Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

—1900—
OR,
THE LAST PRESIDENT

BY
INGERSOLL LOCKWOOD,
Of the New York Bar.
Copyright, 1896, by Ingersoll Lockwood.
The Trade Supplied by
THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY,
New York.

The Chicago Platform assumes, in fact, theform of a revolutionary propaganda. It embodiesa menace of national disintegrationand destruction.

Garret A. Hobart.
3

CHAPTER I.

That was a terrible night for the great City ofNew York—the night of Tuesday, November 3rd,1896. The city staggered under the blow like a hugeocean liner which plunges, full speed, with terrificcrash into a mighty iceberg, and recoils shatteredand trembling like an aspen.

The people were gathered, light-hearted and confident,at the evening meal, when the news burstupon them. It was like a thunder bolt out of anazure sky: “Altgeld holds Illinois hard and fast inthe Democratic line. This elects Bryan President ofthe United States!”

Strange to say, the people in the upper portion ofthe city made no movement to rush out of theirhouses and collect in the public squares, although thenight was clear and beautiful. They sat as if paralyzedwith a nameless dread, and when they conversedit was with bated breath and throbbinghearts.

In less than half an hour, mounted policemendashed through the streets calling out: “Keepwithin your houses; close your doors and barricadethem. The entire East side is in a state of uproar.Mobs of vast size are organizing under the lead ofAnarchists and Socialists, and threaten to plunderand despoil the houses of the rich who have wrongedand oppressed them for so many years. Keep withindoors. Extinguish all lights.”

4Happily, Governor Morton was in town, and althougha deeper pallor overcame the ashen hue ofage as he spoke, yet there was no tremor in his voice:“Let the Seventh, Twenty-second and Seventy-firstregiments be ordered under arms.” In a few momentshundreds of messengers could be heard racingthrough the silent streets, summoning the membersof these regiments to their Armories.

Slowly, but with astonishing nerve and steadiness,the mobs pushed the police northward, and althoughthe force stood the onslaught with magnificent courage,yet beaten back, the dark masses of infuriatedbeings surged up again with renewed fury andstrength. Will the troops be in time to save thecity? was the whispered inquiry among the knots ofpolice officials who were directing the movements oftheir men.

About nine o’clock, with deafening outcries, themob, like a four-headed monster breathing fire andflame, raced, tore, burst, raged into Union Square.

The police force was exhausted, but their front wasstill like a wall of stone, save that it was movable.The mob crowded it steadily to the north, while theair quivered and was rent with mad vociferations ofthe victors: “Bryan is elected! Bryan is elected!Our day has come at last. Down with our oppressors!Death to the rich

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