And in May, the famous rivalry between two leading theatres, that culminated in a great riot, occurred. Edwin Forrest, the great tragedian of that day, and many a year later, and Macready, a celebrated English actor, seemed almost pitted against each other in the same play, Hamlet. A certain party coming into existence had taken for its watchword Americanism of a rather narrow sort, and was protesting against all foreign influence. Macready had played, and then gone to fulfil another engagement, but was to return and play again. Some of the hot heads decided he should not; and though all precautions were taken, the feeling was that the better sense of the community would prevent any absolute disturbance. But the mob had grown larger and stronger in their narrow prejudice, and, before the play was half through, an onslaught was made on the opera-house. The rioters were in such force that the famous Seventh Regiment had to be called out. It was a night of terror and tragedy, and the whole city was wild with alarm. So serious did it become, that it was not quelled without bloodshed; and for days the whole city seemed amazed that such a thing could have happened. But before the surprise and regret had died away, a sudden sound of alarm ran through the city, in curiously muffled tones that blanched the bravest faces,--a visitant, then feared beyond measure, that science had not been able to cope with. People spoke of it with bated breath. It was not simply among the poor and destitute, or those indifferent to cleanliness and order, but it spread everywhere,--the dreaded, mysterious cholera. The older people remembered the scourge of almost twenty years before, and many of them prepared to fly to places of safety. The plague spot of the city was then the old Five Points, where the lowest and poorest, beggars and thieves, and sometimes murderers, had crowded in until it was a nest to be shunned and feared. Through this tract the plague swept like wildfire. Margaret had accepted the urgent invitation of the cousins at Tarrytown, and gone thither with her baby, insisting also upon taking her little sister. Father Underhill was glad to have her out of danger, and was fain to persuade his wife to follow. "No," she said stoutly; "Joe must remain; and you and Stephen cannot run away from business. With Margaret and Hanny safe, I shall stay to keep watch over the rest of you. I may be needed." Dolly had taken her two children up to her sisters', who lived on the Hudson near Fort Washington. Stephen could drive up every day or two with news of everybody. It did not seem at all alarming up at the Morgan's rural home. True, Cousin Famie was aging fast, and had grown more feeble than her years really warranted. Mrs. Eustis was quite the head of the house, and very bright and chatty, with a rather romantic turn of mind, just as fond of reading as some of the younger folks.