inly never
see in their own country. Its very seriousness, simplicity, and
impressive monotony made it all the more striking. Not a soldier to be
seen, no triumphal cars, no break in the stream of respectability
mechanically moving throughout the day. In England, on public
demonstrations, one goes to look at the crowd, but here the crowd was
the procession. This political fever seemed to work up the enthusiasm of
every man, woman, and child when the march was over, on, I may tell you,
a bright, hot Indian summer's day in November.

[Illustration: AFTER THE GREAT PARADE: "AM I TO SIT ON AN ORDINARY SEAT
TO-NIGHT?"]

Crowds of the paraders continued to march in smaller squads through the
side streets for their own enjoyment, and overflowed into hotel lobbies
and restaurants, covered with emblems, flags, gold bugs, and
chrysanthemums, which were brought into the city by thousands for the
occasion. And then some humour was imported into the serious business of
the day. One youth strolled into a _cafe_, and when he was offered a
chair by the waiter, he drew himself up, and said, "Am I to sit on an
ordinary seat to-night?" They blew their tin horns, rattled their
rattles, and waved their flags in and out of every place until late at
night, and they were still singing and demonstrating in the morning,
but with that extraordinary common-sense which is characteristic of
Americans, the Bryanites and the McKinleyites shaking hands and setting
about their business with redoubled energy, having another crisis in the
country to record as a landmark in the history of the republic.

On the last day of my first visit to America I found myself in the head
depot of the New York detective force. The courteous and talented
presiding genius of that establishment had left his busy office to show
me over their museum, a chronicle of the city's crime, and as I was
thanking him afterwards, he said:

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well," I replied, "I have seen the best side of life in New York, now I
should like to see the worst."

"The very worst?"

"The worst you have."

The worthy officer eyed me up and down as if he were going to measure me
for a suit of clothes.

"Very well," he replied, seemingly satisfied with my resolute bearing
and undaunted mien and determined visage, which showed my daring and
enterprise. Beside me a Stanley or a Burton would have looked
effeminate. "A detective will be at your hotel at ten o'cloc