An American Suffragette | Page 5

air was sharp for a day late in April, but the sky was clear and the
sun shed occasional rays of splendor over some of the lower buildings
upon the waiting multitude.
The crowd was remarkably quiet. There seemed to be a spell over the
whole performance that savored of some of the wonders he had so
recently witnessed in India. There was something electric in the air that
brought with it an echo from some distant past or a promise for the
future which he tried in vain to catch and recognize.
Finally the order, "Forward, march!" was given, and to the air of
"Marching Through Georgia" the first column swung down the Avenue
with easy grace and in perfect step.
Long before the first standard came near he knew it was a Woman
Suffrage parade, and before he could get a view of the women carrying
it, he read the inscription on the banner:
Forward out of Error, Leave behind the night; Forward through the
darkness, Forward into Light.
Then the standard bearers were opposite him. The one nearest to him
was an exceedingly pretty young woman, as was also the second one,
but as his eyes rested upon the one farthest away he gave a startled
exclamation that attracted the attention of those around him.
"My mystery! Again she has dropped from the clouds!" The object of
his interest was a tall young woman, scarcely more than twenty-five
years of age, gowned in white cloth with black trimmings, with a white
hat turned straight up on the left side and lined in black. She showed
grace and energy in every movement and intellect and force in every

glance.
Her large, sapphire-blue eyes gleamed with the intensity of her feelings,
and the touches of bronze hair that could be seen beneath her hat gave
evidence of the vivacious character of her life.
As she marched with queenly grace at the head of this mighty host of
six thousand American women, Dr. Earl had visions of the reality of
the myth or history, whichever it may be, of Semiramis invading
Assyria and the Amazons conquering Asia.
The entire line of march was no doubt interesting, but the head of the
column was absorbing to our hero, so block after block he marched as
nearly abreast of the banner on the sidewalk as a dense crowd would
permit him, and when the column broke ranks at Union Square he was
there to witness it.
No sooner did the mysterious banner bearer quit the march than she
rushed to the custodian of the posters, and, gathering an armful, she
coaxed, or with mock heroics terrorized, every person she approached
into buying one for "the good of the Cause!"
Earl was certain his heart would never beat again when she asked him
in deep, musical tones to "Please buy one for the Cause." He did so,
and loitered around watching her a few moments longer, then started up
Broadway.
When he swung into Fifth Avenue he was impressed again, as he had
been when he came from the boat, with the changed atmosphere of the
street. He had always read the mood of New York in its silent reflection
in this expressive part of the city's physiognomy. Long ago, he had
discovered that Fifth Avenue smiles or weeps, applauds or hisses,
effervesces with enthusiasm or gazes somberly like the image of
despair, revels in fervent expressions of patriotism or looks with
gloomy distrust upon public affairs--all according to the mood of the
dominant portion of New York's population--those who control the
destinies of the huge private enterprises that are the marvel of the age,
and the management of which means so much in the way of industrial

slavery or economic freedom to the American people.
This evening there was a note of more seriousness in the air than he had
ever before witnessed on this gay thoroughfare. The rush of
automobiles and taxicabs and carriages with beautifully gowned
women and fine-looking men as occupants was as great as ever; the
perfectly groomed New York woman on the sidewalk, with figure and
carriage such as outclasses the women of every other large city in the
world, was there in numbers quite as great as formerly; the Western
woman, who had come on to take New York by storm, or who
imagined the acme of human existence was in New York café life, with
all of its vulgar display and raucous manners, was abundantly in
evidence.
But over the entire concourse there appeared to drift an atmosphere of
the spiritual, which lifted them from the plane of the Fifth Avenue
crowd of a year and a half before, and impressed him in the same
manner that he had been impressed in the far East by adepts