and the thunder of the populace, was borne the words
He comes.     An Hungarian officer rode first, then in
an open barouche sate Kossuth.
   Then what a whirlwind of sound, what hurro-ing,
what waving and uptossing of hats, what fluttering of
handkerchiefs from window and house top, what a roar
of welcome!     And if I didn�t stand up, shout
hurra and wave my old sombrero it�s a pity!
   What did I see then, � a full calm, thoughtful
face lit up with a kind smile,  dark mustache and 
thick beard; a figure ^|space| about, of middle height, and
plainly though handsomely dressed.   He bowed his head,
uncovered, in acknowledgement of the crowd, and the
barouche moved on.
   That�s Louis Kossuth. May God bless him and
his cause!
   The crowd broke through and closed in behind
and I was borne along with it, irresistibly.  What a 
scene did Broadway present then; � hands and voices
upraised everywhere.     Flurried along in the dense mob
awhile, I at last managed to achieve the sidewalk,
struggled with some hundred others or so down a side 
street, and passing into Broad, got to Wall Street.
Rested awhile at Holmes, (Kossuth having passed on)
then towards Fulton, calling in at Cedar for a