A MYSTICAL PARADE
When Dr. Earl arrived at his hotel he noticed crowds of people gathering
on the sidewalk, and lining up along the curbstone further down the
avenue, evidently expecting a parade of some sort. He had dismissed the
matter from his mind and was startled about an hour later to hear the
tap of a drum on the street, then a martial air by a band, followed by
the clatter of horses' hoofs and the shouts of policemen clearing the
way. Throwing open a window, he witnessed a sight that dazed him for a
moment, and he wondered whether or not he really was in an American
city.
As if by magic, the street was now filled with women, arranging
themselves in marching order, with the shout of command ringing clear
upon the air, and down Fifth Avenue as far as he could see, other
columns of women were forming to the strains of military music and to
the stirring echoes of fife and drum.
He grabbed his hat and stick, and joined the throng that packed the
sidewalk. His six feet of height and his athletic training rendered him
good service in ascertaining where to go and making it possible to get
there. He hurried along several blocks until he reached what he thought
must be the leading column of the march. Then he elbowed his way to the
curbstone and took up a position to witness this, as yet, mysterious
demonstration.
The 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 cafe 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 when they gave
public demonstrations of their powers, or conversed with their Chelae
without the medium of written or spoken language.
When he left America the woman suffrage movement in New York was a
subject of more or less ridicule; a few wealthy women had begun to
identify themselves with it, but they were called "faddists" and their
efforts were not taken seriously. It was apparent now that the suffrage
cause had been given the impetus of the world-wide movement that was
reaching the women of all countries, and had changed from a gospel of
tracts to a militant crusade for their share of the duties and
responsibilities of life and the power properly to discharge them. Never
had he seen so many of the real leaders of New York society engaged in
any work, charitable or otherwise, as had taken part in this parade,
marching on foot the full two miles, and often side by side with the
working-women of the city.
He had once seen a painting of the Maid of Orleans in a foreign gallery
that carried so much of spiritual earnestness that he felt that he could
appreciate how easy it was for the French army instinctively to follow
her lead, and how much easier it was for the poor dupes of ignorance and
superstition to believe that this overmastering spiritual nature was the
product of witchcraft.
Absorbing though these thoughts were, they did not exclude another train
which had to do with the mysterious banner bearer, and as he entered his
hotel he clenched his right hand suddenly and muttered to himself, "I
must dismiss her from my thoughts."