This night having been selected to give him a benefit, his enemies had
posted placards over the city, stating the fact of his hostility to this
country--whether with the intention of causing a thin house, or breaking
it up altogether, is not known. At all events, the mob resolved on the
latter course, and streaming up the Bowery in one wild, excited mass,
gathered with loud shouts in front of the theatre. The doors were closed
in their faces, but pressing against them with their immense weight, they
gave way, and like a dark, stormy wave, they surged up the aisles toward
the foot-lights. In the garish light, faces grew pale, and turned eagerly
toward the doors for a way of escape. But these were jammed with the
excited, yelling mob. The play was "Metamora," and was under full headway,
when this sudden inundation of the rioters took place. The actors stopped,
aghast at the introduction of this new, appalling scene. Messrs. Hamlin
and Forrest advanced to the front of the stage, and attempted to address
them; but apologies and entreaties were alike in vain. The thundering
shouts and yells that interrupted them were not those of admiration, and
spectators and actors were compelled to remain silent, while this strange
audience took complete possession of the house, and inaugurated a play of
their own.

But the police, having received information of what was going on, now
arrived, and forcing their way in, drove the rioters into the street, and
restored order. But the demon of lawless violence, that was now fully
raised, was not to be thus laid. Some one got hold of a bell, and began to
ring it violently. This increased the excitement, and suddenly the shout
arose, "to Arthur Tappan's." [Footnote: A silk merchant, and one of the
leading Abolitionists.] The cry was at once taken up by a thousand voices,
and the crowd started down the street. But instead of going to his house,
they went to that of his brother, Lewis, in Hose Street, a still more