“They do say they’ll be rig’lar foightin’ nixt. Glory be to Pether! but hear thim cracks av the goons!” And back she trotted to return with: “Howly mother av Moses! they’re murtherin’ the payple in the streets. A gintleman, be name Dr. Gale, is kilt intoirely, an’ siveral others is hurthed bad, an’ the crowd is runnin’ in ivery direction. Do ye hear thim drooms a-beatin’? I’ll be afther seein’ what’s that for.” And out she went again. “Come, girls, go to bed,” said Mrs. Hopkins. “It is near midnight, and you can do no good by sitting up. I wish Mr. Hopkins would come in.” But neither Mr. Tom Hopkins nor his brother appeared that night, and all through their troubled slumbers the girls heard groans and hoarse cries, and the sound of a surging mass of angry men bent on satisfying their lust for revenge. Even with the dawn the horrors continued to be carried on throughout the day. It was not till late in the afternoon that Mr. Tom Hopkins returned home. He looked pale and troubled. “We have heard terrible reports, Uncle Tom,” said Rhoda. “Is it really true that some of your most respectable citizens have been murdered by a brutal horde of lawless villains, and that they have been tortured and almost torn limb from limb?” “I fear there is much truth in it,” he replied gravely. “Oh!” The tears welled up into Letty’s eyes. “Is General Lingan killed, and General Lee? Oh, Uncle Tom, is it so dreadful as that? And where is my father?” “He is with Major Barney. General Lingan, I fear, is killed. General Lee, I am not so sure about. I hope he is safe. There has been much wrong done, and an ill-advised mob is hard to quell, especially when it is a principle rather than a personal grudge which is involved, because it is the whole mind of the party which works with equal interest. I regret exceedingly the manner of their opposition to Mr. Hanson’s paper, but--” He frowned and shook his head. Rhoda fired up. “It is a disgrace. I should think you would feel it to be a blot on your city and state, that such things have been allowed by the authorities. I wish I had never come to this place, peopled by a set of villanous murderers.” “Rhoda!” Her aunt spoke reprovingly. “I don’t care.” Rhoda’s cheeks were flushed. “It is true. It is a dreadful, dreadful thing to murder men for saying they will not countenance a war with England.” “It is a dreadful thing,” returned her uncle, “but we have many wrongs to avenge. Our poor seamen have been flogged to death, have been as brutally treated as this mob has treated the Federalists, and a desire for vengeance which will not be satisfied with less than an eye for an eye, is the motive power which has controlled these late horrible scenes. It is the first battle of our war for freedom, ill-advised as it is.” Lettice was sobbing nervously. “I want to go home, too,” she cried, “I don’t want to stay here, either. I want to go home, Uncle Tom. I am afraid more dreadful things will happen.”