Through tears to look upon a tearful crowd, And hear the anthem echoing High in the dome till angels seem to fling The chant of England up through vault and cloud, Making ethereal register aloud At heaven's own gate. It was a sorrowing To make a good man's death seem such a thing As makes imperial purple of his shroud. Some creeds there be like runes we cannot spell, And some like stars that flicker in their flame, But some so clear the sun scarce shines so well; For when with Moses' touch a dead man's name Finds tears within strange rocks as this name can, We know right well that God was with the man. At both the morning and evening services in Westminster Abbey reference was made to President Garfield's death. At the afternoon service Canon Duckworth said the American people were richer in all that could dignify national life by President Garfield's death. Had the shattered frame revived, it would be hard to believe that he could have impressed his greatness more effectually. At St. Margaret's, Westminster, the Rev. Mr. Roberts described the assassination as a crime against the whole English humanity. At all the principal churches of all denominations Garfield's death formed the subject of sympathetic allusion. In Paris, Père Hyacinthe held a memorial service, and at Berlin, one of the Emperor's chaplains spoke at length upon the martyred President. The London _Times_, summing up the events of the week, said: "Such a spectacle has never before been presented as the mourning with which the whole civilized world is honoring the late President Garfield. Emperors and kings, Senates and ministers, are, in spirit, his pall-bearers, but their peoples, from the highest to the lowest, claim to be equally visible and audible as sorrowing assistants." CHAPTER XL. National Day of Mourning.--Draping of Public Buildings and Private Residences.--Touching Incident.--Tributes to Garfield.--Senator Hoar's Address.--Whittier's Letter.--Senator Dawes' Remarks. Monday, September 26th, the day when the funeral rites were celebrated at Cleveland, was appointed by President Arthur as a national day of mourning. The public buildings throughout the country and many private residences were draped with mourning, while beautiful and appropriate emblems of the nation's sorrow were seen in almost every window. A touching incident is told of a poor colored washerwoman at Long Branch who tore up her one Sunday gown, a cheap black gingham, and hung it about her door. When remonstrated with, she said, quietly,-- "He was my President, too." It would take volumes to give any adequate collection of the many beautiful tributes to Garfield delivered in the pulpit, from the forum, and through the public press, but from them we select a few.