desk, and slowly ran his fingers through his hair. "Some of our men left the city before they would be mixed up in this affair, and I wish now that I had done the same. But," he continued slowly, "we may just as well wait until all excitement is at an end before we pull up stakes. Other blacks will doubtless pour in to fill the places of those that are going, and we may be enabled to build up business." "You can remain and wait, Mr. Kahn," answered the agent rising. "This accursed town can no longer hold me. I leave to-night for Richmond, for I can no longer look into the faces of the people whom I have had a hand in killing and terrorizing. Good bye, Mr. Kahn," and the collector was gone. * * * * * "Everybody git in line an' pass one ba one before ther Mair an' git yer permits; fer yer can't git rations thoughten 'um," shouted a policeman to a crowd of hungry citizens who stood upon the steps of the City Hall. "Git in thur ole Aunty an' wait yer turn!" to an old lady, who started to leisurely climb the steps. The Mayor sat at his desk, which had been placed just behind the railing in the court room, and mildly lectured each applicant as he or she came up. "This state of affairs is terrible, but it's your own fault. White people were born to rule, and you to obey. We liberated you and we can re-enslave you. Freedom and Yankee advice have ruined a good many of you. What's your name, old Aunty?" he asked an old woman who came limping up. "Maria Tapp'n, marster," answered the old woman courtesing. "That's right, you haven't lost your manners," said the Mayor with a smile, writing out for her an order for a double portion. "Emulate these old mammies and uncles, who know their places, and you will have no trouble. Next!" "Ef ther's eny who needs er double po'tion hits ther widders an' orphans," said a policeman gently, pushing a little woman in black before the Mayor's desk. "Whose widow are you?" asked the Mayor. "Was your husband killed in the riots?--resisting arrest, I suppose." "This is ther widder of Dan Wright," answered the policeman; "an' ef Wilmin'ton had er had a hundred niggers like that, we uns would er had er diff'ant tale ter tell. He was ded game." "Dan Wright," repeated the Mayor slowly. "He's ther darkey that drawed er bead on an' defied we uns ter the las'," said the policeman pushing the woman away, and pushing another up to the desk. But the Mayor neither answered nor looked up. One by one they continued to come up to receive their orders and pass out; but the executive looked them no more in the face, nor essayed to speak. The crowd slowly dwindled away until the last applicant had passed out. The Mayor laid his pen upon the desk before him, leaned back in his chair, raised his feet upon the desk, and fell into a reverie. The doings of the past few days came back to his mind in all their shocking significance. The curses, the groans, the agonizing cries of the bereaved and the dying