Mr. M’Kinley Mourned in City and Village
Memorial Ceremonies Were Held All Over the United
ALL BUSINESS SUSPENDED
At the Hour of the Funeral Street Cars, Trains, and Boats Ceased
and Even Pedestrians Stood Still.
In every city, town,
and village in the United States there was mourning yesterday. Wherever
an American flag floated it hung at half-staff, and wherever there
was a church it was filled with mourners gathered to hear some great
man or the local preacher tell of the glorious life of the dead
President, William McKinley.
Public buildings, banks, schools,
great manufactories, were all closed; bells tolled and from army
post and State arsenals the half-hour guns were fired.
At the hour the funeral took place
in Canton business of all kinds stopped all over the land, street
cars came to a stand, the wheels of railroad trains ceased to turn,
and ferryboats floated silently upon the waters, while hundreds
of thousands of men walking on city streets and country roads stood
still, lifted their hats, and breathed a silent prayer.
It was America’s tribute to her dead,
and it was not Americans alone that mourned, for wherever the representative
of a foreign nation was there also was mourning. Ambassadors, Ministers,
and Consuls took part in the memorial services.
The ceremonies, the services, the
decorations, the actions of the citizens were the same in capital
and in hamlet. The eulogies differed only as the limitations and
abilities of the speakers differed. All were alike in that they
breathed forth the deep sorrow, the great love of a weeping Nation.
The story of the ceremonies and of
the closing of business houses and factories is the same everywhere.
As New York did yesterday, so every city and village did on a smaller
scale. The story of one city’s action is the story of all. Grief
and mourning were general.