While on his way to Yorktown, in October, Lafayette paid a visit to Mount Vernon. Again he passed through the rooms and over the grounds with which he was so familiar. What memories of its owner, his great and faithful friend for twenty-two years, must have crowded upon the old hero! The remains of Washington then lay in the old tomb near the river. The door was opened, and Lafayette went down into the vault, where he remained some moments beside the coffin of his great chief. He came out with his head bowed, and with tears streaming down {212} his face. He then led his son into the tomb, where they knelt reverently, and, after the French fashion, kissed the coffin. Meanwhile, the fiftieth anniversary of the battle of Bunker Hill was near at hand. The prosperous and happy people of the old Bay State were preparing a celebration. The corner stone of Bunker Hill Monument was to be laid by Lafayette. [Illustration: Bunker Hill Monument] The weather on this memorable June day was perfect. Never before had such a crowd been seen in Boston. A Yankee stage driver very aptly said, "Everything that had wheels and everything that had legs used them to get to Boston." Through the densely crowded streets, a grand civic and military procession of seven thousand people escorted the guests to Bunker Hill. As one famous man said, "It seemed as if no spot where a human foot could plant itself was left unoccupied." Two hundred officers and soldiers of the Revolution marched at the head of the procession. One old man, who had been a drummer in the battle of Bunker Hill, carried the same drum with which he had rallied the patriot forces. {213} How they shouted when the hero of the day came riding slowly along, in an open barouche drawn by six white horses! The women waved their handkerchiefs and the gayly decked school children scattered flowers. How thrilling it was to see those forty white-haired men, the survivors of Bunker Hill! During the morning, these honored heroes had been presented to Lafayette. He had shaken hands with them, had called them by name, and had spoken a few tender words to each of them, as if to some dear friend. [Illustration: Lafayette's Reception, in Boston, to the Veterans of the Revolution] Not a field officer or a staff officer of the battle was living. Captain Clark, the highest surviving officer, came tottering along under the weight of ninety-five years, to shake hands with the French nobleman. The young man who introduced the veterans, and who in after years became one of the most honored citizens and mayors of Boston, said of this occasion, "If there were dry eyes in the room, mine were not among them."