y window in the
Dolphs' house on State Street was closed.

It had been a hideous day for New York. From early morning until long
after dark had set in, the streets had been filled with frightened,
disordered crowds. The city was again stricken with the old, inevitable,
ever-recurring scourge of yellow fever, and the people had lost their
heads. In every house, in every office and shop, there was hasty
packing, mad confusion, and wild flight. It was only a question of
getting out of town as best one might. Wagons and carts creaked and
rumbled and rattled through every street, piled high with household
chattels, up-heaped in blind haste. Women rode on the swaying loads, or
walked beside with the smaller children in their arms. Men bore heavy
burdens, and children helped according to their strength. There was
only one idea, and that was flight--from a pestilence whose coming
might have been prevented, and whose course could have been stayed. To
most of these poor creatures the only haven seemed to be Greenwich
Village; but some sought the scattered settlements above; some crossed
to Hoboken; some to Bushwick; while others made a long journey to Staten
Island, across the bay. And when they reached their goals, it was to beg
or buy lodgings anywhere and anyhow; to sleep in cellars and garrets, in
barns and stables.

[Illustration]

The panic was not only among the poor and ignorant. Merchants were
moving their offices, and even the Post Office and the Custom House
were to be transferred to Greenwich. There were some who remained
faithful throughout all, and who labored for the stricken, and whose
names are not even written in the memory of their fellow-men. But the
city had been so often ravaged before, that at the first sight there was
one mere animal impulse of flight that seized upon all alike.

At one o'clock, when some of the better streets had once more taken on
their natural quiet, an ox-cart stood before the door of the Dolphs' old
house. A little behind it stood the family carriage, its lamps unlit.
The horses stirred uneasily, but the oxen waited in dull, indifferent
patience. Presently the door opened, and two men came out and awkwardly
bore a plain coffin to the cart. Then they mounted to the front of the
cart, hiding between them a muffled lantern. They wore cloths over the
lower part of their faces, and felt hats drawn low over their eyes.
Something in their gait showed them to be seafaring men, or the like