Peace to thee, noble Fanning! and may the purest joys of heaven be yours in that eternity to which we all are hastening.
* * * * * It was noon! Still and cold lay the four hundred forms upon the Plaza.
Even as they sank, so they slept.

No disturbing hand had misplaced one stiffened member.

The silence of death reigned around the murdered band.

A muffled figure swiftly stole down the now deserted streets, and hurrying to the Plaza, paused and gazed on the ruin and wreck that surrounded her.

Pools of blood were yet standing, and the earth was damp with gore.