of suffrage to the citizens of the District, and, a few moments after his death, a friend called to convey him to a neighboring church where he was to address the people. But the voice that, for more than fifty years, had sounded like a tocsin through the land; that had never been heard in advocacy of any doubtful measure; but had declared that in any compromise it is always the right that is compromised, had that day made its last public utterance, which was for the removal of the final barrier to perfect and absolute human freedom, and was already stilled in death. When another day dawned, two hemispheres were saying, "Frederick Douglass is dead!"

Telegrams and letters and visits of condolence and sympathy did their utmost to express the feeling of personal and public bereavement, a bereavement that fell with crushing weight upon the race for whose deliverance and advancement Frederick Douglass spent his life, with a devotion that never faltered, a zeal that never lessened, and a patience and persistency that never wearied; a race for which, turning his back upon all the possibilities that a life in England opened to a mind as sensitive and as aspiring as his, he could say to those who not only urged this, but would see that he and his family were established in competence, "I go back, turning away from comfort and ease and respectability, which I might maintain here. I go back for the sake of my brethren. I go back to suffer with them, to toil with them for that emancipation which is yet to be achieved by the power of truth over the basest selfishness. I could not remain here at peace with the consciousness that there are three millions of my fellow creatures groaning beneath the iron rod of the worst despotism that could be devised, even in hell!"

This fidelity and the spotless integrity of his soul were his to the last. Now, all this was over. The cruel limitations of his life; the scorn, the ignominy and the

contumely and the misapprehension, and the insolence of attempted patronage, often by those upon whom the world smiled, but who could never hope to reach up to his level; from these and all the thousand stings of ingratitude, his soul was free.

Each day, from early morning till late evening, a mournful procession climbed the hillside to look upon the face of the dead, and each turned away feeling that it was his or her dead lying there.

The world knows the heroic figure of Frederick Douglass. His noble and picturesque head was the ambition of artists, and his mobility of expression their despair. Now, when the sensitive features no longer responded to the soul's quick emotion, the fundamental quality of strength came powerfully forth, that reverent, fearless strength, which was a dominant characteristic, and which, in life, flashed out in rebuke of meanness and wrong. It was the highest possible embodiment of the awful majesty of death! The immense torso, the majestic head and the noble dignity of expression, spoke, not of time, but of eternity; the eternity of the past as well as of that to come.

United to heroic size was a remarkable perfection of form. To nothing was the lifeless body so like as to a huge Egyptian monolith. It wore the same calm, dignified, inscrutable expression; the was, and is, and is to be. From it flashed into the soul of the beholder a sudden comprehension, and a voice within the soul said, Now understandest thou old Egypt? An artist standing by, said, "I cannot conceive of Mr. Douglass as dead! He does not speak, but it does not seem to be because he cannot! He seems to be silent for reasons of his own!"

On the morning of Monday, February 25, after a brief service at the house, the body of Mr. Douglass, reposing in a plain but massive oak casket, was removed to the Metropolitan A. M. E. Church in Washington, where

it lay in state until the hour of the funeral at two o'clock in the afternoon of that day. To the colored people of the District the event was one of peculiar sadness. The day was generally observed by them. They closed their public schools and their places of business, and ceased their pursuits and thronged to the church to do honor to the dead -their dead. Early in the morning the throng began to assemble at the church. "As the hours passed the gathering swelled until it reached down M street to Fifteenth, and down that thoroughfare past L street. The front of the church was massed with men, women and children, the throng extending to the westward, even past Sixteenth street. It was estimated that 25,000 persons were gathered in the streets." A few minutes before ten o'clock a plain hearse drove slowly through the waiting concourse to the church doors, where it was met by the trustees of the church, an honorary guard of honor furnished by the General Russell A. Alger Camp, No. 25, Sons of Veterans, division of Maryland, in the fatigue uniform of the United States Cavalry, the detail in charge of Captain Judd Malvin; Past Captain John P. Turner, Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton S. Smith, Sergeant Willis A. Madden and Sergeant Woodson of the Tenth United States Cavalry.

The heavy oaken casket was carried to the dais of the main auditorium of the great church, and members of the guard of honor were detailed to stand at the head and foot of the casket, while others stood at the entrance and exit doors. No attempt had been made to decorate the church. Save a single draping of black about the pillar lights at the pulpit, not a sign of mourning was to be seen. Then through the church steadily poured the procession of sadfaced people. "Some would have stood and shed their tears upon the casket, had time allowed such demonstration of grief. It was a wonderfully impressive throng of people. There were white-haired old men, who had known Mr.

Douglass from the time when the struggle for race liberty began in this country. Fathers and mothers lifted little children to see the face of their champion. Men and women wept, and upon all there was the look of genuine sorrow for the death of a generous benefactor. Here and there in the long, persistent stream of humanity, came one bearing a flower, a fern leaf or a bouquet, which was silently laid upon the casket. Thousands upon thousands thus looked for the last time on the face of Frederick Douglass, greatest of their race in this age." Among the many beautiful floral designs with which the pulpit was banked, was a large wreath of ferns and violets from Mr. Douglass' associates on the Board of Trustees of the Institution of Colored Youth, with the inscription, "Farewell to Frederick Douglass," bearing the signatures of his co-laborers, Rev. Rush R. Shippen, S. A. Bond, Henry M. Baker, Henry P. Montgomery, J. O. Wilson, Dr. Caroline B. Winslow, Emily J. Brigham and Mary J. Stroud; tributes from the pupils of the colored High School; from the various colored schools of the city; from the pupils of Wilson School, Meridian Hill, and from individuals and personal friends. From the Women's Council came a beautiful tribute significantly composed of laurel and palm. The Government of Haiti sent its testimonial, a magnificent victor wreath of roses, orchids, lilies of the valley and violets, within which were woven the leaves of a rare East Indian palm and the national colors in broad red and blue ribbons upon which were engraved in silver, "République d'Haiti Temoignage d'Estime et de Regrets."

The funeral procession, as it entered the church, was led by Rev. Dr. Jenifer, pastor of the church, reading the litany. The reserved seats were occupied by the family and friends, by the honorary pall-bearers and delegations from New York, Baltimore, Norfolk and Annapolis. Upon the platform were Rev. Dr. Jenifer, pastor, and Rev.

Dr. John W. Beckett, former pastor of the church; Bishop J. W. Hood, D. D., of the A. M. E. Zion Church; Bishop A. W. Wayman, of Baltimore, Md.; Dr. J. E. Rankin, D. D., President of Howard University; Rev. Dr. Alexander Crummell, D. D., of St. Luke's Episcopal Church, Washington; Rev. Hugh T. Stevenson, of the First Baptist Church, Anacostia, D. C.; Miss Susan B. Anthony, President of the National Woman Suffrage Association; Rev. Anna H. Shaw, M. D., Vice-President of the National Woman Suffrage Association; Mrs. May Wright Sewall, President of the National Council of Women of the United States; Mr. John Hutchinson, of Lynn, Mass.; Monsieur T. Nicolas, Secretary of the Haitien Legation; Hon. E. W. Durham, ex-United States Minister to Haiti; Rev. J. C. Embry, of Philadelphia; Rev. L. J. Coppin, D.D., of Philadelphia, and Hon. C. H. J. Taylor, of Washington, D. C.

Rev. John W. Beckett, D. D., read the opening hymn, "Nearer, my God, to Thee," which was impressively sung by the choir of the church. The Rev. Alexander Crummell, D. D., then offered the following prayer:

We bow down before Thy throne, O God, our Father, with reverence and humility; with praise and thanksgiving; with submissiveness. Thou art the great Ruler of the universe; and we but feeble creatures of the earth! Deep and marvelous are Thy ways, O Lord, and we cannot always understand them; and when death enters our circles, we are staggered, not seldom, at Thy providences, and overcome with Thy dealings with the sons of men. "Thou turnest man to destruction; and again Thou sayest, Come again, thou children of men!" "How unsearchable are Thy judgments, O Lord, and Thy ways past finding out!" "Clouds and darkness are round about Thee," and we cannot understand Thee; for "Thy righteousness is like the great mountains, and Thy judgments are as the great deep."

But nothing, O Lord, can obscure Thy marvelous goodness to the sons of men. "Thy mercy reachest unto the heavens, and Thy faithfulness unto the clouds." Thou art God; and so we know that Thou art the Good. We cannot fathom Thy mystery; but we know Thy graciousness, and we acknowledge Thy great loving kindness.

How wonderful art Thou, O God, in Thy gifts to the sons of men! How lavish the outpourings of Thy favors to the creatures of Thy