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structure; the interior is simply and plainly furnished. There are two galleries upon the sides. Longwood is one of the few Friends’ meeting-  houses in which the pulpit is found and in which the Bible is used in the services. The interior of the building was to-day neatly and appropriately decorated for the occasion. The seating capacity of the house is only a few hundred, and it was soon apparent to those in charge of the arrangements that the services must be conducted in the open air.
  THE GATHERING AT THE CEMETERY.
 The outpouring of the people to attend the funeral was not only unprecedented but was surprising, although the popularity of Mr. Taylor in his own neighborhood was well known. Carriages were ranged along the roads leading to the cemetery, in some directions for half a mile, the horses being hitched to the fences. Every available spot was occupied into which a vehicle could be pressed. Carriages were pointed
out that were known to have come for a distance of twenty-five miles. Several had been driven all the way from the borders of Delaware. It was estimated that not less than 500 vehicles were grouped near the cemetery, and that the number of persons present could not have fallen far short
of 4,000.
 The cemetery consists of about, three acres of
ground. In it is a small monument to the memory
of the soldiers of Chester County who fell
during the rebellion. The movement result-
ing in the erection of this memorial
originated with the mother of Bayard Tay-
lor, and the poet supplied the several mottoes inscribed upon the sides of the base and shaft. 
In this cemetery also lies buried the wife of the Hon.
D. T. Corbin, who contested the seat in the United
States Senate now occupied by General M. C. But-
ler. A monument has recently been erected over
the remains of his wife. It is a simple shaft of Ab-
erdeen granite, about eight feet high. Mrs. Corbin
was a cousin of Bayard Taylor, and died in 1876.
Near the grave of Mr. Taylor stands the monument
to his brother, Colonel Charles Frederic Taylor,
killed at Gettysburg, July 2, 1863. Upon the
sides of this monument, which is also a plain shaft, are inscribed lines by Mr. Taylor, Phoebe Carey,
George H. Boker and R.H. Stoddard.
 It was a quarter past 11 when the procession 
started from the house, and it was nearly 1 o'clock
when it reached the cemetery, the roads being
heavy, and the carriages on that account moving 
very slowly. Colonel C. B. Lamborn, who had 
the arrangements in charge, drove by another road
to the cemetery, and explaining to the vast
throng the impossibility of conducting the exercises
in the meeting-house, requested those present to
form a hollow square around the grave. This was
done, and the hearse was driven to the side of the 
family burial plot. The coffin was then removed
and placed on the cross-pieces above the grave, 
where it was permitted for a short time 
to remain. It was then carefully low-
ered, with all the trophies of peace-
ful conquest with which it was laden on it's arrival
in America.
  DR FURNESS'S ADDRESS AT THE GRAVE.
 Then the Rev. Dr. Furness addressed the great 
audience which was grouped about the grave. The 
little cemetary seemed to be almost filled. Hun-
dreds could only catch a glimpse of the solemn
proceedings, as they were unable to get near
enough to the grave to hear the speaker's words.
Dr Furness then spoke as follows:
 We commit to the bosom of our mother earth the
remains of our friend, a husband, father, son, 
brother, well beloved, in the full faith that as not
one atom of the dust is forgotten before God, but is
submissive to His will, so the spirit, noble
and generous, by which it was a little
while ago animated, is still safe-safe
in the keeping of Him whose mercy is over all, the
seen and the unseen, the living and the dead. We
often hear persons say that they are indifferent, 
themselves, as to the future life; that they
are perfectly willing to sink into that sleep from which there is is no waking; 
and it may be so. But we cannot bear to
see our friends depart-and especially such a friend
as this; we cannot bear to think that they have
longer known. The thought is too full of anguish.
I may be pardoned, I suppose, if I repeat a word
over his grave in a language which he loved and
knew almost as well as his mother tongue, and the
words are his own:
  "Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren, 
    Wo imme deine lichte Wohrung sei,
  Zu hÖherem Schaffen bist du neugeboren, 
    Und singest dort die vollere Litanie."|
  [Exhalted Spirit, to spirit land now gone,
    Where'er thy present bright abode may be,
  To higher labors thou art now new-born,
    And singest there the loftier litany.|

 Indeed, it is when such persons as Bayard
Taylor die that we cannot help believing in
immortality.  We cannot entertain the idea
that a spirit so loving, so thorough, so gifted,
and so faithful, should fade like a Summer cloud or
the early morning dew.  It is true death is a mystery. But we are surrounded by mysteries; and in
reading the celebrated chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians, often used in the burial service, I wonder whether the readers and hearers are
appreciative of the argument.  "How are the dead
raised?" was asked of the Apostle, "and in what
form do they come?"  The question seemed to him
so idle that he answered with irrepressible contempt, "Fool, that which thou sawest is
not quickened."  And then he goes on in a
grander way to enumerate the infinite
diversity of the Divine power, and shows how absurd it is for us to doubt whether we shall live
again because with our limited vision we cannot 
see how it is, and yet be surrounded with illustrations
of the endless resources of the Infinite power.
 The Rev. H. N. Powers, of Bridgeport, Conn., who
was for many years an intimate friend of Mr. Taylor, then read the committal of the Protestant Episcopal Church.

  ADDRESS OF EDMUND C. STEDMAN.
 At the conclusion of the reading of the service, 
Edmund C. Stedman spoke as follows:
 Three months have gone since we heard from a 
distant land that the spirit of our comrade had departed. His life was eager, noble, wide-renowned.
It lasted for more than half a century, 
yet ceased prematurely, and we say, "He
should have died hereafter!" Here, to-day, at this
very spot, the mould which held that spirit returns
to the self-same earth which nurtured it. Here the
mortal journeyings are forever ended. The seas, 
the deserts, the mountain ranges, shall be crossed
no more; the joyous eyes are veiled; the dear, 
warm heart can throb no longer; the stalwart
frame has fallen, and henceforth lies at rest.
For us to record is closed; but is it ended without 
a continuance? This is the question which here, at
this moment, in this place,so strongly comes to each
one of those who were his comrades, whom
he loved with all his generous nature, to whom
he was ever staunch and true, for whom he
would at all times have given all he had, from 
whom only his dust now can receive the
love, the tender utterance, the ceaseless remem-
brance which they seek to offer in return. Are the
travels then in truth forever ended? Shall there
be, for our brother, no more insatiable thirst for
knowledge, no more high poetic speech, no more
looking toward the stars?  For one, I try
so often foretokened it.  If ever a longing for eternal
life, a resolve not to be deprived of action, a beautiful and absolute faith that the Power which governs
all had decreed that these should not surcease--if
these ever have given a mortal a hold on immor-
tality, then our Bayard still is living, though
above and beyond us. For however dimned
may be the vision wherewith some of
us strive in vain, whatever our hopes, to look behind the veil, for him there was neither doubt nor
darkness.  He could not, would out, tolerate the
idea of one-sided individuality.  I have never known
a man whose trust in this one thing was so abso-
lutely and always unshaken, or who had a more
abiding, sustaining faith in the perfection of the
universal plan and in the beneficence of it's Designer.
 Such was his religion, and I say that it was constant and most beautiful. Possibly it was some-
thing of the Quaker breed within him that made
him so conscious of the Spirit, and so natural and
unfailing a believer in direct inspiration. In this
age of questionings and searchings, how
few of those who profess the most
have his perfect faith in that immortality

Wednesday Mar 19, 1879. Sent my little picture "A pool in Autumn" to Mr. Bates who is to see if he would like to buy it. Have painted on Gertrudes portrait but did not improve it. Booth came. Stedman called towards evening. He made an allusion to dear Gertrude which quite overcame me. "Well he said "Jerry" looking at the figure in the little picture in my studio up home "the fact is she was a lady" and when he saw me affected by mentioning her name he talked of immortality and expressed his entire 

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Transcription Notes:
Stopped at paragraph 3 - Starting with "It was a quarter...." Stopped at bottom of first column..begin at "longer known"