A cold rain began to fall as the procession started from the White House. It at no time amounted to a heavy shower, but the chilling “drizzle” which marked Mr. McKinley’s second inauguration was precisely repeated in this his last progress to the capitol. The flags were limp. The banners were drooping. The wealth of mourning decoration on buildings laid flat against the walls. As the cortege wound down into Pennsylvania avenue it passed between gathered thousands of people who banked the great highway from end to end, and stood in reverent silence while the dead went by. In that procession were soldiers and sailors from every service, civic societies, a camp of United Confederate Veterans from Alexandria, Virginia, and a host of miscellaneous organizations. The home of the nation’s government awaited the cortege in silent simplicity. A flag, flying at half mast over the marble entrance, was the only sign of mourning. The law decrees that the government buildings in Washington shall not be draped, and they wore no visible sign of the nation’s bereavement. Time and again as the line moved from west to east the notes of that plaintive song, “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” rose on the air. At the steps of the capitol a bugle sounded the silver notes of “Church Call.” The soldiers and sailors lifted the casket again from the hearse, and carried it with solemn strides up the long flight of marble steps to the open portal, and deposited it on the catafalque directly in the center of the rotunda, beneath the mighty dome which crowns the capitol. The friends and late advisers of the nation’s chief, the notable men of the country filed in and grouped themselves to the north of the center. Mrs. McKinley was not present. In her weakened condition it was thought wise to afford her all possible repose, as the trip to Canton will tax all her little store of strength. A hush as of death fell upon the assembly, and then, beginning softly, but swelling grandly as the hymn progressed, a choir sang Cardinal Newman’s touching hymn: “Lead, Kindly Light.” Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene—one step’s enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead thou me on! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will; remember not past years. So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on; O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till The night is gone; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.