oiass^r 7 LL. 
 
McKinley 
 
 Carnations of Memory 
 
 The McKinley Button of 
 Two Campaigns 
 
 By 
 MRS. ANGIE F. NEWMAN 
 
 Author of 
 
 "Heathen at Home," "An Italian Winter, 
 "The Sacrifice of Iphigenia," Etc. 
 

 LIBRARY nf CONGRESS 
 
 Two Cooies Received 
 
 JUN 14 1904 
 
 __ Copyrlrht Entry 
 
 CLASS <*- XXo. No. 
 COPY B 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 
 by 
 
 Angie F. Newman. 
 
 Press of 
 
 Mail and Express Job Trini 
 
 New York 
 
^ 
 
 McKinlev Carnations 
 
 THE McKlNLEY BUTTON 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 Preface 9 
 
 Chapter 1 13 
 
 Evolution of Thought Forces — Protection, the 
 National Thought— William McKinley, Its Ex- 
 ponent — The Evolution of Protection into the 
 Altruistic Principle of Reciprocity. 
 
 Chapter II 24 
 
 Campaign of '96 — Foreign Tour of McKinley 
 Buttons — Trans-Atlantic Liner "Paris" — Re- 
 ception of the Button — London — Geneva Ex- 
 position — Mediterranean Cruise — Smyrna — 
 Eleven Happy Americans Cable Congratula- 
 tions to President-elect McKinley — Jubilee 
 Dinner on "Midnight Sun" — Donkey Boys at 
 Cairo — Sail up the Nile — Guests of an Arab 
 Sheik in His Palace — Visit to the Harem — 
 Decorated Sheik with McKinley Button — Cav- 
 alcade to the Nile — Sunset on the Nile — Syn- 
 opsis of the Button's Wanderings — Tell's 
 Chapel — Chillon's Dungeon — Pompeii — Athens 
 — Constantinople — Bethlehem, Calvary — The 
 Pyramids — Temple of Diana — Sistine Chapel 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 — Monte Carlo — Lourdes — Queen's Jubilee — 
 Dual Marriage Ceremony in London — India — 
 New York. 
 
 Chapter III 58 
 
 Second Campaign — Revival of American In- 
 dustries — Companion Buttons — Return from 
 India — Second Election — Frenzy of Empire — 
 Second Jubilee Dinner — Five Happy Americans 
 of the Smyrna Cable — McKinley Carnations — 
 Flags of All Nations — Death of McKinley. 
 
 In Memoriam 62 
 
 "Father Forgive" — McKinley's Life the Master- 
 piece — White House Incident, from "Campbell's 
 Journal" — Murat Halsted's Notes of Mrs. Mc- 
 Kinley — Charles Emory Smith's Cabinet Inci- 
 dent — The Motive of the Assassin — McKinley 
 was Not Assassinated — The Assassination of 
 Truth — Divine Copyright of Truth — Michael 
 Angelo's "Last Judgment" — Venus de Milo — 
 The Golden Rule — The Ethics of Reciprocity — 
 Birth and Crucifixion of Thought. 
 
ASCENT OF PYRAMID OF CHEOPS 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Character is a world product. It is an ex- 
 pression of the forces of the ages. National 
 character is an index of the correlated forces of 
 the nation to which it belongs. A nation is 
 a world unit. 
 
 Whenever the representative of any nation 
 has so impressed himself upon the age and 
 race of which he is a part that the pages of 
 history are the record of such life, such repre- 
 sentative is a citizen of the world. Whatever 
 pertains to such character is of world interest. 
 Hence it is that they in whose possession are 
 held any facts which serve as a flashlight upon 
 such character should regard such facts as the 
 heritage of the world. 
 
 The name of Julius C?esar is a synonym 
 for the Roman Empire. Napoleon is French 
 history. Moses is the Hebrew race. America 
 is in her youth among the nations. Her his- 
 tory is yet unwritten. Her representatives are 
 making history with such rapidity the his- 
 
I O PREFACE. 
 
 torian of the world is unable to trace it. But 
 now and then the summing up of a single char- 
 acter is the exponent of all that precedes him, 
 and the voice of prophecy of that which may 
 follow. 
 
 American history has three distinct epochs. 
 They are expressed in the names of Washing- 
 ton, Lincoln, McKinley. The McKinley epoch 
 is a part of us — a part of the political move- 
 ment of the hour. The hour is pregnant with 
 possibilities which have not yet come to the 
 birth. Governmental questions, mightier, 
 more far reaching than have ever been pro- 
 jected upon the world, are now seething 
 within the crucible of experiment. The 
 hand of William McKinley, steadier, strong- 
 er than any other, has lighted the fires 
 of that crucible. In the laboratory in which 
 these tests are making. McKinley stood as the 
 expert chemist. His hand has palsied, not by 
 his own effort, but by the assassin of Progress. 
 Another and another must enter within this 
 workshop of the Nation and discover the mo- 
 dus operandi of individual power. Hence, the 
 forces which aggregate that power must be un- 
 derstood. Any fact, any incident, any record 
 
PREFACE. I I 
 
 hidden away within the consciousness of any 
 who have lived while he has lived, is of essen- 
 tial value to the analysis of such power. 
 
 The following sketch of the world journey- 
 ings of a McKinley Button carries with it sug- 
 gestive incidents of the first campaign which 
 are an exponent of the international thought of 
 the period. 
 
 The theme must carry with it to the youth of 
 the Nation a striking lesson of constructive 
 character. It must bear with it an impulse to 
 every reader to reach for the highest. 
 
 It holds, moreover, the impress of a twelve 
 months' unfolding of the motive forces of a 
 character which all the world studies and of 
 which it has been said, as of few men who have 
 lived, it was a character without stain. 
 
 The heroes of a people are studied in rela- 
 tion to the heroism of enterprise. An insight 
 into the character of McKinley, as herein illus- 
 trated, reveals the dual fact, the ennobling fact, 
 that his heroism was first within his own per- 
 sonality. The analysis of the evolution of 
 governmental obligations and possibilities, the 
 spirit of altruism which marks his transition 
 from the policy of protection to the higher phil- 
 
 L of 
 
12 PREFACE. 
 
 osophy of reciprocity, is incidental thereto. The 
 author presents them as fragrant memories of 
 the perfume of a life so diffusive the winds of 
 the centuries shall bear them upon their bosom. 
 
HEAD OF SPHINX. 
 
The McKinley Button. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HISTORY OF A MCKINLEY BUTTON. 
 
 The science of mind under Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury interpretation bases its superstructure 
 upon Thought as the primal, inherent, inde- 
 structible force of the universe. All creeds, all 
 formulas, all philosophies are thought forms. 
 Accepting this hypothesis, it follows as a se- 
 quence that national codes are the embodiment 
 of definite national thought. The student of 
 history discovers in the national structure of 
 given epochs the central thought of the nation 
 of the epoch. All else is incidental. 
 
 The central national thought is the magnet 
 which attracts to itself all else. Individualism 
 is thought incarnate. Great historic characters 
 
14 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 are they who have been the exponents of the 
 thought of their distinctive eras. Men who 
 have stood in the silent atmosphere of power 
 and gathered to themselves the invisible forces. 
 Not all men have listened well. Many have 
 never walked the silent corridors of their own 
 soul where God speaks, and so have never 
 known their own divinity. Man in general 
 walks the highway of passion ; is wooed by 
 some siren voice into the whirling eddies of the 
 maelstrom. To such, life is a chance, the pass- 
 ing of the wind, the falling of a leaf, the roar 
 of the tempest, or the lethargy of the stagnant 
 waters. The forces of two worlds, the Seen 
 and Unseen, are essential to the structure of 
 the full man. He who dwells only in the 
 Seen, is only familiar with material things. 
 He gathers from things about him, not within 
 him. The Unseen is to him the intangible, the 
 unreal. It is that far off world into which we 
 may enter only when the garments of mortality 
 have become fringed and moth-eaten. He has 
 failed to discover that mortality is the divine 
 robe of immortality — the seamless garment in 
 which immortality shall express itself to a 
 questioning world. 
 
HISTORY OF A M KIN LEY BUTTON. 15 
 
 But the man of an era, the man who receives 
 the instinctive homage of all eras, even the not- 
 understood homage of the unlettered masses, 
 is he who has garbed himself in this seamless 
 robe and interpreted immortality to the race. 
 
 The only immortality is truth. Truth has 
 its birthright in the realm of the Unknown. 
 Truth is always seeking an interpreter. Truth 
 is the silent messenger of God, who on the 
 wings of the morning flies to the uttermost 
 parts of the earth and of whom inspiration hath 
 said, " Even there thou art." Every inter- 
 preter of truth has felt within himself the 
 breath of these passing wings, has caught its 
 tones, perhaps, not a full cadence, rarely so, 
 for the vibrations of untruth, of the distorted 
 thought of the material man, have given a den- 
 sity to the atmosphere. But he who has 
 caught a single vibration of truth and inter- 
 preted it to men, is he who lives when the years 
 have found their sepulture. Thought knows 
 no sepulture. It knows not the chill of the 
 charnel house. It is never clothed in the 
 drapery of night. For it are both sun and 
 stars. It was of truth the Revelator said, 
 " There shall be no night there." There is a 
 
i6 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 glory of soul to him who opens the windows 
 of his house of clay and admits the radiance 
 of the Divine. Such soul is he who going 
 about among men, even they of obtuse vision, 
 perceive the divine aura. 
 Such man was 
 
 WILLIAM M'KINLEY, 
 
 President of the United States. The radiance 
 of his life was as the radiance of an unsetting 
 star, but that radiance was the reflected glory 
 of the undimmed Star of Bethlehem. We are 
 standing too much in that radiance. We are 
 too conscious of its brilliance. We are too 
 near the personality to be fully persuaded he 
 was but the reflecting surface of another and 
 a greater glory, that glory, the eternal truth. 
 
 As the centuries lapse, the grandeur, the 
 serenity of that truth, the immortality of that 
 truth, shall constantly unfold itself, and souls 
 still slumbering in the womb of Time will yet 
 be born into the conscious world of Thought, 
 girded about with the swaddling bands of its 
 power. 
 
 The following story deals only with a sin- 
 
EGYPTIAN MOTHER BEARING CHILD 
 
HISTORY OF A M KINLEY BUTTON. \J 
 
 gle thought force which found its supreme em- 
 bodiment in the public life of President Mc- 
 Kinley. All his official acts radiated from the 
 common center of the one great thought of 
 which he was the exponent. That thought is 
 
 PROTECTION. 
 
 The following experiences of a McKinley 
 button illustrate the philosophy of the evolution 
 of thought forces, and carries with it this single 
 note of National Truth — Protection. 
 
 Tracing it thus, it finds its force in commer- 
 cialism, but Protection as a thought force is of 
 broader significance. It touches all phases of 
 national and individual life. Protection con- 
 stitutes the crimson hue in every flag that 
 floats the seas. It is the unwritten word in 
 the Magna Charta of nations. It has its birth 
 in the Infinite Mind. It is crystallized in that 
 undying message of Him, who, footsore 
 and weary, with the unwelcome of those 
 to whom He came, entered His chariot of 
 cloud, casting His Mantle of Protection 
 over an unconscious world, in the vanishing ca- 
 
18 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 dence of His matchless lips, " Lo, I am with 
 you alvvay." 
 
 Protection is the sylvan note of inspira- 
 tion, vibrating in the souls of men wandering 
 in the jungles of life, " He shall give his an- 
 gels charge concerning thee and in their hands 
 they shall bear thee up. lest at any time thou 
 dash thy foot against a stone." 
 
 Protection is the smile of the mother upon 
 the slumbering babe at her breast. 
 
 Protection is he about whose brow has 
 fallen the sifting snows, whose feet have be- 
 come entangled in the meshes of the years, 
 whose hands tremulous with the oncoming si- 
 lence is led along the narrow declivity by the 
 child of his youth, now the man of his 
 strength. 
 
 Nature as the manifestation of God is the 
 great exponent of protection. 
 
 Protection is the wing of the mother bird 
 beneath which her birdlings slumber. It is 
 the veil of mist sent up by the river to the sun- 
 parched earth. It is the embracing earth ex- 
 tending its guardianship about the mountain 
 brooklet, lest in its wanderings it lose its way 
 
HISTORY OK A M'KINLEY BUTTON. 19 
 
 and never sing- its song to the great sea of its 
 ultimate protection. 
 
 It is the canopy which the palm leaf extends 
 to the clinging vine which clothes its trunk 
 with verdure that its delicate tendrils may not 
 wither in the tropical heat. 
 
 Protection is the striking, distinctive 
 racial thought of all governmental 
 organizations since the world began. 
 
 It was the Tongue of Confusion at the Tow- 
 er of Babel — the law of protection in the dis- 
 persion of the races. 
 
 It is the Damascus blade on the battlefield 
 of nations. 
 
 Protection as a commercial factor is 
 the only law of limitation man has 
 ever been able to stretch across the 
 path of gray old ocean. 
 
 It is the measuring line of the coast defenses 
 of the nations — the vital, undying energy of 
 national coherence. 
 
 It is the supreme racial thought of the ages, 
 whose momentum has been as the momentum 
 of race progress. 
 
 When William McKinley was nominated 
 
20 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 for the Presidency, Hope sat by the dying 
 embers of our national faith and the Night of 
 Despair was on. 
 
 William McKinley had recognized Protec- 
 tion as the mantle of Divinity stretched above 
 a jostling world. William McKinley was the 
 recognized Apostle of Protection. 
 
 Thought is the world's builder. It is the 
 mechanism of commerce, of art, of the world 
 of letters ; in a word, of all achievement. The 
 builder is an explorer, seeking new materials. 
 The matter, the form of yesterday met the 
 needs of yesterday. But a new light bursts 
 upon the horizon of to-day. It is seen new 
 fields are awaiting the explorer, a new mechan- 
 ism is essential to the needs of to-day. If 
 yesterday were glorious, to-day must be sub- 
 lime. Progress steps across the threshold of 
 to-day and at nightfall casts no backward 
 glance. Its ultimate is beyond. Hence, the 
 Thinker of the twilight brushes the dawn with 
 a new force. The Star of the twilight is 
 superseded by the Sun of the Morning. Yes- 
 terday was essential to to-day. Its forces, its 
 needs, its mechanism, are not negatived by to- 
 
HISTORY OF A m'kINLEY BUTTON. 21 
 
 day. The consummations of yesterday fur- 
 nish the keystone of this morning's arch of 
 power. 
 
 Hence, the Thinker who has well constructed 
 his bases is ready for the superstructure. 
 
 Protection is the octave of power in its 
 infancy. " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
 thyself," constitutes the arpeggio of a new oc- 
 tave in a higher key and with more rapid vibra- 
 tions. " Thyself " was the primitive concep- 
 tion. Man hedged himself about — loved him- 
 self. The race is the summary of units. 
 
 The philosopher of the ages is Christ, not 
 of antecedent or subsequent ages but of all 
 ages. In striking at the problems of the Past, 
 He does not invalidate their method of solu- 
 tion. He only introduces another unknown 
 quantity into the equation — " Thy neigh- 
 bor " — the hitherto unknown. Protect thy- 
 self? Protect thy neighbor AS thyself. Thou, 
 O, man! hast learned the law of self-protec- 
 tion. If thy neighbor has learned the same 
 law, it is well. Then follows 
 
 reciprocity. 
 
 Mutual interchange is the new form of law. 
 
22 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 It is the sign of equality in the equation of 
 Nations. It is the altruism of philanthropy. 
 
 President McKinley stepped from the twi- 
 light to the dawn of human action just as the 
 vision of immortality passed before the camera 
 of to-morrow. Perhaps, it was the prophetic 
 ray of the eternal sunlight into which he was 
 just entering. But he paused on the threshold 
 of immortality long enough to throw the flash- 
 light of a new conception upon a receptive 
 world. He had been utterly loyal to his earlier 
 conviction, conviction universal among his 
 compatriots. The mystery of thought power 
 is strangely manifest in the transition. His 
 last utterances were studied. They had all the 
 force of a message sent back from the Gateway 
 of the Unreturnable, although rendered be- 
 fore he perceived the movement of the Gate. 
 
 Victor Hugo said of Waterloo, " It was not 
 a battle, it was a change of the front of the 
 universe." And such was the effect of this 
 final battle of ideas. 
 
 " Morituri salutamis" (We who are about 
 to die salute you), was the greeting to the Em- 
 peror, of the gladiatorial combatants as they en- 
 tered the arena. Thus spake President Mc- 
 Kinley, the new Apostle of Reciprocity, as he 
 
HISTORY OF A m'kINLEV BUTTON. 2$ 
 
 was about to enter the arena of death. He 
 saluted the world with a prophecy which lin- 
 gers as a benediction. The dying man lay 
 down his armor glittering with the new in- 
 scription, a new interpretation of victory — 
 FREEDOM not alone for the victor, but the 
 vanquished. Commercial liberty, not for a 
 race, but for the races of men. 
 
 Reciprocity, therefore, is the final synonym 
 of the altruism of Nations. 
 
 The "History of the McKinley Button," re- 
 veals the unrest of national thought under its 
 final evolution. President McKinley, with his 
 dying vision, recognized Reciprocity as the 
 mantle of Divinity stretched above a world 
 whose commercial unrest was dying away as 
 a spent vibration. He stands as the "John 
 the Baptist" of the higher Christian philoso- 
 phy of Reciprocity. Hence, the significance of 
 the "History of the McKinley Button" in its 
 vindication of the hypothesis of thought evolu- 
 tion. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 
 
 The transatlantic liner, "Paris" — that float- 
 ing palace of the seas, whose tragic fate smote 
 upon the heart of many a lover of the seas, — 
 moved from the dock in New York harbor 
 Aug. 26, '96. American cities, from the Gol- 
 den Gate to the Narrows, were represented in 
 her passenger list. These cities, all the way 
 across the Continent, were gay with bunting. 
 No hamlet but floated the Stars and Stripes 
 from the windows of the cottages. In all the 
 crowded thoroughfares where men and women 
 jostle each other for place, the names of the 
 Presidential candidates were officially an- 
 nounced by the button upon the breast. Even 
 the unfranchised classes seemed most eager to 
 swell the divided currents of public thought. 
 New York City floated the Stars and Stripes 
 from everv turret. 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 25 
 
 The "Paris" was emphatically a campaign 
 steamer. 
 
 We were a party of five. Each wore two but- 
 tons, one upon the breast, the other upon the 
 lapel of the travelling jacket, with a tiny 
 American flag at the throat, when we went 
 on board, and in every clime, and upon all 
 seas, until we landed in America. One we 
 left in Egypt, of which with its companion, 
 this history. Each of these buttons bore the 
 features of him who disappointed not those 
 who trusted that he should " redeem Israel." 
 The farewells were said. The tears brushed 
 away. The field-glasses turned upon the re- 
 ceding shore line with feverish interest, for 
 destinies were in those waving colors and who 
 should say, if " Protection " should kindle 
 again the dying embers on the smouldering 
 hearthstones of American homes. What mes- 
 sage would reach the passengers in the divers 
 lands whither they were hastening? Nor was 
 there slight unrest, lest in the possible defeat 
 financial panic should seize already depleted 
 monetary centers and " Letters of Credit " 
 depreciate, leaving the possessors stranded in 
 strange lands. 
 
26 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 1 he Atlantic was quiet as a summer even- 
 ing. As a bird conscious of its wings moves 
 through currents of the upper air, so the Paris 
 moved through the mighty waters. On her 
 vast promenade deck, facetiously styled " The 
 Public Park " of the ship, was daily witnessed 
 the strange anomaly of two National Conven- 
 tions with self-appointed delegates, meeting in 
 joint session. Vital issues were before the 
 sessions, which only adjourned when the silent 
 stars told the midnight watch. The Destiny 
 of the Candidates changed as the sun dial. 
 There were but two Candidates, for there was 
 no foolishness on board the stately ship. 
 
 London was in a fever. Her temperature 
 at the dead line. The McKinley button was 
 met with averted eye. The wearer was at 
 discount in the mighty city, whose industries 
 were threatened. But the Londoner had to 
 face it in the hotel corridors, in the parks, 
 at the museums, at the Tower, whose gloomv 
 halls have echoed with the wail of political 
 tragedies. I believe in Westminster -they 
 would have accorded the button honorable 
 sepulture ! " Sealed the stone and set the 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 2/ 
 
 watch," but for a shuddering sense the keepers 
 would be as " dead men." 
 
 At the Geneva Exposition no costly fabric 
 was so zealously watched as the McKinley but- 
 ton. The great Fur houses of the graceful 
 city, some of which have since collapsed, were 
 in jeopardy. With a high tariff on seal-skins, 
 watches and jewelry, whence were the Gene- 
 vese traders to draw their vast incomes? 
 From the four great Gates which swung side 
 by side, " Exit " was had in four languages. 
 But the "Ausgang" of the McKinley button 
 was as the resistless edict, " Stay not on the 
 order of your going," but go. From Geneva 
 our party divided, two of the young ladies go- 
 ing to Berlin for a three years' course. Two, 
 with the writer, went to Paris for a fortnight. 
 Thence to Marseilles, where on the 24th of 
 October we took passage on the steam yacht, 
 " Midnight Sun," for a cruise on the " White 
 Sea " of the Ancients. The ship's party was 
 composed of one hundred and forty London- 
 ers, Archeologists, Egyptologists, students 
 from the British Museum, etc., plus eleven 
 Americans. Dr. Barrows, whose recent un- 
 timely death has been a country's grief — with 
 
25 M KIXLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 his wife, were among the number. The scenes 
 of the Paris promenade deck were repeated, 
 with shifting positions. There was no divi- 
 sion in the American lines. Eleven McKinley 
 buttons met the eyes of the obstinate London- 
 ers at 8:00 A. M., morning prayers (held in 
 Episcopal form in the saloon), at table in the 
 dining cabin, at Sunday Chapel, where " verily 
 it was sacrilege." Yes, to the devotees of 
 the Union Jack. But to the true American, 
 the American flag hallows any time or place. 
 In the political sessions on deck, the ratio of 
 representation was as one to twelve, but the 
 " One " was always the winning number. The 
 young ladies were always the Fearless De- 
 fenders of the Faith. The English gentlemen 
 were astonished at their ease of debate and 
 knowledge of public affairs. The English 
 maiden, graceful, dignified, charming, was, 
 nevertheless, most at ease at her music, her em- 
 broideries, her " Teas," while the free, ringing 
 laughter of the American girls was to them 
 an unknown " Foreign " cadence. The Eng- 
 lish deprecated the nomination of William Mc- 
 Kinley. His election, they affirmed, would 
 imperil the financial interests of hundreds of 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 96. 20, 
 
 English capitalists and artisans. During the 
 entire route there was maintained in saloon or 
 on deck, sharp debate upon our National is- 
 sues, and the effect upon the two nations of a 
 Protective Tariff. The eleven Americans were 
 all Protectionists. 
 
 At Naples, at Athens, at Constantinople, we 
 learned from the American Consulates the 
 progress of the campaign, and as the reports 
 came in, the interest intensified and the battle 
 of words (ideas) grew in proportion. At 
 Smyrna, we anchored off coast, about 12 :oo M. 
 To our great surprise and great joy, an Ameri- 
 can ship-of-war of the fleet of the White 
 Squadron, lazily rocked in Smyrnan waters, 
 guarding with vigilant eyes American inter- 
 ests along the threatening Mohammedan coast 
 of Asia Minor. As we were at lunch in the 
 dining cabin of the " Sun," the strains of " God 
 Save the Queen " fell upon grateful ears from 
 an unknown source. It was discovered, a boat 
 load of native musicians had drawn up under 
 the portholes of the dining cabin and were 
 playing a salute to the English ship. But it 
 was at Smyrna we were to hear of the pre- 
 dicted result of the election. A ereetingr to 
 
30 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 England was not in harmony with the momen- 
 tous occasion. I quietly withdrew from the 
 saloon, went on deck, wrote on a slip of paper, 
 " Play ' Star Spangled Banner,' ' Yankee Doo- 
 dle/ ' Three Cheers for the Red, White and 
 Blue,'" accompanied the same with several 
 pieces of coin, attached them to a string and 
 dropped them into the boat. I returned as 
 quietly to my seat at table, and soon the whole 
 company started up in unfeigned surprise, as 
 the melody of American national airs floated 
 through the cabin ; whereupon someone shout- 
 ed, ' Three cheers for William McKinley, 
 President of the United States," and they were 
 given with a will by the little party, victorious 
 at last. I think it was Dr. Barrows who in- 
 stantly arose and lifted his glass in honor of 
 " William McKinley, President of the United 
 States," which was eagerly responded to by the 
 expectant group. The English declared it was 
 at least premature. But the American spirit 
 was not to be silenced. During the afternoon, 
 we went ashore in launches and direct to the 
 Consulate, where the joyful news of the elec- 
 tion had been officially received. We were a 
 wild lot. Dr. Barrows, from the Consulate, 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 'q/k 3 I 
 
 cabled to President McKinley the congratula- 
 tions of " Eleven happy Americans." That 
 night was a wild night on the boat. We sang 
 American airs, decorated every available space 
 with American flags, and talked to the stars 
 and the gleeful sea of our triumph. From 
 that hour the Americans were in the ascen- 
 dant. 
 
 We were in Jerusalem some days and there, 
 amid the ruins of an inextinguishable past, the 
 joy of the new world was heralded on many 
 lips. 
 
 Sailing to Alexandria we took train for 
 Cairo, the city of dead men's bones, of women 
 of that ravishing beauty which must be veiled 
 from all eyes, lest they be spirited away by re- 
 gal intrigue. 
 
 Cairo with its four hundred thousand inhabi- 
 tants, its forestry of minarets, its Byzantine 
 domes, its splendid Citadel, its background of 
 Mokattam hills. Cairo, a city of avenues and 
 boulevards, of parks and fountains, of palaces 
 and gardens, of statues and mosques, of Chris- 
 tian churches and, thank God, the English flag 
 and the English barracks. The most Cosmo- 
 politan place in all the world. Here the care- 
 
2,2 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 worn business man of Europe or America for- 
 gets his delinquent debtors; the weary invalid 
 lounges in the moonlight air with never a sense 
 of falling dew. And this is the rainless land. 
 The fairyland of one's dreams. The weirdest 
 Paradise of one's night visions. Cairo, in the 
 winter season, is a scene of gaiety rarely equal- 
 led in any eastern metropolis. Among the 
 English and American residents and visitors a 
 perfect social harmony prevails. One spend- 
 ing a winter in Egypt, properly introduced, 
 will not want for social opportunities. I re- 
 marked to the American Consul, " The Occi- 
 dent and the Orient meet in Cairo." He an- 
 swered, " They run parallel, they never meet." 
 The hotels of modern Cairo are palaces, all 
 built with the same general reference to the 
 street, the frontage about twenty feet from the 
 street line. We were at the Xew Hotel, in the 
 Place de l'Opera, opposite the Royal Gardens 
 of Ezbekiyeh. In the Place before the Hotel, 
 stands the equestrian statue of Ibrahim Pasha. 
 Shepherd's Hotel, famed in song and story, is 
 two blocks away. The entire frontage of the 
 hotel is spanned to the street line with a ter- 
 race, enclosed and canopied by trellis work, in- 
 
DONKEY BANGLES. 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. $$ 
 
 terlaced with trailing vines and interwoven 
 with flowers of the most delicate perfume. 
 Oriental draperies, sedan chairs, divans, tables, 
 fill the pavilion. A love scene may be enacted 
 unseen in any one of twenty of these arbored 
 nooks, which are divided by screens into dainty 
 apartments, where coffee or sherbert is served 
 to that ever mystical number, two. Here the 
 Egyptian Jugglers amuse the guests with twi- 
 light incantations. But the street line is the 
 chief point of interest. Below the balustrade, 
 on the sidewalk, the natives cry their wares, 
 and all the strange sights of that strangest of 
 all cities greet the eye and entrance the 
 thought of the tourist. Here crowd the don- 
 key boys with their donkeys. Not the sort for 
 native travel, but high-toned beasts with dainty 
 white feet and long white nose, a delicate gray 
 epidermis, closely groomed, strings of jingling, 
 coin-shaped bangles about the throat, a fancy 
 chest girdle of tasselated wool fringes, and 
 gaily caparisoned saddles. Each is attended 
 by a donkey boy, not the least attractive of the 
 two. Boys who have picked up enough English 
 to advocate their own cause and with borrowed 
 Yankee wit that is irresistible. Many places 
 
34 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 of interest to tourists are accessible only by 
 means of donkeys or camels. The donkeys are 
 easily mounted, fleet footed, at least when ac- 
 companied by their owners, and so are more 
 generally adopted. The donkey boys, with a 
 keen eye to the foreigner and his specialties, 
 marshal their beasts in front of the hotels on 
 arrival of the Alexandrian trains, and wait op- 
 portunity to advertise the distinctive merits of 
 each. The next morning after our arrival, 
 we were ranged against the balustrade of the 
 terrace, watching the street scenes. It had 
 been learned by that instinctive sense which in 
 any land has an eye to the main chance, that 
 this party of Americans were to make the 
 Pyramids. The donkey boys, the only thing 
 in Egypt not slow, were here in numbers, 
 descanting vociferously on the merits of their 
 respective beasts. One, with keen practice, 
 leading his sleek donkey to the railing where 
 stood one of my young ladies, said : 
 
 "Miss — You — Merican? You wish don- 
 key ? You ride Yankee Doodle ? " 
 
 Miss M. shook her head and he persisted. 
 " You Merican ? You no like Yankee Doo- 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '(/>. 35 
 
 die? " While Miss M. was thus engaged, an- 
 other boy approached my daughter. 
 
 "You — Merican, Miss, you wish donkey? 
 Me, me, donkey, William McKinley, good, 
 good Donkey-" We burst into convulsive 
 laughter, but nothing daunted, he continued : 
 
 " You — Merican? You wish good donkey? 
 Me donkey, President McKinley, good donkey, 
 good donkey, sheaf 1 , sheap — You take him?" 
 This, too, within a stone's throw of the Pyra- 
 mids and the immortal Sphinx, and within a 
 fortnight after the election. Who shall say 
 the fame of President McKinley has not gir- 
 dled the earth ? And I am wondering what the 
 donkey boys are saying to-day, when the halo 
 of his administration has broken the night- 
 watch of the Nations and the Morning has 
 come, when the toiler shall no more say, " I 
 am weary." 
 
 A few days later, a section of the London 
 party, with the eleven Americans, took pas- 
 sage by early boat for a visit to the great 
 Necropolis of the Ancient City of Memphis, 
 including the Pyramids of Sakkara, the Tombs 
 of the Apis Bulls, the Cemetery of Cats, and 
 that world wonder of tombs, the Mastaba of 
 
36 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 Thy. The day was like most Egyptian days, 
 a charm. The Nile was at its best. The first 
 point of interest is the Island of Rhoda, ever 
 memorable for the papyrus boat in which, upon 
 its banks, the infant Moses was cradled. This 
 act was in harmony with the customs of to-day. 
 Native women make these tiny papyri boats, 
 place their babes in them, and swim across the 
 Nile, at low water, pushing their boats before 
 them. On the north end of the Island is the 
 Tree of Healing, dedicated to the Saint Man- 
 dura. The tree looks more like a flagstaff, 
 bearing the tattered flags of all nations. These 
 rags have once covered the wounds of suffer- 
 ers. The patient unbinds the affected part and 
 suspends the covering upon the tree as a votive 
 offering to the saint. He then binds two 
 leaves of the tree upon the ulcer, of whatever 
 character, and goes away healed (?). Upon 
 this Island also is the Nilometer which re- 
 cords the progress of the annual inundation 
 of the Nile. When it reaches the requisite 
 level, the proclamation of the "Wefa" is is- 
 sued, for cutting the banks and opening the 
 canals to receive the water for storage and dis- 
 tribution. Formerly the taxes were regulated 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. $J 
 
 by the height of the inundation, the commer- 
 cial and agricultural wealth being wholly de- 
 termined thereby. 
 
 After three lazy hours we landed near 
 the village of Bedrashen. Donkeys had 
 been ordered in advance for the main 
 party, chairs and bearers for my daughter, 
 
 Miss M . and myself. These chairs 
 
 are attached on either side, at bottom, to a 
 long pole, and four Arab bearers lift the four 
 ends of the poles to their shoulders, and the 
 rider is suspended midway. The day was in- 
 sufferably hot, and although we were shaded 
 by various Egyptian devices for protection 
 against sunstroke, before we had proceeded far, 
 my young ladies were succumbing to the heat. 
 Our bearers, either by design or from fatigue, 
 failed to keep pace with the donkey-riders, and 
 we fell behind. Soon, however, we came to 
 the ruins of the Temple of Pthah. Here were 
 four of the advance party, lingering still amid 
 the memories of an undying past. They, too, 
 were heat sufferers. The entire party had vis- 
 ited the Sphinx and the Pyramids of Gizeh, and 
 on consultation we decided to await, amid 
 these splendid ruins, the return of the Sakkara 
 
38 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 party. We climbed from ruin to ruin of the 
 ancient and mighty Temple, still half-submerg- 
 ed from the receding inundation, and wandered 
 on to the recumbent Statue of Rameses II. It 
 lies in a horizontal position within a wooden 
 frame-work guarded by the overhanging 
 palms. It is forty-two feet in length, a lime- 
 stone monolith three thousand years old. We 
 ascended a platform and looked down upon the 
 unresponsive face of the mighty slumberer, 
 whom Warner labels as 'The handsomest and 
 most conceited swell of all Egyptian Mon- 
 archs." His head bears the royal crown, his 
 chin has a beard, his left hand holds the em- 
 blem of royalty. His name is engraven upon 
 breast and shoulder. Our party walked about 
 this prostrate statue. He lies asleep beneath 
 the palms, — his pillow a stone, — his feet brok- 
 en and missing. The Nile overflow submerges 
 him, the jackals screech his lullaby, but he lies 
 undisturbed in his stately dignity, the colossal 
 symbol of "Oppression." As we stood talk- 
 ing of that fateful Egyptian night, when there 
 was "One dead" in every house, not afar off, — 
 and of the great caravansary of "six hun- 
 dred thousand footmen" — "besides children," 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 39 
 
 which passed this way, under the impetuous or- 
 der of this Pharaoh of the Egyptians, we were 
 startled by an Arab courier riding a splendid 
 Arab steed, who came dashing into our midst 
 with an air of consequence, and delivered a 
 message to our Dragoman who interpreted it 
 to us. 
 
 The Sheik of an Arab village some dis- 
 tance away had learned that a party of distin- 
 guished Americans were within his Province, 
 and " His Majesty " extended an invitation 
 to us to visit his village and " palace." This 
 was the ultimatum of hope, to visit a genuine 
 Arab establishment of rank. One gentleman, 
 
 Col. H , of London, was in our party 
 
 and so, little heeding what awaited us, we ac- 
 cepted the invitation. The courier dashed 
 away and soon returned with a mounted es- 
 cort clad in garments indicative of their rank. 
 We formed in line, myself at the front, my 
 daughter second. Miss M. third, seated in our 
 chairs, which the bearers gracefully lifted to 
 their shoulders. The three London ladies fol- 
 lowed on their donkeys, with Colonel H 
 
 in the rear for our protection. As we ad- 
 vanced, all along the route, our cavalcade re- 
 
40 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 ceived fresh installments of mounted Arabs. 
 Entering the village, at each angle we received 
 additional numbers of dogs and donkeys, men, 
 women and children, on foot or on camels, — a 
 most motley group and one worthy any camera 
 expert. But all Orientals have an instinctive 
 dread of the box. It is " The Devil's glass." 
 Beside, we were too much absorbed in study- 
 ing the situation. The village was built of 
 Nile mud. The houses were simply partition 
 walls which divided families. Roofless, for 
 rains are unknown, — floorless, doorless, win- 
 dowless — for it is never cold. The spaces for 
 such were filled with semi-human looking 
 creatures, in all stages of Oriental undress, all 
 of whom fell into line as we passed. Sudden- 
 ly we emerged from the alley-like streets into 
 the open court of the Sheik's palace. It stood 
 on an elevation. Our bearers let down our 
 chairs, the mounted, dismounted, and hastily 
 adjusting our dusty garments, the Sheik's offi- 
 cial interpreter conducted us to the pavilion 
 opening on this court. Here the Sheik, with 
 the Chief Magistrates of the village, received 
 us. Standing in line with all due formality, 
 we were each presented by the interpreter to 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN' OF '</>. 4 1 
 
 the Sheik, and successively to all in the receiv- 
 ing line. The Sheik and each of the Magis- 
 trates had a thin drapery of black cloth thrown 
 over the extended hand as a mark of deference. 
 Against the walls of the pavilion was a line 
 of seats over which Persian rugs had been 
 thrown. Here we were invited to sit while 
 heavier rugs of exquisite pattern were spread 
 for our feet. Seated, coffee was served in tiny 
 cups of the most delicate china, enclosed in re- 
 ceivers of heavy silver, brought on silver trays 
 by Arab attendants with all the obsequiousness 
 common to the Oriental. These removed, on 
 silver salvers were brought dates from the ad- 
 jacent trees, ripe, yellow, luscious. The colla- 
 tion over, the Sheik invited the ladies to visit 
 his Harem, with the injunction that the gentle- 
 man of the party tarry with the Magistrates. 
 He led us up a flight of stone steps on the outer 
 wall and ushered us into the Purdah room of 
 the Harem. Evidently great preparations had 
 been made for our reception. The four wives 
 of the Sheik were introduced, in the order of 
 their rank. They were each clad in complete 
 costumes of the heaviest black, with black veils 
 extending from the brow over the glossy black 
 
42 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 hair, enveloping neck and shoulders, much as 
 a mourning costume in America, but with far 
 different significance, this being the " court " 
 apparel. Their arms -were bare and covered 
 with jewels, large rings were pendant from 
 ears sparkling with jewels. Persian rugs had 
 been spread on the floor and we were invited 
 to sit. As we hesitated, the Sheik, divining 
 the situation, rushed out. In his absence the 
 women surveyed us, examining our dress, our 
 hair, our hats, with minutest care, and in the 
 rich language of gesture indicated their de- 
 light. They ventured to touch our hands and 
 cheeks as delicately as if we were rare and 
 precious things. The Sheik returned with a 
 stool for each of us, fashioned like unto a 
 tripod. He seemed greatly pleased that he had 
 met our necessities. After an interchange we 
 were invited to a collation in the corridor of 
 the inner Court of the Women. Imagine our 
 consternation at finding a pile of at least two 
 bushels of sweet corn, parched and heaped upon 
 mats upon the floor. We were invited to sit 
 with the women and partake. Knowing it 
 would be a gross violation of the rights of hos- 
 pitality to refuse to eat, my thought instantly 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF \)6. 43 
 
 sped away to the soul's inner chamber for 
 a solution of the problem. Speaking through 
 the interpreter, I said, " If 4 Your Majesty ' 
 will allow me the privilege to express 
 a wish, we would, according to the cus- 
 toms of our own country, regard it high 
 courtesy if we might be permitted, each 
 to bear a few ears of the royal menu to our 
 home and country, for the pleasure of our 
 friends." To this he readily conceded, and 
 we were each provided with a roll of the de- 
 lectable ears ; but we seemed even then not to 
 have met the etiquette of the occasion, and 
 we made an ungraceful attempt to honor our 
 host, by sitting upon the mats and nibbling 
 the corn with the royal ladies. These harem 
 beauties followed us as we withdrew, with di- 
 vine longings in the depths of their unfathom- 
 able eyes ; longings for that liberty which is 
 alone the inheritance of the women of Chris- 
 tian civilization. The Sheik urgently request- 
 ed that we pass the night with his queens in 
 the Royal Harem as the guests of " His Majes- 
 ty." This was a new and startling situation, 
 and the Colonel, our protector, not admitted to 
 the ladies' quarter. Drawing upon our re- 
 
44 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 serve forces, we explained we were a section 
 of an American and English party which had 
 gone on to Sakkara, whom we must meet at 
 the harbor a few miles away at nightfall. The 
 argument was inadequate. The Sheik " own- 
 ed a Nile yacht " and we should be " conveyed 
 to Cairo on the following day in regal state, 
 with official escort." But we urged, we were 
 representatives of our Government and must 
 not delay our mission. (We had been pro- 
 vided with letters from the Departments at 
 Washington — in response to which, we had 
 been, at many points, under the especial escort 
 of the Kevvasse of the Consulate. The Kewasse 
 is always dressed in official costume, of Ameri- 
 can army blue; the American shield braided in 
 gold in the breast of the coat, the American 
 flag between the shoulders, and the American 
 eagle spreading its wings from the frontlet of 
 his cap. In his belt he carried a sword, a 
 carbine and a brace of pistols.) To a native 
 in any Oriental country, the presence of the 
 Kewasse denotes official rank. On this day 
 we were not thus attended, but the native 
 Dragoman had heralded our coming. Hence 
 our high commission was at once accepted by 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 45 
 
 the Sheik. With a graceful demurrer he led 
 the way to the stone stairs amid the parting 
 wail of the distinguished ladies. 
 
 Descending, at the left was another section 
 of the palace, with grated upper windows, at 
 which we had observed, when in the court be- 
 low, the faces of two or three women and sev- 
 eral baby heads. As we passed, the Sheik 
 savagely noticed the unlicensed curiosity of his 
 concubines, and lifting one protesting finger 
 towards the window, they vanished by a single 
 movement and were seen no more. 
 
 Again in the pavilion of the court our 
 party conferred together as to some expression 
 of our gratitude to the venerable Sheik. I 
 inquired of the interpreter if a purse of money 
 would be acceptable to the Sheik, as we had 
 little else with us. He assured us it would be 
 held a gross indignity, saying, " The Sheik is 
 the owner of this whole province. What is 
 
 gold to him?" Colonel H said, 
 
 " Ladies, if you will pardon the individual act, 
 I will present a bunch of cigars as a token the 
 world over of good fellowship, and smoke 
 with him." (Alas! that women have no uni- 
 versal rite of hospitality). While the Colonel 
 
46 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 was thus engaged with the Sheik, the ladies 
 held another conference to discover if we had 
 anything about us which we could offer, appre- 
 ciative of the rare courtesy of a visit to the 
 harem. We examined our slight possessions 
 but found nothing worthy. Suddenly my 
 daughter turned to me, as if under the flash of 
 an inspiration, and said, " Mamma, give him 
 your McKinley button, and make a presenta- 
 tion speech in our behalf." With some slight 
 experience in public speaking I ventured the 
 difficult role. The receiving party stood for 
 our farewells. I passed up the line, greeted 
 the Sheik, took the button from my breast, and 
 said : " Your Majesty, I take from my bosom 
 a silver button. It bears on its face the photo- 
 graph of the most distinguished American the 
 New World has ever known, the President of 
 the United States, William McKinley. His 
 brow is garlanded with the Stars and Stripes, 
 the emblem of our liberties. You. sir, most 
 noble Sheik, with the Magistrates of your vil- 
 lage, have most graciously received and enter- 
 tained the loyal subjects of this great Sover- 
 eign of a mighty Nation. Notwithstanding 
 the traditions of exclusion common to your 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 47 
 
 people, you, sir, in deference to our less re- 
 stricted forms with which you seem familiar, 
 have admitted these ladies into the inner Court 
 of the Women. You have farther favored 
 them with an introduction to your representa- 
 tive men. Therefore, in behalf of the women 
 of my country, in behalf of the Government 
 you have this day recognized and honored, in 
 the rites of hospitality extended its citizens, I 
 hereby confer upon you the Decoration of the 
 Order of the Stars and Stripes, the emblem of 
 the Knights of William McKinley, President 
 of the United States." I then fastened the 
 button upon his breast. 
 
 In the exultation of the moment the Sheik 
 replied, " Speech is impossible. I cannot tell 
 it." Then taking it from his bosom into 
 his own hands, he minutely examined it, 
 touched it as gently as though it were a 
 gem of costliest value. With triumph in 
 his eyes he passed it down the line to be 
 examined by the Magistrates. I then replaced 
 it upon his bosom, and he wore it with full con- 
 fidence of having been decorated at the instance 
 of the President of the United States. But I 
 had only increased the complications. Now 
 
48 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 we must remain as his guests and the guests of 
 the village. A banquet should be given in the 
 evening to all the notables, a lamb should be 
 killed and the auspicious event should be cele- 
 brated after the standard of its significance. 
 He would place his own boat with skilled offi- 
 cers and appropriate escort, at our disposal for 
 the Nile journey on the morrow. But we in- 
 sisted, our Government duties admitted of no 
 delay. Having surrendered hope, the receiv- 
 ing party were again in line to receive our fare- 
 wells, and the grasp of the draped hands was 
 cordial and dignified as became the " represen- 
 tatives of a great Nation." We were returned 
 to our chairs and donkeys, with the blessing 
 and freedom of the village, and provided with 
 an escort of added numbers and dignity! 
 
 The cavalcade, as it moved from the Palace 
 Court, was one-half mile in length, and increas- 
 ed in novelty at every step. Native musicians, 
 singers in the Arab tongue, a growing reti- 
 nue of dogs, and donkeys, camels and their 
 burdens, altogether a most grotesque and 
 anomalous escort to the steamer some miles 
 away. As we went on board, the vast crowd 
 sent up a parting shout that stirred even the 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 49 
 
 placid waters of the ancient river. A score or 
 two of the " hangers-on " leaped into the wa- 
 ter, diving about the vessel for coins thrown by 
 the passengers which they successfully brought 
 up in their mouths. Suddenly there was a 
 stampede to the gang-plank and a rush for the 
 deck. The scene beggared description, and 
 only by the lash of the official group was the 
 frantic effort of the Fellaheen checked. We 
 lifted anchor and moved out, the wail of our 
 entertainers floating upon the evening winds. 
 Sailing the Nile at the sunset hour is rapture. 
 Our ideal of sunset upon sea or land, is the 
 amber of the sea, or the opaline of the clouds. 
 But sunset on the Nile, under a sky forever 
 cloudless — the rays of the dying sun seem to be 
 shivered like broken rainbows in the atmos- 
 phere, and their myriad tints blended and ab- 
 sorbed. Here then is a full diapason of color, 
 under a sapphire sky. This sinks into deep 
 blue, melts into dove tints, fades into gray; 
 then comes on the olive afterglow. The 
 moon comes sailing up the horizon, a queen in 
 yellow robes, untinted by any ochre. It is the 
 deep canary shade — and then the silence on its 
 banks. No vast populations. Only low Arab 
 
50 M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 mud villages here and there. The Shadoof* 
 has gone to rest. The Sakeyeh* has ceased 
 its revolutions. The horizon line is unbroken 
 by shaft or minaret. Here and there the 
 graceful palm and ever and ever the Pyramids 
 in their imperishable glory, their long, long 
 silences. All the world is hushed to sleep like 
 a babe on the bosom of Omnipotence. 
 
 The McKinley button had fulfilled its des- 
 tiny. It had told its story to the anxious multi- 
 tudes of the vast City of the Thames. It had 
 travelled over the world-famed battleground of 
 Waterloo. It had wandered through the cities 
 of the stolid German, passed the historic Rhine, 
 sailed with Tell, the patriot " in irons " about 
 Lucerne, to Kussnacht Keep, under sentence of 
 the Austrian tyrant Gessler. " In order to 
 break the National spirit, Gessler hung his hat 
 on a lime in the market-place, and ordered 
 every passer-by to bow to it." Tell alone re- 
 
 *Shadoof — Sakeyeh. Native pumps of primitive 
 construction in operation on the banks of the Nile, 
 to convey water to gardens. The first is operated by 
 hand. The second consists of a series of jars, at- 
 tached by cogs, to the circumference of a large wheel. 
 The wheel revolves by the tread of buffaloes, the pots 
 are attended by natives. 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF ' 0)6. 51 
 
 fused. Against this fateful tree. Tell was sen- 
 tenced to place his only son. and as all the 
 world knows, pierce with an arrow the apple or 
 the child. A second arrow, concealed for the 
 tyrant's heart if the first proved fatal, was dis- 
 covered. Tell was sentenced to Kussnacht 
 Keep, escaped en route from the boat in the 
 storm, and later pierced Gessler's heart at 
 Kussnacht. From thence the button travelled 
 over the blue waters of Lac Leman with its 
 tints of amber and gold, to " Chilton's dungeon 
 gray and old/' Bonnivard's immortal words 
 lingering as an undying cadence. After six 
 weary years of chains and darkness, his coun- 
 try's freedom was still the burning passion of 
 his soul. When the messengers announced to 
 Bonnivard, " You are free," Bonnivard cried 
 out, " What of Geneva? " " Free, too." ans- 
 wered the messengers, and then only did the 
 patriot's heart beat for joy as he returned to 
 his beloved Geneva. Was there nothing pro- 
 phetic in the succession of martial scenes? 
 
 from Geneva to the Parisian capital, under 
 the illumination reception of the Czar, when 
 there was no more night in the gay city. Was 
 it a passing fancy that even here, the silent 
 
52 M 'KIN LEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 face upon the canvas gave forth a softer, lof- 
 tier halo than all the weird light of these thou- 
 sands of incandescents, and one which should 
 not pass away? Continuing its mission, this 
 sublime face had attracted the protest of the 
 wily Neapolitans; had halted in the Halls of 
 Revelry at Pompeii, for the vision of their 
 matchless frescoes, after a volcanic entomb- 
 ment of seventeen centuries, — it had felt the 
 power of Paul's majestic words before the au- 
 gust Areopagitae on Mars Hill, which the 
 winds of the centuries can never dissipate, — 
 had stood in the presence of that divinity in 
 ruins, the Athenian Parthenon, — had lent itself 
 to the glory of the Stadion (the modern res- 
 toration of the ancient Stadium) its vast am- 
 phitheatre of glittering Pentelic marbles, telling 
 the story of the Olympian games and their re- 
 vival, " after a suppression of more than fif- 
 teen hundred years," in which, a few months 
 before, the interest of American colleges was 
 so widely awakened. 
 
 The Midnight Sun sailed from Piraeus for 
 Constantinople, under the protest of the Con- 
 sulate at Athens, and was the first foreign 
 steamer to anchor in the harbor of the death- 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF '96. 53 
 
 stricken city since April. For its protection, 
 the English and American Consuls asked of 
 the Sultan a guard of Turkish soldiers at the 
 pier (a questionable defense) and the passen- 
 gers were warned to return to the vessel, each 
 eve, before nightfall. At no time to utter a 
 syllable, or put an interrogation concerning the 
 massacre to the cabmen or dragomen, all of 
 whom were spies. Dr. Barrows had engaged 
 to give an evening lecture at Roberts College. 
 The American Consulate requested of the Sul- 
 tan a military guard for the college. The 
 College Faculty stationed twelve men as a se- 
 cret watch over the movements of the guard 
 during the night. Such was the feeling of in- 
 security. We visited the scenes of the massa- 
 cre of those two fearful days, August 26th and 
 27th, when within thirty-six hours, from four 
 to six thousand, mostly Armenians, according 
 to conservative estimate, had been slaughtered. 
 Within the celebrated " Cistern of one thou- 
 sand and one Columns/' the bottom having 
 been filled with earth, the Armenian silk spin- 
 ners had their secluded quarters. Here still 
 stood their silent looms while their warm blood 
 stained the places of our feet. We crossed 
 
54 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 the Galatea Bridge, where had occurred the 
 heaviest slaughter, and gazed long and silently 
 into the sullen waters which had afforded the 
 mangled victims their only asylum, and ques- 
 tioned if God reigned — the button all the while 
 flashing the rebuke of a country whose God is 
 the Lord, and where, of all the world, Liberty 
 is not a misnomer. After Smyrna, the but- 
 ton had wandered about the Temple of Diana 
 at Ephesus, temple, even in its exhumed and 
 fragmentary glory, an architectural miracle. 
 It had tarried at Jerusalem, bending above the 
 Manger at Bethlehem, listening with His dis- 
 ciples to the " Sermon on the Mount," dipping 
 in the Jordan, kneeling in Gethsemane, on 
 the heights of Calvary, at the " Holy Sepul- 
 chre," — stood before the Sphinx, ascended 
 Cheops, and at last rested on the bosom of 
 a proud Magnate of the followers of Islam. 
 
 Once only was its mission imperilled. "The 
 Sun" was the largest steamer which had at- 
 tempted the passage of the Corinthian Canal, 
 an artificial water course one hundred feet 
 wide, twenty-five feet deep, three miles in 
 length, cut through the solid rock of the Isth- 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 'o/>. 55 
 
 mus of Corinth — for more than a mile — in a 
 vertical line, one hundred and seventy feet 
 deep, straight and smooth as an arrow ; a feat 
 of engineering, dreamed of by Alexander, at- 
 tempted by Nero, abandoned as impossible for 
 eighteen hundred years — executed by the 
 French in ninety-three. The passage of the 
 canal abridged the distance to Athens by three 
 hundred miles. We were taken through by the 
 pilot, who gave a zigzag motion to the steamer, 
 which struck to right — to left — each shock 
 threatening to crush holes in the steamer's 
 sides and sink us. 
 
 " Protection " was the mighty word en- 
 circling the face which looked calmly down up- 
 on the seething waters, up the line of the un- 
 scalable precipice — into the blue heavens, and 
 unto the Throne of Him in whom its prototype 
 found " Protection." 
 
 The companion button re-crossed the Med- 
 iterranean, listened to the fiery words of Marc 
 Antony in the Roman Forum, as the body of 
 Caesar was burning at his feet, — from the 
 crumbling Galleries of the Colosseum, looked 
 down upon that " damned spot " where stalks 
 
56 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 the " Ghost of Rome " and will not "out." 
 Nor can 
 
 " Great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean" from their hands. 
 
 It appeared before the Holy Father in the Sis- 
 tine Chapel at the high function, the "Con- 
 sistory," when Monseigneur Satolli was creat- 
 ed Cardinal, — attended the Requiem Mass for 
 Victor Immanuel in the Paritheon, on the an- 
 niversary of his death, — smiled lovingly on 
 the flower-strewn slab in the " Church of the 
 Ognissanti " in Florence, which covers all that 
 is mortal of Amerigo Vespucci ; knelt beside 
 the figure of America at the feet of the Statue 
 of Columbus in the Genoese harbor, over which 
 his far away eyes keep sentinel watch, — under 
 the shadow of Tintoretto's Paradise, in the 
 Hall of the Nobles of the Doges Palace, studied 
 the historical frescoes of the Venetian Repub- 
 lic, — in the great Casino of Monte Carlo, 
 watched the game of Life and Death, (mostly 
 Death) ; traversed the land of Old Castile with 
 its ruined towers, its moss-grown walls and 
 crumbling cities, little recking the oncoming 
 eruption of its slumbering volcanoes " de 
 
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 'o/>. 57 
 
 Cuba;" — attended the great Catholic Pil- 
 grimages of the Fountain of Lourdes in the 
 Pyrenees, where five thousand come on a sin- 
 gle excursion to bathe in its mystical waters, 
 many of whom go away healed of all their 
 diseases; journeyed through the interior of 
 France, the life of whose peasantry the genius 
 of Maillet has well glorified, for to them there 
 is no other glory, — on again to the rollicking 
 French capital, and the memories of the French 
 Revolution and the ties which bind us, in La- 
 fayette and the Civil War. Thence to London 
 to meet the gaze of the potentates of all the 
 earth at the Queen's Jubilee, — and as its final 
 function to appear at the dual marriage cere- 
 mony in London, of the two young ladies of 
 the Egyptian chairs, — then again in the cabin 
 of the "Paris," to our native land, redeemed by 
 the button, which, losing its companion in 
 Egypt, has since, and yet awaits the publication 
 of this history to end its pilgrimage and reach 
 its final destination. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 RESUME. 
 
 The preceding history of the McKinley But- 
 tons would be incomplete without the addendix 
 of their second campaign. 
 
 Immediately following the London wedding, 
 
 Major S , a surgeon in the English 
 
 army, with his bride, sailed for India under 
 detail of three years. 
 
 Mr. T (also an Englishman with 
 
 five years' residence in Southern France), with 
 his bride, took the steamer "Paris" for America. 
 
 The first administration had vindicated the 
 button. "Protection" sat enthroned. The 
 nation worshiped at her shrine. Her golden 
 scepter had been lifted above every despair- 
 ing heart under the flag. The smoldering em- 
 bers of our national industries had been kin- 
 dled into flame. The moan of pale women 
 and unnourished babes had died away into 
 
RESUME. 59 
 
 silence, and Hope was the mother's lullaby 
 song. 
 
 Far over the western seas young men and 
 brave were bearing the flag of " Protection " 
 into the very seat of the despotic power of the 
 unbroken centuries. Like the mighty ship 
 amid the storms of the great seas, every nerve 
 was strained, every timber creaked. National 
 thought was tensed. But with that unswerv- 
 ing faith in the Nation's God, which constitut- 
 ed the divinity of the Chief Executive, every 
 man moved to his place as by some supernal 
 instinct. 
 
 At the very height of the movement the cry 
 of " Imperialism " was sounded by careless 
 lips. Again the vibrations of national unrest 
 trembled in the air. Piston valves moved with 
 fitful and uncertain action. The scale of our 
 national credit fluctuated under the weight of 
 " Empire." The heart of that frenzy of em- 
 pire was within the city of him who sounded 
 the trumpet blast of terror. 
 
 No city of modern times in any struggle, 
 civil or religious, has been so swept by the cur- 
 rents of divided thought. Every window pane, 
 from the humblest cabin to the most princely 
 
6o m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 home, announced the candidate of its occu- 
 pants. All roads led to the " Home cf the 
 next President." 
 
 November 6th. It was a sleepless night. 
 Silent and tense the vigils. The day dawned. 
 The day of " Jubilee." 
 
 An English steamer from the shores of the 
 . Himalayas had a few days earlier entered the 
 dock in New York harbor. Among the pas- 
 sengers were the English officer and his wife. 
 
 At the home of the writer, in the city of 
 the dead " Empire," on the night after elec- 
 tion was given another " Jubilee " dinner. At 
 table sat five of the " happy Americans " of the 
 Smyrna cable. The dining hall was decorated 
 with the flags of all nations that had wel- 
 comed the McKinley button in its first cam- 
 paign wanderings. 
 
 The Union Jack and the American flag were 
 interlaced. The floral decorations were Mc- 
 Kinley Carnations. All windows were heavy 
 with the red, white and blue. Flags filled 
 every nook of the spacious veranda and float- 
 ed from every point of vantage. Two Eng- 
 lish husbands had learned the lesson of " Pro- 
 tection " of the two American girls of the 
 
Photo by Courtney, Canton, Ohio. 
 
 M RS. M M M EY. 
 
RESUME. 6 1 
 
 " Egyptian chairs.*' Each of this jubilant par- 
 ty wore at dinner the McKinley button of the 
 foreign expedition. The " campaign of the 
 Nile " button graced the breast of the speech- 
 maker of the Sheik's palace. The veritable 
 " Toasts " of the English yacht at Smyrna 
 were again offered and the night went mad 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 The English officer and his bride have re- 
 crossed the seas. The campaign button again 
 awaits its final destination when this brochure 
 shall find its place in McKinley literature. 
 
 A new light has passed over the calm fea- 
 tures — the light of immortality. The nation 
 which has mourned such leader shall never 
 perish from the earth. When the hand of the 
 Future shall write the history of Christian 
 civilizations, the name of William McKinley 
 will be written as the stainless soul of these 
 civilizations. 
 
 Of all its fair pages, the fairest shall be that 
 which bears the name of him who in the death 
 struggle prayed from the cross of his own final 
 agony : 
 
 " Father, forgive him, he knows not what he doe?."' 
 
3fin flpemoriam. 
 
 "Father, forgave!" 
 
 These words are the unspent vibration of the 
 great minor tone of Calvary, the keynote of the 
 Divine melody, sounded by the lips of death, in 
 the twentieth century, in the very chamber of 
 national power. That note is the exponent of 
 that power, under the highest civilization the 
 world has ever known. 
 
 It is the momentum of Calvary. The very ex- 
 istence of a republic is its demonstration. When 
 the sovereign of a great republic, death-struck by 
 violence in the midst of his friends, uses the pos- 
 sible fragment of time, which is his, in praying 
 for his assassin, he gives the world the sublimest 
 evidence of his own divinity. 
 
 President McKinley's life is the masterpiece, 
 drawn by Life's great Artist, on the canvas of the 
 ages. 
 
 It may well be said it required a hundred years 
 to produce such a man. That life was the prod- 
 uct of antecedent, pregnant forces. Study that 
 life. Measured by any standard it is the equiva- 
 lent of the highest. 
 
 No dissection of his public or private acts re- 
 veals the disease of selfishness ; although this is 
 
1 1ST MEMORIA.M. 63 
 
 an age in which men's virtues only are remem- 
 bered, it is an hour when the analysis of char- 
 acter is universal. Yet the life of President 
 McKinley, under the microscope of public ex- 
 amination for twelve months, reveals nothing 
 which his most ardent friend could wish with- 
 held. In fact, each test of the microscope gives 
 heightened coloring to word and deed, and a 
 devoted people eagerly await each new tint. In 
 this, men do not praise McKinley; they exalt 
 his virtues. 
 
 President McKinley 's religious character was 
 never marred by political strife. In all his politi- 
 cal struggles the dignity and depth of his reli- 
 gious convictions were never for one moment com- 
 promised. He was always found equal to great 
 emergencies, which he met with that composure 
 of spirit which is the certain index of trust in the 
 Infinite resources. When carried beyond his 
 personal conviction by the vox populi, even then 
 he met the crisis with that tranquility which is 
 only possible to one who has made that greatest of 
 all conquests, the conquest of self. Said Cicero to 
 Caesar, "To have conquered yourself is a deed 
 which raises you above humanity, and makes you 
 most like God." Verily that conquest was mani- 
 fest in the life of President McKinley, as in no 
 other man who has lived. Born of this greatness 
 
64 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 of self-discipline was that magnificent capacity to 
 control other men ; to persuade an entire Con- 
 gress, as one man , to assume a grave responsi- 
 bility, wholly unconscious they were impelled by 
 any extraneous influence. 
 
 The White House correspondent "L. W. P.," 
 writing in "Campbell's Illustrated Journal," gives 
 the following incident, which is worthy to be re- 
 peated in every text-book in the land. "I once 
 said to Mr. McKinley, 'Major, you have the most 
 remarkable self-control I ever saw in a man.' 
 He replied: 'Yes, I have learned self-control. It 
 has been a matter of discipline. Mrs. McKinley 
 has been an invalid for many years. Her life has 
 at times hung by a thread, and her physician 
 believed I could strengthen or weaken that hold 
 on life. I schooled myself, and never went into 
 her presence without a smile on my face and the 
 assurance in my manner that the universe was 
 moving as I had ordered. It mattered not how 
 the world treated me, or what were my trials ; 
 I had to go to my wife as though the world were 
 mine, and everything run as I would have it. It 
 was not easy at all times to follow the directions 
 of the doctor; but there was my wife's life at 
 stake. It was the highest stake a man ever 
 played for, and I played to win/ ' 
 
 Would that some limner of the Immortals, 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 65 
 
 dipping his brush in eternal colors, might paint 
 that picture of devotion on the canvas of the 
 world's memory for the eyes of unborn races. 
 
 But it must forever remain in any record, pub- 
 lic or private, of President McKinley as the one 
 supreme quality, his devotion to his wife. Is 
 there anything more sublime in the record of 
 character, in any age, than the self-discipline the 
 above incident illustrates? 
 
 Murat Halsted, in the Memorial Number of 
 the "Saturday Evening Post" (a), writes most 
 tender and pathetic things of Mrs. McKinley. 
 Her absorbing devotion to her husband is most 
 gently portrayed. Her daily visits to the place 
 of interment ; her sorrowful moan, "There is now 
 nothing for me but to wait, and I want to go," 
 defines the indivisibility of these two rare souls. 
 Mr. Halsted quotes Mrs. McKinley 's words con- 
 cerning her husband : "It seemed that, without 
 speech, he knew a wish when I formed it, and 
 our love was for every day." 
 
 Such is the compensation of Immortality : the 
 indivisibility of two souls is unchanged by the 
 disrobings of mortality. The soul cannot sepa- 
 rate itself from itself, under the divine law of 
 unity. When the recognition of this truth be- 
 comes the central impulse of Christian faith, 
 rather than as now, a myth of speculation, then 
 
66 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 will the millennium of the soul come. Mr. Mc- 
 Kinley, of all men, believed in immortality. 
 His faith in the reunion of friends after death was 
 absolute. 
 
 The great fact to be commemorated in the 
 death of President McKinley is that his life is a 
 legacy of love to humanity. Is it any marvel the 
 "little children cried in the streets when he 
 died"? And Mr. Halsted has well said, "That 
 was the tenderest tribute ever paid to the im- 
 mortals, whose gift of greatness was kindness." 
 Of this universal tenderness to children Mr. 
 Charles Emory Smith writes (b) : "It was as nat- 
 ural for him to send the child that was ushered 
 into his presence away with the treasured carna- 
 tion as it was to stop and give his boutonniere to 
 the proud engineer of his special train." 
 
 Mr. McKinley 's unwritten life is the highest, 
 divinest commentary upon human action. It is a 
 grateful truth, that whatever of worth has been 
 lived in any life continues to live. To such there 
 is no death, even in time. Mr. McKinley 's work 
 is done, and well done. Its influence is deathless, 
 its continuity of power unbroken. He saw in all 
 men what he saw in himself. He conceded to all 
 men the same liberties he desired for himself. 
 
 (a)-(d) — Mr. Halsted, Saturday Evening Post, Sept. 6, 1902. 
 (b)-(c) — Charles Emory Smith, Saturday Evening Post, Sept. 
 13, 1902. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 6j 
 
 The President's dying prayer for forgiveness 
 for his assassin was but the expression of his life- 
 long attitude toward those who wronged him. 
 
 Referring again to Mr. Smith's (c) "Memorial 
 Paper," he gives the following incident concern- 
 ing a Cabinet meeting : "A Federal officer had 
 issued a public paper, in which he reflected on 
 the Administration. It was a foolish and unwar- 
 ranted criticism. The question came up as to 
 whether he should be disciplined. The President 
 had not known of the paper, and asked to see it. 
 On glancing over it, he said : 'I don't know but 
 this officer is directly criticising me, and you had 
 better leave the paper with me, and let me ex- 
 amine it more closely.' 'And, Mr. President, if 
 you find he is criticising you, what will you do?" 
 
 " T will forgive him,' was the President's im- 
 mediate and calm answer." 
 
 Such is the man whom American history will 
 always honor. One of the few men whose entire 
 life, public and private, furnishes to history an un- 
 tarnished page, and the summary of whose life 
 is expressed in the President's own words con- 
 cerning the assassination of President Lincoln : 
 
 "Whenever and however death came, he had 
 done enough for immortality" (d). 
 
68 m'kinley carnations of memory. 
 
 O mighty soul ! that erst was with us ; 
 Men saw not, knew not, the fullness of thy strength, 
 'Till the sudden obscuration of thy sun at midday, 
 Left the world in darkness. 
 
 "* * * Through such souls alone 
 God, stooping, shows sufficient of His light 
 For us i' the dark to rise by * * *." 
 
 THE AIM OF THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 William McKinley : the Man, the Citizen, the 
 Friend of Humanity. 
 
 William McKinley was not assassinated. 
 There was nothing about the man to invite the 
 aim of the assassin. As well might he shoot at 
 a star. The orbit of the star would be undis- 
 turbed. Its lustre would only be dimmed to the 
 eyes focusing the smoke of the bullet. The dis- 
 charge of the weapon, moreover, would serve to 
 direct the gaze of the multitudes toward the radi- 
 ance of the unsetting star. 
 
 What, then, constitutes the motive of the 
 assassin? Not the destruction of the man, but 
 of that which he represented — the truth. Not a 
 truth, but the truth, the sublimest thing of 
 the ages — the only immortal thing. 
 
 President McKinley thought God's thoughts. 
 Thought, borne by the winds of heaven, breathed 
 in the caves and the catacombs, caught up by 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 69 
 
 the crest of the sea waves, has ever beaten against 
 the rocks of superstition, to find only here and 
 there an answering echo from some great soul 
 on the Palisades of Being, who becomes an in- 
 terpreter to men. President McKinley was the 
 impersonation of truth. In him the divine rule 
 of action was crystallized. He, of all men, did 
 unto others as he would they should do unto 
 him. 
 
 It is the unreachable to feet entangled in the 
 morasses. It is the incomprehensible in national 
 life. It does violence to the law of opportunity. 
 
 CRUCIFY IT! CRUCIFY IT ! 
 
 It was the attempted crucifixion of thought at 
 Smithfield's, at the Circus Maximus, on the Flor- 
 entine Plaza, in the Tower, in the Bastile — on 
 whatever wheel, in whatever fires, on whatsoever 
 cross of agony — a great soul has been immo- 
 lated. 
 
 It is the martyrdom of truth, whose fires never 
 die. But from every whitening ember truth rises 
 again, as from the brow of Olivet, and in each 
 resurrection the spiritualized incarnation has 
 clearer outline, till, finally, the dull, dead eyes 
 which have had slow awakening begin to dimly 
 perceive it. 
 
 And thus truth lives in the death of the mar- 
 
JO M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 tyrs. It can no more perish from the earth than 
 can God withdraw himself. Truth is of God. 
 Whoever thinks God's thoughts after Him, and 
 expresses it to the world, he is immortal. The 
 stiletto of the barbarian cannot pierce truth ; 
 inquisitorial fires cannot stifle it ; the bullet of 
 the assassin can only give it life — life more abun- 
 dant, even though at the suspension of that un- 
 defined and undefinable thing we so strangely 
 call life. 
 
 Hence, in the summing up, we discover it is 
 thought only which has been assassinated He 
 who expressed it is immortal, and his thought is 
 immortal also. Hence, it is not a hypothesis, 
 but a demonstration. There is no death. 
 
 Moreover, thoughts on high planes are the 
 world's inheritance. God has so adjusted them 
 that they shall meet and blend the antitheses of 
 souls. They are too sacred for the unsanctified. 
 They are beyond reach. But they are continu- 
 ally calling to the souls of men : "Come up 
 higher. Come where we dwell." 
 
 Thoughts take material form in the printed 
 page. Books become the world's inheritance. 
 But books have their years. The copyright ex- 
 pires. The mold in which they are cast corrodes, 
 and the rust of the ages effaces their title pages. 
 God has put a divine copyright on the creations 
 
IN MEMORIAM. J\ 
 
 of truth, the creations of souls who comprehend 
 truth, and legions of angels shall spread their 
 white wings about that truth forever. The copy- 
 right is imperishable. The thought has spiritual 
 form, and spirit is indestructible. 
 
 The painter puts upon the walls of some giant 
 cathedral, in fresco, a world-theme. The sculp- 
 tor from the cold marble brings forth the ideal 
 conception of his own soul. But the fresco per- 
 ishes. Michael Angelo's fresco of the "Last 
 Judgment," which covers the entire wall (sixty- 
 four feet wide and thirty-two feet in height) of 
 the Capella Sistina of the Vatican, where alone 
 the Pope officiates in high ceremony, has become 
 so defaced by time it is difficult to trace its beauty 
 with the natural eye. The Venus de Milo, the 
 supreme creation of the Greek sculptor, stands in 
 the Louvre at Paris, the central magnet of the 
 art world, though having lost both its arms. 
 And every reproduction of the modern sculptor 
 is an armless reproduction. 
 
 Thus the material form of thought dies with 
 its age and is buried in the same sepulchre. But 
 the thought creation, as of Michael Angelo or 
 the Greek sculptor, is an immortal creation. 
 Thought, then, is the real immortality. The 
 thoughts of truth man entertains in life, when he 
 passes from the arena of action, will remain in the 
 
J2. M KINLEY CARNATIONS OF MEMORY. 
 
 world's atmosphere as his contribution to the 
 ideals of human progress. They will creep in 
 upon the souls of those who shall come after — 
 receptive souls, souls that take wings, like the 
 birds, and rise to the strata of the full orchestra 
 of God's infinite harmonies ; then, sweeping 
 down to the souls of other men, sing to them 
 these songs, until, at last, the one thought, "Do 
 unto others as ye would they should do unto 
 you," shall cause a vibration in the whole atmos- 
 phere of thought, and the ethics of reciprocity 
 shall be understood by all men. Then shall dis- 
 cord cease, and His will "Be done in earth as it 
 is in heaven" — for ever and ever. 
 
 Though "Heaven and earth shall pass away." 
 ' Thought keeps its own — its starlight way. 
 In Judean skies, seen from afar, 
 Shone soft the light of Bethlehem's star. 
 A Babe within a manger lay — 
 'Twas Thought was born that golden day. 
 The wise men knelt to catch its tone, 
 The startled world knew not its own. 
 Thought bowed in lone Gethsemane, 
 And breathed its prayer for you and me. 
 
 Great Darkness stretched her sable hand 
 
 And Silence fell on all the land. 
 
 On Calvary's heights, 'twas Thought that died. 
 
 'Twas Thought the world had crucified. 
 
 Thought rose again on Olivet. 
 
 Sweet Bethlehem's Star has never set. 
 
 Thought has its own eternal day, 
 
 Though "Heaven and earth shall pass away," 
 
JUN 1 4 V 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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