THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
from me, and the brass band was set going, and now the people, men and women, had been just rushing into the theater. The Wide-Awakes were lined up in front of the hotel to escort me. What could I do but surrender? The Wide-Awakes, with a tremendous hurrah, took me like a captive to the theater, brass band ahead. The theater was crowded to suffocation, and the heat terrible. The thermometer must have been high up in the nineties. There was hardly a man in the hall who had not taken off his coat, and many of them their vests and neckties and collars. The women fanned themselves desperately. I had not spoken many minutes when I was fairly dripping with perspiration. The audience must have noticed my distress. An old man rose and begged me to stop a moment. “Mr. Schurz,” said he, pronouncing my name in an indescribable way, “it's very hot, and you show it. Now, I am sure, the ladies here won't mind if you take off your coat and whatever else you like, to make yourself as comfortable as you can.” This little speech was greeted with thunders of applause. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs as a sign of approval. I did as I was bidden. My coat went off first, then, after a while, my vest, my necktie, and my collar. The enthusiasm of the people was immense. After I had spoken about an hour I made an attempt to close, saying that they would certainly all wish to get out of this terrible temperature into the open air. A burst of protest came from all parts of the house: “No, no; go on; go on!” I had to go on, and spoke an hour longer, and even then the people did not seem to have enough.
Not long after this I happened to travel down the Ohio on a steamboat from one river town to another, and at one of the landing places which we touched about seven o'clock in the morning, a crowd of several hundred people, having heard that I was passing by, had gathered on the wharf. They prevailed
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