The Sun.
London, England, 1865-02-23 00:00:00

proceeded along the City-road, down Pentonville-
hill, through Euston-square and Marylebone, along
the Edgware-road and Harrow-road to Kensal-
green. Here, at the gateway of the Kensal-green
Cemetery, the numerous mourning coaches and
carriages discharged their occupants—no vehicle
whatever being admitted within the boundaries--
the whole of the immense procession passing on foot
by a covered way, constructed expressly for the
occasion, from the principal entrance up to the very
grave set apart for the reception of the remains of
his Eminence. This henceforth noteable spot of
earth being in the centre of the Roman Catholic
portion of Kensal-green, the portion known as St.
Mary's Catholic Cemetery.

We shall give a report of the proceeding at the
Kensal-Green Cemetery in a later edition.

As being wonderfully appropriate to the occasion,
we extract the following lines from a book of Poems
published some time since by the Messrs. Long-
mans :

The Burial of the Archbishop,
Slowly in procession tread,
Darkness in the light of day,
Towards the regions of the dead,
Towards the charnels of decay.
Priest and deacon, turn by turn,
Chant the low funereal rites,
While the gleaming censers burn,
Lightly swung by th' acholytes.
Let the wail of anguish riso
As from sullen shades below,
Till distil from saddefi'd eyes,
Blinding tears of solemn woe.
Echo all the crypts around,
Even every crevice dim,
With a sweet but awful sound—
Sorrow's agonising hymn.
Tuba mirum spargens sonum,
'Round the vaulted chambers ring,
Per sepulchra regionum,
Where the silent dead we bring,
Coge,t omnes ante thronum,—
Sorrowfully murmuring.
Slower each attendant move,
Surplic'd child and cowhfd man,
With the griefs that all behove,
Clerk, and monk, and sacristan.
Draw the coffin from its pall,
Lay it in its place appointed,
While we linger, one and all,
Weeping for the Lord's anointed.
Lower down with creaking ropes
Thro' the earth, so dank and cold,
The casket of abandon'd hopes—
Purple velvet clamp'd with gold.
Scatter'd o'er the buried Great,
Hark! the clattering mould hath slid,
Dully dropp'd with leaden weight
On the hollow-sounding lid.
Have we not old recollections
Worthy of unfading love,
Wafting all this world's affecti3ns
To the radiant realms above ?
Here before our feet he lies,
Ile the teacher of our youth,
Now translated to the skies
By the Living God of Truth.
You remember all the joy
Of his pure, unsullied soul
When he left this life's alloy,
Passing thro' the golden goal—
Passing thro' that goal mole splendid
Than the dawn-empurpled east,
When within his heart were blended
All the graces of the Priest :
Guarded from the grasp of schism
By his mind's sublime belief ;
Sanctified by sacred chrism ;
Chosen by the Church, her Chief.
Then the tonsure, while it shed
Glory like the radiant morn's,
Symbol'd on his shaven head
Calv'ry's awful crown of thorns.
Then the amice he would drag
O'er his neck with aspect meek,
As they muffled with a rag
Him they smote upon•the cheek.
O'er his scanty cassock fell,
Floating down, an alb like snow,
As in Herod's time befell
To the Human-God of woe:
'Round his loins a girdle wound,
He, to each adoring soul,
Like the Holy One when bound,
Stood in maniple and stole.
Over all, the gorgeous silk
Of the outer vestment roll'd
Red like Wood, or white as milk,
Stiff with 'broideries of gold—
The rich chasuble he bore,
As an emblem in our creed
Of the purple robe Ile worn
When they arm'd Him with the reed.
Then an antidote for malice
And all earthly ills he brought,
In the gem-encrusted chalice
And the paten thinly wrought.
With our sympathetic sighs
Did the stately pageant pass,
To uplift the sacrifice
In the rapture of the mass.
Clouds from thuribles arose,
While with ardour every voice
Peal'd the harmony that flows
When assembled souls rejoice.
But, above the fumes around,
O'er the melodies of air,
Rose the fragrance and the sound
Of the supplicative prayer.
Oh, what glory seem'd to glow
On his solemn features then—
Like the aureole o'er the brow
Of some sainted martyr—when
His anointed hand reward,
O'er the bonded heads of most,
All the love that lay conceal'd
In the consecrated host;
Or, when benedictions came
From the ray'd Remonstrance, while
Each beam glimmer'd like the flame
Of the dread Redeemer's smile.
Yet, alas ! for ever mute
In the solemn hush of death,
Low he lies whose moral fruit
Ripely dropp'd with his last breath ;
Low he slumbers to his knell, late .
Teaching truths with honey'd lips ;
Low -he lies, the Prince, the Prelate,
Shadow'd by the grave's eclipse.
Brothers, let us cease our sorrrow ;
Draw from misery relief,
And the salt of solace borrow
From the briny dews of grief.
Staunching weepings of the brain—
Eye to heaven and knee to sod—
Turn consoled to life again,
Leaving him alone with God.

THE REMOVAL OF THE CARDINAL'S REMAINS
FROM YORK PLACE.—Very quietly, and with total
absence of ceremonial observances, the body of Car-
dinal Wiseman was removed from the house he had
lately inhabited, in York-place, to the Chapel of
St. Mary, in Moorfields, where it will rest until the
funeral to-morrow. A crowd, principally composed
of the humbler class of Roman Catholic communi-
cants, had gathered before the door as early as three
o'clock in the afternoon, expecting that the removal
of the corpse would take place some time that even-
ing, and perhaps early. It was nearly half-past
eleven, however, before the plain hearse, drawn by
four horses, moved from the door, and midnight '
had struck when the sad burden was deposited in
the body of the chapel. Encased in a leaden coffin,
the remains of the lamented cardinal—lamented
sincerely and affectionately, we may say, by the
poor mourners, who stood in the cold rain near his
1 doorstep, and who spoke in low voices and with
tears upon their cheeks when he was at last borne
forth—reposed in the centre of the darkened draw-
ing-room till the arrival of the undertakers and
their assistants. The great waxen torches had burnt
down into mere clots, and one or two had flickered
quite out, leaving only a light which, being cer-
tainly " dim," may not unfitly be also spoken of as
" religious." A. female domestic watched, and
sometimes knelt and prayed, by a chair a little re-
moved from the bier ; and as the priests in attend-
ance enterea the room they also knelt, but closer to
the leaden coffin, on which a bunch of white and red
camellias had been placed. One face, that of Dr.
Searle, the Roman Catholic canon, who was so fre-
quently the companion in public of the cardinal—
and who is almost as familiar to the sight of persons
admitted to the private views of the Royal Academy
—was noticeable as, on his entering the chamber of
death, he turned his keen grey eyes sternly and
almost forbiddingly on the little knot of under-
takers' men who stood in the vestibule, waiting to
carry the leaden coffin down the stairs, and place it
within the oaken one which stood in the entrance
hall ready to receive it.--.2llorning Paper.

The pewee of exchange at New York on Eondon for bills at
60 days' sight is about 249 per cent., and the premium on
gold 127 per cent. At these sates there is a small profit On
the importation of god from the United States.