e most part quiet
and anxious, until Mr. Hammond appeared and whispered to a man at the
door. In all my life before I had never heard the hum of an angry crowd.
The sound had something ominous in it, like the first meanings of a wind
that is to break off great trees at their trunks. Then some one shouted:
"To Hanover Street! To Hanover Street! We'll have him tarred and
feathered before the sun is down!" The voice sounded strangely like
Weld's. They charged at this cry like a herd of mad buffalo, the weaker
ones trampled under foot or thrust against the wall. The windows of Mr.
Aikman's shop were shattered. I ran with the leaders, my stature and
strength standing me in good stead more than once, and as we twisted
into Northwest Street I took a glance at the mob behind me, and great
was my anxiety at not being able to descry one responsible person.

Mr. Stewart's house stood, and stands to-day, amid trim gardens, in
plain sight of the Severn. Arriving there, the crowd massed in front of
it, some of the boldest pressing in at the gate and spreading over the
circle of lawn enclosed by the driveway. They began to shout hoarsely,
with what voices they had left, for Mr. Stewart to come out, calling him
names not to be spoken, and swearing they would show him how traitors
were to be served. I understood then the terror of numbers, and
shuddered. A chandler, a bold and violent man, whose leather was covered
with grease, already had his foot on the steps, when the frightened
servants slammed the door in his face, and closed the lower windows. In
vain I strained my eyes for some one who might have authority with them.
They began to pick up stones, though none were thrown.

Suddenly a figure appeared at an upper window,--a thin and wasted woman
dressed in white, with sad, sweet features. It was Mrs. Stewart. Without
flinching she looked down upon the upturned faces; but a mob of that
kind has no pity. Their leaders were the worst class in our province,
being mostly convicts who had served their terms of indenture. They
continued to call sullenly for "the traitor." Then the house door
opened, and the master himself appeared. He was pale and nervous, and
no wonder; and his voice shook as he strove to make himself heard. His
words were drowned immediately by shouts of "Seize him! Seize the d--d
traitor!" "A pot and a coat of hot tar!"

Those who were nearest started forward, and I with them. With me 'twas
the decision of an instant.