We sang
Mozart's Twelfth Mass that day. The organist was one of the brothers
of the college. I think I sang requiems in every Catholic church in
San Francisco at that time. It seemed to be my share in life to sing
for the dead of all creeds and kinds. If I attempted to give an
account of requiems alone I could publish a book of good size. I have
also taken part in the musical service at the funerals of the great
men of California, like Ralston, Hopkins, Captain Metzger, Thos.
Breeze, J.B. Painter, Colonel Larkin.
In 1874 I lived on Post and Powell streets. Trinity Church was at that
corner and many people who were strangers were taken to the mortuary
chapel. One sad funeral occurred there on June 18, 1887, of Abner
Lincoln Blake, a grandson of Major-General Lincoln of revolutionary
fame. He was ex-deputy of the custom house in Port Townsend and was on
his way to Washington, with papers of importance, to give evidence
against certain men who were in government service. He was followed by
some of their hirelings all the way on his journey and, arriving at
Chicago, he was sand-bagged, but the villains were not quick enough to
get his valise. They were frightened by the appearance of some one
coming, and the victim was taken to the hospital. When the chief of
police discovered who he was he did all he could to save the valuable
evidence and notified the authorities at Washington. Everything was
done to save his life, but he lapsed into unconsciousness for a week
and died.
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