President McKinley Is Dead

     The people of the United States are bowed down with the most poignant grief that has ever before stricken this land. President William McKinley died at Buffalo, N. Y., Saturday morning, September 14, from the effect of the pistol shot inflicted by the anarchist Czolgosz of Friday, September 6, 1901. The wound was pronounced at the time very serious, but with the highest medical and surgical skill at hand on the moment, the first fears of the doctors were not at the time realized, and for a number of days hope mounted higher and higher in the hearts of our people that our chief magistrate would be restored to us in the fullness of that physical, mental and moral manhood that was the pride of this people. But it was not God’s will, and in spite of the utmost human skill and the earnest prayers to the Most High of 80,000,000 of people, supplemented by millions more in all lands under the sun, the soul of our President was called home to its Maker, and we, sorrowing, must echo his dying words, “Let His will be done.”
     To-day, Tuesday, September 17, while we write these words, the remains are lying in state at Washington. To-night they will be conveyed to Canton, O., and rest to-morrow night, Wednesday, in that cottage that henceforth will be a shrine to all home-lovers.
     On Thursday, September 19, the mortal remains of William McKinley will, with simple ceremonies, be consigned to the tomb.
     But the memory and influence of his life as a poor boy, a struggling student, a patriotic citizen, a brave soldier, a wise statesman, a unifier of the nation, a beloved leader of his countrymen and, best of all, the loving, chivalric, faithful husband, are still ours.
     Great as is the nation’s loss, mighty and deep as is the sorrow of this people, how small and poor do they seem when we think of Mrs. McKinley in this, her hour of incomprehensible grief. May the God of Hosts and of her husband comfort her, and make this nation more worthy of its illustrious dead chieftain.