There is the coffin; and there is a
lifelike portrait of Mr. Wright hung up against the wall, and looking
as it were down upon that coffin. But you can see the face of Mr.
Wright himself. The coffin-lid is screwed down; but there is a square
of glass, like a little window, just over the face, as is generally the
case in America, and you can have a view of the whole countenance.
A black man reads a hymn, and, in connection with it, begins an address
in a very oracular style, and with very solemn pauses. A hint is given
him not to proceed. They sing. Mr. Hatfield delivers an appropriate
address. A coloured minister prays, sometimes using the first person
singular, and sometimes the first person plural; also talking about the
"meanderings of life," and a great deal of other nonsense.
We move down stairs. The immense procession starts. Drs. Cox and
Patton, Mr. Hatfield, and about half-a-dozen more white ministers, are
in it. As we pass on from street to street, and from crossing to
crossing, all sorts of people seem to regard the procession with the
utmost respect. The cabmen, 'busmen, and cartmen behave exceedingly
well.
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