r.

"Come in," I called.

The door creaked on its hinges, and somebody entered. I waited an
instant, when an adolescent voice of the colored persuasion asked:

"Do somebody name Mist' Dunkin live here?"

"Yes. I'm here; what do you want?"

"Dey wan's you down-y street."

I stretched myself, reached mechanically for a match, and lighted the
gas, which disclosed a small yellow boy, standing in the doorway, some
fright and a good deal of excitement in his aspect. I then detected that
he had something important to tell, and that his errand was a source of
gratification to him.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, after we had stared at one another.

"Ain't yer yeared nuth'n' 'tall?" a shade of contempt in his tone.

"No, what is there to hear?" I asked, rather irascibly.

"Dey's a big fight down-town; de folks dey done tore de Six Reggimen'
all ter pieces, an' dey's wuk'n 'long on de Fif now."

"Whereabouts?"

I started up, and got on my hat in an instant.

"Dey's et Camd' Street depot, now. Ole colored gentlemun he's been
hurtid, an' sent me atter you."

It did not take half a minute to lock the door and we proceeded
down-stairs together.

"He's down yere on Eutaw Street," continued my informant. "Dey's
fightin' all 'long dere--I come nigh gittin' hit myself--_he_ gimme ten
cents to come tell yer--maybe he's done dade now," he added, cheerfully,
as we gained the street, and began to walk.

"Dey fet all 'long yere," was his next breathless remark, made some time
later. We were now proceeding rapidly up Baltimore Street, as rapidly,
at least, as people can who are pushing against a steady stream of
agitated humanity. "Dey fawr'd a bullet clean through de Sun-paper
room," pursued the boy, "an' dey bust up dem dere winder-glassis--"

Pausing involuntarily to look, I caught stray scraps of additional
information.

"Twenty-five people killed."

"As many as that?"

"Oh, yes; fully, I should say. The Sixth fired right into the crowd,
all along from Gay to Eutaw Street."

"Well, I hear the Sixth are pretty well cleaned out by this time, so
it's tit for tat."

Then--

"The Fifth must be there now--"

"The Fifth?--what are they--two hundred men against two thousand?--Lord
knows how it will end. I hope this old town won't be burnt, that's all."
The boy, listening, turned fearfully around, looking with distended eyes
into mine. "Come on," I responded, and we spoke no more until we reached
Liberty Street. Then,