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     All other happenings throughout the world have been dwarfed by the obsequies of the nation’s illustrious dead. To such an extent has this been true that it has almost seemed as if the activities of the world were stilled for part of a week. The observance of Thursday as a day of mourning throughout the country was most impressive in its completeness. The general suspension of business, the draping of public and private buildings, the flags at half mast in every town and hamlet in the land, and on all its lakes and rivers, and somewhere on almost every great sea throughout the earth, told with sad imposingness of the grief of a great people for a lost leader. Not less memorable, perhaps even more so, were the observances of the day in other lands, the most remarkable of these being the stately services in memory of the President in Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, where so many of the greatest of England’s dead are laid at rest. The general postponement of gatherings, which, of course, marked the observance of the day in the United States, was also a feature of the regard paid to Mr. McKinley’s memory abroad. Learned societies suspended their sessions, the Stock Exchange in London shut its doors, all public functions were omitted by the traveling members of the British royal family in Canada and on the continent, in Asia and Africa, and in the remote islands of the sea the funeral day of the departed chief of the state was marked by impressive memorial services.