He stood between the sick-room and the world as far as information on the progress of the case was concerned, and the place called for the most delicate judgment. In addition to his official connection with the dying President it was his duty to supervise all of the private personal affairs of his superior. In addition to the work which he could do by verbal direction the executive correspondence by mail and wire trebled and quadrupled. It exceeded that of any other period in the public life of Mr. McKinley, including the days that succeeded both his first and second elections. It seemed that Mr. Cortelyou must fail in the mere physical task of handling it, but no physical exaction seemed too great for him. His personal affection for his chief was complete, and the President’s death was a grievous shock to him. He has not faltered, however, and still stands in the place that he must occupy until the last offices have been performed at the grave of Mr. McKinley. CHAPTER VIII. DAYS OF ANXIETY AND SORROW. The Nation was thrown into a state of grief and indignation never before approached at the terrible news from Buffalo Friday, September 6th. Methods for transmitting intelligence have been vastly improved since the assassination of Garfield, since which time no such national calamity has befallen the United States. Poignant regret, intense indignation, and a feeling of dismay mingled in the hearts of the eighty million Americans who stood appalled at the news which swept like wild fire and reached every part of the world in an incredibly short time. It was an appalling thought that this great republic, with all its promises and all its deeds for oppressed humanity, exposed its chief magistrates to more deadly chances than does any empire or kingdom. But seven men regularly elected Presidents in the last thirty-six years, and three of them brought low with the assassin’s bullet! The news of the attempt on the life of the President was received from one end of the country to the other first with horrified amazement and then with the deepest grief. In every city in the United States men and women gathered and waited for hours to get every scrap of information that came over the wires. In thousands of small towns the whole population stood about the local telegraph offices and watched tearfully and anxiously for bulletins. Telegraph offices everywhere were swamped with business, messages of sympathy for the President and his wife from almost every man of prominence in the nation, and for hours after the shooting telephone trunk lines were so overburdened that only a small percentage of subscribers were able to secure service.