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.