"This whole thing is the most infernal farce," said he. "Ten to one the true way to stop it is to send us miles away and let them get at one another. The Lord knows I'd afford them every encouragement. They don't want to fight. If old General Fitz Blazes would only send me with my company _behind_ instead of between these howling idiots they'd evaporate quick enough." Well I recalled every bit of this! It was when the "radical" party was split up into local factions, each demanding the State-house--and the Treasury; but--things were different now. The old residents, the business men, the representative citizens of the city had stood that sort of thing just as long as human endurance and their ebbing purses could stand it. They now had organized and risen against the perturbed State authorities; and when that class of men began shooting somebody was going to be hurt. As yet nothing aggressive had been done; but the Republican government was tottering on its Louisiana throne, and appealed for aid. This it was that was sending troops from all directions to the Crescent City. I decided to go and protect my lares and penates, trivial though they might be. To my relief, yet surprise, the moment I mentioned this to Colonel Summers his face lighted up with an expression of delight. "Mr. Brandon, we'll go together, and as soon as you like." Noticing my evident surprise, he added, "To tell the truth I ought to go, and at once. Will you come into father's library and let me explain?" Assenting, as a matter of course, I followed him. Pauline was seated by her father's side as we entered, writing, as she often did, from his dictation. "Father," broke in the colonel, abruptly, "we can spare you all that work. Mr. Brandon tells me he has decided to go at once to New Orleans. I will go with him, and take the papers." The judge rose somewhat slowly--anxiety had told on him very much in the last day or two--and greeted me with his old-fashioned courtesy. "It is a source of great regret to me--to us all--that you should leave us; yet you have doubtless anxieties, as indeed I have,--great ones,--and I wish it were in my power to go myself; but that cannot be, for a fortnight at least; and by that time, as things are looking now, it may be too late,--it may be too late. My son will tell you----" he broke off suddenly. Miss Summers had risen; her sweet, thoroughbred face had grown a little paler of late, and she stood anxiously regarding her father, but saying not a word. For some moments we sat in general conversation; then, noticing how tired the judge was looking, I rose, saying it was time to make preparations.