McKinley, U. S. A.

     Nature clothed him in the priceless Robe of Manhood—Freemen decked him with the Robe of Fame, and, holding high the tempered Mace of Fellow-love, he went forth to meet the glad huzzah. Naught he saw but loyal hearts—a surging, swaying sea of smiles—a universe of loving eyes, and seeing only Faith and Love therein, his heart responded to a Nation’s greet. But Fate had sadly horoscoped his Time and called him from his High Estate when Life and Hope were strong. The stern decree of Death he did not fear, nor feared he Cunning Stealth—the coward’s art—if only that his purpose could be won for Liberty and Peace. And all his pleadings with the One Above,—within the mortal casement of his soul, implored the respite but for sake of fellow-man;—but when he heard The Master say—“MY WILL BE DONE,” he sought no further word, nor reason why, but softly,—calmly,—meekly,—laid him down—and died.