"We will resist this attempt of Black Republicans and Abolitionists to force the children of the poor into the ranks they dare not enter. Will you give any more of your sons to be food for vultures on the hills of Virginia? Will you allow them to be torn from your firesides and driven as dumb cattle into the mouths of Southern cannon? If you are slaves, yes,——if you are freemen, no!"
When the lottery wheel began to turn off its fatal names at the Government Draft Office at the corner of Forty-sixth Street and Third Avenue on the morning of July 14th, a sullen, determined mob packed the streets in front of the building. Among them stood hundreds of women whose husbands, sons and brothers were listed on the spinning wheel of black fortune.
Their voices were higher and angrier than the men's:
"This is a rich man's war—but a poor man's fight——"
"Yes, if you've got three hundred dollars you can hire a substitute from the slums——"
"But if you happen to be a working man, you can stand up and be shot for these cowards and sneaks!"
"Down with the draft!"
"To hell with the hirelings and their wheel!"
"Smash it——"
"Burn the building!"