Heroes of South and North. 451 Hill and the dark redoubt where General Warren died; when I think of Washington, that greatest of Southerners, upon his knees in prayer at Valley Forge; when I think of Stonewall Jackson praying before he fought; of Robert Lee's and Sidney Johnston's stainless shields; when I remember Sheridan's ride, and Sherman's march to the sea with the boys in blue behind him, and Grant fighting the battle out and on to the glorious triumph of our Northern arms, then my heart prophesies with all a patriot's gratitude, America will win in her bloodless war against the awful tyranny of King Alcohol and King Gambrinus, and proud am I to have a part in it, for, thank God, "I-I, too, am an American." Bound together by our mutual faith in Mary T. Lathrap, of Michigan and Sallie F. Chapin, of South Carolina; cemented by the martyr blood of Iowa's George B. Haddock and Mississippi's Roderick Dhu Gambrell; made one by the pride we feel in these grand old pioneers, John Russell, the father of our party; James Black, its earliest presidential candidate; Gideon T. Stewart and H. W. Thompson, St. John and Daniels, the heroes of a later day and a more dreadful crisis; Green Clay Smith and Samuel Dickie, Hopkins and Brooks, Clinton B. Fisk and George W. Bain, and glorious old Neal Dow, the father of prohibition for the world, surely temperance people of the North and South may well say each to other, "Whither thou goest I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The Lord do so to me, and more, also, if aught but death part thee and me." Here, upon Indiana's genial soil, midway between the sections that shall erelong be sections no more, but part of the greatest party's family circle, gracious and great, let us say unitedly to the fire-eaters of the South on the one side and the chasm-diggers of the North on the other: "Oh, meaner folks of narrower souls, Stir not the camp-fire's blackened coals, In the spring of 1863, two great armies were encamped on either side of the Rappahannock river, one dressed in blue and one in gray. As twilight fell, the bands of music on the Union side began to play the martial strains, "Star-Spangled Banner" and "Rally 'Round the Flag," and this musical challenge was taken up by those on the other side, who responded with the "Bonnie Blue Flag" and "Away Down South in Dixie." But after awhile it was borne in upon the soul of a single soldier in one of those bands of music to begin a sweeter and more tender air, and slowly as he played it, they joined with all the instruments on the Union side, until finally a great and mighty chorus swelled up and down our army, "Home, Sweet Home." When they had finished there was no challenge over yonder, and every Confederate band had taken up that lovely air, so attuned to all that is holiest and dearest, and one great chorus of the two great hosts went up to God; and when they had finished came from the boys in gray a challenge, "Three cheers for home," and as these cheers went resounding through the skies from both sides of the river "something upon the soldier's cheek washed off the stain of powder." Fellow soldiers in the fight for a clear brain, I am proud to belong to an army which makes kindred of those who once stood in arms against each other. Let us cherish North Carolina's motto from Isaiah's words: "Fear not, I am with thee; I will bring thy seed from the east and gather them from the west; I will say to the North, give up, and to the South, keep not back; bring my sons from afar, and my daughters from the ends of the earth." I am glad of these good times, and I think we women are in them, equal members of the greatest party, as we have been since the day of its birth. "It shall shine more and more Till its glory like noontide shall be. It shall shine more and more Till the home from the dram-shop is free. It shall shine more and more Till the nation Christ's glory shall see." While the Democratic National Convention was in session at St. Louis in 1888, the papers had much to say of the Thurman bandana and the red, red rose, as the symbol of simon-pure Democracy. I had also noted the primrose as the emblem of the Conservative women of England, and it occurred to me that our Prohibitionists ought to have a floral badge. What then more beautiful than the white rose to match the white ribbon? So I telephoned the suggestion to The Union Signal, wrote about it to our leaders, who officially indorsed it, and when our committee appointed to notify General Fisk of his nomination, assembled for that purpose in the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, June 22, 1888, I asked my faithful friend, Mrs. Frances J. Barnes, of that city, to see that those who sat on the platform were all provided with white roses. This she did. The suggestion was cordially adopted by the gentlemen, who were present in larger number than the ladies, and I had the honor of fastening a white rose to the lapel of our newly-created Bishop Fitzgerald of my own church, a devoted party Prohibitionist, who made the opening prayer on this occasion. A celluloid rose was brought out by our Woman's Temperance Publication Association, in Chicago, and has been sold by tens of thousands, so that we may conclude the white rose is acclimated as the political badge of those who would overthrow the dram-shop and protect the home. High-License is the Trojan Horse. 453 So far as I know, my advocacy of the Prohibition party has not personally alienated a friend, though it has seriously interfered with what friends called a "rising popularity," and has grieved and wounded many who are dear to me and who as honestly believe that I am wrong in my working hypothesis of prohibition as I believe that they are wrong in theirs. How good people can be so deceived by high-license as to see in it anything other than the Trojan horse smuggled into our temperance camp on false pretenses, I expect to discover on the day when I learn how you can elect prohibitionists to power by not voting for them. To me, high-license is the devil's counterfeit for the pure gold of prohibition. And thus believing, I have, in every state and territory of the Republic, declared high-license a high crime, and in the name of boyhood bewildered and manhood betrayed, in the name of woman broken-hearted and home broken down, I have solemnly pronounced upon it the anathema of the American home. This was not what one would have chosen to say who well knew that but for Christian people highlicense could never have been for a moment tolerated by the reputable class, who knew that Christian ministers all over the land were voting for it and that some of them were discounting the speaker's wits even while she tried to talk! CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW YORK CONVENTION. (1888). The New York Convention caused more comment than all the others put together. Held in the great metropolis, in one of the five largest audience rooms of the world; on the eve of a Presidential election and in the most doubtful and determinative of Commonwealths; attended by four hundred and twelve elected delegates from almost every state and territory; filling five days; with a printed program containing fourteen pages and one hundred and eighty-two specifications, with forty departments of work passing in review, over fifty officers to be elected, a dozen memorials and counter-memorials to be replied to; with dress reform and cooking lectures, sermons, flag presentations, introductions, welcomes, White Ribbon Quartette, and a great deal besides, and all listened to by an audience five thousand strong, the great convention was not inaptly described by one who said it was a "Moral Jumbo." Its reports and addresses were highly complimented by onlookers during its progress, and I was many times made to wonder anew if the wrath of man is not going to be made to praise the Lord on this wise: while our brothers handicap themselves with the alcohol and tobacco habits, we women, like the tortoise outdoing the hare, will pass, or, at least, overtake them, on the splendid highway of intellectual evolution. Woman's capacity at branching out was here abundantly illustrated; in proof, note the daring of Mrs. Mary T. Burt, who engaged the costly Metropolitan Opera House and served a free lunch every day to the entire convention, paying the expenses by sales of opera boxes and seats; note the enterprise of Mrs. Dr. Buchanan, walking New York streets to seek entertainment for the throng, and succeeding where mission ary and other women's societies had well-nigh failed in Gotham, because the quiet little Scotch Presbyterian woman acted on a Scotch motto, that she perhaps has never heard, "It's dogged as does it." When I knew that we four (disavowed) but duly accredited women delegates to General Conference were not invited to Methodist homes in the metropolis, I supposed it was because they were "too far back,"-as we in the West say of conservatives - but when I heard one of the most noted and conservative Methodist women in the nation mention that she was never yet invited to a Methodist home in New York City, I had my thoughts. Suffice it that at our convention, all received entertainment who wished for it, the expenses of our secretaries and treasurer being paid by the National W. C. T. U. at hotels near by. An elegant reception was given us by Madame Demorest, at which we met Clara Barton, Jennie June (Mrs. Croly), and other noted leaders in the world of to-day. The courage of Madame Demorest in assuming all expenses of the decorations was in keeping with her enterprising spirit, and last, but not least, the courage of the general officers in taking the convention to New York when almost no white ribboner save the state president gave them hope of its success, deserves to go on record. Promptly at nine o'clock on the opening morning, Mrs. S. M. I. Henry, of Illinois, began the prayer-meeting, and at ten the convention came to order, with Anna Gordon's bannerets flying at the mast-head, so to speak, of every delegation, the platform brilliant with white ribbon ensigns, national and state, the whole great auditorium decked with the red, white and blue, mingled with the escutcheons of every Commonwealth, and before us, in that huge parquette, four hundred women with white ribbons on their breasts, while from floor to dome the place was packed with people, and the famous temple of Art had become for the time being a famous temple of Temperance. In fourteen years the Hillsboro praying band had gathered around it in this country a direct following of men, women and children, amounting to not less than half a million, and its publishing house had sent out in this year more than sixty million pages, or one for every inhabitant of the United States. "What hath God wrought?" must have been the grateful |