Lincoln, the unknown

29Jlhe funeral train bearing Lincoln's body back to Illinoiscrawled through vast crowds of mourning people. The train itselfwas smothered in crepe; and the engine, like a hearse-horse,was covered with a huge black blanket trimmed with silverstars.As it steamed northward faces began to appear beside thetrack—faces that rapidly multiplied in numbers and increasedin sadness.For miles before the train reached the Philadelphia station itran between solid walls of humanity, and when it rolled into thecity thousands of people were milling and jamming through thestreets. Mourners stood in lines three miles long, stretchingaway from Independence Hall. They edged forward, inch byinch, for ten hours in order to look down at last upon Lincoln'sface for but one second. On Saturday at midnight the doorswere closed, but the mourners, refusing to be dispersed, kepttheir places all night long and by three o'clock Sunday morningthe crowds were greater than ever and boys were selling theirplaces in line for ten dollars.Soldiers and mounted police fought to keep traffic lanesopen, while hundreds of women fainted, and veterans who hadfought at Gettysburg collapsed as they struggled to keep order.For twenty-four hours before the funeral services were scheduledto take place in New York excursion trains running dayand night poured into that city the greatest crowds it had ever217