Messages of congratulation poured in on the relatives and friends at Buffalo by the hundreds, hope rose high, and cheerful faces shone where all had been gloom. This buoyant feeling continued until Thursday night at Buffalo, and only on Friday morning did the nation learn of the change for the worse. Among the cablegrams of congratulations sent by European rulers were those from the King of England, the Czar of Russia, the King of Greece and the Emperor of Austria. The following dispatch was received at the American Embassy at London: “I am delighted to hear your last most satisfactory account of your President. I sincerely trust that his convalescence may soon be completed. “Edward, R.” The following message was received from the Czar of Russia: “Fredensborg—To President McKinley, Buffalo, N. Y:—I am happy to hear you are feeling better after the ignominious attempt on your life. I join with the American people and the universal world for your speedy recovery. “Nicholas.” The following message was received from King George of Greece at Fredensborg: “I rejoice to hear that you so happily escaped the terrible attempt on your precious life, which has horrified the civilized world, but hope to God that you recover for the good and glory of the American people.” Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria sent an expression of his sympathy at the probable recovery of the President to the United States government to-day. The dispatch was sent through the American Embassy. On Thursday all was hopefulness; on Friday gloom and fear; on Saturday heads bowed in mourning. Death came with an awful suddenness, notwithstanding the week of suffering. The passionate hope that the President would recover had been followed by a feeling of perfect assurance that he was out of danger, when the wholly unexpected news of Friday put the people on the rack again. There was another torturing day, and when it ended hope and confidence had yielded to universal grief and to a fruitless questioning of the impenetrable ways of Providence. It seemed inexplicably strange that a man so beloved and unoffending and so rich in good works should have been made the victim of the assassin’s bullet. All day long the bulletin boards in every city were surrounded by crowds waiting in suppressed excitement for the latest word from the Milburn home, and numerous newspaper extras were eagerly snapped up. Every household in Washington was in mourning. The sorrow was complete. Large crowds assembled about the bulletin boards early in the evening of the memorable day, eagerly awaiting the latest news, hoping against hope that something would happen, in the mysterious workings of the Almighty, to spare the President.