otland?"

"Yes."

"And you had a king at the head of your armies?"

"Yes."

"Well! _we_ licked you all the same."

The children of our foreign born citizens in our public schools are
intensely American. A boy who was born in this country but whose
parents were foreign born, was for some misdemeanor chastised by his
father. When his playmates teased him he said: "Oh, the whipping
didn't count for much, but I don't like being licked by a foreigner."

There is another class coming to our country not only injurious but
dangerous. They bring with them the heresies of the lands they hail
from. They do not come to be American citizens. There is not an
American hair in their heads, or an American thought in their minds.
Every drop of blood in their veins, beats to the music of continental
customs, and they come prepared to sow and grow the seeds of anarchy.
Many come with tags on their backs giving their destination; not to
build American homes; not to learn our language; not to obey our laws,
or honor our institutions, but to undermine the honest laboring
classes who toil to build homes and educate and clothe their children.
I say, take off their tags and let them tag back home. Out of this
class came the men who cheered to the echo a speaker in Chicago when
he said: "I am in favor of dynamiting every bank vault in this city
and taking the money we are entitled to." Out of such schools of
anarchy, came the man who crossed the sea from Patterson, New Jersey,
to send a bullet through the heart of King Humbert, and out of this
class came the teachers, who shrouded our land with shame and sorrow
in Buffalo, New York.

Just here, I congratulate the spirit of William McKinley upon its
auspicious flight to the spirit world. There is no better time and
place for one to die, than at the summit of true greatness, "enshrined
in the hearts of his countrymen, at peace with his God," the sun of
his life going down, "before eye has grown dim or natural force has
abated." Take him from the time he entered the army, where his
commanding general said: "A night was never so dark, storm never so
wild, weather never so cold as to interfere with his discharge of
every duty." From this time on, as lawyer, commonwealth's attorney,
congressman, governor, and president, he was a Jonathan to his
friends, a Ruth to his kindred, a Jacob to his family, a Gideon to his
country. Take him in private life where an intimate friend said: "I
never heard