quite surprised and chagrined when they were told they would not be recognized.
One elderly woman, in a black bombazine dress, with an old-fashioned bonnet, became extremely indignant because she was not allowed to enter the mansion. She said she lived "up in the state," and that she had traveled sixty miles especially to attend the funeral of Jay Gould. "It is a shame," she cried, waving a rusty parasol and speaking to the crowd in the street. "They're rich enough. Why didn't they hire a church?"
Another peculiarity about the sidewalk spectators was that nearly all the men and boys were either German or Russian, while the greater part of the women were also foreigners. The crowd climbed up the stoops of the adjoining and neighboring residences until they were driven away by servants with the aid of the police. Every time the great glass doors opened at the Gould residence there was a craning of necks and a rush for the stoop. There was absolutely nothing to be seen except the undertaker's assistants.
One woman told a little circle around her that she had seen the casket, and seemed very proud of her achievement and the distinction which it conferred upon her in the eyes of her auditors.
During all this time Fifth avenue was crowded with handsome equipages of all kinds going to and from the park. Among those who drove by were John Jacob Astor and his wife in a stylish drag. Neither the Anarchists nor the other spectators
