wished to turn it to Harrison. He was chairman of the convention, but he seemed powerless to act. The gallery broke into a loud cheering, and "McKinley! McKinley!" was heard upon every side, and other delegates began to rise in all parts of the house to change their votes in his favor. But, though profoundly touched, he would not listen to them and stated plainly that he was not a candidate. At last the excitement passed and the convention finally nominated the man for whom McKinley had so stubbornly and conscientiously fought.
But this noble self-sacrifice and the great popularity of McKinley had done their work. The next Republican National Convention was held at St. Louis, June 16–18, 1896. Fully fifty thousand visitors had flocked to the city, and the Auditorium, where the convention was held was literally jammed.
The name of McKinley was everywhere—in the hall, the hotels, the club rooms, on the streets. Other candidates had been put forth, but there was an undercurrent toward the son of Ohio that was unmistakable.
