And this is not all.
Lynch law has its humours, as the Westerners express it in the cynical language which is so natural to them: it is when there has been a mistake made—in the victim, and the whole thing has to be gone over again, because the wrong man has been lynched.
Again I leave an American newspaper, the Chicago Herald, to speak:
"The little town of St. Helens is in a ferment. A party of lynchers entered it this morning, and went straight to the house of Mrs. Williams to apprise her that her husband had been lynched by mistake during the night. After having expressed their regrets, the men left to go in search of the real culprit. We do not attempt to describe the anguish of the poor woman. It is feared she will lose her reason."
This took place in the year of disgrace 1888.
Lynch law has often had salutary results.
In the days of the "Gold fever," in California, San Francisco was overrun by scoundrelism of the most virulent type. Twice was the infant city reduced to ashes by incendiary hands. Then the leading citizens rose in their wrath, banded themselves together in the name of a Vigilance Committee, and soon, from every available lamp-post, dangled the body of a ruffian. By such treatment was the city purged of crime.
A few years since an Irish agitator named Kearney preached the gospel of dynamite and the spoliation of the rich, on an open space, known as Sand Lots. As vast crowds assembled to listen to this incendiary doctrine, a new Vigilance Committee was formed, comprising all the leading bankers, merchants, and professional men. A polite note was sent to Mr. Kearney that if he ventured to speak again on the Sand Lots, he would be most accurately strung up there and then. Whereupon the Irish gentleman disappeared into space, and his present address is unknown.