Sunday [September] 15, 1901

Dear "Liz,"

Isn't it awful? After everything seemed so favorable to recovery that McKinley should pass away so suddenly - I can't realize that he is gone. That one so loved, admired, and respected by all should be called home just in the prime of his life, as he has been, seems rather hard. And to think that it was only a week ago Thursday that I saw him show himself a gracious acquaintance, an able statesman, a loving husband, a man worthy of the trust placed in him, a cautious, far-seeing unselfish leader, the man representative of his race. Yet today I saw what is left of him, quiet in the long rest and he has been called Home to be with Our Father. And so let us pray that the man who succeeds him may prove himself a worthy successor, as we believe he will.

The Expo. of course was closed yesterday and today, so I had two days of rest. Thursday I was promoted to sergeancy and was put in charge of the largest station on the grounds, nearly a third of all the forced was registered there that day. The sergeant was to issue all the time cards, then at night has to cash all the men in and then foot up his books and make them and the cash balance.

We cashed in early Thurs. so I got through early, left the office at twenty minutes of one Friday morning and got back to the office again at 8:15 a.m. So you see I have a steady position until the Expo. closes, with a chance of going south to the Charleston fair this winter. I shall not go to school this fall but work and lay a little bit by.

Thursday I got a pair of buttons for you, the prettiest Pan-Am souvenir there is, and asked Mother to mail them to you Friday morning. Did they reach you?

You speak of working or rather of being a shop girl and of your work but never told me what you were doing or where you were or anything about it. Be sure and tell me in your next all about it.

This afternoon I took an old G.A.R. man to see the house in which McKinley died and then down to the city hall where the body was lying in state. We stood in line about two hours before we reached the bier. When we went to take the car to go home there must have been nearly fifty thousand people in line. I never saw such a crowd. Thousands couldn't possibly have reached the city hall before it was closed. Tomorrow morning the body goes to Washington.

A short time ago you asked for monograms. I enclose all I have.

Remember me to Laura when you write. Is she at Northfield this year?

Give my regards to your mother,

Your brudder


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