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But, lest the imputation of an unwarranted lust for hunting should lie against him, it must be stated that natural history is greatly the gainer because of his hunt. He tells of the varying characteristics of the animals; of their range and habits and peculiarities; and he sent to the Smithsonian Institute at Washington the skulls of all the animals killed, so that their measurements might be taken and added to the slender sum of information possessed by Americans as to this most distinctive of American animals. The interesting feature as to all his enterprises is that he looks below the surface. Here, at a time when he might have been pardoned for resigning himself utterly to the delights of the chase, he was studying the characteristics of the creatures he encountered, comparing them with the rather limited data already published, and establishing the truth as existing facts provided the means.
He returned from that hunt to enjoy a short summer of rest, perhaps the first he had really known since that distant day in the Murray Hill congressional district of New York, when he concluded to go to the assembly; and from it he was called—abundantly prepared, yet tearfully reluctant—to the chief magistracy of the nation.
ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT MC KINLEY.
LEON CZOLGOSZ STRIKES DOWN THE HEAD OF THE NATION
COUNTRY PLUNGED IN SORROW HOPE AND DESPAIR ALTERNATE “NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE” END OF A NOBLE LIFE-THE REPUBLIC PAUSES WHILE ITS PRESIDENT IS LAID TO
The Pan-American Exposition at Buffalo was in successful progress September 5, 1901, when President McKinley left his home in the White House in Washington in the company of his wife and the members of his cabinet, together with a party of other friends, for a visit to that "magic city" by the Falls of Niagara. September 6 was “President's Day," and an immense number of people had gathered to greet the chief executive of the nation. In the afternoon of that day President McKinley took his stand in the Temple of Music, with his personal and official friends about him. The crowds of people formed themselves in line, and passed for the handshake which has long been a part of executive custom, and to pay their respects to one whom all hon
ored, whatever their political prejudice may have been.
All about him were the accessories of harmonious sounds. A little to one side stood the mighty organ which had but an hour before breathed forth the tender passages from “The Messiah”; and the whole atmosphere seemed attuned to the sentiment of that angel band which sang to the shepherds: “Peace on earth, good will to men."
Hundreds had walked slowly past, shaking the hand of the President, and moving into the wider grounds, to await his reappearance for the drive from the plaza. Farmers, business men, , manufacturers, sailors and soldiers, young and old, women and children, all were represented in the lines that pressed up for the greeting and the coveted handshake. In that line, unmarked by anything that could publish his purpose to those charged with the President's safe-keeping, came Leon Czolgosz, a young man of twentyfour, in the conventional dress of the well-to-do mechanic or artisan. His right hand was half concealed beneath the breast of his coat, and about the wrist was wound, in such manner as to be observable by all, a handkerchief. It was as