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cheerful anticipation and proposed thoroughly to enjoy the trip, and they were received with extraordinary enthusiasm by enormous asses of persons; and here the anarchists had arranged their ambuscade in a human wilderness.

Leon Czolgosz, the assassin, was a finished output of the harangues of Emma Goldman, of whom this is the best character sketch:

"Suppose the President is dead," said Emma Goldman, "thousands die daily and are unwept. Why should any fuss be made about this man?"

These were the words of the queen of anarchy when the flag on Custom Building fluttered down to half-mast, announcing prematurely the death of President McKinley.

She was sitting in the "parlor" of the police station annex, with Patrolman John Weber assigned to guard her and Chief Matron Keegan. The latter glanced out of the window by chance just as the flag on the Appraiser's Building at Sherman and Harrison streets was lowered.

"The flag has been lowered! The President must be dead!" said Mrs. Keegan, rising. The woman across from her sat unmoved.

"The President is dead! President McKinley is dead," the matron repeated to Miss Goldman, half angered at the woman's coldness.

"Well, I do not care," came the answer. "There are thousands of men dying every day. No fuss is made about them. Why should any fuss be made about this man?"

"Haven't you any heart?" asked the matron. "Any sorrow for this man who was so widely beloved?"

"I tell you I don't care."

"But as a woman you should at least show some feeling for the wife for whom he has always cared so tenderly."

"There are thousands of men dying every day," repeated Miss Goldman. "I do feel sorry for Mrs. McKinley. But there are other wives who receive no comfort."

This closed the incident.

"That woman had a smile of triumph on her face," said Mrs. Keegan, "the moment I told her. Her face lighted up on the instant." Still this woman is a professor of opposition to violence.

The assassin made a close study of the Exposition grounds, and pursued his purpose to kill the President relentlessly. He was close at hand when the President made his speech. He saw the President ar

rive and mount to the stand. He stood there in the front row of the hurrahing people, mute, with a single thought in his mind.

He heard Mr. McKinley speak. He reckoned up the chances in his mind of stealing closer and shooting down the President where he stood. Once he fully determined to make the attempt, but just then a stalwart guard appeared in front of him. He concluded to wait a better opportunity. After the address he was among those who attempted to crowd up to the President's carriage. One of the detectives caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back into the crowd.

He saw the President drive away and followed. He tried to pass through the entrance after the President, but the guards halted him and sent him away. He entered the Stadium by another entrance, but was not permitted to get within reach of the President.

On Friday morning Czolgosz waited for the President's return. In the afternoon he went to the Temple of Music and was one of the first of the throng to enter. He crowded well forward, as close to the stage as possible. He was there when the President entered through the side door. He was one of the first to hurry forward when the President took his position and prepared to shake hands with the people.

Czolgosz had his revolver gripped in his right hand, and about both the hand and the revolver was wrapped a handkerchief. He held the weapon to his breast, so that any one who noticed him might suppose that the hand was injured.

He reached the President finally. He did not look into the President's face. He extended his left hand, pressed the revolver against the President's breast with his right hand and fired. He fired twice, and would have fired again and again but for the terrific blow that drove him back.

"Did you mean to kill the President?" asked the District Attorney. "I did," was the reply.

"What was the motive that induced you to commit this crime?"

"I am a disciple of Emma Goldman," he replied.

The most realistic account of the shooting of the President is this: A little girl was led up by her father and the President shook hands with her. As she passed along to the right the President looked after her smilingly and waved his hand in a pleasant adieu.

Next in line came a boyish-featured man about 26 years old, preceded by a short Italian, who leaned backward against the bandaged

hand of his follower. The officers who attended the President noted this man, their attention being first attracted by the Italian, whose dark, shaggy brows and black mustache caused the professional protectors to regard him with suspicion.

The man with the bandaged hand and innocent face received no attention from the detective beyond the mental observation that his right hand was apparently injured, and that he would present his left hand to the President.

The Italian stood before the palm bower. He held the President's hand so long that the officers stepped forward to break the clasp and make room for the man with the bandaged hand, who extended the left member toward the President's right.

The President smiled and presented his right hand in a position to meet the left of the approaching man. Hardly a foot of space intervened between the bodies of the two men. Before their hands met two pistol shots were fired, and the President turned slightly to the left and reeled.

The tall, innocent-looking young man had fired through the bandage without removing any portion of the handkerchief.

The first bullet entered too high for the purpose of the assassin, who had fired again as soon as his finger could move the trigger.

On receiving the first shot President McKinley lifted himself on his toes with something of a gasp. His movement caused the second shot to enter just below the navel. With the second shot the President doubled slightly forward and then sank back. Detective Geary caught the President in his arms and President Milburn helped to support him. When the President fell into the arms of Detective Geary he coolly asked: "Am I shot?"

Geary unbuttoned the President's vest, and, seeing blood, replied: "I fear you are, Mr. President."

It had all happened in an instant. Almost before the noise of the second shot sounded Czolgosz was seized by S. R. Ireland, United States Secret Service man, who stood directly opposite the President. Ireland hurled him to the floor, and as he fell a negro waiter, James B. Parker, who once worked in Chicago, leaped upon him. Soldiers of the United States artillery detailed at the reception sprang upon them and he was surrounded by a squad of exposition police and Secret Service detect

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Courtesy of Leslie's Weekly

Copyright 1901 by Judge Co.
THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT MCKINLEY.

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PRESIDENT MCKINLEY'S FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE. The distinguished sufferer looked into the face of his good wife and said in low tones, "We must bear up, it is better for us both." With tears streaming down her cheeks Mrs. McKinley nodded assent.

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