THE DEATH OF GARFIELD[39]
JAMES GILLESPIE BLAINE
On the morning of Saturday, July second, the President was a contented
and happy man--not in an ordinary degree, but joyfully, almost boyishly,
happy. On his way to the railroad-station, to which he drove slowly, in
conscious enjoyment of the beautiful morning, with an unwonted sense of
leisure and a keen anticipation of pleasure, his talk was all in the
grateful and gratulatory vein. He felt that after four months of trial
his administration was strong in its grasp of affairs, strong in popular
favor and destined to grow stronger; that grave difficulties confronting
him at his inauguration had been safely passed; that trouble lay behind
him, and not before him; that he was soon to meet the wife whom he
loved, now recovering from an illness which had but lately disquieted
and at times almost unnerved him; that he was going to his alma mater to
renew the most cherished associations of his young manhood, and to
exchange greetings with those whose deepening interest had followed
every step of his upward progress from the day he entered upon his
college course until he had attained the loftiest elevation in the gift
of his countrymen.
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