and took a last farewell.

In Germany, when a distinguished man dies, he is carried to the
grave on an elevated hearse decorated with black feathers and all
the trappings of woe; but Henry's workmen insisted upon carrying
their benefactor and friend to his last home in their arms. Their
sorrowing hearts were the truest mourning, the only pomp and
circumstance worthy of the occasion; and their streaming eyes were
the modest and unobtrusive, but most deeply affecting, pageant of
that day. All the inhabitants followed him, with mourning in their
hearts. Remembering Henry's love for flowers, his fellow-citizens
made arches of flowers in three places for his mortal remains to
pass under, as the most appropriate testimonial of their love. The
public officers all followed him to the grave, and the military paid
him appropriate honors. Three different addresses were delivered
over his body by distinguished speakers, and then hundreds and
hundreds of voices joined in singing a hymn to his praise written by
a friend.

Henry made such an arrangement of his business, and left such
directions about it, as to make sure that his workmen should, if
they wished it, have employment in his factory for ten years to
come. He divided his property equally amongst his children, and
bequeathed to them all his charities, which were not few, saying
that he knew that his children would do as he had done, and that
these duties would be sacred with them.

Such a life needs no comment. Its eloquence, its immortal power, is
its truth, its reality.