CHAPTER XLVI.

NEGRO HATRED AT THE NORTH.

THE prompt manner in which colored men in the North had enlisted in the army to aid in putting down the Rebellion, and the heroism and loyalty of the slaves of the South in helping to save the Union, so exasperated the disloyal people in the Northern States, that they early began a system of cowardly warfare against the blacks wherever they found them. The mob spirit first manifested itself at a meeting held in Boston, December 3, 1860, to observe the anniversary of the death of John Brown. A combination of North End roughs and Beacon Strect aristocrats took possession of the Tremont Temple, the place of holding the meeting, appointed Richard S. Fay as Chairman, and passed a series of resolutions in favor of the slave-holders of the South, and condemnatory of the abolitionists.

This success induced these enemies of free discussion to attempt to break up the meeting of the Twentyighth Congregational Society at Music Hall the folJowing Sunday, at which Frederick Douglass was the peaker. Wendell Phillips addressed the same society the same place, on the 19th following, when the mob

spirit seemed even more violent than on any previous occasion. These events were still fresh in the minds of the haters of negro freedom, when, on the 10th of July, 1863, the great mob commenced in the city of New York.

The mob was composed of the lowest and most degraded of the foreign population (mainly Irish), raked from the filthy cellars and dens of the city, steeped in crimes of the deepest dye, and ready for any act, no matter how dark; together with the worst type of our native criminals, whose long service in the prisons of the country, and whose training in the Democratic party, had so demoralized their natures that they were ever on the hunt for some deed of robbery or murder.

This conglomerated mass of human beings were under the leadership of men standing higher than themselves in the estimation of the public, but, if possible, really lower in moral degradation. Cheered on by men holding high political positions, and finding little or no opposition, they went on at a fearful rate.

Never, in the history of mob-violence, was crime carried to such an extent. Murder, arson, robbery, and cruelty reigned triumphant throughout the city, day and night, for more than a week.

Hundreds of the blacks, driven from their homes, and hunted and chased through the streets, presented themselves at the doors of jails, prisons, police-stations, and begged admission. Thus did these fiends prowl about the city, committing crime after crime; indeed, in point of cruelty, the Rebellion was transferred from the South to the North.

The destruction of the colored Orphan Asylum, after

first robbing the little black children of their clothing, seemed a most heartless transaction.

Nearly forty colored persons were murdered during this reign of terror. Some were hung at lamp-posts, some thrown off the docks, while others, shot, clubbed, and cut to pieces with knives, were seen lying dead in the streets.

Numbers of men and boys amused themselves by cutting pieces of flesh from the dead body of a black man who was suspended from a lamp-post at the corner of Prince Street.

ou

Hundreds of colored men and women had taken shelter in the buildings reached by passing through the "Arch," on Thompson Street. The mob made several unsuccessful attempts to gain admission to this alley, where, in one of the buildings, was a room about thirty by forty feet square, in the centre of which stood an old-fashioned cook-stove, the top of which seemed filled with boilers, and all steaming away, completely filling the place with a dense fog. Two lamps, with dingy chimneys, and the light from the fire, which shone brightly through the broken doors of the stove, lighted up the room. Eight athletic black women, looking for all the world as if they had just returned from a Virginia corn-field, weary and hungry, stood around the room.

Each of these Amazons was armed with a tin dipper, apparently new, which had no doubt been purchased for the occasion. A woman of exceedingly large proportions-tall, long-armed, with a deep scar down the side of her face, and with a half grin, half smile was the commander-in-chief of the "hot room." This woman stood by the stove, dipper in hand, and

occasionally taking the top from the large wash-boiler, which we learned was filled with boiling water, soap, and ashes.

In case of an attack, this boiler was to be the "King of Pain."

Guided by a friend who had furnished us a disguise, the writer entered the "hot room," and took a view of its surroundings. As we saw the perspiration streaming down the faces of these women, we ventured a few questions.

"Do you expect an attack?" we asked.

"Dunno, honey; but we's ready of dey comes," was the reply from the aunty near the stove.

"Were you ever in slavery?" we continued. "Yes; ain't bin from dar but little while." "What State?"

"Bred and born in ole Virginny, down on de Pertomuc."

"Have you any of your relations in Virginia now?" "Yes; got six chilens down dar somewhar, an' two husbuns all sole to de speclaturs afore I run away.” "Did you come off alone?"

"No; my las ole man bring me 'way."

"You don't mean to be taken back by the slavecatchers, in peace?"

"No; I'll die fuss."

"How will you manage if they attempt to come into this room?''

"We'll all fling hot water on 'em, an' scall dar very harts out."

"Can you all throw water without injuring each

other?"

"O yes, honey; we's bin practicin' all day." And

here the whole company joined in a hearty laugh, which made the old building ring.

The intense heat drove us from the room. As we descended the steps and passed the guards, we remarked to one of them,

"The women seem to be prepared for battle."

"Yes," he replied; "dem wimmens got de debil in 'em to-night, an' no mistake. Dey'll make dat a hot hell in dar fur somebody."

And here the guards broke forth into a hearty laugh, which was caught up and joined in by the women in the house, which showed very clearly that these blacks felt themselves masters of the situation.

As the mob made their last attempt to gain an entrance to the alley, one of their number, a man bloated with strong drink, and heaping oaths upon the "niggers," succeeded in getting through, and made his way to the "hot room," where, it is said, he suddenly disappeared. It was whispered that the washerwomen made soap-grease of his carcass.

The inhabitants of the "Arch" were not again disturbed.