The hands of strangers were outstretched to bury them, for the hearts of others could only mourn for them, without claiming the poor remnants which were so unrecognizable. Their sepulchre was in the stranger’s soil, though their memory was in many a home. The village of Ashtabula, made memorable by so direful a calamity, was now to become the sacred burial place of these bodies which perished. Most sacredly did the citizens of the place regard this trust, which God in His providence had committed to them. No event in the history of the place had so awakened sympathy and aroused the people, and now every attention that was possible, was to be paid at the last sad funeral rites. The town gave itself up to mourning. Arrangements had been previously made for the occasion, and the authorities of the city, the social organizations and the religious bodies were all prepared to honor those who were to be laid away in their midst. A beautiful lot had been chosen in the cemetery which overlooked the whole city, and there, among the sacred remains of their own beloved, the citizens resolved to place those who were indeed strangers to them, but whom somebody loved. Among the choicest lots of that beautiful hill, a place had been chosen for their deposit. The winding-sheet of snow had been drawn aside, and the graves had been dug, and multitudes assembled from the vicinity, and the result was that an immense assemblage was gathered for the solemn services. A special train arrived from Cleveland, bringing the officers of the Railroad, and the friends and parishioners of Rev. Dr. Washburn and others. By noon all the places of business were closed, and the citizens gathered at the services or arranged themselves in the long procession. The first church service was held in the Methodist house, as it was the largest in the place, and at this the clergymen of the village took part. The opening prayer was made by Rev. I. O. Fisher, of the Baptist Church, with a few touching words in memory of P. P. Bliss. Rev. Mr. McLeary, of the Methodist Church, read the hymn, “We are going home to-morrow.” An appropriate selection of Scripture was read by Rev. Mr. Safford, of the Congregational Church, after which Rev. J. C. White, of the St. John Episcopal Church of Cleveland, delivered an eloquent discourse on the subject of the sacredness of human life. He was followed by Rev. S. D. Peet, who spoke of the need of a sympathy which should be unselfish and universal, and of the need of a preparation for death. Rev. Mr. McGiffert, of the Presbyterian Church, also made remarks upon God’s knowledge and of the unrecognized dead. The choir sang another of the songs of P. P. Bliss--“There is a light in the valley.” The services were impressive, and the great congregation which had assembled, seemed moved by deep sympathy. The closing remarks of Mr. White were especially appropriate, being a beautiful illustration, showing that