But the Anarchists, who are never agreeable or content in any country, no matter how perfect, arranged a non-conscription meeting in a hall in Bronx Park the night before registration. So “united was the spirit of this people” that no one attended this non-conscription meeting except the 5,000 who crowded the hall and the 50,000 who stood outside in the streets for several hours. There were squads of the usual police and dozens of rough raw fellows in soldiers’ uniforms to hold back the crowd and keep it in order,—a crowd that scarcely moved and seldom spoke except in low tones or in foreign languages; a crowd too full for speech, because of this last numbing disappointment in America. The only demonstration it made was to applaud when an echo of the applause inside the hall reached it. Any attempt to get nearer the hall was met with clubs and the fists of soldiers in your face. Nasty little Fords with powerful search-lights raced up and down and about the hollow square. A huge auto truck hung with red lights acted as a mower at the edges. Word went about that it was mounted with a machine gun. As I was pushed about in the crowd I overheard always the same conversations: “Is she there”? “Over there where the light is”? “Yes, on the second floor.” “Are there any people inside”? “Oh it’s full since seven o’clock.” “Oh!?” “Will they let her speak?” “Who? Her”? Silence. “Will they get her, do you think”? “Will the police take her”? A thin pale Russian Jew, standing on a rock looking over the heads of the crowd, was spoken to by a stranger. “They’ll get her tonight all right.” The Russian looked over to the lighted windows of the hall and said in revolutionary voice: “She’s a fine woman, Emma Goldman.” Suddenly in the densest part of the crowd a woman’s voice rang out: “Down with conscription! Down with the war!” Several other women took it up. The police charged into the crowd. The crowd made a slight stand. The soldiers joined the police, and with raised clubs, teeth bared and snarling, they drove the crowd backward over itself, beating and pushing. Three times the crowd stood. Three times they were charged. Women were beaten down and run over. Men were clubbed in the face and escaped, staggering and bleeding. How much of this treatment will it take to obliterate every element of individuality amongst us? III