"Till each man find his own in all men's good,
And all men work in noble brotherhood,
Breaking their mailed fleets and armed towers,
And ruling by obeying nature's powers,
And gathering all the fruits of earth and crowned with her flowers."

As the shadows come creeping over the dial of time, the nineteenth
century faces the setting sun; a century replete with the grandest
inventions of modern times, and with a fullness of scientific
investigation beyond the possible conception of man one hundred years
ago. This century has emancipated woman, and like the "Dreamers on the
brow of Parnassus," she is not forgetful of the toilers on other
altitudes within the horizon's rim. She is not blind to the signal
lights, which in their blaze proclaim new knowledge, new power for man,
new triumphs, new glory for the human spirit in its march on chaos and
the dark. Any message of love would be incomplete without her gentle
voice. Her love is her life, white-winged and eternal. Her welcome is
spontaneous, fervid, whole-souled, generous. Her influence is felt
everywhere, throughout the ramifications of our "Order." The wholesome
power of her persuasive counsel is ofttimes needed, and the tender
mercies of her tireless devotion have smoothed away the grim visage of
discontent, brought solace to the fevered brain, and made peaceful that
dreary journey from life to death.

* * * * *

We look out upon our vast army of followers, and glory in our stalwart
band. * * * * * Out of the darkness of the night, imposing in our
numbers, stand we forth, splendid and terrible, in "The Wake of the
Coming Ages." And when we look at all the magnificent fabric we call
civilization, its incalculable material, its wealth, its amazing
mechanical resources, its wonderful scientific discoveries, its
many-sided literature, its sleepless and ubiquitous journalism, its
lovely art, its abounding charities, its awful fears and sublime hopes,
we get a magnificent conception of the possibilities of life, as this
latest of the centuries draws its purple robe about its majestic form
and stands up to die as the old Roman Caesar stood, in all the
magnificence of its riches, and the plenitude of its power.

But after all, the measure of its value is the character of it
humanity.

AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OF THE COTTON STATES AND
INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION[21]

BY BOOKER T. WASHINGTON, A. M. LL.D.

_of Tuskegee Institute_