Receive, then, O God, his soul. Be merciful to him for his faith and his hope and his love.
Every head was bowed while the Chancellor gave the benediction. The strains of the organ as it rendered the dead march in Saul filled the edifice, the congregation rose to its feet, the casket was borne out, and the service was at an end.
While the services were in progress the throng in the street had been swollen by thousands of new comers, until it extended in an unbroken mass along State street, from Chicago Avenue to Huron street. The people waited patiently for the conclusion of the church ceremony. Considerable difficulty was experienced in reforming the procession in consequence of the crush, and many old men and women, barely able to walk without assistance, were pressed against the hearse and carriages, and with difficulty rescued from under the wheels. One hour was occupied in reaching the depot of the Milwaukee and St. Paul road--the streets, as before, being packed with spectators. Three special trains, aggregating thirty-six cars, were in waiting. On the first of these the casket was placed, the others following at intervals of a few minutes. At the stations along the route, as well as on house-tops, street crossings and vacant lots, crowds of people had congregated to see the funeral train go by. Five thousand people had gathered at the cemetery. The Hibernian Rifles formed in double column, and presented arms as the casket, and its small following of mourners passed within the gates. This was the most solemn part of the days' proceedings. In the city the uniforms and regalia of the various organizations, the dirges of the numerous bands, and the great concourse of people had somewhat dissipated the sad thoughts and sentiments of those who had been near and dear to the dead man; but now these accessories no longer exercised their effect. Slowly the small procession, consisting only of the pallbearers with the casket, and the few chief mourners, moved toward the vault. There was not a sound save sobs, not even the mournful strains of a funeral march were heard to relieve the intensity of the silence. At the door the rifles had formed an arch with their swords, and the air was laden with the perfume of floral tributes from far and near. One of these, a magnificent lyre of roses, bore the inscription in immortelles: