Catherwood nodded approvingly over the sermon in which the South was
justified, and the sanction of Holy Writ laid upon her Institution. With
not indifferent elation these gentlemen watched the departure of brethren
with whom they had labored for many years, save only when Mr. Brinsmade
walked down the aisle never to return. So it is that war, like a
devastating flood, creeps insistent into the most sacred places, and will
not be denied. Mr. Davitt, at least, preached that day to an united
congregation,--which is to say that none of them went out. Mr. Hopper,
who now shared a pew with Miss Crane, listened as usual with a most
reverent attention. The clouds were low and the streets wet as people
walked home to dinner, to discuss, many in passion and some in sorrow,
the doings of the morning. A certain clergyman had prayed to be delivered
from the Irish, the Dutch, and the Devil. Was it he who started the old
rumor which made such havoc that afternoon? Those barbarians of the
foreign city to the south, drunk with power, were to sack and loot the
city. How it flew across street and alley, from yard to yard, and from
house to house! Privileged Ned ran into the dining-room where Virginia
and her aunt were sitting, his eyes rolling and his face ashen with
terror, crying out that the Dutch were marching on the city, firebrands
in hand and murder in their hearts.

"De Gen'ral done gib out er procl'mation, Miss Jinny," he cried. "De
Gen'ral done say in dat procl'mation dat he ain't got no control ober de
Dutch soldiers."

Mrs. Colfax fainted.

"Oh Miss Jinny, ain't you gwineter Glencoe? Ain't you gwineter flee away?
Every fambly on dis here street's gwine away--is packin' up fo' de
country. Doan't you hear 'em, Miss Jinny? What'll your pa say to Ned of