its sense of the loss which it had sustained; the weather, too, was in character with the occasion; a chill, damp air, with a dull leaden sky above, increased the gloom which hung over all, and so ministered to the prevailing sentiment. In the town of Windsor itself there were but few visitors, for the procession was not destined to pass beyond the immediate precincts of the chapel and castle; and none were admitted except those connected with the Court. In the procession to St. George's Chapel neither the Prince of Wales nor the other Royal mourners took part; they were conveyed in private carriages to the chapel before the coffin was placed in the hearse. A train of mourning coaches conveyed the officials and chief officers of the Court to the entrance of the chapel. These carriages were followed by one of the Queen's carriages, drawn by six horses, attended by servants in State liveries; after which, escorted by a troop of the 2nd Life Guards, came the hearse, which, like the carriages, was quite plain and unornamented, but on the housings of the horses and on the sides of the hearse were emblazoned the scutcheons of Her Majesty and of the Prince; the procession to the chapel being closed by four State carriages. At the door of the chapel royal the Prince of Wales and the other Royal mourners were assembled to receive the corpse. The arrangements within the chapel were such as to throw around the gloom appropriate to so solemn an occasion; but no attempt had been made to enrich the obscurity with the heraldic splendours common to the obsequies of a great Prince. The coffin, placed upon a bier,

was borne through the nave into the choir by a funeral procession, consisting of the officers of the deceased's household, who severally bore the late Prince's fieldmarshal's baton, his sword, and ducal crown. The coffin having been brought within the choir, the Royal mourners were marshalled to their places, the Prince of Wales as chief mourner. The interval during which the bereaved sons stood motionless by the coffin of their father seemed dedicated to deep emotions. The Prince of Wales bore up with great fortitude; and though he at times was unable to restrain his tears, he evidently tried to the utmost to restrain his feelings. On his right was the little Prince Arthur; on his left, the deceased Prince's elder brother, the Duke of SaxeCoburg-Gotha, who was devotedly attached to the Prince Consort, and who throughout the ceremony was deeply moved and wept incessantly. The Crown Prince of Prussia, too, was equally affected. Young Prince Arthur's grief was enough to move the sternest. He, of course, made no attempt to check or hide his feelings. His eyes were red and swollen, and the tears were running down his cheeks as he entered the chapel. As they stood at the head of their father's coffin, the Prince of Wales turned and spoke, apparently, a few soothing words; for after this, Prince Arthur, for a minute or so, seemed to bear up better. It was not until the procession began to move forward, and the long melancholy wail of the dirge went echoing through the building, that all the little fellow's fortitude gave way, and hiding his face in his handkerchief, he sobbed as if his very heart was breaking. As

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the procession advanced, the commencement of the Burial Service, I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord," was sung by the full choir to the music of Dr. Croft. At the conclusion of the first portion, the bier had crept slowly up to the eastern end of the choir, immediately in front of the altar rails, until it rested upon a platform which covered the entrance to the Royal vault, the Prince of Wales, with Prince Arthur and the Duke of Saxe Coburg, remaining standing at the head of the coffin, the other mourners in the order in which they had entered the choir. By the time these arrangements were completed, the chant of the 39th Psalm, I said, I will take heed to my ways that I offend not with with my tongue," had concluded, and as the last faint tones died away, the platform on which the bier stood was slowly lowered, till the coffin itself was level with the floor. The pall was then disposed around it equally on all sides, so as to cover all the opening leading to the depth below, and the crown and field-marshal's insignia were placed at the head and foot. The Dean of Windsor then advanced to the communion rails, and, in a faltering voice, at some times almost inaudible, read the lesson, "Now is Christ risen from the dead;" at the end of which the choir sang the German chorale, "I shall not in the grave remain." This hymn, and the chorale which followed it at a later portion of the service, were favourite chants with the late Prince, by whom it is said their music was composed. Anything more touching than the cadence to the lines

"To fall asleep in slumber deep
Slumber that knows no ending

it is impossible to imagine. At this most solemn moment there was more than mourning. The Princes hid their faces, and sobbed deeply, unable to restrain their tears; nearly all present in the choir showed the like emotion. As the last strains of this solemn music ended, the personal attendants of his late Royal Highness advanced and slowly removed the heavy pall, leaving the coffinthe only gorgeous object in the chapel-the crimson coffin, with its gilt scutcheons, handles, and nails, standing out from the black draperies with vivid distinctness. The attendants retired from the grave, and there was a silent pause, during which, as the wind moaned hoarsely against the casements, the quick, sharp rattle of the troops outside reversing arms was plainly audible. Then came the muffled toll of the bell, the boom of the minute guns; and the coffin slowly, and at first almost imperceptibly, began to sink into the vault. It was a solemn period, and a most trying one for the mourners, whose half-stifled sobs were audible from all parts of the choir, as, with the faintest motion, the coffin still continued sinking. The silence was intense; every movement among those present could be distinctly heard. Slowly, and more slowly, fading from the sight, the coffin gradually became level with the floor, then sank deeper and deeper, casting almost a glow of colour from its deep crimson sides upon the cloth-lined walls of the grave, till it was lost to view.

Then was sung by the choir, "I heard a voice from heaven," to Croft's plaintive music, and after the prayer," Almighty God, with whom do live," was chanted an

None appeared abroad, unless dressed in the deepest mourning of their station; and this mark of respect was generally continued during the period assigned by the Lord Chamberlain.

AT

MILITARY Murder CORFU.-Intelligence was received last month of a case of assassination in the garrison at Corfu, resembling in its incidents the recent military murders in England. A private, named Chadwick, belonging to the first battalion of the 9th Regiment, had been sentenced by his commanding officer to six days' confinement within barracks, for some act of insubordination towards his corporal, Donollan. The punishment scarcely seems sufficient to have provoked mortal hatred; but Chadwick brooded over it, and watching an opportunity when the corporal was standing up in his bed and arranging some things in a rack above it, he fired his rifle at him, and inflicted a wound from which Donollan died, after two days, in the greatest agony. Although the crime conformed so closely to the type prevalent this year among the military in England, a peculiar feature of the story was presented in the prompt retribution which overtook the murderer. Corporal Donollan was shot on Saturday, the 26th of October, and died on the morning of Monday, the 28th. The same day, an inquest and court of inquiry were held, and the general court-martial which sat on the 30th sentenced the murderer to be hanged. This sentence was carried into effect nine days afterwards, on the South Parade, in the Citadel of Corfu.

Another instance of military violence, happily not attended with fatal results, occurred this month

at Malta, On the 4th inst., a soldier of the Royal Artillery, quartered in St. Elmo Barracks, fired his carbine at his Adjutant, Captain Keate, who, on hearing the report, exclaimed "There's another military murder!" It was not until some one informed him he had been fired at that he was aware of the danger his life had been in. The ruffian, having missed his aim, was seized in the act of reloading his carbine to make a second attempt. He immediately confessed his crime. There appeared, however, to be some doubt as to the man's sanity.

PEDESTRIANISM EXTRAORDINARY.--DEERFOOT, THE SENECA INDIAN.-Among the celebrities of the year was one who fully shared with Blondin, the funambulist, the interest of the lovers of physical power. This was a Seneca Indian named Deerfoot, whose performances have greatly exceeded any heretofore recorded in the ANNUAL REGISTER; for the ANNUAL REGISTER, though it thought it necessary last year to apologise for inserting an account of the fight between Heenan and Sayers, did, in former years, delight to record the exploits of Jackson, Belcher, Molyneux, and other heroes of the Ring, and the pedestrian feats of Colonel BarkJay, the equestrian wonders of the Duke of Queensberry and Mrs. Thornton, and trotting matches from London to York. England has bred and still possesses champions who for speed, wind, and endurance have been held un matched among all the peoples of the earth. It is true that the most wonderful tales have been told of the physical powers of people in a state of nature; and

some philosophers have held that good feeding, good clothing and housing, good cultivation, and good society, have a tendency to deteriorate the race as regards their animal development; and that to be perfectly muscular it is necessary to be perfectly savage. This opinion has not borne the test of trial. The European, when well exercised, has been found to excel the Circassian and Arab in riding, to throw the powerful Patagonian in the wrestle, to be superior to every other race as shots and swordsmen, and to be far superior in endurance and "pluck.' Nevertheless, romancers and romantic historians have held forth that the Red Indians were an exception to all other savage races, and that, from their mode of life, they had acquired physical powers which, in some developments, exceeded those of Europeans as much as Europeans exceeded all others. Much curiosity was, therefore, excited when it was announced that a Seneca Indian, whose powers in running were unequalled among his countrymen, had arrived in England to compete with our swiftest and staunchest. Fame did the Red Man no injustice. In his first race with Mills, our champion runner, he was defeated; but there were reasons for this unex

pected result. The course was six miles, and was covered by the winner in 32 minutes. In the next contest, Deerfoot was the victor, defeating White, another celebrated runner, by completing a four mile course in 21 minutes. These were comparatively short courses; the 10-mile race is the great test of speed and endurance. The Champion Cup, with a course of 10 miles, was competed for by Deerfoot, Mills, Brighton, and

White. The performances of the Indian were wonderful. The first mile was completed in 4 min. 59 sec.; the 10 miles in 54 min. 21 sec.; or at the rate of more than 11 miles within the hour. In a subsequent four-mile race with Jackson, called "the American Deer" though he is an Englishman, the Indian won in 21 min. 21 sec. The first quarter of a mile in this race Deerfoot ran at the speed of 14,63, and the second quarter of a mile at the speed of 155 miles, in the hour. The four miles he ran at the rate of 11 miles in the hour. On several subsequent occasions, Deerfoot was victorious in 10-mile races. At Leeds, he defeated four wellknown runners, completing the distance in 53 min. 10 sec.; the least time yet known. The Indian's powers of endurance have been tested by his success over 12-mile courses. At Dublin, he competed with his former antagonist Mills, and a well-known champion, Levett, giving the latter three minutes' start. Levett gave in at the seventh mile; Mills fell exhausted at the tenth mile; and the Indian completed the course at his leisure-running the entire distance in 1 hr. 5 min. 6 sec. Deerfoot is a fine specimen of a man, not quite six feet high, with large nostrils, full round chest, small across the hips, with long legs and strong muscular thighs. His style of running is not graceful; it is rather a long swing than that exercise of the muscles of the knee and thigh to which we are accustomed. The difference in the instep, which distinguishes the American Indian from the European, was also against his grace as a runner. The instep of the Indian is not arched; the foot