The Midnight Bells.--Universal Sorrow.--Queen Victoria's Messages.--Extract from a London Letter.--The Whitby Fishermen.--The Yorkshire Peasant.--World-wide Demonstrations of Grief. "There passed a sound at midnight through the land, A solemn sound of sorrow and of fear; A sound that fell on every wakening ear Bearing a message all could understand." The tolling of the bells in every city, town, and village throughout the country announced the sad tidings of the President's death. The whole world stopped to shed a sympathizing tear, and among the first expressions of condolence received by Mrs. Garfield was the following telegram from Queen Victoria:-- "BALMORAL. "Words cannot express the deep sympathy I feel with you. May God support and comfort you as He alone can. (Signed) THE QUEEN." To Minister Lowell the Queen telegraphed as follows:-- "With deep grief I and my children learn the sad but not unexpected news of the fatal termination of the sufferings of the President. His loss is a great misfortune. I have learned with deep sorrow that the President has passed away." Smalley, the correspondent of the New York _Tribune_ writing from London said,-- "It was about four o'clock in the morning of Tuesday, by English time, that President Garfield died. An hour later the news was here, and some of the morning papers published it in a few late copies of their morning edition. It was known in the provinces at the same moment, and published in the same way. Before I say anything about the feeling it evoked in high places and with the general public, I should like to mention what occurred in the town where I was staying; Whitby, a fishing town and small seaport which is also a watering-place on the northeast coast of Yorkshire. At this season Whitby is the rendezvous for herring-fishers, and its little harbor is crowded with boats hailing from ports all the way from Pentland Firth to Penzance; Penzance itself sending a large contingent. The fishermen are a simple folk, leading a hard life, untaught, and as free from any concern on shore in the general affairs of the world as any body of men that could be got together. But when they heard that President Garfield was dead they one and all hoisted their bits of flag at half-mast, and so kept them during the day. They held no meeting, passed no resolutions. I suppose not a man among them could have made a speech or drawn up a formal declaration of sorrow. They acted with no concert of any kind. Their way of life makes them all rivals and often enemies. Hartlepool has nothing to say to Lowestoft, Sunderland quarrels with Arbroath, and Whitby itself keeps but ill terms with any of its many guests. But somehow they agreed for this once. The boats that lay in the river above the bridge, next the railway station, were the first to hang out their signal of grief. Those in the port below soon followed.