That historic Fourth of July dawned at last, one of the most oppressive days of that heated season.  Susan B. Anthony, Matilda Joslyn Gage, Sara Andrews Spencer, Lillie Devereux Blake, and Phoebe W. Couzins made their way through the crowds under the broiling sun of Independence Square, carrying the Woman’s Declaration of Rights.  This Declaration had been handsomely engrossed by one of their number, and signed by the oldest and most prominent advocates of woman’s enfranchisement.  Their tickets of admission proved an “open sesame” through the military barriers, and, a few moments before the opening of the ceremonies, these women found themselves within the precincts from which most of their sex were excluded.

The Declaration of 1776 was read by Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, about whose family clusters so much historic fame.  The moment he finished reading was determined upon as the appropriate time for the presentation of the Woman’s Declaration.  Not quite sure how their approach might be met, not quite certain if, at this final moment, they would be permitted to reach the presiding officer, those ladies arose and made their way down the aisle.  The bustle of preparation for the Brazilian hymn covered their advance.  The foreign guests and the military and civil officers who filled the space directly in front of the speaker’s stand, courteously made way, while Miss Anthony, in fitting words, presented the Declaration to the presiding officer.  Senator Ferry’s face paled as, bowing low, with no word he received the Declaration, which thus became part of the day’s proceedings.  The ladies turned, scattering printed copies as they deliberately walked down the platform.  On every side eager hands were outstretched, men stood on seats and asked for them, while General Hawley, thus defied and beaten in his audacious denial to women of the right to present their Declaration, shouted, “Order, order!”

Passing out, these ladies made their way to a platform, erected for the musicians, in front of Independence Hall.  Here, under the shadow of Washington’s statue, back of them the old bell that proclaimed “liberty to all the land and all the inhabitants thereof,” they took their places, and, to a listening, applauding crowd, Miss Anthony read the Woman’s Declaration.  During the reading of the Declaration, Mrs. Gage stood beside Miss Anthony and held an umbrella over her head, to shelter her friend from the intense heat of the noonday sun.  And thus in the same hour, on opposite sides of old Independence Hall, did the men and women express their opinions on the great principles proclaimed on the natal day of the Republic.  The Declaration was handsomely framed, and now hangs in the Vice President’s room in the Capitol at Washington.

These heroic ladies then hurried from Independence Hall to the church, already crowded with an expectant audience, to whom they gave a full report of the morning’s proceedings.  The Hutchinsons of worldwide fame were present in their happiest vein, interspersing the speeches with appropriate songs and felicitous remarks.  For five long hours on that hot midsummer day a crowded audience, many standing, listened with profound interest and reluctantly dispersed at last, all agreeing that it was one of the most impressive and enthusiastic meetings they had ever attended.