“Farewell of Chief Geronimo, Blue Horse, Flat Iron and Red Shirt and the 700 braves of the Indian congress. Like Lincoln and Garfield, President McKinley never abused authority except on the side of mercy. The martyred Great White Chief will stand in memory next to the Savior of mankind. We loved him living, we love him still.” On the other side of the card was the following: “Geronimo’s eulogy. The rainbow of hope is out of the sky. Heavy clouds hang about us. Tears wet the ground of the tepees. The chief of the nation is dead. Farewell.” Flowers were received at the hall also from Helen Miller Gould Tent No. 8, Daughters of Veterans; from the commissioners of Chile to the exposition; from Manuel de Aspiroz, the Mexican Ambassador to the United States, and his family; from the Cuban commissioners to the exposition; from the Mexican commissioners, and from General Porfirio Diaz, President of Mexico. Monotonously the streams of people flowed past the coffin while twilight fell and darkness gathered. The interior of the city hall was illuminated by electricity, and the streets in the vicinity were brightly lighted. Toward sunset the sky cleared, and there was an immediate increase in the already enormous crowds. The endurance of the people finally gave out at 11 o’clock at night. At that time practically everybody who sought the opportunity had seen the dead President and the doors were closed. The military guard detailed by order of General Brooke was left in charge of the body. A death mask of the President’s face was made by Eduard L. A. Pausch of Hartford, Conn. Pausch has modeled the features of many of the distinguished men who have died in this country in recent years. The mask is a faithful reproduction of the late President McKinley’s features. CHAPTER XXXII. THE FUNERAL TRAIN TO WASHINGTON. From the scene of President McKinley’s assassination to the Capital of the nation the hearse of the murdered President made its way. Through almost half a thousand miles, past a hundred towns that had been blessed through his services, between two lines of mourners that massed in unnumbered throngs all the way from Buffalo to Washington, the hurrying train proceeded, anguished mourners within the cars, loving and sorrow-stricken friends without. President McKinley had left Washington, September 6, 1901, in the full tide of life, in the full flush of hope and power. His cold body, with life extinct, started on the return Monday, September 16, housed in the mournful trappings of woe.