Throughout the day parties of coloured people might have been seen hurrying to the upper part of the city:  women with terror written on their faces, some with babes in their arms and children at their side, hastening to some temporary place of refuge, in company with men who were bending beneath the weight of household goods.

Mr. Walters had converted his house into a temporary fortress:  the shutters of the upper windows had been loop-holed, double bars had been placed across the doors and windows on the ground floor, carpets had been taken up, superfluous furniture removed, and an air of thorough preparation imparted.  A few of Mr. Walters’s male friends had volunteered their aid in defence of his house, and their services had been accepted.

Mr. Ellis, whose house was quite indefensible (it being situated in a neighbourhood swarming with the class of which the mob was composed), had decided on bringing his family to the house of Mr. Walters, and sharing with him the fortunes of the night, his wife and daughters having declared they would feel as safe there as elsewhere; and, accordingly, about five in the afternoon, Mrs. Ellis came up, accompanied by Kinch and the girls.

Caddy and Kinch, who brought up the rear, seemed very solicitous respecting the safety of a package that the latter bore in his arms.

“What have you there?” asked Mr. Walters, with a smile; “it must be powder, or some other explosive matter, you take such wonderful pains for its preservation.  Come, Caddy, tell us what it is; is it powder?”

“No, Mr. Walters, it isn’t powder,” she replied; “it’s nothing that will blow the house up or burn it down.”

“What is it, then?  You tell us, Kinch.”

“Just do, if you think best,” said Caddy, giving him a threatening glance; whereupon, Master Kinch looked as much as to say, “If you were to put me on the rack you couldn’t get a word out of me.”

“I suppose I shall have to give you up,” said Mr. Walters at last; “but don’t stand here in the entry; come up into the drawing-room.”

Mrs. Ellis and Esther followed him upstairs, and stood at the door of the drawing-room surveying the preparations for defence that the appearance of the room so abundantly indicated.  Guns were stacked in the corner, a number of pistols lay upon the mantelpiece, and a pile of cartridges was heaped up beside a small keg of powder that stood upon the table opposite the fire-place.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Mrs. Ellis, “this looks dreadful; it almost frightens me out of my wits to see so many dangerous weapons scattered about.”

“And how does it affect our quiet Esther?” asked Mr. Walters.

“It makes me wish I were a man,” she replied, with considerable vehemence of manner.  All started at this language from one of her usually gentle demeanour.

“Why, Esther, how you talk, girl:  what’s come over you?”