hands!" May not as much be said of our departed senator?

When it was announced that Charles Sumner was dead, a pall seemed to fall over the Capitol; and as the sad news flew over the wires there was a nation of mourners. Even his enemies were at peace with him now, and all differences were forgotten in presence of that mighty reconciler Death.

Previous to the removal of the remains to Massachusetts, appropriate funeral services were held in the Capitol.

There was a continued funeral service on the route, and as the train neared Boston the crowds assembled to meet it. In the shadows of evening, he who had so often entered his native city in the triumph of success, was borne into its streets for the last time, in silence; and when the procession arrived at the State House, the remains were formally delivered by the committee of Congress into the keeping of the Governor of Massachusetts, and lay in state in the Doric Hall over the Sabbath, during which time they were visited by fifty thousand people.

No funeral since that of Abraham Lincoln has

been to our people so much like the burying of their own dead as that of Charles Sumner.

On Monday, Boston seemed lost to everything but the fact that it was the burial-day of her great son.

The funeral procession, which consisted of the dignitaries of the State and City, moved at about ten o'clock down Beacon Street to King's Chapel, which was elaborately draped with black, relieved by flowers and vines. The services were conducted by Mr. Foote, pastor of the church, and consisted of scriptural readings, music, and a prayer, one sentence of which should be preserved in letters of gold: "Teach us to honor only those who honor Thee, and to trust only those who put their trust in Thee."

The shadows were beginning to fall when the imposing cortege reached Mount Auburn, and wound up the avenues and paths through which Charles Sumner had so often followed his dead with an aching heart. The personal friends of the deceased, with the committees of Congress and the Legislature, and the few surviving members of the class of 1830 at Harvard, gathered beside the open grave, while thousands of spectators stood

on the hillocks and all around, waiting for the closing scene.

The clergyman read another portion of Scripture, the friends around the grave joined with him in repeating the Lord's prayer, and then all that remained of this mighty man of valor was lowered into its silent bed, to slumber till the day of the great awakening.

John G. Whittier, who loved Mr. Sumner with a brother's heart, wrote to a beloved friend of both, on hearing of his death,

"I was in the act of mailing this, when the telegram announced the death of our dear and noble Sumner. My heart is too full for words. In deepest sympathy of sorrow I reach out my hand to thee, and to Mr. who loved him

so well.

"He has died as he wished to, at his post of duty, and when the heart of his beloved Massachusetts was turning towards him with more than the old-time love and reverence.

"God's peace be with him."

A few months before his death, Mr. Sumner met Pastor Fliedner at the residence of a friend. Their conversation turned upon war. The two

gentlemen expressed their views, which closely agreed, on the barbarity of war, and the great wrong in nations, professedly Christian, perpetuating it, in the light of the nineteenth century. At parting, they clasped hands, when Pastor Fliedner said, "I hope we shall meet in the land of peace!" "Let us hope so!" replied Mr. Sumner, in those deep tones which gave such power to every utterance of his.

The Germans have added another beatitude to those given by our Lord in the sermon on the mount: "Blessed are the homesick, for they shall reach home." May we not say of Charles Sumner, who followed the apostolic injunction, "Seek peace and ensue it;" "Blessed is the peace-lover, for he has reached the land of

peace"?

APPENDIX.

A.

As showing the kind of influence under which the children of Sheriff Sumner were brought up, we insert below a paper written by one of the daughters, at the age of sixteen, a year before her death.

The delicate conscientiousness which is here seen also formed a striking characteristic of Charles Sumner.

"MAY 1, 1836.

"It is now nearly a year since I first wrote my character; and the self-examination necessary for it, I found so useful, that I will try it again. I have hoped, and even believed sometimes, that that fault (vanity), which was so predominant in my character then, was partly cured; but in the very act of allowing that thought to take possession of my mind, I was, perhaps, indulging the very thought which has given me so much distress, and throwing myself off my guard when temptation should arise. Watch and pray therefore.' have done these, but not enough, and my mind is still far too much engrossed with the follies and vanities of the world. I have too great a desire to appear well, and I fear, to show off how much I know. It is hard to own this to myself; but I have need of being humbled.

I

courage to tell the sim

"I have not enough moral courage ple truth at all times, and in spite of everybody. I have not guarded this carefully enough, and vanity is at the bottom here. I thought I was conscientious, I had been so often told so, and my vanity persuaded me to believe it, at least in part.

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