of the modern civilian is acted upon by less boisterous and gory
scenes than those which sufficed to stir the audiences of the Roman
circus; yet the human susceptibilities are the same in all ages, and
differ only in expression. In the battle of voices, the audience will
shout its approval or hiss its disapproval; at the pleasure of the
throng a speaker can be silenced, his victory snatched from his very
grasp.

Six thousand people are in their places by ten o'clock. The police have
been compelled to shut the doors to exclude the crowds who would be
satisfied merely to get inside of the building. A murmur fills the
place, although no one is speaking above the normal tone; the combined
sound resembles the distant boom of a cataract. Here and there in the
galleries a splash of color indicates the presence of a woman. The value
of feminine headgear is for once clearly demonstrated; it serves to
differentiate the sexes.

On the floor of the auditorium the long avenues of chairs are vacant; a
dozen men are busy arranging the location of the state delegations.
Guidons bearing the names of the states are put in position. At the
press tables, at the foot of the speakers' platform, hundreds of
reporters are industriously grinding out "copy" for their papers. A
formidable army of messenger boys is lined up along the base of the
platform. They are a reserve, to be used in case the telegraph service
should break down.

Immediately in the rear of the speaker's table is the indispensable
adjunct of American politics, the brass band. At 10.15 o'clock the
leader of the band gives a signal, and the "Star Spangled Banner" is
played, six thousand voices joining in the best known phases and the
chorus.

Now the delegates arrive. The New York contingent walks to its place in
the middle of the hall. Ex-Senator Sharp is at their head, followed by
the prominent county leaders. Their appearance is the signal for an
outburst from the galleries. Cheers and hisses are about evenly divided.
The conservatism of the New Yorkers makes them the bone of contention.

"They will try to rule this convention in the interests of Wall Street,
as they did in the Democratic convention of '96," observes a man in the
West gallery, to the man next to him. "The theory of majority rule that
was good enough for the founders of the country, does not seem to hold
much force now-a-days."

"No," replies the first speaker. "The rule of the majority has been
repudi