At the end of the services, it was announced that all who wished could pass by the coffin and take one last look at their friend.
Slowly and silently the congregation passed up the right aisle, looked on the face, and passed out at the left door.

It was a pathetic sight to see the poor, outcast band wait patiently, humbly, till every one else had gone: then, like a flock of stricken sheep, they rushed confusedly towards the pulpit, and gathered round the coffin.

Now burst out the grief which had been pent up: with cries and ejaculations, they went tottering and stumbling down the aisles.

One old man, with hair as white as snow,--one of the original fugitive slaves who had founded the settlement,--bent over the coffin at its head, and clung with both hands to its edge, swaying back and forth above it, crying aloud, till the sexton was obliged to loosen his grasp and lead him away by force.
The college faculty still sat in the front pews.

There were some of their number, younger men, scholars and men of the world, who had not been free from a disposition to make good-natured fun of Parson Dorrance's philanthropies.