clusive-that detailed statistics have been kept by The Tribune, the number of lynchings and other illegal executions reached a total of 2,516. Of this number 2,080 were perpetrated in the Southern States and 436 in the Northern; 2,465 of the victims were males and 51 females; 1,678 were negroes, 801 were whites, 21 were Indians, 9 were Chinese and 7 were Mexicans.

The crimes, or alleged crimes, which caused the people to take the law into their own hands come near exhausting the calendar. Murder and rape head the list in point of number, but there is a total of 112 other offenses given as excuses for exercising lynch law.

Some of the crimes were of the most petty nature. For instance, one man was lynched for slapping a child, another for jilting a girl, another for drunkenness, another for throwing stones, another for colonizing negroes, another for enticing a servant away; two paid the extreme penalty for eloping, two for writing insulting letters, three for being unpopular, two for practicing "voodooism,' three for keeping saloons, five for swindling and two for gambling.

Ten people were executed for no offense whatever, while 92 were lynched for unknown causes. Vigilantes are charged with 14 deaths; whitecaps, 9; Indians, 1; moonshiners, 1; desperadoes, 1.

During the year 1901, up to Sept. 1, there have been 101 victims; 76 were colored, 23 white, one Indian and one Chinese. Murder was given as the cause for 27 lynchings; rape for 20; murderous assault, 6; race prejudice, 5; arson, 4; attempted rape, 4; theft, 3; sheltering murderer, 3; suspected cattle stealing, 3; suspected killing cattle. 2; stealing horses, 4; trainwrecking, 1; unknown offense, 1; keeping gambling house. 1; resisting arrest, 1; robbery, 1; insulting white women, 2; assaulting white person, 1; by "whitecaps." 1; mistaken identity, 1.

MCKINLEY, WILLIAM, was shot and mortally wounded at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, during a reception held in the Temple of Music, while he was the guest of the Exposition.

Promptly at half past three, in the afternoon of September 6, 1901, President McKinley, accompanied by the President of the Exposition, John G. Milburn, Secretary Cortelyou, and a guard of detectives, arrived at the railroad depot on the ground. Two minutes before four o'clock, the hour appointed for the reception, his carriage drew up at the entrance to the Temple.

Twenty thousand people were gathered in and about the building.

Inside the Temple a space had been made in the center of the floor for the President to stand during the reception. Perhaps a hundred men, women and children had gone slowly up the long aisle. Among them was a burly colored man, whom the President greeted with a kindly smile. Secret Service Agents Foster and Ireland were standing directly across from the President, closely scanning each man and woman passing along in the line. When the next man appeared, the government officers saw before them a quietly-dressed intelligent appearing young man with reddish

hair and smooth shaven cheeks. His right hand was thrust beneath the lapel of his coat and a handkerchief was wrapped about it in such a way as to give the impression that the hand had been injured. The President observed that the man before him was offering his left hand instead of his right, and his eyes wandered to the hand thrust beneath the coat. The touch of Mr. McKinley's hand seemed to rouse the man to action. He leaned suddenly forward, at the same time holding the President's hand in a vise-like hold. He drew Mr. McKinley the barest trifle toward him and the right hand flashed from beneath the coat lapel. The hand and fingers were hidden by the folds of the handkerchief. The man thrust the hand fairly against the President's breast and pulled the trigger of the weapon that the white bit of cloth was hiding. Two pistol shots rang out sharply and echoed back from the walls of the Temple. President McKinley dropped the man's hand and staggered back. Upon his face was a look of angry surprise.

Secretary Cortelyou and President Milburn, who were standing a little behind him, caught him as he was falling and drew him into a chair. At the sound of the shots Detective Ireland of the secret service force leaped upon the man and close behind him came the colored man who had just shaken hands with the President. They were struggling with him on the floor when the President reached the chair. Turning his head to Detective Gerry, another member of his bodyguard, he asked:

"Am I shot?"

He had evidently been so stunned by surprise that he had not felt the impact of the bullets. Meanwhile Secretary Cortelyou had torn open the President's vest. Blood was on his shirt front, and Detective Gerry, answering his question, said: "I fear you are, Mr. President."

Secretary Cortelyou sank on one knee at the side of the President and looked anxiously into his face.

"Do not be alarmed," said the President, "it is nothing." Then his head sank forward into his hands for a moment, but he raised it, despite the stream of crimson which came from the wound in his breast.

The guards were driving the crowds out of the building. Mr. Cortelyou asked the President if he felt any pain. Mr. McKinley slipped his hand through his shirt front and pressed his fingers against his breast.

"I feel a sharp pain here," he said. Then, as he withdrew his hand and saw blood dripping from his finger tips, he compressed his lips tightly, then turned to those about him and said, in a whisper:

"I trust Mrs. McKinley will not be informed of this. At least try to see that what she must know of it be not exaggerated in the telling."

Mr. McKinley's head sank back on the chair and he seemed to be drowsy. Suddenly straightening up in his chair, he gripped the arms tightly and thrust his feet out in front of him with a quick, nervous movement. Thus he sat, with his lips tightly closed, an example of superb self control, until the ambulance arrived.

When the secret service men and the colored man first threw themselves upon the assassin,

pinning him to the floor, lest he should try to use the revolver again, twenty more men hurled themselves upon the scrambling quartet and buried him from sight. After considerable delay and difficulty, he was removed to the police station.

When he was first arrested, he answered a query as to his motive, by saying: "I am an Anarchist, and I did my duty." At headquarters he denied that he was an anarchist, but would give no other reason for his deed. He persistently refused to answer questions. Later, he confessed that his name was Leon Czolgosz and that he was a disciple of Emma Goldman, the Anarchist.

Still later, he signed a confession which stated that he had no confederate, that he had decided three days before to commit the crime,

and that he had bought the revolver in Buffalo.

In the meantime, the President was in the hospital. Probably it was not more than five minutes from the time the shots were fired until the examination by the surgeons had begun. They discovered that one bullet had entered the breast, striking the bone, then glancing aside, and the other had struck the abdomen five inches below the left nipple and one and a half inches to the left of the median line. The stomach lying directly under that spot, the gravest fears were entertained regarding the consequences of that wound.

Dr. Roswell Park, an eminent surgeon, was immediately sent for. About six o'clock he arrived at the hospital, and with the assistance of Dr. Mynter and several other surgeons, be

TEMPLE OF MUSIC, BUFFALO, Where President McKinley was shot.

gan a search for the ball. It was found that the bullet had passed completely through the stomach, piercing both walls, and had lodged somewhere in the back, but it could not be found.

The surgeons abandoned the search for the bullet and closed the apertures in the stomach with several stitches both in front and back. The President was under an anæsthetic during the operation and within an hour after it was over, he recovered from the effects of the opiate. It was announced that he was resting easily and had a good chance for recovery. The principal danger, it was said, lay in the development of peritonitis.

As soon as the surgeons made the announcement that the President was in no immediate danger, President Milburn made arrangements to have the patient removed to his house on Delaware Avenue. The Chief of Police immediately ordered the streets roped off, over which the ambulance would pass, and stationed guards to prevent all other traffic. automobile ambulance was brought to the emergency hospital and with the utmost care, the President was removed to Mr. Milburn's home. Police were placed on guard in all directions within a block of the house.

An

The Milburn house was transformed into a bustling place almost immediately upon the arrival of the ambulance bearing the wounded President. While the sick room was absolutely quiet and no sound penetrated its walls, the parlor below had been transformed into an office, and two stenographers, with their typewriting machines, were installed to answer the telegrams and letters which began to pour in. Arrangements were made for telegraph wires to be placed in the house.

The first official bulletin regarding the condition of the President was issued by Secretary Cortelyou at seven o'clock. He prefaced it with the statement that it had been prepared by the physicians. It read thus:

"The President was shot about four o'clock. One bullet struck him on the upper portion of the breast bone, glancing and not penetrating. The second bullet penetrated the abdomen five inches below the left nipple and one and onehalf inches to the left of the median line.

"The abdomen was opened through the line of the bullet wound. It was found that the bullet had penetrated the stomach. The open

Secretary to the President." Bulletins were issued at frequent intervals. For a day or two there was suspense, then encouraging news. The next two days were marked by still further progress. On the tenth of September, four days after the shooting, the physicians were confident that he had passed the danger line. The President maintained his strength and was cheerful. On September eleventh, the physicians publicly pronounced him out of danger. Vice-President Roosevelt left Buffalo for a trip through the Adirondacks and some of the members of the Cabinet returned to Washington.

Suddenly, without warning, there was a change for the worse. The first alarm came from the house at two o'clock, on the morning of September 13, two hours after the encouraging official bulletin sent out after the midnight consultation of the physicians. President had had a sinking spell.

The

At three o'clock it was authoritatively admitted that the President was in an extremely critical condition. It was stated in the official bulletin, issued at 3:20 a. m. that "the condition of the President gives rise to the gravest apprehensions."

A slight improvement was noted in the early bulletins and was maintained during the morning and early afternoon. When it was learned that the President was taking small quantities of nourishment hope rose that he would pass the crisis in safety. Yet it was known that he was being kept alive by the strongest of heart stimulants, and that the physicians had obtained a supply of oxygen to be used if the worst came.

As fast as steam could bring them the President's secretaries, the members of his family, and the physicians who had left convinced that he would recover, were whirled back to the city, going at once to the Milburn house. All night the physicians worked to keep the President alive. No bulletin was issued at six o'clock, as had been customary. Throughout the day anxiety grew. At half past six a bulletin was issued, signed by Secretary Cortelyou, which read as follows:

"The President's physicians report that his condition is most serious in spite of vigorous stimulation. The depression continues, and is profound. Unless it can be relieved, the end is only a question of time." Oxygen had been administered steadily, but with little effect. He came out of one period of unconsciousness, only to relapse into another. About eight

o'clock at night, oxygen was given him again, and under its influence he slightly revived. He told Dr. Rixey that he realized that he was about to die, and asked for Mrs. McKinley. The President's strength did not last long. Unconsciousness returned and they led her gently away. At ten o'clock she was summoned to him again. He was awaiting her. With his last strength, he strove to clasp her hand. She bent over him, and his lips moved feebly.

"Good Bye, all, Good Bye," he said. "It is God's way. His will, not ours, be done." Then, as he sank into unconsciousness for the last time, he murmured: "Nearer my God to Thee."

At 2:15 o'clock, on the morning of September 14, 1901, the President died. He had been un

to the Buffalo courthouse. It was estimated that 90,000 persons viewed the remains while lying in state in Buffalo.

The funeral train left Buffalo at 8:30 Monday morning. It traveled over a route 420 miles in length amid the tolling of bells and through endless lanes of mourning people that at every town, village and hamlet lined the track far out into the fields. At many cities and towns school children and young women had strewn flowers on the track, hiding the rails, and the engine wheels cut their way through. The whole country seemed to have assembled its population at the sides of the track over which the funeral train passed. Work was suspended, the schools were dismissed.

All the way the train was preceded about fifteen minutes by a pilot engine sent ahead

conscious for several hours and his death was free from pain.

The first services connected with the weeklong funeral of President McKinley were those held in the Milburn house on Delaware avenue, Buffalo, where he died.

It was a simple ceremony. Barely two hundred people were admitted to the home and those only by special invitation. Mrs. McKinley did not come down stairs during the services.

Rev. Dr. Charles Edward Locke of the Delaware avenue Methodist Episcopal church, son of the Dr. Locke who for many years was the McKinley pastor at Canton, conducted the services.

The casket was lifted into the hearse on the shoulders of sailors and marines and was taken

to test the bridges and switches and prevent the possibility of accident. The train had the right of way over everything. Not a wheel moved on the railroad system thirty minutes before the pilot engine was due, or for the same length of time after the train had passed.

The official train drew into the Pennsylvania depot at 8:38 o'clock Monday evening, and the body was carried from there to the White House, escorted by a troop of cavalry and by the members of the cabinet and the distinguished officials who had acted as the escort of honor from Buffalo to Washington.

The official procession from the station to the White House was exceedingly quiet, and, in spite of its extreme simplicity, deeply touching. The most notable feature of it was the entire absence of sound. There was not a

band nor a drum in the whole procession; only the bugle note of the cavalry.

The procession which conveyed the casket was reverently received by the living lanes of people.

There was no display whatever at the White House.

The casket was placed in the great east room, which has been the scene of so many notable receptions held by President McKinley and others of his predecessors. It was in this room that the body of Lincoln was first placed.

During the morning memorial services were held in the Metropolitan church. Appropriate addresses were made by Bishop's H. W. Warren and Earl Cranston and by Dr. W. H. Crawford. Rev. Dr. H. R. Naylor presided. He was assisted by Rev. Dr. Hugh Johnson.

There was no funeral service at the White House, but shortly before 9 o'clock on Wednes

Special prominence was given to the beautiful hymn, "Nearer, my God, to Thee," which, in spite of the fact that it has been familiar property for many long years, already has come to be known as "President McKinley's hymn." It was played as the casket left the White House, and again as the stalwart soldiers and sailors carried their precious burden up the broad eastern steps of the Capitol. It was sung by the choir over the body in the center of the rotunda, while as the procession passed the president's church the chime of the bells rang out the same sweet melody.

Gathered around the bier were representatives of every phase of American national life, including the President and the only surviving ex-president of the United States, together with representatives at this capital of almost every nation of the earth. Great Britain, France, Germany, Italy and Spain and all the repub

day the first members of the funeral party, including President Roosevelt and ex-President Cleveland, arrived. When all was in readiness the casket, which was shrouded in the national colors, was lifted upon the shoulders of the body-bearers, a detachment of the signal corps, and borne to the hearse.

The procession was about a mile long and consisted principally of civic organizations.

The presence of a body of clergymen, representing all religious denominations, who were assigned a prominent place in the ranks, attracted universal attention and favorable comment. Catholic priests and Protestant clergymen mingled in fraternal unity.

As befitted the occasion and the character of Mr. McKinley, the funeral services in the Capitol were simple. Consisting only of two hymns, a song, a prayer, an address and a benediction, they were solemnly impressive.

lics to the southward of the United States mingled their tears with those of the American people.

The services commenced with the singing of "Lead, kindly light." As the first notes were heard the assemblage rose to its feet. Bared heads were bowed and eyes streamed with tears.

At the conclusion of the hymn, as Rev. Dr. Naylor, presiding-elder of the Washington district, rose to offer prayer, the hush that fell upon the people was profound. When, in conclusion, he repeated the words of the Lord's Prayer, the great audience joined solemnly with him. Scarcely had the word "amen" been breathed when Mrs. Thomas C. Noyes sang "Some time we'll understand." The beautiful refrain was echoed and re-echoed by the double quartet choir.

Bishop Edward G. Andrews of New York, of