Brace and I had promised to speak at various Trades Union meetings in New York. We managed two of them the following evening, at least I did.

The chief one was of Hebrew workers in the clothing trade. How enthusiastic they were; what a cordial welcome they gave us. As we entered the hall a band of five performers struck up the Marseillaise. When we were seated on the platform they gave us another verse of it. When the chairman got up to speak, the band repeated it. When I got up to speak—the same. It was ditto when Brace rose to speak, and when they introduced our wives to the audience, we had another repetition. There happened to be another hall in the same big building, in which a socialist, Meyer London, was standing as a candidate for their Parliament, and they came to ask me to speak in his support, and as I entered the second hall another band struck up the Marseillaise. I had a surfeit of that French revolutionary hymn that night.