The reigning belle

by Ann S. Stephens

“The riot came upon us unexpectedly. My husband seemed rather more than usually anxious that morning, but not really apprehensive. He was then a captain in the force, and held to be one of the bravest and most experienced men among them. You have seen him. You know what manner of man he was; but, no—you knew him in his youth—this was in his perfect prime. In the glow of health, in the might of firm resolution, he left me that day. I watched him going down the street, from that window—that very window, sir. We had just built this house, then, and were making it a home for the children. The youngest was by my side; he had mounted a chair, and was clapping his hands and shouting for his father to look back.

“Leonard was anxious, and walked on swiftly; for strange noises were in the air, while groups of men and women gathered in the street, suddenly, as if they sprang out of the earth. Still, my husband heard the shouts of his child, and turning, waved his hand to us. I saw that no smile lighted his face. He stopped, and seemed to listen. A low howl swept up the street, as if a den of wild beasts were clamoring for food. This time, he waved his club, and plunged into a great crowd of people, that choked up the street, menacing him with threats. That great heaving crowd poured itself upon him and tossed him into its midst with shouts that made me quake from head to foot.

“That was an awful day. He had left me in charge of our children, and I dared not leave them for a moment. My home was in the very heart of a disaffected district. My husband was obnoxious, from his strict discharge of duty, and suspected of more education, and higher ambition, than the horde that surrounded us. Lonely as our household was, danger menaced us. Twice during the day a crowd came up the street, swarmed into our little garden, and threatened to burn the house. They would have done it, too, but for Eva, who flung the door open, and standing on the threshold, told them that she was there to protect her mother and two children, younger and weaker than herself.

“Oh, sir! if you could have seen that child standing there, and braving that crowd of fiends! How beautiful she looked, with her coal black hair all abroad; her great eyes burning with courageous fire, hurling words of wild appeal, like bullets, into the crowd. They met her, first, with groans of derision, then with fierce shouts of applause, swearing that she was worthy to lead in their own hot work; worthy of a place by the demoniac women who knew how to cut their way through fire and blood to the heart of an aristocrat.

“Before I could reach my child, or even cry out, a gaunt, gray-headed old woman, with blazing eyes, and lips blistered with oaths, seized her by the arm, shouting,

“‘Yes, yes! let us set her on to help us! She shall tear the brats from out of their silk nests in the avenue, up yonder, and drown them in the gutters! This is fancy work; just fit for a daring imp that isn’t afraid of us! Them who ain’t afeared to fight us are bound to lead us. We want a girl, about her age, to hunt up the small fry, and fling them down for us to trample in the mud.’

“As the woman spoke, she lifted Eva from her feet, and would have hurled her into the crowd; but I pushed the children from me, and sprang upon her with the strength of a strong man in my arms. The struggle was short and fierce. I rescued Eva, and thrusting her behind me, took her place on the threshold of our home. The woman sprang upon me like a fiend; froth flew like snow-flakes from her writhing lips, and a glow of blood burned in her eyes—but I had three children to save.

“How I saved them; what words were used; if the strength of desperation, that fairly turned every nerve in my body to iron, was put forth at all, I do not know; but the crowd broke, filling the air with shouts of laughter, and surged away, dragging that fiend-woman with them.

“Then I bolted the doors, and fell down, weaker and more helpless than the children who crept around me, too frightened for crying. All day long, the howling of the mob, the shrieks of terrified negroes, and the rush of crowds, sweeping by on some errand of destruction, filled us with shuddering dread. When night came we were still alone, watchful and trembling with unutterable fear. I did not think it strange that my husband was absent. While there was a duty to perform, I knew that we need not hope to see him. But, oh, the suspense was terrible!

“All night we waited and listened to the gathering storm, to the howlings of the mob, the startling crash of fire-bells, following close on each other, and the sharp shrieks of men and women, trampled under foot by the merciless rioters, whose fury it was my husband’s duty to quell. Oh, that was an awful night! At each sound my children would creep closer to me, and while the heart quivered in my bosom, I tried to comfort them.