The time at length arrived for laying away the unburied dead. Nobody had recognized them. God alone knew them, and therefore to his sacred earth were they consigned, that at the resurrection day he might bring them forth to the knowledge of all. Garnered in the harvest of flame, they were to be laid away in God’s store-house.

The hands of strangers were outstretched to bury them, for the hearts of others could only mourn for them, without claiming the poor remnants which were so unrecognizable.

Their sepulchre was in the stranger’s soil, though their memory was in many a home.

The village of Ashtabula, made memorable by so direful a calamity, was now to become the sacred burial place of these bodies which perished. Most sacredly did the citizens of the place regard this trust, which God in His providence had committed to them. No event in the history of the place had so awakened sympathy and aroused the people, and now every attention that was possible, was to be paid at the last sad funeral rites. The town gave itself up to mourning. Arrangements had been previously made for the occasion, and the authorities of the city, the social organizations and the religious bodies were all prepared to honor those who were to be laid away in their midst.

A beautiful lot had been chosen in the cemetery which overlooked the whole city, and there, among the sacred remains of their own beloved, the citizens resolved to place those who were indeed strangers to them, but whom somebody loved. Among the choicest lots of that beautiful hill, a place had been chosen for their deposit. The winding-sheet of snow had been drawn aside, and the graves had been dug, and multitudes assembled from the vicinity, and the result was that an immense assemblage was gathered for the solemn services. A special train arrived from Cleveland, bringing the officers of the Railroad, and the friends and parishioners of Rev. Dr. Washburn and others. By noon all the places of business were closed, and the citizens gathered at the services or arranged themselves in the long procession. The first church service was held in the Methodist house, as it was the largest in the place, and at this the clergymen of the village took part. The opening prayer was made by Rev. I.O. Fisher, of the Baptist Church, with a few touching words in memory of P.P. Bliss. Rev. Mr. McLeary, of the Methodist Church, read the hymn, “We are going home to-morrow.” An appropriate selection of Scripture was read by Rev. Mr. Safford, of the Congregational Church, after which Rev. J.C. White, of the St. John Episcopal Church of Cleveland, delivered an eloquent discourse on the subject of the sacredness of human life. He was followed by Rev. S.D. Peet, who spoke of the need of a sympathy which should be unselfish and universal, and of the need of a preparation for death. Rev. Mr. McGiffert, of the Presbyterian Church, also made remarks upon God’s knowledge and of the unrecognized dead. The choir sang another of the songs of P.P. Bliss—“There is a light in the valley.” The services were impressive, and the great congregation which had assembled, seemed moved by deep sympathy. The closing remarks of Mr. White were especially appropriate, being a beautiful illustration, showing that life itself was but a great bridge, one end of which lay in life’s beginning, and the other stretched into the great unknown. It spans a chasm full of fire, of death and doom. There are flaws in it which were put there six thousand years ago, and although many have gone over it in safety, it is at any moment liable to fall with some precious soul into the abyss. God had provided a means of escape, and happy was he who would avail himself of it.

A second service was also held at St. Peter’s church, at which Rev. Dr. James Moore officiated, assisted by Rev. Geo. Carter, of Cleveland.

The procession then formed, which was arranged in the following order:

Marshal Fassett and Coroner Richards; Clergy, in sleighs; Bearers, in sleighs; Assistant Marshal; Masonic Association; Friends of deceased, in sleighs; Assistant Marshal; St. Joseph’s Society; Ashtabula Light Guard; Ashtabula Light Artillery; Citizens generally.

Arranged in a long line in front of the churches and along the main street, with the different badges and insignia of office, this procession formed one of the most impressive pageants ever witnessed in the place. It was more than a mile long, and as it moved at the toll of the bell and with the impressive sound of the funeral dirge from the bands present, every one was affected with the solemnity of the occasion.

Contrasted with the white snow which covered the landscape, this array of mourning and sympathizing friends and citizens moved slowly to the last resting place of the dead. As the head of the column entered the cemetery where were gathered the sacred remains which were to be deposited in the graves, the members of the Masonic societies divided, and, acting as pall bearers, silently took up the coffins which had been arranged in a line for them, and bore the precious freight to the open graves, amid the tears of the spectators, who were touched by so unusual a sight. “It was, indeed, a scene which appealed to the heart with sombre power and deep sympathy.” The nineteen coffins—containing the secrets of death which will be given up only at the resurrection—carried between the slow-moving ranks of uncovered men; the sad faces and intent gaze of the silent witnesses; a few mourning women, in black, standing apart, made sacred by their sorrow—one gray-haired man, whose wife and child had been swallowed up in the gulf, among them; a dull, gray sky overhead; the fitful wind sweeping through the bare branches of the trees; the shroud of snow, broken only by those yawning graves; the sad strains of the funeral dirge, in time with the sobbing of the women; the solemn hush which men feel always in the presence of death. The exercises at the grave were opened by the Rev. Mr. Moore, who read the burial service of his church. A selection of Scripture was read by the Rev. Mr. McGiffert, after which the Masons proceeded with their ritual, and at its close the assembled thousands, dismissed with a benediction, proceeded to their homes or to the evening trains which were to convey them out of the city.