of blinding white light. The secretary,
whose coat was torn by some splinters of glass, stood up and showed
himself to the multitude.

"Murder, murder," yelled the mob, "down with the assassin." And the
secretary saw them seize a degenerate-looking wretch and begin pounding
him with their fists. After a little while he was thrown to the ground,
but was dragged up again and at last, as the chauffeur was guiding his
car backwards through the crowd, the secretary heard a man say:

"Thank God, they've strung him up on a lamp-post!"

The mob had administered quick justice.

Utterly exhausted by this experience, the Secretary of State returned to
his home, where he gave orders that the President should be informed at
once of what had occurred.

The servant had scarcely left the secretary's study when his wife
entered. She threw her arms passionately around his neck and refused to
be quieted. "It's all right, Edith, I haven't been scratched."

"But you'll be killed the next time," she sobbed.

"It makes but little difference, Edith, whether I die here on the
pavement or out yonder on the battle-field: we must all die at our posts
if need be. Death may come to us any day here as well as there, but,"
and freeing himself from his wife's embrace, he walked to his desk and
pointed to a picture of Abraham Lincoln hanging over it, saying, "if I
fall as that man fell, there are hundreds who are ready to step into my
shoes without the slightest fuss and with the same solemn sense of
duty."

A servant entered and announced that the British Ambassador asked to be
received by the secretary. "One minute," was the answer, "ask His
Excellency to wait one minute."

The sound of many voices could be heard outside. The secretary walked to
the window and looked out.

"Look," he said to his wife, "there are some people at least who are
glad that the bomb failed to accomplish its purpose." His appearance at
the window was a signal for loud cheers from the people on the street.
Holding the hand of his faithful wife in his own, he said: "Edith, I
know we are on the right road. We can read our destiny only in the stars
on our banner. There is only one future for the United States, only one,
that beneath the Stars and Stripes, and not a single star must be
missing--neither that of Washington, nor that of Oregon, nor that of
California. We had a hard fight to establish our independence, and the
inheritance of our fathers we must ever cheri