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[121] If blood is shed, who knows what shape the White Revival may assume? Is it likely that men who voted with the South seven weeks ago will arm to crush her seven weeks hence?

Some ladies peer down wistfully from the gallery into the sea of dark and bearded faces which are constantly raised to the clock. One lady is that damsel who has come to the Rotunda on her pleasure trip. Poor girl! She sees these scowling brows and haughty gestures. She has reason to suppose that every man is armed. She knows that all these people hate her lover with a fury not to be appeased by blood. Who can assure her that the evening will not close in massacre?

A cry is raised at the operator's desk. News-news — from Washington!

“Read, read!” scream a hundred voices. One of the clerks jumps on a bench, the printed telegraph slip in his hand, and waving it before his audience, cries out lustily: “ Gentlemen, the President backs down!”

“ Backs down?” each wild and pallid auditor asks his neighbour; “Yes, backs down!”

At once the strained and tragic situation softens;

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