The next morning the lethargy of the city was as profound as the excitement of the preceding day had been intense. Before nine o’clock very few were astir. Here and there a pedestrian passed along on some necessary errand. On some streets market-wagons lumbered by. The morning markets, usually so full of life, were half deserted. However, as the day wore on, signs of returning activity multiplied; but when men met each other, they made scant allusion to the scenes of yesterday. There was evidently a good deal of thinking, but there certainly was very little talking. Many appeared to be ashamed of themselves. Those who had been terrorized manifestly desired to cover up and forget their folly; those who had not been much moved by the general alarm, in kindness restrained themselves from saying, “I told you so.” This was cheering. It showed that neighborly kindness and true manhood had not perished in the panic; that what was noblest and best in those who disagreed so radically on great questions of state policy, stretched itself over all their differences like a rainbow on the clouds of a passing storm. But hundreds of our fellow-citizens were still in the places to which they had so hurriedly fled. On Monday most of them heard that no ruthless enemy had wrapped their dwellings in flames and slaughtered the defenceless; that the current of affairs in their beloved city was flowing on unimpeded and unruffled. By Tuesday a large number of them had quietly returned to their homes, and by the end of the week even those that sought refuge in distant cities shamefacedly came back. Unannoyed they resumed their duties. Few made any curious inquiries, or even alluded to their strange and groundless terror and ludicrous flight. No event so startling and unique was apparently so soon and utterly forgotten. However, to make this portrayal of the panic adequate and just, one more thing must be specially noted. While but few could wholly escape its subtle and awful influence, I knew of no Unionist, nor heard of one, that through fear fled from the city. They did not for a moment believe that the loyal Germans intended violence to anybody. They therefore looked upon the scene of terror enacted before them with both amusement and amazement; but most of them learned, probably for the first time, how terribly real to frightened men and women imaginary evils can be, and so for their returning secession neighbors they had only kindly greetings.