WARRIORS OF PEACE, BATHED IN GOLDEN SUNLIGHT, PASS THROUGH
STAR-SPANGLED LINES.

PARADE'S RECORD-MAKING FIGURES.

Number in Line, 125,000.
Miles long (estimated), 14.
Parade started at 10 a.m.
Parade finished at 6.26 p.m.
Number of spectators (estimated), 1,200,000.

No pen or pencil could give any idea of the intense feeling and
excitement over that election. To realise its effect one must have seen
the faces of business men in cities like New York--faces pallid with
care, eyes restless with inquiry and uncertainty, mouths twitching with
anxiety. To them Bryan spelt ruin. You could read that in the faces of
every one of responsibility.

We had huge meetings and long speeches from morning to midnight. In the
churches the pulpits were turned into hustings, and for the moment
ministers preached the Gospel and McKinley in equal proportions. Miles
of sound money men paraded the streets, and at night the rivers north
and east were given over to political aquatic demonstrations. Huge
banners flaunted the sky, and tons of party literature strewed the
floors of every house; but the whole story was better told and more
impressively demonstrated in the faces of those united in commerce--99
per cent. of the better class in the city. They looked worn and anxious;
their words were words of confidence, but expressed with an uncertainty
and reserve which were significant.

One day I met a prominent citizen--an ardent Republican--and I asked him
how he thought the elections were going. He said, "I feel like the old
woman Ingersoll tells of, who did not believe in ghosts, but was
terribly frightened of them." This reminds me that the Free-thinking
Ingersoll had been stumping the country, and clergymen, such as Dr.
Parkhurst, had been turning their pulpits into political platforms to
bring their influence to bear on the voters. To all those who were in
New York during that momentous time the scene will linger in their
memories when the names of Bryan and McKinley have ceased to interest
them.

And the curious thing is that this is no exaggeration. To see, as I did,
thousands of well-dressed city men marching past at quick time, with
martial tread, to the music of innumerable bands, from half-past ten in
the morning till seven o'clock at night, is a performance that
Englishmen can hardly realise, and one that they will certa