One after another the various friends of Mr. Walters came in, each bringing some vague report of the designs of the mob.  They all described the excitement as growing more intense; that the houses of various prominent Abolitionists had been threatened; that an attempt had been made to fire one of the coloured churches; and that, notwithstanding the rioters made little scruple in declaring their intentions, the authorities were not using the slightest effort to restrain them, or to protect the parties threatened.  Day was fast waning, and the approaching night brought with it clouds and cold.

Whilst they had been engaged in their preparations for defence, none had time to reflect upon the danger of their situation; but now that all was prepared, and there was nothing to sustain the excitement of the last few hours, a chill crept over the circle who were gathered round the fire.  There were no candles burning, and the uncertain glow from the grate gave a rather weird-like look to the group.  The arms stacked in the corner of the room, and the occasional glitter of the pistol-barrels as the flames rose and fell, gave the whole a peculiarly strange effect.

“We look belligerent enough, I should think,” remarked Mr. Walters, looking around him.  “I wish we were well out of this:  it’s terrible to be driven to these extremities—­but we are not the aggressors, thank God! and the results, be they what they may, are not of our seeking.  I have a right to defend my own:  I have asked protection of the law, and it is too weak, or too indifferent, to give it; so I have no alternative but to protect myself.  But who is here?  It has grown so dark in the room that I can scarcely distinguish any one.  Where are all the ladies?” “None are here except myself,” answered Esther; “all the rest are below stairs.”

“And where are you?  I hear, but can’t see you; give me your hand,” said he, extending his own in the direction from which her voice proceeded.  “How cold your hand is,” he continued; “are you frightened?”

“Frightened!” she replied; “I never felt calmer in my life—­put your finger on my pulse.”

Mr. Walters did as he was desired, and exclaimed, “Steady as a clock.  I trust nothing may occur before morning to cause it to beat more hurriedly.”

“Let us put some wood on these coals,” suggested Mr. Ellis; “it will make a slight blaze, and give us a chance to see each other.”  As he spoke he took up a few small fagots and cast them upon the fire.

The wood snapped and crackled, as the flames mounted the chimney and cast a cheerful glow upon the surrounding objects:  suddenly a thoroughly ignited piece flew off from the rest and fell on the table in the midst of the cartridges.  “Run for your lives!” shrieked one of the party.  “The powder! the powder!” Simultaneously they nearly all rushed to the door.

Mr. Walters stood as one petrified.  Esther alone, of the whole party, retained her presence of mind; springing forward, she grasped the blazing fragment and dashed it back again into the grate.  All this passed in a few seconds, and in the end Esther was so overcome with excitement and terror, that she fainted outright.  Hearing no report, those who had fled cautiously returned, and by their united efforts she was soon restored to consciousness.