All this was suddenly broken up. On Wednesday evening, March 2, Mr. Beecher suffered an apoplectic stroke and on the following Tuesday he died. No one who attended the services, held almost continuously during that week, can ever forget them. The dominant tone was one of the personal loss of a friend. There was grateful recognition of a magnificent service done for humanity, and for the building up of the Kingdom of God, but the greater work was almost lost sight of in the individual remembrances, the personal testimonies to the man who had helped men. On Sunday of that week came the regular communion service of the church. The usual sermon was omitted and only the Lord's Supper was commemorated. There were several evening meetings, mostly for prayer and mutual sympathy. The manifestation of public sympathy surprised even those who knew best how widespread was the interest in the beloved pastor. As the coffin lay in the church on Thursday there was an unceasing line of those who wished to show their regard for him. On Friday the funeral services were conducted by Rev. Charles H. Hall, D. D., pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, to which Plymouth Church had succeeded in ownership of its site. As it was manifest that Plymouth Church could not possibly hold the crowds that wanted to come, simultaneous memorial services were held in other churches. Most of the business houses were closed, as were also the public offices of the city and the schools. Everywhere there was manifest the recognition that a great man had gone. [Illustration: LYMAN ABBOTT] Who would take his place? Could anyone take his place? Was it not true that the relations between him and his church were so intimate, so vital, that the sundering of them by his death would inevitably involve the dissolution of the church? These were the questions asked everywhere by the public and probably in the consciousness of the members of the church itself, at least of a considerable number. Fortunately there was one already identified with the church for many years, who had come to it as a boy, had been very intimately associated with Mr. Beecher, and had entered most fully into his spirit and life. Dr. Lyman Abbott had already won for himself an independent position in the church and the literary life of the country. Glad to call himself a disciple of Mr. Beecher, he had been by no means a copyist, and held his own place. Far more than would have been possible for anyone not so intimately acquainted with the life of the church, he was able to fill the gap at least for the time being, and it seemed the natural thing when he was called to fill the pulpit and guide the church activities until it could decide on some permanent arrangement.