“Let me see the paper,” persisted Mr. Coleman.
“No,” said O’Neil, “there is a blunder somewhere,” and he pushed his way, in a discomfited manner, through the crowd and disappeared.
As the crowd increased in the streets, the friends of Mr. Harwood arrived, until all the Abolitionists in the city, some forty in number, were present. Mr. Harwood stood on the front steps with Swamp, and when anyone evinced a purpose to ascend the steps the fine display of ivory in the dog’s mouth cooled his ardor. Mr. Coleman and Alf. Burnet, afterwards well known in anti-slavery circles, went to a Dutch armory and secured a quantity of arms and ammunition; the women took up the carpet in the parlor, which soon presented the appearance of a military bivouac, whilst papers and valuables were hurried off to other houses, and a strong guard was placed before the door. An application was made to the sheriff for protection, but he only replied, “If you make yourself obnoxious to your neighbors, you must suffer the consequences.”
Whilst Scanlan was making his inflammatory speeches down town, and subsidizing the saloons, Lavinia was redressing in her boy’s suit and was quietly taken out on a back street to a Mr. Emery’s, the crowd meanwhile crying, “Bring out the lousy huzzy; where is the black b——ch?” and other equally classic expressions. One blear-eyed ruffian exclaimed, “If my property was in thar, I’d have it or I’d have the d—d Abolitionist’s heart’s blood, I would.” Another one, equally valorous called out, “Go in boys; why don’t you go in?” and a score of voices responded, “Go in yourself. The nigger ain’t ourn. Where’s the boss? Guess he’s afraid of shootin’ irons,” a feeling that evidently pervaded the whole assemblage.
Being without a leader, and having no personal interest at stake, about dark the mob moved down the street, stoning and materially damaging the house of Alf. Burnett’s father as they passed by. The old gentleman gathered up a large quantity of the missiles and kept them on exhibition for several years as samples of pro-slavery arguments.
Scanlan vented his spleen and breathed out his threatenings through the city papers, but being unable to get any redress, and finding he was to be prosecuted for trespass, he hastily decamped for New Orleans.
After a week or two, Lavinia, dressed in her masculine suit went with some boys who were driving their cows to the hills to pasture, and was by them placed in the care of a conductor, by whom she was safely forwarded to Oberlin. Here she was found to have a fine mind, was befittingly educated, and ultimately sent as a missionary to Africa. After the lapse of several years she returned to this country, and whilst visiting the friends in Cincinnati, who had so kindly befriended her in the days of her childhood, suddenly sickened and died.
A RUSE.
Serious and earnest as was the work of our railroad, it was made the pretext for many a practical joke and arrant fraud. In the north part of Trumbull county, Ohio, lived an ancient agent named Bartlett, having in his employ a newly married man named DeWitt, a rollocking kind of a fellow, and well calculated to personate a son of Ham, or a daughter as well. DeWitt conspired with his wife and some of the female members of the old gentleman’s family to have a little fun at Mr. Bartlett’s expense. Some thrown off apparel of Mrs. Bartlett was procured from the garret, and, properly blackened, he was attired in a grotesque manner.
Just at evening a decrepid wench applied for admission at Mr. Bartlett’s door. The women appeared very much frightened and were about shutting the door in her face, when the old gentleman, hearing the negro dialect came to the rescue. Soon the wanderer was comfortably seated, and to Mr. Bartlett’s inquiry as to where she was from replied, “Oh Lor’, Massa, I’se from ol’ Virginny an’ I’se boun’ for Canady, and Massa Sutlifft, he tells me I mus’ cum heah, but de white missus scare at dis ol’ black face.”