"Oh, papa, she's just crazed, and we must do everything ourselves;" and, Ella, with trembling hands and stifled sobs, began to aid her father. "Oh, hear those awful cries in the street," she said after a moment. "Don't you think we should try to take cousin out?" "If I were not so helpless!" Bodine groaned. "Hannah, wake up and help." "De Jedgmen Day," was the only response. "There is no use to look to her, papa. I'm strong. See, I can lift cousin, she is so light." "No, Ella, it might injure you for life. If we could only partially revive her, and she could help you a little--There may not be another shock." They worked on, growing more assured as the house remained quiet. Hannah was evidently crazed for the time being, for, deaf to all expostulations, she would not move, and kept repeating the terrible refrain. "O God!" said Bodine in tones of the deepest distress, "to think that I cannot go to Mara!" "Well, papa, you can't help it. Your duty is here. May God pity and save us all!" At last the ominous rumble began again in the distance. Ella gave her father a startled look, and saw confirmation of her fear in his face. Old Hannah started up exclaiming, "De Lawd is comin' now shuah. I'se gwine ter meet Him," and she rushed away. With another wild cry Ella lifted the form of her cousin in her arms, and, with a strength created by the emergency, staggered down the stairs to the door. Then a man saw and relieved her of her burden. Bodine with difficulty tried to follow, but could not during the brief shock. When all was still again he threw the bedding over his shoulder, went down and speedily checked Ella's wild cries that he should not delay. The street was comparatively wide; the houses were not high, and they found themselves in the midst of a group of refugees like themselves--mothers sobbing over their babes, men caring for sick and fainting wives, and children standing by feeble and aged parents. Family servants crouched on the pavement beside their employers, and continually gave utterance to ejaculatory prayers which found sympathetic echoes in the stoutest hearts. Many were coming and going. The place seemed a partial refuge, yet the proximity of houses led one group after another to seek the open squares. In many instances rare fortitude and calmness were displayed. Here, as elsewhere throughout the city, frail women, more often than strong men, were patient and resigned in their Christian faith. Ella supported Mrs. Bodine's head upon her lap, and others now aided in the effort to bring back consciousness. Fortunately, however, for the poor lady, she knew not what was passing. Suddenly the group parted to make way for a hatless, coatless man, whose face was terribly disfigured with blood and dust. Nevertheless Ella recognized him with the glad cry, "Mr. Houghton!" "Thank Heaven you are safe!" he gasped, panting heavily; and he gave his hand to Mr. Bodine. "But you are injured," said the captain, in deep solicitude.