obnoxious Abolitionist. Reaching it, they staved open the doors, and
smashed in the windows, and began to pitch the furniture into the street.
Chairs, sofas, tables, pictures, mirrors, and bedding, went out one after
another. But all at once a lull occurred in the work of destruction. In
pitching the pictures out, one came across a portrait of Washington.
Suddenly the cry arose, "It is Washington! For God's sake, _don't burn
Washington_!" In an instant the spirit of disorder was laid, and the
portrait was handed carefully from man to man, till at length the
populace, bearing it aloft, carried it with shouts to a neighboring house
for safety. It was one of those strange freaks or sudden changes that will
sometimes come over the wildest and most brutal men, like a gleam of
gentle light across a dark and stormy sea--the good in man for a moment
making its voice heard above the din and strife of evil passions.

This singular episode being terminated, they returned to their work of
destruction. But suddenly the cry of "Watchmen!" was heard, and the next
moment the police came charging down the street. The mob recoiled before
it, then broke and fled, and the former took possession of the street. But
the latter, coming across some piles of brick, filled their arms and hands
full, and rallying, returned. Charging the watchmen in turn with a
blinding shower of these, they drove them from the ground. They then
kindled a fire on the pavement, and as the flames flashed up in the
darkness and gained headway, they piled on bedding and furniture, till the
whole street was illuminated with the costly bonfire. This caused the
fire-bells to be rung, and soon the engines came thundering down the
street, before which the crowd gave way. The burning furniture was then
extinguished, and the house taken possession of. It was now two o'clock in
the morning, and the mob dispersed.

The next day nothing was talked about in the saloons, groggeries, and on