THE MAN THAT ^ MARRIED MARY When shall I meet thee once again to tell How thou hast been my life's upraising leaven-- To answer to thy questions, "All is well"? Perchance in heaven. --Verses Grave and Gay. LTHOUGII lie had, in'additiou to a local habitation, a name of his own--Peter Dunn to-wit-- 'he was always known as "the man that married Mary." By profession be was a plumber of some repute--that is . '•••• to say, lie knew by heart the meander- fngs and idiosyncrasies of every drain in tbe.village; and be added to this ex perience knowledge, for he bad the sense tp carry about with him. such : 'white lead as .whs necessary to the ful- lillinent of his calling, jnstead of ex-, meeting the same to grow wild in every well ordered housol)old---?i' false ex pectation which obtains among plumb ers. '• For six days; of. the week * he jplmnbed, but.on the seventh (or rather the first) he dressed himself in - a lit tle brief authority and a sort of black nightgown, and stood -revealed to the eyes of an admiring village as .the •erger of the' parish church. It M as Impressive to see him conduct to such seats as he deemed meet for them the strangers, withifi his gates, and the way wherein--during the anthem--he distributed the almsbags among the recipients for whom they were reserv ed was a function in itself. On one memorable occasion, when performing this last mentioned rite, he stumbled oyer a top hat, placed in the aisle by some unwary stranger, sent it spin ning up the church, and staggered aft er It in hot pursuit. For one awful moment "it seemed that the pillars of Church and State were alike trem bling; then the worthy verger righted himself, restored the stuuiWing-block to its owner, and concluded the func tion, to the unfeigned delight of the sons of the rector, who longed ever afterward to present a testimonial to the unkuown author of the catastro phe. The inhabitants of Cheriton did not wear top hats, and if they had they would have known better than to place such obstacles in the path of the just; so the rector's boys concluded that some alien brow had been, so to speak, the bead and front of the of fending, and they blessed that brow accordingly, and never forgot the great "kick-off at 7 o'clock," as they called It Bat all these paltry honors and dig nities paled beside the fact that Peter Dunn ("plumbing verger" or "verging plumber," whichever one was pleased to dub him)', was above all things "the man that married Mary." Beside this crowning distinction ail meaner hon ors sank into insignificance. Mary had been the reigning beauty of Cheriton for more years than she would have cared to confess to, when she arrived at the conclusion that "leading apes" was not so satisfactory an occupation as marrying plumbers, and so decided to espouse her devoted adorer, Peter Dunn, who had regularly proposed to her every Saturday afternoon for-- well, at least 250 Saturdays, at the lowest computation. With her office as reigning beauty of Cheriton Mary Mills had combined the duties of vil lage schoolmistress. She was a good girl, and did her work well, but she had no natural love of teaching, and she was very thankful at last to lay her occupation aside and become Mrs. Peter Dunn instead. Mary felt (as in deed did all the village, Peter includ ed! that sbe had conferred an unspeak able favor upon her husband in marry- T- injg him, and to the day of her death she treated him more as a King con sort than as a verger and plumber in his own right, which he undoubtedly was, for Mary was what the villagers call "genteel," and founded her ideas of men and women upon the heroes and. heroines of such silly and sensa tional novels as came in her way, and, judged according to that standard, Pe ter .certainly fell short of ideal man hood. As long as she lived Mary meas ured Peter by these stupid measure ments and found him short and plain, and commonplace and rough manner ed; afterward she probably learned to • measure him according to the measure of a man--that is, of the angel--and discovered that her plain little plumb er was more of a hero than all the men of straw she had delighted to read about in the foolish days of her flesh, but of this we have, of course, no record. Poor Mary, however, will not be the only one who will find the ^standards of this world all wrong in the light of the next one; and there is much comfort in this thought. But, though she looked down upon him on account of his rougher man ners and inferior education, Mary Dunn was sincerely attached to her good little husband, and succeeded in making the few years she was spared to him years of radiant bliss for Pe ter. As for him, he simply worship ed the ground on which his wife walk- cded. Mar-y had a younger sister of whom she was inordinately proud, who was a governess iu a gentleman's family. She was, according to Mary, "quite the lady," and would, so Mary thought, consider it a degradation to •isit so humble a home as the Dunns', which showed that poor Mrs. Dunn's standards of good breeding were as erroneous as her standards of other things., Therefore, though Mary some times went to see the beloved Amy, Amy never was allowed to come to Cheriton or to be brought into contact with that excellent man, her brother- tn-law. Probably, had she come, Amy would have despised Peter as much as Mary did, for not to every one is it given to see the deeper meanings and to hear the hidden music in the com mon things of life--least of all to such frivolous little souls as those of the sisters Mills. After Mary had been°dead for some years a general feeling spread through Cheriton that the man that married Maty was becoming a miser. He made a very good income, and as there were no children, h$d, qnlj himself to sup port now that Mary was gone, and yet he saved and screwed at every point,- which brought h^m .^tO di^reipute at Cheriton. The char-woman<who clean ed his house told'ithrillihg tales of a tin box, securely locked, iWitch had its abode under Peters-c^st q?, drawers, and into this box the imagination of Cheriton transferred ail the. savings which Peter so cartrftaly hoarded. One day the x^ector's is^lcstson; Jdck, now at Oxford, rushed into his father's study, ctying: ' • 1 ' ' •;•' < ;i say, dad; what do you think? The man that married Mary has been rob bed of all his sutfngam The rector pushed nip hils Spectacles and gazed benignly at J-kck from un d e r t h e m . V ' • "Dear me, dear roe, what a. sad thing1." he murmured. "How much money lias been stolen?" 0 - ' "Nobody knows. Bnt the tin box out of his bed-room has gone and the poor man" is demented.*' "No wonder," said the kind old rect or. . • " •' "Tlife thief evidently climbed through the window while Dunn was out, as the door was locked." "Did he take anything besides the tin box?" asked the rectbr. "No," answered Jack, "for the very good reason that there was nothing else inside the house worth the car riage. There must be a pretty pot of money in that bos^ dad; for never a pipe in the whole village bursts with out the man that married Mary being- well paid for mending it, and he is re munerated for his pew-opening du ties, too; and yet he hardly has enougli to eat, 1 hear, and there is nothing in his house worth a half-erown piece. The savings in that old tin box mifst tot up to a pretty sum." "Dear me, dear me! It is very sad, Jack, my boy, when the love of money thus takes hold of a man--very sad, indeed." "Well, the old boy is punished for it now, anyway," said Jack, with the un- tempered justice of the very young and inexperienced, "and 1 am glad of it." "I'm not," sighed the rector. "I sup pose .pudishments do good, but I am al ways sorry when there is a necessity for them. If poor Mary had lived Dunn would never have got into these mean ways; sbe was such a bright, pretty, superior girl." Which remark showed that the dis pensations of providence are wiser after all than the reasoning of the most charitable old rectors. Later on in the day Jack Levett caught sight of a dark object lying in a ditch. He pulled it out and found it to be a tin box, with the lock pried open. In it there was nothing but a packet of letters in Mary Dunn's pret ty old-fashioned writing and some fad ed roses, brown and crisp witb age. The former he was too much of a gen tleman to read, but he concluded they were love letters, as they were address ed to Peter Dunn, but as there was no money in the box he conjectured that the thief had- taken' *rhat waff valu able and thrown the rubbish away. So he took ft straight to Dunn, with many condolences. "I have found this bSfc.of yours In a ditch, Dunn," •bjksaid, *&ut .. 1 • ' y ~ labels; whereof Jack was perfectly aware, so he answered shortly: "Yes, I come from Cheriton." "Then p'raps you know a connec tion] of my wife's who lives there--a very wealthy man," continued Lawson in an ingratiating rnannei;. Jack certainly knew all the_ wealthy people in of near Cheriton, andJie also knew that they belonged to a class which would not have counted the Lawsons among their acquaintances --much less among their relations;,, so he. cautiously , inquired the name of Mrs. Lawson's kinsman, "It's 'er brother-in-law--Mr. Peter Dunn--'er sister's widower," explained Mr. Lawson. ."Sin^e 'er sister's death 'e 'as allowed my wife a 'undred a year; and if 'e's as rich as I imagine, I think 'e might increase the allowance." "Why?" asked Jack dryly. "Well, you see, my wife's sister mar ried beneath 'er, so I think it is only old Dunn's duty to pay for the privi lege of being related to sucli a genteel family. I gather 'e isn't quite what you'd call a gentleman--ho^ like you and ine, you know." ; Jack shuddered and felt an unholy desire stirring within him 'to knock Lawson down; but, stifling his desire, he said quietly: Dunn is an excellent man, and one for whom I entertain a profound respect; but you are mistaken in con sidering him wealthy," „ Lawson's face fell. "Then you don't think 'e could increase the allowance?" he asked. - '• • . ••."I feel sure he could not do so, what ever his Wishes might be._ It is only by denying himself that he is able to make it as large as it is; of this I am certain." ^ "And you don't think 'e'll have much to leave, then?" inquired Lawson gloomily. "I should say, nothing. I can assure you he is a man of most limited means, and under the circumstances the allow ance you mentioned is princely in its munificence." -w'~~ . "Oh, my word! You 'ave upset me, Mr. Levett. It's 'orrible to 'ave com mon relations who aren't even rich, don't you think? Riches is the only excuse for commonness, to my mind." "Pardon me," said Jack stiffly; "you are deluded in thinking that Mr. Dunn was in any way inferior to bis wife or her sister. For my part I can only §ay that I am proud to count him among my friends;" and Jack stalked off in high dudgeon. "Oh, my!" exclaimed Mr. Lawson meditatively. "To think of Amy's old brother-in-law turning out to be not so rich or so common as we thought. 'E must be something particular if that young swell counts 'im- among 'is friends; for a more unfriendly, stuck- up chap I never met! 'E won't chum1 with me at any price. But I'm.glad to 'ear Amy's people aren't as common as I thought. I despise commonness, and 'ave always prided myself on be ing quite a gentleman; but I can't help feeling a bit 'urt at that young Levett not being more affable with me." And it was several days before Mr. Lawson's self-satisfaction recovered from the bruise Jack had administered to it. When Jack Levett reached home he endeavored to persuade Peter to cease to deny himself for the sake of such worthless people as the Lawsons, but in vain. "Bless you, sir, I don't do it to please them--I do it to please Mary; and she'd set her heart on Amy bein' quite the1 lady." "But they are so ungrateful--so un worthy,"'argued Jack; "and I don't believe the money does them any reaf good." Peter laughed. "But that don't mat ter to me." he said. "I do what Mary, wanted, and I don't bother about any thing else. If Mary had wanted me to throw my money into the river, into the river my money would ha' gone. I1 GREATNESS OF GRANT STORY OF THE CAREER* OF SOLDIER-STATESMAN. Hero of Appomattox the Idol of Mill ions of Mankind--.His Hnmble Birth and Subsequent Rise to Fame-Mag nificent Mausoleum to His Memory. THE GiR/^T FAMILY AT MOUNT M'GREGOR. Where His Ashes Rest. The Memorial services which amended the removal of the remains of Gen. Ulys ses* S. Grant to their final resting place have revived a grateful interest in-that great military leader of the nation. As the President of a free people, the savior of a country, the idol of millions of man kind, the story of his career cannot be told too often to those who knew him aso the most commanding figure of his time; or the new generation, which, in the'light of a fuller appreciation of his true great ness, venerate him as one of the most commanding figures in all history. Gen. Grant was, born April 27, 1822, in a one-story building of two rooms in Point Pleasant, Ohio, twenty-five miles from the city of Cincinnati. His father,-Jesse Grant, a man pt revolutionary stock and New England ancestry, was the foreman fbt a. tannery, laboring jiard to acquire a competence sufficient to enable him.to em bark in business for himself. This he did in Georgetown, O., whither he re-, moved in'1823* Here young Ulysses grew up, a sturdy yoiing iad, quiet? reserved, self-reliant. At ;.Jhe early age of 8 we find him breaking bark into tile hopper of the hark mill in his father's tannery--a task he did not relish. Less than a y^ar later he regularly drove a team on his father's farm and at the age of 10 he used to drive to Cincinnati, forty miles distant. In witter he attended school in George-, town, and then iu his 14th year he was sent to the Academy at Maysville. In 1839 came the turning point in his «ife. He entered West Point as a cadet. His name up to this time was Hiram Ulysses Grant, but in the making out of his official appointment to the military school the name was written by mistake Ulysses S.. and so it has ever since re mained. Grant made commendable pro gress at West Point ahd<had the distinc tion of being the best horseman in his class. In 1843 he graduated, and was as signed to the Fourth Infantry,'stationed at Jeffdrson barracks, near St. Louis. During the Mexican war lie rendered valuable service, being engaged in every battle except one, and was promoted to a first lieutenancy. After the war he was stationed at various military posts and in 1S53 was promoted to the captaincy-of a company at Humboldt bay, California. The following year he resigned his com mission and engaged in farming and real estate near St. Louis. This did not prove profitable and he secured a clerkship iu :he hardware and leather store of his fath er at Galena, 111. Here Gen. Grant was living when the civil war broke out. Four days after President Lincoln's call for troops Grant was drilling a company of volunteers and later was made mustering officer. With in five weeks he was appointed colonel of tiie Twenty-first Illinois Infantry and re- 1 fear all ",C1 the valuables hfve been taken out of waf money'f wo1rth for my ™on" •\i ey; I only want t6 please my Mary. . ,1 The Squire spends his money on hunt ers, not because he wants to kill foxes for food, but because he loves hunting for its own sake; you spend your time on cricket, uot because you are paid for it, but because you love cricket for its own sake; and pleasin' Mary is my huntin' and cricket, don't you see?" That's it, is it?" said Jack quietly. The only joy I ever had in my life was Mary, and the only pleasure I have now is doin' what I think Mary would wish. And when I meet my Mary again I know she'll be rarely pleased to hear how I have toiled and saved to please her, and as to how thg Lawsons spent the money--why, bless you, Master Jack, do you suppose that when me and my Mary are together once more we'll be worryin' our lieada about such rubbish as the spendin' o' money ?' And Jack Levett felt that he ought to take off his hat in the presence of the man that married Mary.--The Young Woman. it." 0 Peter seized the and examined its contents. "No, it's all right, Ma&fer Jack," he cried with excitemeatj^flfteen letters and teu roses and 'pcitXme missing. O, how can I thank yon enough, sir, for restoring them to m$?j£ 3 shall never forget your kindness as long as I live!" Jack looked '"But wasn't there anything else ia ^the box?" he asked. "No, sir; this ls all, and it is all I have on earth that °ife of any value to me. Fifteen letters that my Mary wrote to me while We were courting, and ten roses that she gave me at dif ferent times. And to think that they are all safe, and not one missing! I shall never cease to bless you, Master Jack, for what you ha^e done for me this day--never.' "I thought there must have been money in the box, you seemed in such a way about it." .V ^ "Bless you, sir, 1 shouldn't have made all that fuss if it had only been money. But, you see, these letters are all that I have left of my Mary, and 1 read them over and over again. She was a rare scholar, my Mary was." And so pretty, too," said Jack, kind iy. • .'-J „ 'Ay, Master Jack, she was that; and the sweetest way with her. Why, I could tell'you the history of each of them ten roses, and where we were standing, and what she said when she gave it to me; only I should feel some: how as Mary mightn't like it. But I say her dear Avords over and over to myself, and never forget them, though it would seem irreverent-like to repeat them to another person, even to one of the quality like yourself. "Of course, of course," said Jack hastily, feeling a queer, uncomfortable lump in his throat; and then they went on to talk of other things. So the man that married Mary was comforted, aud the hiding-place of his savings remaiu- ed a mystery. "A year or two after this, Jack Levett was traveling in Switzerland, and fell in (and out) with some people called Lawson. Mr. Lawson was a flashy young -man, with a great many rings and no manners; and his wife was a pretty woman, who falsely imagined herself a lady, and reveled in the de lusion. "I think I 'card yon mention you came from Cheriton in Blankshire, said Lawson one day to Jack at the table d'hote. Now Jack had never mentioned the fact, but Mr. Lawson had discovered, it by a diligent perusal of Jack's luggaefi Why He Limped. A Washington correspondent sendq to the New York Tribune a story of a Southern member of Congress, "whose mind is never on earthly things." The daughter of one of his oldest friends was to be married, and he was invited to the wedding. At the very last moment an affair of some importance demanded his atten tion, and he found it impossible to be present at the ceremony in church, but he sent his wife, promising to meet her at the reception au hour afterward They met accordingly, aud no one of all the guests was happier than he in his wishes to the bride. His wife was so filled with pride in her husband that it was some time before she discovered that he was limping badly. "Are you lame, dear?" she whispered "No, certainly not," he said. "Why do.you ask?" "You limp so," she answered. Then, looking down at his feet, she discovered the cause. Her better-half had on one foot a heelless slipper, and on the other a shoe with a military heel. He had been interrupted, it seems, while changing his shoes, and when at leisure, forgot to complete the opera tion, and following the custom inaug urated by "Diddle, diddle, dumpling my son John," went to the wedding with one shoe off and one shoe on. GEN. U. 8. GRANT. Bow the ereat military leader appo-irpd a short time before"his death at Mount McGregor. >yV ; Julia I). Grant. ^U. S. Grant". F. D. Grant Nelly Grant. .Jesse B..Grant. Ti. S: Grant, .Tr. Nellie G^ Sartoris. Julia Grant Ida Honore Grant. UvS. Grant, Jr., Jr. Lizzie C. Grant. ported for duty to Gen. Pope in Missouri. In August he was made brigadier general of volunteers and Sept. 1 was placed in command of the district of southeast Mis souri. He immediately seized Paducah, Ky., thereby saving that State to the Union cause. After the battle of Bel mont he advanced against Fort Henry, on the Tennessee river, and Fort Donel- sou, on the Cumberland. After the fall of the former, the movement against the latter was begun. After three days' fight- ng Gen. Buckner, then in command of the fort, proposed to Grant that commis sioners he appointed to arrange terms of capitulation. Grant's famous reply was: 'No terms other than unconditional sur render can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works." The same day the garrison surrendered. Became Famous. Grant at once stepped info national fame. The question was everywhere asked, "Is he the coming man?" The hero of Donelson was immediately made a major general, aud in 18(53 took command of all the troops in the Mississippi val ley. The siege of Vicksburg and the battle of Chattanooga , made au opening for the national forces into Georgia. Grant, now the hope of the nation, was made lieutenaut general by Congress, and by special act was given the command of the armies of the United States. A re markable campaign was planned and car ried out. For each ,of his' brilliant aides Grant mapped out a certain duty. As his own opposing force he selected the army of northern Virginia, under Lee, and the battles of the Wilderness, Spott- sylvania, North Anna and Cold Harbor --the hardest Grant ever fought--attest the difficult task he mapped out for him self. But he triumphed. The surrender of Lee, the paroling of the entire South ern army, ended the greatest civil war in history. Gen. Grant started for Washington im mediately after the fall of Richmond, to superintend the disbandment of the na tional forces. Everywhere he went lie was greeted With ovations, aud these con tinued until 1868, when he was elected President and took a conspicuous part in the reconstruction measures in the South. On the expiration of his first term he. was re-elected by the largest majority that any candidate had up to that time re ceived in the nation. After retiring from the presidency Gen. Grant decided on visiting the emmtries, of fliA AU A „ ,1 1 1 o-"T ' _ the aristocracy vied with one another in extending courtesies and hospitalities to: the, .great • American-. From England he went to t'he continent, and the greetings there from crowned heads and the common people were such as he had experienced in England. He next visited Italy, Egypt, the Holy Land, India and China:. The Chinese paid him the greatest honors that had ever been bestowed on a foreigner. Prince Kung entertained him and he became the friend of the great Chinese, Li Hung Chang. The two were photographed together and to this day Li Hung Chang speaks feel ingly of tjie great American. Nay, more --each Memorial Day Li Hung Chang has a wreath of flowers laid on Gen. Grant's tomb, and when the movement was be gun to erect a suitable monument as the last resting place of tfhe general's ashes- Li Hung Chang contributed $500 towards the fund. Japan, Cuba and Mexico were visited next in turn, and from San Fran cisco to the East the general's progress was iu the nature of a great triumphal march. When Gen. Grant returned from his world's tour, , his entire fortune did not amount to $100,000. Looking around for a means of increasing his income, his at tention was directed to the banking busi ness in which his son Ulysses, together with Ferdinand Ward and James D. Fish, was engaged. Gen. Grant invested his $100,000 in the business. In 1881 he bought a house in New .York, where he afterward spent his winters. Affairs moved very smoothly for the general un til, in 1SS3, he fell on an icy pavement and sustained injuries from the effects of which he never fully recovered. And then in May, 1884, came another blow. The firm of Grant & Ward failed, bank rupting the general and the entire Grant family, who had invested their money in the concern. Two of the partners in the business had been guilty of the most un blushing frauds. And then came out the shameful story of craft and guile in all its horrible proportions and it was seen that the honored name of Gen. Grant had been used to decoy hosts of friends and acquaintances to their own injury and his. After a little the world knew that his honor was unsullied. For a time Grant was in actual need of household expenses, but he directed his attention to writing his memoirs, knowing that their proceeds would be all he would have to leave to his wife and children. Meantime the general's health was fail ing, and in 1884 severe throat complica tions ensued. His patience and courage through a weary siege of pain were char acteristic of his unfaltering heroism. For weeks he sat propped up by pillows, his limbs swathed in blankets, writing his memoirs. June 9 he was removed from New York to Mount McGregor, near Sara toga, and here for a time the change of air seemed to strengthen him. He con tinued on his memoirs and fo.ur days be fore his death he completed them. Im mediately after the end of the book was reached, the other end was seen to be at hand. The final crisis was neither long "New York---Because the people of that city befriended me in my need."' ; , ^..•> Here Grant was prevented, from writ ing more owing to an acute renewal of his sufferings and he never referral to the matter again. «-* Riverside Park, in New.York, was se lected, the preference of the Grant fam ily being for it, and immediately the con struction of a temporary tomb for t'he reception of his remains was begun. The remains ' of the great general lay at Mount McGregor, where he died, until Tuesday, Aug. 4, when they were moved to Albany. Here they lay in state until the following day, when they were taken on a draped train to New York, be ing accompanied by numerous officials and sorrowing companions-in-ai-mS of the dead general. When they&reached New York they were borne in funeral procession to the city hall and there they lay in state until Saturday. Aug. 8. Crowds, gathered from almost all parts of the country, view ed the body. President Cleveland and GRANT S HOME AT GALENA. Small Pair. Brown--What on earth have you got there, Robinson? Robinson (hauling the baby carriage) --Ob^just a pair to draw to.--New York Tribune; the Old World, and on May I f , 1877, ac companied by his \Vife and son, he sailed from Philadelphia to Liverpool on the steamer Indiana. Never was such dem onstration of esteem and respect given a departing citizen. Distinguished men from all over the country assembled to bid him good-by. On reaching Liverpool a reception, hardly inferior to the domon- stration that bade him godspeed at home, awaited him. The river Mersey was afive with vessels bearing the flags of all na tions. The docks were lined with thou sands, all eager to greet the great military genius, the ex-head of a powerful nation and a plain American citizen. In London he was received by the queen and the Prince of Wales and he afterward visited the queen at Windsor. Banquets, balls, receptions and other entertainments were given in hi* honor and the members of WHEKE GRANT'S ASHES NOW KEST. nor painful. July 21 the country was in formed that he was failing. For two days his symptoms indicated increasing depres sion and exhaustion, and on the 23d came the end. He passed'away without a groan or a shudder, with no one but his wife and children and his medical attendants by his side. Felectine His Resting Place. Immediately on his death the question of a suitlible resting place for the great warrior became a matter of national con cern. Washington wanted the (honor of possessing his ashes and so dicl many other places. Grant himself, at one time, had expressed a preference for West Point, the military academy where lie imbibed those principles of war which he afterward put into operation on such a gigantic scale, and in this connection an interesting story is told. It is said that while Gen. Grant and >Irs. Grant were in Europe tlhey paid a visit to the tomb of Ferdinand and Isa bella. The thought of the ashes of tlhc royal couple sleeping side by side through the centuries appealed to the devoted hus band, and, turning to his wife, he said: "Julia, that is the way we should lie in •death." Upon his return to the United States Gen. Grant investigated this sub ject. He found that there was a regula tion governing the United States Military Academy which would prevent the re mains of his wife being placed Otherwise there is' hardly a doubt that the Grant tomb, instead of being in New York City to-day, would be in the grounds of the great military school on the Hud son. Shortly before 'his death and while un able to articulate, Gen. Grant wrote the following memoranda on the subject of the selection of a grave: 'West .Point--I prefer.i;his above oth ers, but for the fact that my wife could not be placed beside me there. "Galena or some place in Illinois--Be cause from that State I received my first "general's commission. his cabinet; the Governors of numerous States, with their staffs; generals who fought under Grant and generals who fought against him; battle-scarred veter ans of the Union cause and men who wore the gray; judges of the Supreme Court of the nation. Senators, negroes, Chinese, high and low, the rich and the poor, the obscure and the prominent--all swelled the crowds that in almost unend ing procession passed through the city hall to gaze on the pale features of the honored dead. It is estimated that 350,- 000 persons viewed the remains. The Funeral Pageant. And when on Saturday morning the funeral procession formed its ranks to march to Riverside Park, New York and neighboring cities had poured forth into the streets of the metropolis more than 1,000,000 spectators and mourners., ^ The funeral car, wherein reposed the remains of the dead captain, was drawn by twenty-four" horses, each with a black net reaching to the ground, and led by a negro. One thousand regular troops, 10,- 000 of the State militia and citizen sol diery from Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Connecticut helped swell the military parade. There were nearly 20,000 Union veterans of the war in line and camps of Confederate veterans turned out to honor the man who, great in war, was even greater in the hour of victory and the day of peaee. And to show that NortJh and South were united in their sorrow over the grave of a hero two of the great Confed erate generals of the war were pall-bear ers at his funeral. As the funeral cortege passed through New York's streets amid the mournful tolling of 1K?11S and the muffled sounds of drums, another procession--the naval-- moved up the beautiful Hudson until the , vessels anchored opposite the tomb pre pared for the'remains. And there with simple religious services and amid the booming of cannon on the Hudson the body of Gen. Grant was laul in the tomb. Meantime the desiign of- the monument had been determined on.,.and the plana called for a structure to- cost between/ $500,000 and $600,000. Ground...wa^ broken for the preliminary work April! 27, 1891. In March, 1892, Gen. Horace Porter undertook the raising of further funds and so well did he succeed that| April 27 the corner stone of the monu-i ment was laid.by President Harrison. By; the following Memorial Day the total amount needed had been subscribed. "j. The monument as it stands to-day rep resents an expenditure of nearly $600,000.' This came from 80,000 American citi zens, and it includes the widow's mite and the poor man's modest offering' as well as the large, subscriptions of the rich. It ia a genuine tribute of the people, unlike the great monuments of Europe. The Albert} Memorial in London, the tomb of Kaiser Wilhelm in Berlin, and the huge Germa- nia upon the Niederwald were each con structed by governmental agencies; The Grant monument represents the loyal lova and patriotic remembrance of a unitett people. , Amid Splendid Surroundings. Grant's tomb is massive, yet Well relieve ed by pillars and other embellishments^ The ground upon which it rests is 1401 feet above the river and the structure lifts; itself 175 feet in the air. The surround ings are beautiful. The Hudson river,)1 the American Rhine, flows silently with in a stone's throw. To the rear and southl are located the stately buildings of thenewi Columbia University. Adjoining then* will stand, as soon as time and labor per-i mit, the great Cathedral of St. John tl» Divine, which is to cist $10,000,000. Goi^ stantly flowing by the front of the mom$-\ ment is a stream of humanity on pleasuri?" \ bent, for here, along the edge of the bluff,/ is the Riverside Drive, one of the most; charming of New York's delightful boule-, vards. The exterior of the monument is of a light granite, and all of the interior is finished in white marble. The porch is| ! approached by a flight of steps seventy] feet wide. In prominent letters on-' the front are Grant's famous words, "Let us have peace." They were used in his let ter of acceptance of the presidential nom ination in 1868. As you enter upon the southern expo sure you see the opening of the crypt before you. It is thirty feet wide, in the center of the chamber. Looking down into the vault the great sarcophagus mada for t£he remains of Gen. Grant is to be seen. This sarcophagus was made from one piece of Wisconsin porphj-ry, which ia said to excel in beauty the Finland por phyry from which the sarcophagus of Na« poleon was chiseled. Beside this sarco phagus is a place for. another. Here an exact duplicate will some day hold the remains of Mrs. Grant. The sarcoplhagus of Gen. Grant is 10.4 feet long, 5.6 feet wide, 4.8 feet high and weighs ten tons. The pedestal is square, 10 feet 10 inches each way, and on this THIS GRANT MONUMENT. A Memorial, in Ita Design and Setting, One of the Greatest in the World. In the interval between the death of Grant and his interment a Grant Monu ment Committee was formed to raise GRANT'S FIRST WAR HORSE. IN THE OIjD TOMB. funds for th<% erection of a suitable mon ument to the memory of the. great gen eral. In February, 1886, the Grant Mon ument Association was organized under an act of the New York Legislature. At first money came in generously, but grad ually the interest in the project lessened and in. 1892 tie fund with accumulated interest amounted to only $150,000. are the pillow blocks upon which the sar cophagus rests. The latter stands seven and one-half feet above the floor cf tha crypt; ' / ' Removing the Remains. Into the sarcophagus the coffin contain ing the remains of Gen. Grant was re cently moved from its resting place in tho temporary tomb of brick which had been erected in 1885 and which stands a short distance from the new and magnificent monument. The coffin was enclosed in a steel jacket and for several days before workmen had been employed in taking the latter apart . ; When all was in readiness for5the re moval, Col. Fred Grant and Ulysses Grant, sons of the dead soldier, a few family friends and an honorary guard of his old comrades assembled at the old brick tomb. The copper coffin containing the remains of Grant was reverently borne to the new monument and after be ing put in a cedar casket was lowered into the sarcophagus, which is to be its resting place for all time. As the remains" of the soldier-statesman were being borne from one tomb to another those taking part in the ceremony uncovered their heads and the thousands of spectators as sembled paid a similar mark of respect to the hero's dust. Inside the steel casing were found four, wreaths, three of oak leaves and one of roses, and a sheaf. The flowers were al most as fresh as though they had been placed there the week before, whereas they had been within the casing for twelve years. ' : William Moore was indicted in the County Court at Dover, Del., for obstruct ing the polls at an election hel^ in Smyr- Dr. Edwin A. Holbrook, a prominent dentist, Universalist minister and writer of poetry, has'died at his home in Water- town, N, Y., aged 80 years. 4