broken itself into fragments after
its disappointment at the jail, each fragment looking for a Negro to
kill. The bloodthirsty cruelty of one crowd is thus described by the
_Times-Democrat_:

"We will get a Nigger down here, you bet!" was the yelling boast that
went up from a thousand throats, and for the first time the march of the
mob was directed toward the downtown sections. The words of the rioters
were prophetic, for just as Canal Street was reached a car on the
Villere line came along.

"Stop that car!" cried half a hundred men. The advance guard, heeding
the injunction, rushed up to the slowly moving car, and several, seizing
the trolley, jerked it down.

"Here's a Nigro!" said half a dozen men who sprang upon the car.

The car was full of passengers at the time, among them several women.
When the trolley was pulled down and the car thrown in total darkness,
the latter began to scream, and for a moment or so it looked as if the
life of every person in the car was in peril, for some of the crowd with
demoniacal yells of "There he goes!" began to fire their weapons
indiscriminately. The passengers in the car hastily jumped to the ground
and joined the crowd, as it was evidently the safest place to be.

"Where's that Nigger?" was the query passed along the line, and with
that the search began in earnest. The Negro, after jumping off the car,
lost himself for a few moments in the crowd, but after a brief search he
was again located. The slight delay seemed, if possible, only to whet
the desire of the bloodthirsty crowd, for the reappearance of the Negro
was the signal for a chorus of screams and pistol shots directed at the
fugitive. With the speed of a deer, the man ran straight from the corner
of Canal and Villere to Customhouse Street. The pursuers, closely
following, kept up a running fire, but notwithstanding the fact that
they were right at the Negro's heels their aim was poor and their
bullets went wide of the mark.

The Negro, on reaching Customhouse Street, darted from the sidewalk out
into the middle of the street. This was the worst maneuver that he could
have made, as it brought him directly under the light from an arc lamp,
located on a nearby corner. When the Negro came plainly in view of the
foremost of the closely following mob they directed a volley at him.
Half a dozen pistols flashed simultaneously, and one of the bullets
ev