under a vague impression that they should forfeit some magic rights if
they left those numbered seats. But when, for a moment, a file of
policemen appeared in the orchestra, a whole volley of cyclopaedias fell
like rain upon their chief, with a renewed cry of "Face! face!"

At this juncture, with a good deal of knowledge of popular feeling, Mr.
A---- led forward his child again. Frightened to death the poor thing
was, and crying; he tied his handkerchief round her eyes hastily, and
took her to the red box. For a minute the house was hushed. A cry of
"Down! down!" and every one took his place as the child gave the red
ticket to her father. He read it as before, "No. 3,671!" I heard the
words as if he did not speak them. All excited by the delay and the row,
by the injustice to the stranger and the personal injustice of everybody
to me, I did not know, for a dozen seconds, that every one was looking
towards our side of the house, nor was it till my next neighbor with the
watch said, "Go, you fool," that I was aware that 3,671 was I! Even
then, as I stepped down the passage and up the steps, my only feeling
was, that I should get out of this horrid trap, and possibly find Miss
Jones lingering near the Astor,--not by any means that I was invited to
take a check for $5,000.

There was not much cheering. Women never mean to cheer, of course. The
men had cheered the green ticket, but they were mad with the red one. I
gave up my ticket, signed my receipt, and took my check, shook hands
with Mr. A---- and Mr. Burrham, and turned to bow to the mob,--for mob I
must call it now. But the cheers died away. A few people tried to go out
perhaps, but there was nothing now to retain any in their seats as
before, and the generality rose, pressed down the passages, and howled,
"Face! face!" I thought for a moment that I ought to say something, but
they would not hear me, and, after a moment's pause, my passion to
depart overwhelmed me. I muttered some apology to the gentlemen, and
left the stage by the stage door.

I had forgotten that to Castle Garden there can be no back entrance. I
came to door after door, which were all locked. It was growing dark.
Evidently the sun was set, and I knew the library door would be shut at
sunset. The passages were very obscure. All around me rang this horrid
yell of the mob, in which all that I could discern was the cry, "Face,
face!" At last, as I groped round, I came to a practicable door. I
entered