I looked at my watch. It was just ten minutes of ten. Over on the levee the hoarse shouts of the crowd could be heard at more frequent intervals. Far up the street, towards Canal, I could see a dense black mass blocking the entrance, evidently a crowd of people drawn thither by curiosity, but restrained by a sense of danger from coming farther towards the scene of action. The sentries still paced the streets at the corners above and below us. Two squares farther down towards the cathedral we could see the other sentries pacing to and fro. "Those are the police pickets," said our previous informant; "just wait five minutes and you'll see them skip." Again I nervously looked at my watch. I was trembling with suppressed excitement. The police station was only four squares away to our left. I thought I could see the moonbeams gleaming on the big gun that our friend and fellow-citizen said the police had run out in the middle of the street and pointed towards the levee. Suddenly there came a racket towards Canal Street. We all leaned over the balcony and gazed eagerly in that direction. A single black shadow came swiftly down the middle of the street. We heard the loud clatter of iron-shod hoofs on the stone-block pavement. A horseman riding at full gallop came flashing through the moonlight. "Who comes there?" shouted the sentries above us. "Don't stop him!" yelled some authoritative voice as the horseman, never heeding either challenge or rebuke, thundered along almost at racing speed. As he sped under the balcony I did not need to see the glittering aiguillettes and shoulder-knots, or hear the clank of the cavalry sabre, to recognize the youngest of the general's aides-de-camp. Again he was challenged at the lower corner, and some excitable party in the crowd fired a gun. My nerves jumped in quick response, but on went the officer. Then we heard shouts farther down and two more shots, this time from the police, and then Harrod grabbed my arm. "Come on; let's go and see it. I can't stand this." And leading the way he plunged down the stairs, I following. "You can't get through there, gentlemen," said the leader of the party below us; "the police hold the street below." So we headed for the levee, two squares away; found a surging crowd there, but, half running, half walking, we pushed ahead, speedily finding ourselves at the outskirts of a great throng of men spreading out over the broad levee towards Jackson Square. Under the gas-lamp at the corner, now surrounded by a dense throng, we could see the aide-de-camp, seated on his panting horse and in animated conversation with some of the citizens nearest him. I had met the young officer and knew him slightly, and was eager to hear what he might say, but it was impossible to get nearer. In a moment, however, he turned away and rode back towards the police station. A tall, gray-headed gentleman, of soldierly bearing and address, stepped upon a box or barrel and spoke briefly to the crowd,--