of a future kingship, was seated near.  Count Rochambeau of France, the Japanese commissioners, high officials from Russia and Prussia, from Austria, Spain, England, Turkey, representing the barbarism and semi-civilization of the day, found no difficulty in securing recognition and places of honor upon that platform, where representative womanhood was denied.

Though refused by their own countrymen a place and part in the centennial celebration, the women who had taken this presentation in hand were not to be conquered.  They had respectfully asked for recognition; now that it had been denied, they determined to seize upon the moment when the reading of the Declaration of Independence closed, to proclaim to the world the tyranny and injustice of the nation toward one-half its people.  Five officers of the National Suffrage Association, with that heroic spirit which has ever animated lovers of liberty in resistance to tyranny, determined, whatever the result, to present the Woman’s Declaration of Rights at the chosen hour.  They would not, they dared not sacrifice the golden opportunity to which they had so long looked forward; their work was not for themselves alone, nor for the present generation, but for all women of all time.  The hopes of posterity were in their hands and they determined to place on record for the daughters of 1976 the fact that their mothers of 1876 had asserted their equality of rights, and impeached the government of that day for its injustice toward woman.  Thus, in taking a grander step toward freedom than ever before, they would leave one bright remembrance for the women of the next Centennial.

That historic Fourth of July dawned at last, one of the most oppressive days of that terribly heated season.  Susan B. Anthony, Matilda Joslyn Gage, Sara Andrews Spencer, Lillie Devereux Blake and Phoebe Couzins made their way through the crowds under the broiling sun to Independence Square, carrying the Woman’s Declaration of Rights.  This declaration had been handsomely engrossed by Mrs. Spencer and signed by the oldest and most prominent advocates of woman’s enfranchisement.  Their tickets of admission proved an open sesame through the military and all other 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 of historic fame.  The close of his reading was deemed the appropriate moment 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—­these ladies arose from their seats at the back of the stage and walked down the aisle.  The bustle of preparation for the Brazilian hymn covered their advance.  The foreign guests, the military