eported
killed. He seemed quite disturbed by the persistent inquiries of those
around him. In a half impatient manner he said, "It would have been
serious with any other woman."

The same cool, imperturbable bearing so often manifest in his
experiences in England came out again and again during the stirring
scenes in this country. When the Civil War broke out and the riots in
New York took place for several days the city was almost in the hands of
the mob. It was given out that Plymouth Church was to be attacked the
next Sunday evening. Crowds of rough-looking men came over the ferry
and mixed with the congregation. John Folk, superintendent of the police
force of Brooklyn, with forty of his men was in the lecture room and
back of the organ to protect Mr. Beecher, in case of an attempt to reach
him, amid the intense excitement of the audience. Mr. Beecher came upon
the platform calm and cool and proceeded with the services as usual.
During the sermon a stone crashed through the upper windows from the
outside. Mr. Beecher stopped, looked up to the windows, and then to the
great congregation, and said "Miscreant," and calmly went on with his
sermon.

He was always glad when he could be, so to speak, off duty, and be free
to do whatever occurred to him to do, whether anybody else would ever
have thought of it or not. One Sunday evening when his pulpit was
occupied by some other pastor he was seen sitting in the third gallery.
When asked why he was up there, he replied "that he wanted to see how
the preacher looked from that point of view."

The boys on the Heights all knew Mr. Beecher and liked to meet him
because he always had a word with them. In coming to church one day he
met a group of boys. They hailed him in this fashion: "There goes Mr.
Beecher, he is a screecher." When he reached the church it seemed to
please him to tell the story to the congregation.

Whenever Mr. Beecher crossed the ocean he was very sea-sick, and after
landing he would say that those whom God abhorred He sent to sea. This
was probably the reason why at the last moment he decided not to to take
the trip in the _Quaker City_, referred to in a previous chapter. The
expedition would never have been organised but for Mr. Beecher, and yet
it had to go without him.

While in a very real sense Mr. Beecher was a true cosmopolitan, and a
genuine citizen of the United States, he was specially fond of New
England, was grateful that that section was