The wave of sound radiated from each newspaper office and penetrated the most deserted street, the most secret alley, telling the people of the death of their President.
Anarchy achieved its greatest crime in the murder of President McKinley while he held the hand of his assassin in friendly grasp.
Little wonder this country was roused as never before, and at this moment the civilized world is discussing measures for the suppression, the obliteration, of anarchists, but we must take heed lest we overshoot the mark.
Three Presidents--Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley--have been assassinated, but only the last as the result of anarchistic teachings.

The crime of Booth had nothing to do with anarchy; the crime of half-witted Guiteau had nothing to do with anarchy; but the deliberate crime of the cool and self-possessed Czolgoscz was the direct outcome of the "propaganda of action." Because, therefore, three Presidents have been assassinated, we must not link the crimes together and unduly magnify the dangers of anarchy.

At most the two early crimes could only serve to demonstrate how easy it is to reach and kill a President of the United States, and therefore the necessity for greater safeguards about his person is trebly demonstrated.

The habit of handshaking, at best, has little to recommend it; with public men it is a custom without excuse.

The notion that men in public life must receive and mingle with great masses of people, or run the risk of being called undemocratic, is a relic of the political dark ages.
The President of the United States is an executive official, not a spectacle; he ought to be a very busy man, just a plain, hard-working servant of the people,--that is the real democratic idea.