e on and see what's
doing at some of the shows."

But somehow, in spite of himself, my companion seemed to be unable to
bring himself fully back into the consciousness of the scene before him.
The far-away look still lingered in his eyes.

Presently he turned and spoke to me in a low, confidential tone.

"Was I talking to myself a moment ago?" he asked. "Yes? Ah, I feared
I was. Do you know--I don't mind telling it to you--lately I've had a
strange, queer feeling that comes over me at times, as if _something
were happening_--something, I don't know what. I suppose," he continued,
with a false attempt at resuming his fatuous manner, "I'm going the
pace a little too hard, eh! Makes one fanciful. But the fact is, at
times"--he spoke gravely again--"I feel as if there were something
happening, something coming."

"Knickerbocker," I said earnestly, "Father Knickerbocker, don't you know
that something _is_ happening, that this very evening as we are sitting
here in all this riot, the President of the United States is to come
before Congress on the most solemn mission that ever--"

But my speech fell unheeded. Knickerbocker had picked up his glass again
and was leering over it at a bevy of girls dancing upon the stage.

"Look at that girl," he interrupted quickly, "the one dancing at the
end. What do you think of her, eh? Some peach!"

Knickerbocker broke off suddenly. For at this moment our ears caught the
sound of a noise, a distant tumult, as it were, far down the street and
growing nearer. The old man had drawn himself erect in his seat, his
hand to his ear, listening as he caught the sound.

"Out on the Broad Way," he said, instinctively calling it by its
ancient name as if a flood of memories were upon him. "Do you hear it?
Listen--listen--what is it? I've heard that sound before--I've heard
every sound on the Broad Way these two centuries back--what is it? I
seem to know it!"

The sound and tumult as of running feet and of many voices crying came
louder from the street. The people at the tables had turned in their
seats to listen. The music of the orchestra had stopped. The waiters
had thrown back the heavy curtains from the windows and the people were
crowding to them to look out into the street. Knickerbocker had risen in
his place, his eyes looked toward the windows, but his gaze was fixed on
vacancy as with one who sees a vision passing.

"I know the sound," he cried. "I see it all again. Look, can't you