The excitement consequent on the draft, exhibited in outbreaks in various parts of the country, and in the vicinity of New York, was increased by the reports of violence and fighting in the latter city. In Troy there was a riot, and the mob, imitating the insane conduct of the rioters in New York, proceeded to attack an African church. But a priest, more bold or more patriotic than Archbishop Hughes, interfered and saved it. That the latter, armed with nothing but the crucifix, could have effected as much as the police and military together, there can be but little doubt. This open and decided sympathy with law and order, and bitter anathemas against the vandals who sought the destruction of the city, were the more demanded, as such a large proportion of the police force were Roman Catholics, and in their noble devotion to duty, even to shooting down their own countrymen and men of a similar faith, deserved this encouragement from the head of the church. [Illustration: BURNING OF THE SECOND AVENUE ARMORY.] CHAPTER XIX. CLOSING SCENES. Tranquil Morning.--Proclamation of the Mayor.--Mob cowed.--Plunderers afraid of Detection.--Dirty Cellars crowded with rich Apparel, Furniture, and Works of Art.--Archbishop Hughes' Address.--Useless Efforts.--Acton's Forty-eight Hours without Sleep over.--Change in Military Commanders in the City.--General Brown relinquishes his Command.--True Words.--Noble Character and Behavior of the Troops and Police.--General Brown's invaluable Services. This week of horrors--a week unparalleled in the history of New York--was drawing to a close. It had been one of terror and dismay to the inhabitants, who thought only of the immediate effects on themselves of the triumph of the mob. A great city laid in ashes, given, up to robbers and cut-throats, is at any time a terrible spectacle; but New York in ruins at this time was a republic gone--a nation, uncrowned and left desolate; but the battle, both for the nation and city, had been nobly fought and won; and Friday, the fifth day of this protracted struggle, dawned bright and tranquil. The storm of the night before had passed away, and the streets, thoroughly washed by the drenching rain, stretched clean and quiet between the long rows of buildings, emblematic of the tranquillity that had returned to the city. The cars were seen once more speeding down to the business centres, loaded with passengers. Broadway shook to the rumbling of the heavy omnibuses; shutters were taken down, and the windows again shone with their rich adornments. The anxious look had departed from the pedestrians, for the heavy cloud, so full of present woe and future forebodings, had lifted and passed away. The following proclamation of Mayor Opdyke will show the true state of things on this morning, and what the people had most to fear: