good place on the morrow. The preparations at St. Paul's had been vigorously carried on, and in the evening of Wednesday were apparently near an end.

Thursday morning dawned through a fitful, heavy sky, moist-looking and grey, as if the rain which had fallen in torrents through the night were not yet exhausted, while a sharp wind rattled ominously against the windows. The notes of preparation began to be heard, even in the remote and quiet parts of the metropolis, as early as four o'clock-carriages driving rapidly, and footsteps hurrying along the pavements, loud talking, and occasionally the blast of a horn; and, on looking out, a light might be seen in nearly every bed-room window, betokening that the inmates were up and on the alert. Notwithstanding the sharpness of the morning, the cab-drivers appeared to be in excellent humour, for they were reaping a harvest. At five o'clock the omnibuses had begun to run from their various stations in the suburbs to the streets through which the procession was to pass, and at the same hour large crowds had already taken up their position in the Strand, and along the rest of the line. At half-past eight all the other streets of London seemed deserted, and between the Horse Guards-to which the body had been removed from Chelsea on the previous evening-and St. Paul's, probably a million and a half of people were crowded in the windows, on the house-tops, along the side paths, and on scaffolding-a vast, silent, and expectant mass. It was one of those grand sights which occur at but rare intervals in history, and which no man ever sees twice in a lifetime-a nation at the funeral of a great man. Looking from an elevation, there appeared huge lines of black, with here and there a red speck, where the Guards galloped up and down along the line; but nowhere could the eye light on anything that was not gloomy and sombre.

Carriages continued to roll along in rapid succession up to the last moment, conveying persons either to St. Paul's or to seats along the route. The crowd assembled along the pare displayed admirable patience. Most of them had been on the ground for several hours, and instead of any attempt at disorder or tumult, all was as still as if each individual had had a personal interest in the ceremonial. It was a scene full of instruction-the population of a great city assembled in one spot, and kept in order, not by any display of force,-for the comparatively small body of police must have been powerless against any manifestation of the popular will,-but by an innate sense of what was proper and befitting the occasion. The nation was en support with the Government, in all the arrangements, even the most minute. There never was so signal a display of the benefits of self-government, of the influence which it has in the formation of habits of obedience to the general will, mutual forbearance, and self-respect.

As the morning wore on, the clouds partially cleared off, and the sun broke in fitful gleams through the smoky atmosphere, and its rays falling in the street, brought out the mourning which veiled the scarfs and lace of the military officers, in strong relief with the scarlet of their uniforms, and the cold brilliancy of their swords and cuirasses. The sound of the carriage wheels had ceased, the buzz of conversation carried on in subdued tones, and the occasional clang of accoutrements, alone broke the general silence, save when a dog tearing madly along the broad lane, hedged in by the rows of spectators, called forth laughter or shouts from the more volatile or impatient of the crowd. Then another interval, and the wind sighed mournfully as it travelled up the street, and passed through the scaffoldings, and rushed up the alleys and courts, bringing with it now and then a faint sound of distant music. Expectation was now on tiptoe; the last act but one in the great drama was close at hand; the procession was on its way; the crowd became hushed, the roll of the muffled drums broke more heavily on the ear, the policemen dressed the line on each side, and the troop of Guards which led the van, rode slowly up.

The troops had assembled before daybreak at the Horse Guards. At eight the coffin was placed on the funeral car, the first minute-gun was fired, the troops presented arms, and the procession advanced.

As the particular order of this grand funeral procession will by this time have found its way into nearly every newspaper in the United States, it will be unnecessary that we should follow its course minutely. It will be sufficient for us to say that it consisted of-six battalions of Infantry; seventeen field-pieces, the number to which the Duke, from his rank in the army, was entitled; eight squadrons of Cavalry; a body of Marines, headed by eighty-three (the duke's age) veteran pensioners from Chelsea Hospital, who shared in the Duke's victories; the Field-marshal's batons of England, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, &c., borne by distinguished officers deputed by their several governments; the Standard or Pennon carried by a Lieutenant-colonel, supported by his Captains on horseback; deputations from the University of Oxford, of which the Duke was Chancellor; the Lieutenancy of the Tower and various counties, the East India Company, the Board of Ordnance, the Common Council of the City of London, the Merchant Tailors' Company, the Corporation of the Trinity House, the Chaplains of the Tower, and the Chaplain to the Forces, the Physicians to the Duke, the Mayor, Aldermen, Sheriffs, and Recorder of London, the Sheriff of Southampton, the Companions and Knights-commanders of the Bath, Heralds, Chief Mourners, and attendants, and the household of the Duke. Immediately following the mourners behind the funeral car, the Duke's horse was led by its groom; and in their appropriate places in the procession, the Guidon, or little flag of the regiment, and the Wellesley Banner, and the Great Banner, were borne by officers of rank in the several regiments in which his Grace had served. In fact-and not to be too tedious, we may say, that all the pomp and state of England had their representatives at the funeral of the great field-marshal-from Prince Albert and the Houses of Peers and Commons, to the Gentlemen Ushers and Heralds, who walked beside the funeral car. Each regiment had its band; and every regiment in her Majesty's service was represented by a captain, lieutenant, sergeant, corporal, and two private soldiers. A more grand and imposing sight was perhaps never witnessed in England, or any other country; and its grandeur and solemnity consisted, not so much in the display of uniforms and the sound of funereal music, the melancholy tolling of a thousand church bells, and the slow and stately step of the marshal mourners, as in the tens of thousands of people who that day came forth to express, in silent contemplation and orderly behaviour, their regard for the great man gathered to his fathers, and the interest which they could not but feel at the sight of the coffin which contained all that remained of his earthly grandeur.

The procession having, as we said, formed in St. James'spark, proceeded on its slow and solemn way amidst the gathered multitude; who, as the body of the Duke approached, testified by uncovered heads and respectful demeanour, the greatness of England's loss in the great captain of his age. A whole country had, as it were, assembled to do honour to the memory of the hero of a hundred fights, the warrior, the statesman, the citizen, the man! In this place we may make appropriate mention of the funeral car itself, The lower part, or carriage, is of bronze, supported on six wheels, and elaborated with an amount of original skill and artistic feeling which is quite refreshing in an age of mere revivals and adaptations. Above this metallic framework rises a rich pediment of gilding, in the panels of which the following list of Wellington's victories is inscribed :— Ahmednuggur, Assaye, Argaum, Gavilghur, Rolica, Vimiera, Douro and Oporto, Talavera, Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onor, Cuidad Rodrigo, Badajos, Salamanca, Vittoria, Pampeluna, Pyrenees, St. Sebastian, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Quatre Bras, Waterloo. On the side of this pediment were arranged lofty trophies of arms, including muskets, bayonets, swords, and flags, surmounted by the ducal coronets and batons. A similar trophy stood in front, rising behind the arms of the deceased, cast in bronze, and surmounted by his heraldic badges and honours, including the tabard magnificently wrought and embroidered. Over the bier and its bearers, the gilded handles of which protruded from beneath,

was arranged a sumptuous velvet pall, powdered with silver embroidery, bordered with laurels in silver, and bearing the legend around it, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord," and terminated by a magnificent fringe of silver two feet deep. The coffin, with the Duke's hat and sword resting on it, surmounted the bier, and from four great halberts rising at each corner was suspended a magnificent canopy in cloth of gold, with pendant cords and tassels of the richest and most costly description. To this gigantic vehicle, 27 feet long, 10 feet broad, 17 feet high, and weighing from 10 to 11 tons, twelve of the largest and finest black horses that could be procured were harnessed three abreast. They were completely covered with velvet housings, having the arms of the deceased splendidly embroidered on them, and with heads surmounted by nodding plumes. The car was attended by officers of the army and the necessary funeral attendants; and a more noble and appropriate cavalcade was never seen in Great Britain.

And thus the procession travelled slowly on, through the uncovered throng. From windows, and housetops, and causeways, were seen the real mourners, the people, in countless multitudes, almost everywhere orderly, and in habiliments of

woe.

At a quarter past twelve, the Bishop of London and the Dean of St. Paul's, leading the clergy and the choir, proceeded slowly by the nave to the entrance of the cathedral, to receive the remains of the great Duke. Clothed in white, with black bands and sashes, the procession, thus headed, moved in two streams of two and two through the dignified and richly-attired assemblage, till they halted at the door, where they drew up in column four deep. Some delay took place in removing the coffin from the funeral car; but at length there was a universal hush, and, as if moved by one mind, the whole of the vast assemblage stood up in respectful grief, as the coffin which contained the remains of the great commander appeared in sight, preceded by the choir with measured tread as they chanted the beginning of the burial service by Dr. Croft. When the coffin was borne in, the wind stirred the feathers of the marshal's hat placed upon the lid, and produced an indescribably sorrowful effect, in giving an air of light and playful life to that where all was dead. And thus, with the hoarse roar of the multitude without, as they saw their last of Arthur, Duke of Wellington, with the grand and touching service of the church sounding solemnly through the arched dome and aisles of the noble church, with the glistening eye and hushed breath of many a gallant as well as of many a gentle soul in that vast multitude-with the bell tolling solemnly the knell of the departed, taken up by the voice of the distant cannon, amid the quiet waving of bannerol and flag, surrounded by all the greatness of the land-with all the pomp and glories of heraldic achievement, escutcheon, and device,—his body was borne up the avenue in the nave of the cathedral. At twenty minutes before two o'clock, the coffin was slid off the moveable carriage in which it had been conveyed up the nave to the frame in the centre of the area under the dome, which was placed almost directly over the tomb of Nelson, in the crypt below. The marshal's hat and sword of the deceased were removed from the coffin, and in their place a ducal coronet, on a velvet cushion, was substituted.

The body, when taken from the car, was received by the bishop, dean, canons, and prebendaries, attended by the minor canons and choir, and borne into the church attended and supported as follows:

At a few minutes past one o'clock, Prince Albert entered the cathedral, and, as he proceeded to his position, seemed much affected by the solemnity of the scene which had just burst upon his view, as he looked to the right and to the left.

At six minutes after one o'clock the body entered, and the choir immediately commenced the musical part of the service, proceeding, while they were singing, at a very slow pace towards the dome, and followed by the body of the late Duke.

His Royal Highness Prince Albert was seated in a chair on the right hand of the Chief Mourner; the suite of his Royal Highness took their places near his Royal Highness. His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge had a seat near his Royal Highness.

The Chief Mourner was seated in a chair at the head of the body; his supporters on either side; the train-bearer behind; and the assistant mourners upon stools, also on either side. The relations and friends of the deceased took places behind the Chief Mourner.

The supporters of the pall were seated on stools on each side of the body. The officers bearing the bannerols were ranged behind the supporters of the pall.

The body being placed on a bier, and the pall being removed, the coronet and cushion were placed on the coffin, as also the field-marshal's baton of the deceased.

The foreign batons were held during the ceremony by military officers of high rank in the respective armies of the different foreign powers, and they, and their supporters, and the Marquis of Anglesey, occupied stools at the foot of the coffin.

The foreign marshals and generals stood at the head of the coffin; at the south side of it stood his Royal Highness Prince Albert, with his baton of field-marshal in his hand, and attired in full uniform, standing a little in advance of a numerous staff of officers. At each side of the coffin were British generals who had acted as pall-bearers. After the psalm and anthem, the Dean read with great solemnity and impressiveness the lesson, 1 Cor. xv. 20, which was followed by the Nunc Dimittis, and a dirge, with the following words set to music by Mr. Goss:

And the King said to all the people that were with him, "Rend your clothes, and gird you with sakcloth and mourn." And the King himself followed the bier.

And they buried him. And the King lifted up his voice and wept at the grave, and all the people wept.

And the King said unto his servants, "Know ye not that there is a Prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?"

And now came the roll of muffled drums, and the wailing notes of horn and cornet, and the coffin slowly sank into the crypt amid the awful strains of Handel's "Dead March." The ducal crown disappeared with its gorgeous support, and in the centre of the group of generals and nobles was left a dark chasm, into which every eye glanced sadly down, and all knew, indeed, that a prince and a great man had that day gone from Israel. The remaining portions of the funeral service were then performed. The congregation joined in the responses to the Lord's Prayer; and the effect of many thousand voices in deep emotion repeating the words after the full enunciation of the Dean, was intensely affecting.

His body is buried in peace, But his name liveth evermore,

from Handel's funeral anthem, was then most effectively performed by the choir. And then Garter King at Arms, standing over the vault, proclaimed the titles and orders of the deceased, "whom Heaven hath pleased to take from us: "-Arthur Wellesley, he said, was the Most High, Mighty, and Most Noble Prince, Duke of Wellington, Marquis of Wellington, Marquis of Douro, Earl of Wellington, in Somerset, Viscount Wellington, of Talavera, Baron Douro, of Wellesley, Prince of Waterloo, in the Netherlands, Duke of

of the Golden Fleece, a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath, a Knight Grand Cross of Hanover, a Knight of the Black Eagle, a Knight of the Tower and Sword, a Knight of St. Fernando, a Knight of William of the Low Countries, a Knight of Charles III., a Knight of the Sword of Sweden, a Knight of St. Andrew of Russia, a Knight of the Anunciado of Sardinia, a Knight of the Elephant of Denmark, a Knight of Maria Theresa, a Knight of St. George of Russia, a Knight of the Crown of Rue of Saxony, a Knight of Fidelity of Baden,

Cuidad Rodrigo, in Spain, Duke of Brunoy, in France, Duke of Vittoria, Marquis of Torres Vedras, Count of Vimiera, in Portugal, Grandee of the First Class in Spain, a Privy Councillor, Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, Colonel of the Grenadier Guards, Colonel of the Rifle Brigade, a FieldMarshal of Great Britain, a Marshal of Russia, a Marshal of Austria, a Marshal of France, a Marshal of Prussia, a Marshal of Spain, a Marshal of Portugal, a Marshal of the Netherlands, a Knight of the Garter, a Knight of the Holy Ghost, a Knight

a Knight of Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria, a Knight of St. Alexander Newsky of Russia, a Knight of St. Hermenegilda of Spain, a Knight of the Red Eagle of Brandenburgh, a Knight of St. Januarius, a Knight of the Golden Lion of Hesse Cassel, a Knight of the Lion of Baden, a Knight of Merit of Wurtemberg, the Lord High Constable of England, the Constable of the Tower, the Constable of Dover Castle, Warden of the Cinque Ports, Chancellor of the Cinque Ports, Admiral of the Cinque Ports, Lord-Lieutenant of Hamp