The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1895-01-05
THEY WERE REAL MoURNERs.

raj funeral service always Is Wnen Tue
Occssiun calls for no thought aud word
beyond the exact following of the ritual,
that OF Yesterday was Ike the cold per-
lection of a classic intagllo, set In the
storm.
Grace Episcopal Cburch standing like a
lookout tower on the highest eminsnce Of
California street, the winds seemed 10
seek its gables ana turTets for their Wild
est revels, the rain beat DANGEROUSLY upon
the great stained-glass windows, while the
friends ana acquaintance Of the dead
man, and the cuTiouS-men and women
tiptoed TO the seats indicated by tile
ushers.
Slowly the pews of the church were
filed, a reservation being kept for the
near relatives. a few members of the So
ciety of Pioneers and the twelve pail
bearers. The reservation was not large,
nor need it have been.
The near friends of the family were
shown e. the peNs Immediately back of
these, and the curious public dropped into
the pews back of these and in the side
alsles And by the hour fixed for the
procession to leave the chuTch-half-pas
2-,he seats were well filed and the hush
that precedes the beginning of such q
service had settled upon it,
Almost the last to arrive were the rela-
tives of the deceased. Miss Virginia Fair
and Mrs. Oelrichs led the way in deep
black with long, heavy wells to front
sea- on The left of the central aisle. Mr..
Oelrichs attending them.
Charles Fair and his wife and lady
friend of hers, dressed in like manner,
hidden by their wells. we're already in a
pew q little further back. Behind these
we're The brother, Andrew Fair, and wife,
and their sons, John and James; the
sister. Mrs. Crothers, and her husband
and their sons, Charles and Wesley; the
sister. Mrs. Graham, and her husband.
With these the mourners were Thomas
Rooney and Miss May Rooney and the
Misses O'Connor.
Within the chancel, lifted upon a bier
that was hidden by violets and lilies,
stood the casket-blaek and beautiful in
design. touches of FURNISHED silver reliev-
Ing the carved ebony.
Flowers, not in banks or masses, but
with tasteful Drofusion and variety,
changed the somber area into conserVa-
tory. A veil of violets hung over the lower
half of the casket, while tall ferns and
small palm trees, perfectly still-as hav-
ing knowledge of the service they did
spread a green canopy high above it.
To the lett, reaching into the upper
shadows OF the vaulted church, were the
silver white reeds Of the great organ, and
over it all fell the dim lights that filtered
through the great stained window. even
touching the white face that turned up
ward beneath the FURNISHED glass. but
that saw nothing nor heard.
Over there in the side aisles, among the
curious, forbidden a place among the
mourners, were, here and there, tue bent
forms of old women, with wet and be-
draggled GTesses-for they had elm bed the
steep Eill, no doubt, on foot through the
storm-in thin black shawls and strange
bonnets. and they leaned forward with red
eyes and weDt and prayed, but as still as
the breatbless palms that held their thin
fingers, as if with blessings above the dead
man who had befriended them many and
many times aud told no one. They cid
not know that they, perhaps, were the
real mouTners in the church.
The wind was bowling round the build
ing outside and the rain dashed with
vicious energy against the solemn win
dows, that to those VINO looked up. per-
haps in awe at the tempest, presented onlv
pictures of peace. But there was neither
suggestion of anguish in the wailing of the
wind, nor OF tears in the torrents Of rain.
The elements were wholly out of SYM
paihy with this scene-the silence of this
studied and beautiful funeral place, the
cold dignity Of the rows Of mourners or the
hushed and fearful weeping of the old
women who had lost their friend
A company OF men are coming slowly up
the aisle. wearing long badges of crane
upon their arms, and. like thunder back Of
the distant hills al sunset. the deep voice
Of the organ thrills the dim lighted
church.
They are the pallbearers. and when the
funeral march is finished, the last conner
IS seated, they and the Pioneers having
fled into the pews Immediately in front
and to the right o; the central aisle and
opposite the Fair family. As the final
n ote of Chopin's tribute to death subsidies
there follows again the deep impressive
ness Of perfect silence-save for the roar
of The wind, which seemed only to en-
phasze il.
Rev. DR.. Foute, lin his flowing white
surplce and black, cassock and stole. was
standing by the casket now, and after a
period of this expeciant silence his keen
incisive words struck through 1t to the
heart of the most remote listener like
shock:
lam the resurrection and the life, saith
tho Lord"
The sentence was allowed TO stand alone
during the period of dozen heart beats,
and then, in tho same quick sharp fashion.
the preacher set this beside it:
''He that beieveth in me, though be
were dead, yet shall he live"
And then again:
And whatsoever liyeth and believeth in
never de-"
The pause-mnre searching and eloquent
than the lines of the service as delivered
and then the organ speaks again, COW and
deep. and the choir in little while joins
with it to chant Lord, let me know mine
end; for nan walketh in a vain shadow
and disquieteth himself in vain: he heapeth
up riches aud cannot tell who shall
gather them"
Then the preacher again. moving round