So he at it; and the next morning I appeared in print as
"a stout, lusty, fellow, six feet and three inches tall, and as black as
a pot of charcoal." Reader, you would laugh to see me after such a
description--of my height, at least.
The telegraphic wires were also put in demand, and in less than
forty-eight hours after the occurrence of the mob, the terrific news had
spread throughout the country that a "Colored man had attempted to marry
a White woman!" And incredible as it may seem to Britons, this "horrid
marriage" was for weeks, not only discoursed of in the papers but was
the staple of conversation and debate in the grog shops, in the parlors,
at the corners of the streets, and wherever men and women are accustomed
to assemble; and during this time also my life was in danger whenever I
ventured in the streets. The reader will get some idea of the state of
things when I assure him that about a week after the mob, I had occasion
to call at the Globe Hotel, Syracuse; and had not been in the house more
than ten minutes before the landlord came to me and requested me to
retire, as he feared the destruction of his house--the multitude having
seen me enter, he said, and were now assembling about the building. I
walked quietly out in company with a gentleman in a counter direction to
the mob, and so escaped their wrath.
But to return to the narrative. On Tuesday afternoon (two days after the
mob) I awaited again at the Syracuse depot, the arrival of the Fulton
train of cars; supposing it possible that I might meet Miss King.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48