day.

The street, and avenue were seething with people; people stood at
their windows looking out at the news-boys who swarmed everywhere,
shouting endless extras; people were gathering on corners, in
squares, along park railings, under porticos of hotels, and every
one of them had a newspaper and was reading.

In front of the St. Nicholas Hotel a lank and shabby man had
mounted a cracker box, and was evidently making a speech, but
Berkley could distinguish nothing he said because of the wild
cheering.

Everywhere, threading the throng, hurried boys and men selling
miniature flags, red-white-and-blue rosettes, and tricoloured
cockades; and everybody was purchasing the national colours--the
passing crowd had already become bright with badges; the Union
colours floated in streamers from the throats or sleeves of pretty
girls, glinted in the lapels of dignified old gentlemen, decorated
the hats of the stage-drivers and the blinders of their horses.

"Certainly," said Berkley, buying a badge and pinning it in his
button-hole. "Being a hero, I require the trade-mark. Kindly
permit that I offer a suggestion--" a number of people waiting to
buy badges; were now listening to him--"those gentlemen gathered
there in front of the New York Hotel seem to be without these marks
which distinguish heroes from citizens. No doubt they'll be
delighted to avail themselves of your offered cockades."

A quick laugh broke out from those around, but there was an