CHAPTER XVIII. 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 REST. 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 though the hand were disabled, and had been bound up. In consequence of that, he extended his left hand for the greeting; and President McKinley, always observant of misfortune, always tender in his consideration for those who suffer, took the left hand gently in his right, the quick sympathy beaming from his face as he bent above the citizen. In that instant, with his naked palm pressing the hand of his President, Leon Czolgosz drew from beneath his coat a revolver, and fired two shots into the body before him. Czolgosz's hat, carried under his arm, and pressed against his side with his elbow, fell to the ground. There was an instant of unspeakable silence, in which the most trivial of details impressed themselves on the memory of those who stood about. The report of the shots had not been heard outside of the building. Those nearest the President recovered in a fraction of a moment, and one of them leaped on the culprit -who, however, made not the slightest attempt to escape. He was thrown to the ground. He was grasped and buffeted by a score who were tardily recognizing the enormity of his frightful crime. The President staggered back, and was |