ented to such an arrangement _after that
night._ But the consent came too late. He was never more to need human
attendance or attention. On Thursday morning, March 10th, at about seven
o'clock, the usual cup of tea was taken to his room. To the knock at the
door there was no response save an ominous silence. The attendant opened
the door, only to find that the venerable patriarch lay dead, on the
floor beside the bed. He had probably risen to take some nourishment--a
glass of milk and a biscuit being always put within reach--and, while
eating the biscuit, he had felt faint, and fallen, clutching at the
table-cloth as he fell, for it was dragged off, with certain things that
had lain on the table. His medical adviser, who was promptly summoned,
gave as his opinion that he had died of heart-failure some hour or two
before he had been found by his attendant.

Such a departure, even at such an age, produced a worldwide sensation.
That man's moral and spiritual forces reached and touched the earth's
ends. Not in Bristol, or in Britain alone, but across the mighty waters
toward the sunrise and sunset was felt the responsive pulse-beat of a
deep sympathy. Hearts bled all over the globe when it was announced, by
telegraph wire and ocean cable, that George Muller was dead. It was said
of a great Englishman that his influence could be measured only by
"parallels of latitude"; of George Muller we may add, and by meridians
of longitude. He belonged to the whole church and the whole world, in a
unique sense; and the whole race of man sustained a loss when he died.

The funeral, which took place on the Monday following, was a popular
tribute of affection, such as is seldom seen. Tens of thousands of
people reverently stood along the route of the simple procession; men
left their workshops and offices, women left their elegant homes or
humble kitchens, all seeking to pay a last token of respect. Bristol had
never before witnessed any such scene.

A brief service was held at Orphan House No. 3, where over a thousand
children met, who had for a second time lost a 'father'; in front of the
reading-desk in the great dining-room, a coffin of elm, studiously
plain, and by request without floral offerings, contained all that was
mortal of George Muller, and on a brass plate was a simple inscription,
giving the date of his death, and his age.

Mr. James Wright gave the address, reminding those who were gathered
that, to all of us, even tho