Just here, I congratulate the spirit of William McKinley upon its auspicious flight to the spirit world.  There is no better time and place for one to die, than at the summit of true greatness, “enshrined in the hearts of his countrymen, at peace with his God,” the sun of his life going down, “before eye has grown dim or natural force has abated.”  Take him from the time he entered the army, where his commanding general said:  “A night was never so dark, storm never so wild, weather never so cold as to interfere with his discharge of every duty.”  From this time on, as lawyer, commonwealth’s attorney, congressman, governor, and president, he was a Jonathan to his friends, a Ruth to his kindred, a Jacob to his family, a Gideon to his country.  Take him in private life where an intimate friend said:  “I never heard him utter a word his wife or mother might not have heard; I never heard him speak evil of any man.”  Take him when stricken down by an assassin, hear him say:  “Let no man harm him; let the law take its course; good-bye to all; God’s will be done,” and in his last conscious moments chanting “Nearer my God to Thee,” and you have one of the most touching stories of this old world.  All honor to our martyred president, William McKinley.

What a shame that in a land whose constitution guarantees life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to the humblest citizen, the life of its chief executive is not safe, though guarded by detectives and surrounded by devoted friends.  Until the country is rid of organized anarchy it would be well to abandon free-for-all hand-shaking.

When Senator Hoar made his speech in the United States Senate against anarchy he said:  “It would be well if the nations of the earth would combine together, purchase an island in the sea, place all anarchists on that island, and let them run a government of their own.”  An Irishman said:  “I’m not in favor of any sich thing; I am in favor of gathering thim up all right, takin’ thim out in the middle of the ocean, dumpin’ them out, and letin’ thim find their own island.”

Out of the personal liberty league, which is but another form of anarchy, came the man who in an address a few years ago said:  “This republic is our hunting ground and the American Sabbath shall be our hunting day.  Down with the American Sabbath!”

It has been well said:  “The Sabbath is the window of our week, the sky-light of our souls, opened by divine law and love, up through the murk and cloud and turmoil of earthly life to the divine life above.”  Whoever would destroy the Sabbath day is undermining the republic, and any man who does not like the restrictions of our Sabbath, can find a vessel leaving our ports about every day in the year.  He can take passage any day he chooses, and as the vessel steams out we can afford to sing, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”

Another move of the searchlight and we have The Expansion Problem.