ectric spark that started the machinery of the Atlanta Exposition, a
Negro Moses stood before a great audience of white people and delivered
an oration that marks a new epoch in the history of the South; and a
body of Negro troops marched in a procession with the citizen soldiery
of Georgia and Louisiana. The whole city is thrilling to-night with a
realization of the extraordinary significance of these two unprecedented
events. Nothing has happened since Henry Grady's immortal speech before
the New England society in New York that indicates so profoundly the
spirit of the New South, except, perhaps, the opening of the Exposition
itself.

When Professor Booker T. Washington, Principal of an industrial school
for coloured people in Tuskegee, Ala. stood on the platform of the
Auditorium, with the sun shining over the heads of his auditors into his
eyes, and with his whole face lit up with the fire of prophecy, Clark
Howell, the successor of Henry Grady, said to me, "That man's speech is
the beginning of a moral revolution in America."

It is the first time that a Negro has made a speech in the South on any
important occasion before an audience composed of white men and women.
It electrified the audience, and the response was as if it had come from
the throat of a whirlwind.

Mrs. Thompson had hardly taken her seat when all eyes were turned on
a tall tawny Negro sitting in the front row of the platform. It was
Professor Booker T. Washington, President of the Tuskegee (Alabama)
Normal and Industrial Institute, who must rank from this time forth
as the foremost man of his race in America. Gilmore's Band played the
"Star-Spangled Banner," and the audience cheered. The tune changed to
"Dixie" and the audience roared with shrill "hi-yis." Again the music
changed, this time to "Yankee Doodle," and the clamour lessened.

All this time the eyes of the thousands present looked straight at the
Negro orator. A strange thing was to happen. A black man was to speak
for his people, with none to interrupt him. As Professor Washington
strode to the edge of the stage, the low, descending sun shot fiery rays
through the windows into his face. A great shout greeted him. He turned
his head to avoid the blinding light, and moved about the platform for
relief. Then he turned his wonderful countenance to the sun without a
blink of the eyelids, and began to talk.

There was a remarkable figure; tall, bony, straight as a Sioux chief,
high fore