When the name of Booker T. Washington was called, and he arose
to acknowledge and accept, there was such an outburst of applause
as greeted no other name except that of the popular soldier
patriot, General Miles. The applause was not studied and stiff,
sympathetic and condoling; it was enthusiasm and admiration.
Every part of the audience from pit to gallery joined in, and a
glow covered the cheeks of those around me, proving sincere
appreciation of the rising struggle of an ex-slave and the work he
has accomplished for his race.
