
we know they are him bends the grave St.
Paul's ChapeL the booming organ rowed the
echoes of the vaulted roof, with the Dead March, and
the crowd in the nave strain to see the departing
mourners. Whim thus have peered out the public
are permitted a glimpse of the grave %which the
grey hair of Sir Rowland Hill, K.C.8., F.R.S.,
F.H.A.S., at the age of 84, had been brought with
honours. Truly and wisely he has served his
Bon which now laid him to rest amid the genera-
tion,
royalty, court beauties, dignitaries of the church,
and the no lees noble ashes of James Watt. The
weather has been dull during the morning, but now
the sunshine Area= through the windows "dimly
dight," in that weird way it does only in abbeys, as
If nature thanks us for giving honour where honours
are truly due. God rest thee, Sir Rowland Hill I