Day and Night Scenes at the Milburn House

Crowds at the Rope Barriers on Delaware Avenue.
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ALL CLASSES TOUCH ELBOWS
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Only Sentiment Heard Is Personal Affection for the Wounded President.
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Anxious Inquiries Regarding the Condition of Mrs. McKinley’s Health
Heard—Statesmen and Government Officials Attract Attention.
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Special to The Post Express.

     Buffalo, Sept. 10.—All doubt of the president’s ultimate recovery [seem?] to grow gradually less as the days pass and the bulletins from the sick [room?] continue to breathe hope and confidence. The optimistic ones have become enthusiastic and the doubters, who [gravely?] shook their heads at first, are beginning to feel that the president will [?]. The gloom and anxiety that has hung over the city since the shooting is beginning to give way under the reassuring news from the bedside of the wounded president, but bulletins and news of all kinds are just as eagerly sought as ever. The variest trifles and incidents in the case of the president, casual remarks of the physicians in attendance and of visitors to the house are picked up eagerly and retailed from one to another.
     Despite the confidence that the bulletins and reports have given, the slightest indication of a relapse or a mere obscurity in the bulletins renews the anxiety and hundreds of queries are sent to the house for explanation. This was demonstrated conclusively, yesterday morning, when the first bulletin issued showed that the president had passed a “somewhat restless night.” Within an hour after the bulletin was flashed to the world over the wires queries were received from all over the country asking what it meant. In Buffalo messengers hurried to the newspaper tent and made anxious inquiries. The second bulletin allayed this anxiety but, as the hours of the morning and afternoon wore on without another bulletin uneasiness again developed. Unofficial reports from the house were encouraging but there was lacking the faith in them which is placed in the official bulletin. The bulletin at 4 o’clock again revived the spirits of the less hopeful ones, whose fears had exaggerated the significance of the delay.
     The crowds that line the barrier ropes are wonderfully interesting. All classes, ages and professions, laborers, lawyers and laymen, women known in the social world of Buffalo and those entirely unknown jostle elbows and exchange news and opinions. An air of democracy pervades the place and no one who comes from the house or who has been seen talking to any one connected with the Milburn house manages to escape without being questioned. But the person that dominates the scene is the Pan-American visitor. The difficulty in finding the natives in Buffalo is accentuated when you try to classify and localize the inquirers at the rope barriers. Every state is represented and your questioner may be from Maine or Maryland or any other state. Many of them can be distinguished by their accent but none of them shows that mere curiosity prompted them to go to the place where the president lies wounded. There is something more than that and the most skeptic who doubts the hold of the president on the affections of the people would do well to spend fifteen minutes with the crowd that daily gathers near the Milburn house to hear the latest news from the bedside of their chief magistrate. The tone not only indicates respect and reverence for the patient sufferer, but there is always a note of personal affection as if the president’s sorrows came as close to them as if he were a member of their family. There is no hesitancy in expressing gratitude to Providence as the bulletins containing the cheering news of the president’s improvement are announced and this is coupled with audible prayers for his speedy and complete recovery.
     In the early morning workingmen go out of their way to visit the Milburn residence to ask for the president. They stand at the ropes and gaze silently at the house. In the early morning, when the light is just breaking, a dozen persons may be found near the newspaper tent, pointing out the vine-covered house and whispering that that is the house where the president lies. There is a fascination for many in the scene. The bright light shining from the rear windows of the annex on the second floor are all the indications of life, except the sentries wh[o?] [noiselessly?] pat[rol?] the lawns, driveway and streets, walking on the grass to deaden th[e?] [sound?]. Then there is the early morning guard [mount?], the rousing of the sleeping soldiers in the tents directly across from the house. Hurried yawning[,] stretching and fixing of accoutrements, and in a few minutes all are in line. The [relief?] is [marched?] across the avenue in charge of the corporal of the guard to post No[.] 1, which is directly in front of the house [?]n the lawn. Orders are interchanged in whispered tones and salutes exchanged, the relief takes the post, the other falls in behind and so the tour of the guard is made. These sentries are typical matter-of-fact soldiers, their drill and bearing perfect, clean cut and hardy and apparently thoroughly able to sustain their reputation as fighters[.] The strictest discipline prevails in this miniature camp, but the soldiers are themselves the disciplinarians and hold themselves accordingly.
     No one who has been in the neighborhood of the Milburn house for the past few days can help but notice the attitude of the people toward Mrs. McKinley. It is hard [?] describe it and, to all appearances, she ranks equal with the president in the affections of the people. Every inquiry for the president has coupled with it one for Mrs. McKinley. The crowd realizes now that she goes out for a drive every afternoon about 3 o’clock and the barriers on Delaware avenue [sic] at each side are crowded at that time. There is no need for the sentry or the police to order them back. The moment the carriage is driven from the Milburn house, a block away, the people fall back to the sidewalks and stand perfectly quiet, the men with bared heads until the carriage has passed. The white face, drawn and tense, strikes deep into the hearts of the crowd and it is no unusual sight to see women crying quietly after she has passed. This same scene is witnessed on the return. The drive is usually to the “Front,” as the park overlooking the Niagara river is called and this occupies one hour. She is assisted in and out of the carriage by Mr. Milburn.
     The newspaper men and those in the vicinity of the house have come to regard Mr. Milburn’s face as a sort of barometer indicating conditions in the sick room. Always jovial and good-natured, the shooting of the president almost prostrated him. The night and day succeeding his face showed his fear and the anguish of mind which he experienced but, as the president began to improve and the physicians continued to send out hopeful bulletins, he regained his composure [?] is apparently everywhere at once, looking after details, and trying to make everyone comfortable. He ordered the newspaper tent floored and installed with electric lights. That did not quite satisfy him, however, so he called up Mayor Diehl and asked him to send an election booth provided with a stove to supplement the press accommodations. This was done at once.
     Delaware avenue [sic] and Ferry street [sic], at the point where the Milburn house stands, reminds one during these days very forcibly of Washington. Cabinet officers, senators, congressmen, judges, soldiers and men identified with politics all over the country pass and repass during the day. Little knots of men, whose names are household words from one end of the country to another and whose faces have been the delight of the cartoonists, gather on the lawn in front of the house and discuss the situation. Party lines are unknown and politics tabooed. The crowd has learned to know these men and point them out.
     Senator Hanna and Vice-President Roosevelt always attract the most attention. As the vice-president comes swinging up Delaware avenue [sic] with his characteristic, vigorous stride, he is quickly surrounded by a crowd. He has a word and salute for every one and as he comes from the house with the good news of the president’s continued improvement he fairly bubbles over with [?]. In quick, crisp phrases he [?] news and congratulates his [auditors?] upon it. Then he is off down the avenue again. It amuses the crowd when he comes out of the house, as he frequently does, with Senator Hanna. The senator is not near so lively as the vice-president and he grins and shakes his head as he makes a determined effort to keep up with him.
     Senator Hanna never manages to evade the crowd. He is pounced upon the moment he comes beyond the ropes and he invariably raises a laugh by some witty saying. But the presence of the wounded president is effective and no one mistakes the humor of the senator, or fails to understand his anxiety. He has been enthusiastic in his praise of the president’s improvement and when asked last night after a visit to the house to express an opinion as to the president’s condition he exclaimed: “Why, I have already used up my repertoire of adjectives.”
     The cabinet officers are also special objects of interest. Secretaries Hitchcock, Root, Gage, Wilson and Smith have to run the gauntlet of the cameras every time they appear. Secretary Gage is made an especial target. They all take it good naturedly. Senator Proctor and Senator Fairbanks come in for their share of attention. The long, angular figure of Senator Fairbanks and the massive figure of ex-Postmaster-General Bissell afford decided contrasts as they walk down the lawn from the house. The senator always appears pensive[,] holds his hands clasped behind his back and gazes at the ground. The secret service men, Ireland and Foster, are conspicuous figures at the house during the day and their movements are watched with [interest?] by the crowd.