FUNERAL OF BARBER — DEATH OF BROWN. 161 
but whether lie may not drive himself away, his fragility contin¬ 
ually suggests. However, in these days of reform and progress, 
it has become fashionable to “ die of the doctor rather than the 
disease.” 
As we reached the hotel, which had indeed become the place 
for all assemblies, meetings to discuss the affairs of the country, 
or pleasure-gatherings, the barracks for soldiers, and now where the 
services for the dead were to be performed, the wagons and 
carriages standing around, and the groups of people hurrying in 
all directions, showed that the feeling of the people was aroused. 
We passed among the crowd, and, narrowly escaping a fall into 
one of the ditches made by the throwing up of the entrench¬ 
ments, ascended the inclined boards at the doorway, which served 
for steps. 
As I entered the long dining-hall, where but a week since was 
the sound of rejoicing, it seemed as though every place was full. 
But a friendly heart, though a stranger’s, made room on one of 
the long settees. Long boards had also been brought in for extra 
seats, and these were full of this sympathizing community. 
It was a strange, a motley group. There were hats of satin 
and velvet, with plumes, and Paris flowers, with dresses of rich 
material, and costly furs. There were brides of a few months, 
just arrived in this western home, and city belles come out for a 
winter’s sojourn where the artificial has wholly given place to 
simplicity and nature. There were some with log-cabin bonnets 
of black silk, or cotton velvet, and dress of plain coarse stuff, 
giving to the wearer an odd, strange look. There were others 
whose apparel is the safer medium between the two, which ever 
bespeaks the taste and intelligence of the wearer. 
There were many who have lived their whole lives in cities, 
accustomed to their elegancies and refinements, who are now 
roughing it with the simple dwellers in nature’s halls. Yet, over 
all this immense crowd, who had gathered from many miles 
around to take part in this mournful service, was spread the hal¬ 
lowed, chastening influence of this great sorrow. There was not 
one present but would willingly have taken part of the burden, 
could it have lessened the crushing woe of the lone bereaved one. 
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