Dr. P. M. Rixey, the family physician, was the most constant watcher at the bedside of the wounded man. After McKinley had recovered sufficiently to talk, which was on the third day, he would ask regarding the condition of Mrs. McKinley. The assurance that she was bearing up bravely seemed to act beneficially on the President. Mrs. McKinley was permitted to see her husband daily, but only for a few minutes at a time. As was his wont in former days to cheer his invalid wife, so it was a pleasure for her to show a reciprocal spirit, which she did. The daily meetings were those of true lovers, and every eye in the sick room would be wet ere the parting kiss of the day would be given. These visits, at all times brief, were still a source of deep satisfaction to the stricken President. The outcome of the struggle vitally interested McKinley, more because of the effect his death would have on his wife and on the nation than for personal reasons. A man of sterling Christian character, pious and devout, he did not fear death. The end had no terrors for him, but he felt it would leave a void, a vacancy, which none other could fill. The invalid who for 30 years had relied on him alone as her support and protector, her aid and comfort, still needed him. It was parting from her that made him feel reluctant to lay down his life’s work. Cares of state engrossed little of his attention during that week spent in the Milburn residence. He had builded well, and the dedication, as it were, of his noble edifice of national policy, in which all culminated, was in the memorable speech of the day preceding the fateful Friday. Several times during his last days he smiled upon being complimented for that truly great oration, but he did not live to learn how thoroughly it was appreciated throughout the length and breadth of the land. Dr. Charles McBurney, the eminent New York specialist, was summoned to Buffalo the evening of the shooting. He did not arrive until Sunday morning, however. The President passed the first night after the shooting fairly comfortably. His temperature increased from 100° to 100.6° between 1 and 3 a. m., and fears were entertained that peritonitis might set in. The doctors chosen to care for the case—P. M. Rixey, M. B. Mann, Roswell Park, H. Mynter and Eugene Wasdin—were in attendance at the President’s bedside all night, watching carefully each symptom. At 10:40 p. m. the doctors issued this bulletin: “The President is rallying satisfactorily and is resting comfortably. Temperature, 100.4°; pulse, 124; respiration, 24.” At 1:30 a. m. the bulletin read: “The President is free from pain and resting well. Temperature, 100.2°; pulse, 120; respiration, 24.”