However, the main desire of
the mob at this point seemed to have been to get a sight of me; so they
arraigned themselves in a double file, while I was conducted through the
centre thereof, somewhat after the fashion of a military hero--a
committee man at each side, one in front and another behind. Having
passed completely through the file, the scoundrels then closed in upon
me; some of them kicking me, some striking me in the side, once on the
head, some pulling at my clothes and bruising my hat, and all of them
hooting and hallooing after a manner similar to that which they
practised when they first surrounded the house of Mr. Porter.
At length we reached the hotel--a quarter of a mile distant. The
Committee were about to conduct me into the front parlour, when one
fellow patriotically cried out, "God d----n it, don't carry that nigger
into the front door." A true Yankee that! I have a penny laid up for
that fellow, if I should ever chance to meet him.
I was conducted into the back parlour of the hotel, as being the most
secure. Still the mob were not appeased, and besides, their numbers had
increased. They hung around the house. Some of them opened the windows
half-way and tried to clamber through them into the parlour where I was;
and at last they way-laid the outer doors.
The sort of curses they indulged in meanwhile, I need not describe
again. They were essentially the same as they had hitherto vented, save
that one or two of them growing a little humorous, cried out
occasionally "a speech from Professor Allen"--putting a peculiar
emphasis on the professor.
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