The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-02-07


 unknown to his sleep in glory
 And as the bugle called, ou on the city, a stricken woman of the stone crypt down the C the mercy of God. At the end, there still stoo friend of the dead President, him to the bitter end, who h; triumph, the bitter days of d stood to render, the last loya slab of stone had been swung Grayson end the vigil he has more than. a half score of yea
 Body In Great Vault
 Tonight the somber casket of black steel lies in the western niche of the great vault below Bethlehem chapel. Above, towering from the hillside, looms the gray mass of the cathedral. Below the lights of the city that has turned back from its day of sorrow to the crowding cares of life twinkle through the dark of an overcast night.
 And on that casket where the great dead lies alone at last for his endless rest, beside the plate that sets forth only his name and the days of his birth and death, there still lies the handful of soft hued blossoms that were the last touching gift of the grief worn widow.
 Distant rumbling of saluting guns in the cloud darkened dawn ushered in the day when the nation would pay to Woodrow Wilson the simple tribute | that he had claimed of it. The busy 1 life of the capital surged on for q few honrs before its course was checked 1T the last moments of silent respect fol l the dead. But to the door Of the stricken home and into the dim chapel where the last rites would be paid poured an endless stream of flowers that banked and overflowed every space with tender beauty. The names of kings and the great of tie earth were on these tributes and the names of loyal, humble friends and comrades.
 Unmindful Of Cold
 As the hour of the double services drew on, thousands took their places along the way from house to chapel to stand long in the chill air, unmindful of the flurries of snow and rain that beat about them.
 The wide avenue over which the dead war President would make his last journey was banked with people and kept clear of traffic until he should have passed.
 Before the house across the street. a solid rank of people had gathered be- fore the first of those who would join with the family in the home service had arrived. They stood oblivious of cold, waiting to bare their heads a moment.
 Singly and ill groups the little com pany that was admitted to the house, came and passed within. Then came President and Mrs. Coolidge, the honor guard saluting as their commander-in- chief passed to- stand beside the bier of a dead colleague. Thus came others who had stood shoulder to shoulder with Woodrow Wilson in his days of greatness and came also those few humble ones who could not be forgotten at such a moment, the faithful friends of old days.
 Flowers Everywhere flowers were everywhere. They GOV grance down every niche and corner HCEC dTS luTct dIu u HdII- way on this floor, the living rooms of the house. Wide doors had been opened to make them one room that all who should be present at this intimate serv- ice in the home privacy the dead man loved might at least hear what was said. In the study, where great vacant chair before the fireplace stood un- touched since he had sat there to pom der in the warm glow, the casket had been set. On the walls about clustered the old. trusty friends of many years, books ranking TOW on row from floor to ceiling save in the spaces where old pictures made sacred by ties of memory, looked down. At one side stood the piano brought from the quiet, scholarly home at Princeton of those years before greatness had found Woodrow Wilso out and called him forth to battle ar to death.
 It was among these surroundings a quiet, home loving thinker, the D cious memory-laden things of home, tl old friends were now gathering to p him last honorS.
 Intimates View Dead.
 For little before the, service beg: the casket was open and a few knew and loved him best might gag moment at the still, pain-worn f. into which death had brought at something almost of the placid look the years long past. Not all of tn, who crowded the rooms had this opp tunity. It was reserved only for il mates, of whatever station in life, mingled in this silent company
 There was dim light in the TO The shades were drawn. and only soft glow of wall lights filled the cF bers as those came who gently pl the steel covering above the tired and men had known their last sig Woodrow Wilson. All of the were filled and even the door blocked with those standing si' about.
 Out in the hallway by the stands q great clock, which tickt ehnly in the hush. As the Pre- and the old friends and compani the trying days at the White grouped about the casket the mt of the family came downstairs, only Mrs. Wilson and the two terS of the dead President in the