93
            Street-scenes in New York.
There, in an upper room, unfurnished, with
a very hard-looking crowd around him, sat a
�Colonel� of a b�hoy aspect, taking down names.
Over the battered chimney-piece were two amateur
sketches, one of an ideal �Wilson Volunteer,� ano-
ther entitled �a South Karillinian Fire-Eater,�
representing an absurd military figure, with
asses ears and a patched breech repaired by
a Palmetto flag.    Here I found Tom Mc.Elrath,
(not my Lake Superior chum, but his b�hoy
like brother) who was read a letter from a monied
New Yorker, proposing to pay down $1,000 for the
raising of an extemporized company, to start un-
uniformed, at once, with revolvers and bludgeons,
to hold Baltimore and the way clear.        Outside,
on the pavement, were two inebriated patriots, chant-
ing the chorus of the �Star-spangled Banner,� every
now and then shaking hands with one another or
with the passers-by, among whom the spectacle
scarcely excited comment.      Return to supper.
Af At this meal, Boweryem culminated; he de-
nounced Southerners as consisting of unmitigated
tyranny, sef selfishness and cruelty and assert-
ed them to be descendents of British convicts,
�some of whom had unfortunately escaped to Penn-
sylvania.       This for the benefit of purple-faced