The day was one of restless anxiety, yet of apparent quiet and order. The broad "banquette" of Canal Street was thronged with ladies and children as is customary on bright afternoons. The matinées at the Varieties and the St. Charles Theatre were crowded. At half-past four, as I strolled up the street under the friendly shade of the awnings, that made the wide sidewalks one long arcade, I was struck by the perfectly peaceful aspect of the scene. From the Custom-House to Rampart Street, on the lower side of the way, I did not see a policeman, much less a soldier in uniform; but at all the corners, the knots of unoccupied men were much larger than usual; this being especially the case around Dumonteil's and Lopez's confectioneries, and the well-known establishment of "Dr. Sample." On the opposite side and grouped around the brown-stone building of the Shakespeare Club, half a dozen men in civilian dress were lolling about, and less than one hundred yards up Dryades Street, as many more were sitting or standing around the entrance of the massive Mechanics' Institute, now used as a State-House and place of meeting of one at least of the rival Legislatures; but there was nothing in its exterior to indicate the state of siege as described in the daily press. In all, there might have been one hundred loungers scattered from Victor's marble-columned restaurant on the lower side down to "Dr. Sample's," in the middle of the next block; but absolute quiet and order reigned. Some of the windows in the second story of the Institute were open, and occasionally the features of some colored legislator could be seen peering curiously and cautiously out towards Canal Street. Now that demon of curiosity that has always possessed me, prompted me to stroll across the broad thoroughfare and to approach the entrance of Dryades Street. As a neutral, I felt serenely confident that neither side would take exceptions to my movements, but looking behind me as I reached the car-tracks, I saw that the listless loungers on the banquette had crowded forward to its edge, and were watching me with interest. Keeping on, however, I soon reached the upper side, and deliberately walked ahead as though bent on going to the State-House. The instant I got beyond the Canal Street pavement, however, one of the men I had noticed at the upper corner stepped quickly in front of me and said,-- "Pardon me, Mr. Brandon, where did you wish to go?" Then, seeing my look of surprise, he smilingly added, "Of course I know you, sir, though you do not know me; I'm a detective." "Why," said I, "if there be no objections, I would like to go to the State-House, just to see what is going on." "I'm sorry, sir," was the civil reply; "at this moment our orders are to admit nobody."