General Scott connected with it, that has never been made public. He was
living at the time in Second Avenue, nearly opposite Astor Place. He was
occupying the upper part of the house that evening, and his wife the
lower. When the first volley over the heads of the people was fired, he
hastened down, and sent off a servant to ascertain what it meant. Before
the latter returned, he heard a second volley. Hurrying below, he
despatched a second servant to find out what was going on, and went back
to his room. A third volley smote on his ear, and deeply agitated he
hurried below, and began to pace the room in an excited manner. His wife,
observing how much he was moved, remarked pleasantly: "Why, General, you
are frightened!" This was rather a staggerer to the old hero, and he
turned and exclaimed: "Am I a man to be frightened, madam? It is
_volley_ firing, madam--_volley_ firing. They are shooting down
American citizens!" The old chieftain had heard that firing too often on
the field of battle, to be ignorant of its meaning. He had seen ranks of
living men reel and fall before it; nay, stood amid the curling smoke when
his staff was swept down by his side, calm and unmoved, but here he was
unmanned. Over the ploughed and blood-stained field, he had moved with
nerves as steady as steel, and pulse beating evenly; but now he paced his
safe and quiet room with his strong nature painfully agitated, and all
because American citizens were being shot down by American citizens. The
fact speaks volumes for the nobleness of his nature, and that unsullied
patriotism which sheds tenfold lustre on his well-earned laurels.

[Illustration: HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPARTMENT.]

[Illustration: HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN POLICE, 300 Mulberry Street.]