The President did not fall. He walked steadily enough to a chair,
and leant his head upon his hand.
"You are wounded," said his secretary.
"Ho, I think not. I am not much hurt," replied the President.
But his face was white and drawn with pain; blood flowed from his
wounds. Yet in his pain he thought only of others.
His first thought was for his wife, who was an invalid. "Don't let
her know," he said. But he thought too of the wretched man who had
shot him. "Don't hurt him," he murmured.
At first it was thought that the wounds were not fatal, and that
the President would recover. But just as every one believed that
the danger was over his strength seemed to fail him, and in little
more than a week he died.
There was such a shining goodness and honesty about President
McKinley that all who came near him loved and respected him. Now he
went to his last resting-place mourned not only by his own people
but by Great Britain and nearly every country in Europe besides.
Even his murderer had no special hatred of McKinley. He was an
anarchist who believed it was a good deed to kill any ruler.
So in the midst of his usefulness a good man was ruthlessly slain.
__________
Chapter 97 - Roosevelt - Taft
Upon McKinley's death Theodore Roosevelt, The Vice-President,
became President. He was the youngest of all the Presidents, being
only forty-two when he came into office.
Pages:
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706