The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1885-08-14
LAST SAD RITES.

| of the funeral services over the remains of
| the late General Grant dawned with clear
| sky, bright sun and cooling breeze. A
| more beautiful day for the solemn
services which marked the commitment
| to the tomb of all that is mortal of
| him whom the Nation mourns, could
| not be wished for. From the firing
| guns, fired at the stated intervals by both
| the military and naval details, was proclaim
| ing to the people that the last sad rites were
| under way and before the day closes, the
hero of the Union will have been committed
| to the tomb. The church bells began tolling,
| ringing in mournful cadence, and their
| pealing added to the general feeling of
| sorrow everywhere displayed Not in the
| history of New York, has there been such
| universal mourning as on this occasion, nor
| has there been exhibited such widespread
| sympathy for the family, of which the
| Nations hero was the head. The streets
| along the route laid out for the passage of
| the funeral coTtege was packed with people
| early in the morning, many of whom re-
manned up all night for the purpose of secur-
| ing or holding an advantageous position from
which to view the solemn pageant.
The crowds were well behaved and the
| police arrangements so perfect that the mill
tary, Grand Army posts and other societies
experienced but little Inconvenience in going
to the places assigned them. The funeral
| cortege was the grandest and most imposing
| of its kind ever witnessed in this or any
| other country. Fully 100000 men followed
| the body to the grave
| At precisely one o'clock Saturday morn
ing the gates leading to the vestibule of the
| City Hall were closed and the crowds which
had been passing in steady stream received
| sudden check. The line ceased moving
and those in it looked .askance at their
neighbors. When word Was passed by the
| police detailed to keep those in line in order
| that no more would be admitted, thousands
were disappointed and their countenances
plainly reflected their chagrin.
The lines, at the time, extended clear
around the park, and for some distance
along Broadway and the adjacent streets. 1t
is estimated that fully 800, 900 viewed the
remains while lying in state here So hlr-
riedly had they to pass that only mere
glance was allowed.
Immediately after the close of the gates
the plaza was cleared and in a few minutes
the police were in full possession guarding
every approach, and allowing no one but the
privileged to come within stones throw of
the building. The undertaken at once took
charge. None but the police and guards and
all-night reporters were present at the time.
ANY here who now desire to view the
remains win step forward at once" said the
undertaken, his voice echoing in the dark
corridors.
All present passed by the casket and the
lying in state of the eX-President had ended.
Undertaken Merritt then brushed the glass
plates above the body and drew from
their places the two lids. The four screws
in each were turned down and the face of
the dead had been closed forever from view,
unless there SHALL in the future, come re-
quest to remove the lids.
In this final examination of the case the
undertaken found stain of tobacco juice
upon the velvet covering. With indignant
CALCULATIONS it was removed. Then the
dead was left in care of the guards, who
stood erect and silent within the closed iron
gates and beneath the black drapings.
The night wore on and the gray of dawn
was creeping up the east. The still air of
the tomb-like corridors became heavy with
the perfume of whitening flowers near the
dead. A huge piece, ''The Gates Affair.""
had place at the head of the casket and
the sweet smell of lilies was borne down to
those who stood and>watched. Great horse
shoes of red and yellow rosebuds added their
fragrance and cross and crown from Mayor
Latrobe, of Baltimore sent out its quota of
heavy perfume that settled on the sepulchral
air.
But there was one tribute that bore no
fragrance except such as will come tenderly
to the family of the dead 1t bore no per-
fume save that which lives in its memories.
This token was plain wreath of oak leaves
pinned together with stems and formed in
the shape of a letter G. The oaks in the
forests of Mt. McGregor had fiuttered
in the breezes while General Grant
was dying, and on the afternoon of
Thursday, the day he died, little Julia, his
granddaughter, and little Josie, DR.. Doug
lass child, had gathered the oak leaves iii
the mountain woods. The children pratt
tied and knit with innocent fingers and
loving hearts, the wreath of oak leaves that
to-day is the only tribute that touched the
Generals casket. The little enes's offering
being finished, they then took it Colonel
Grant, whose eyes dimned when his daugh-
ter said: Papa, Josie and l have made this
for Grandpa, and please won't you give it
to him." The Colonel placed the oaken
wreath on the casket; then it rested there
in Albany and still remains as the children's
offering.
Daylight was near. The strains of dirge
music crept out on the morning air. At
first distant, they grew nearer and nearer.
The red deepened in the cast. Sunrise was
near The strains of music, slow and sad,
grew more distinct. Then blue-coated vet
Grams Of Meade Post, PHILADELPHIA. 500
strong came tramping to The dirge music
of the trumpets. The east was suffused
with tints of orange. and dawn was close
the dawn of the funeral day, The veterans
entered the plaza and marched past, while
mufled drums timed their footsteps and
heavy guns doomed out toward the sea The
chimes of old Trinity pealed nlournful notes
and the sound of mutfled drums grew fainter
and died out 1t was sunrise The day
was born the last day for the dead upon
earth, before the tomb should be opened to
shelter him,