these houses who, as things were
conducted, could safely give all possible aid to the insurgents, to
compel these to lay down their arms, in order to insure the safety of
the sympathizers. Had the first, and the second, and the third house
from which the assassins were permitted to fire been battered to the
ground with cannon shot, the last two days of fighting would have been
unnecessary. The police cowed the mob wherever they met them, because
they showed no quarter. They hit hard and they hit often. They felt that
the way to knock the riot in the head, was to knock the rioters in the
head. And they did it, as Inspector Carpenter says, 'beautifully.' New
York feels as proud of these Metropolitan policemen as he does; and that
is saying a great deal.

We discover, then, by this brief analysis of the great riot, that social
outbreaks of this kind have their _immediate_ and _tangible_ causes,
which are superficial in their character, and vary with the occasion;
that these causes depend for their disturbing power upon others which
are more _fundamental_, and which inhere in the nature of our present
social relations; that so long as the wealthy and intelligent classes
shall decline the permanent guardianship and organized care of the poor
and ignorant masses, the liability to such recurrences will remain; that
when they break forth, the safety of community and mercy to the rioters
alike demand that the mob be scattered on the instant by an iron and
relentless hand; and, finally, that the only method by which society
will be permanently and effectually freed from a liability to the
terrors of mob-rule, is the reorganization of its economical
arrangements in such a manner that the miseries of poverty and ignorance
shall be forever removed from the community, and a social providence be
firmly established which shall secure physical comfort and kindly
sympathy to all classes of citizens.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

A PRE-RAPHAELITE PICTURE FROM NATURE.

It was left long ago,
And the rank weeds grow
Where the lily once bent her head;
Thick and tall they grow,
And some lying low,
Beaten down by a human tread.

And the laughing sun,
When the day's nearly done,
Looks in on the cheerless floor;
And falleth the rain
Through the broken pane--
Shrill whistles the wind at the door.

And the thistles stand
At the gate where no hand
Ever