"Fus'ly, thaih's the 'sponsebility. W'y, this yeah ve'y mawnin' I banked nigh on to a thousan' dollehs fu' de young boss. En w'en I tell you mo'n two hundred stamps is passed my mouth this yeah blessid evenin', 't will give you some slight idee of the magnitude of the duties I has to puffawn. W'y, gentlemun, I is drank wateh, an' I is drank beeh, but my mouth hain't got back hits right moistuh yit." The day of the 20th of July, 1877, was very quiet We had heard, of course, of the "strikes" all over the country, and the morning papers brought tidings of the trouble with the Baltimore and Ohio railroad employés at Martinsburg, but no serious difficulty was apprehended in Baltimore. That afternoon I was detained very late at the office. I intended beginning a three weeks' holiday next morning, and was trying to get beforehand with my work. My senior was out of town, and Thomas and I had been very busy since three o'clock--I writing, he copying the letters. After five, we had the building pretty much to ourselves, and a little after half past five, the fire alarm sounded. The City Hall bell was very distinctly heard, and Thomas--who had finished his work and was waiting to take some papers to the office of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad for me--took down a list of the different stations, to ascertain the whereabouts of the fire. "1--5," he counted, as the strokes fell; "that makes fifteen, and that is," passing his finger slowly down the card, "that is Eastun Po-lice station, cawneh--naw, _on_ Bank Street. On Bank Street, seh." I listened an instant. "1--5--1," I said, "151; it isn't fifteen." Another five minutes elapsed, while he searched for "151" I busily writing the while. "Hit's--w'y, Lawd-a-massy! Mist' Dunkin, hit's fu' de milinte'y." "Let me see," said I. "Yes, so it is; but they only want them to go to Cumberland. There's a strike there, and the strikers are getting troublesome." He made no reply, and as the bells ceased ringing soon afterward, I resumed my work, which kept me busy until seven o'clock. I then placed the papers in an envelope, and took up the letters. "Be sure you see the Vice-President himself, Thomas," I said. "You know him, don't you?" Receiving no reply, and turning to ascertain the cause of his silence, I saw he was leaning out at the open window, gazing earnestly northward toward Baltimore Street. "Thomas! Thomas!" I shouted. He heard me at last, and withdrawing his head, apologized for his inattention. "I thought--I heehed sup'n nutha like a hollehin' kine of a noise, an'--some guns, aw sup'n, an' I wuz look'n' to see, but thaih don't 'peah to be nuthin' goin' on." "They're mending the railroad on Baltimore Street," I said. "I suppose that is what you heard." And I gave the papers into his hand repeating my directions: "If the gentleman is not there, don't leave them on any account. I'll wait here until you get back--but go first to the post-office and mail these."