door, broke
in pieces the printing outfit, and then set fire to the building. Many
women, with their little ones, took to the woods, so thoroughly
frightened were they at this strange and unlooked-for spectacle. Black
men were awed into helplessness by the superiorly armed mob. I was at
the ironing table, when one of my little ones ran in and told me that
the school house was on fire. I hurried out to join the crowd of anxious
mothers, who were hurrying in that direction to rescue their children,
whom, they supposed, were in danger. But we were not able to get past
the crowd of men who surrounded the Record building. The cries of the
frightened children could be heard, and the inability of the mothers to
reach them added to the horror of the scene. One mother, frenzied with
grief and desperation, pushed and shoved her way through, despite the
threats of the mob. One little girl died of sheer fright. The shooting
without, mingled with the oaths of the men and the frantic wails of the
women without were too much for the little one to bear. Her teacher's
assurance of safety were of no avail. The teachers finally made a bold
front, pushed their way through the crowd and delivered the frightened
children to their frightened parents, some of whom did not return to
their homes, but hastened to the woods for safety. I returned home. My
husband, who worked at the Press did not arrive until late that night,
he having had serious difficulty in passing the armed whites who lined
the streets, and challenged him at every corner. He informed me that
Colonel Moss, on leaving Dry Pond, went immediately to the Press with
the intention of killing all the men at work there, but was thwarted by
the coolness of Mr. ---- and Molly Pierrepont, who went from her home to
warn them. I bless that woman for her courage. She stood like a goddess
among those men and prevented them from rushing into a trap prepared for
them. My husband at first thought it unsafe to remain in the house that
night; the poor whites were heavily armed and were likely to do most
anything. They had already fired into several houses in the
neighborhood. Some one rapped at the door. I was too frightened to move.
My husband finally opened the door, and in staggered Joe Bently,
bleeding profusely from a large gash in his forehead. He said: "I was
trying to reach the hill this evening without being searched, as I did
not want to part with my gun. At the corner of Market and Front