nst a doorway, resumed his
own hat and coat, and walked thoughtfully and unsteadily homeward,
where he slept like an infant in spite of rats, cabbage, and a
swollen lip.

Next day, however, matters were less cheerful. He had expected to
realise a little money out of his last salable trinket--a diamond
he had once taken for a debt. But it seemed that the stone
couldn't pass muster, and he bestowed it upon Burgess, breakfasted
on coffee and sour bread, and sauntered downtown quite undisturbed
in the brilliant April sunshine.

However, the prospect of a small commission from Craig & Son buoyed
up his natural cheerfulness. All the way downtown he nourished his
cane; he hummed lively tunes in his office as he studied his maps
and carefully read the real estate reports in the daily papers; and
then he wrote another of the letters which he never mailed,
strolled out to Stephen's desk for a little gossip, reported
himself to Mr. Craig, and finally sallied forth to execute that
gentleman's behest upon an upper Fifth Avenue squatter who had
declined to vacate property recently dedicated to blasting, the
Irish, and general excavation.

In a few moments he found himself involved in the usual crowd. The
8th Massachusetts regiment was passing in the wake of the 6th, its
sister regiment of the day before, and the enthusiasm and noise
were tremendous.

However, he extricated himself and went about his business; found
the squatter, argued with the squatter, gracefully dodged a brick
from the wife of the squatter, laid a laughing complaint before the
proper authorities, and then banqueted in imagination. What a
luncheon he had! He was becoming a Lucullus at mental feasts.

Later, his business affairs and his luncheon terminated, attempting
to enter Broadway at Grand Street, he got into a crowd so rough and
ungovernable that he couldn't get out of it--an unreasonable,
obstinate, struggling mass of men, women, and children so
hysterical that the wild demonstrations of the day previous, and of
the morning, seemed as nothing compared to this dense, far-spread
riot.

Broadway from Fourth to Cortlandt Streets was one tossing mass of
flags overhead; one mad surge of humanity below. Through it
battalions of almost exhausted police relieved each other in
attempting to keep the roadway clear for the passing of the New
York 7th on its way to Washington.

Driven, crushed, hurled back by the played-out police, the crowds
had sagged