of the market.

The police in the neighborhood rallied hurriedly and found the victim of
mob violence seemingly lifeless. Before they arrived the Negro had been
beaten severely about the head and body. The ambulance was summoned and
Taylor was carried to the charity hospital, where it was found that he
had been shot through the abdomen and arm. The examination was a hurried
one, but it sufficed to show that Taylor was mortally wounded.

After shooting Taylor the members of the mob were pluming themselves on
their exploit. "The Nigger was at the soda water stand and we commenced
shooting him," said one of the rioters. "He put his hands up and ran,
and we shot until he fell. I understand that he is still alive. If he
is, he is a wonder. He was certainly shot enough to be killed."

The members of the mob readily admitted that they had taken part in the
assaults which marked the earlier part of the evening.

"We were up on Jackson Avenue and killed a Nigger on Villere Street. We
came down here, saw a nigger and killed him, too." This was the way they
told the story.

"Boys, we are out of ammunition," said someone.

"Well, we will keep on like we are, and if we can't get some before
morning, we will take it. We have got to keep this thing up, now we have
started."

This declaration was greeted by a chorus of applauding yells, and the
crowd started up the levee. Half of the men in the crowd, and they were
all of them young, were drunk.

Taylor, when seen at the charity hospital, was suffering greatly, and
presented a pitiable spectacle. His clothing was covered with blood, and
his face was beaten almost into a pulp. He said that he had gone to the
market to work and was quietly sitting down when the mob came and began
to fire on him. He was not aware at first that the crowd was after him.
When he saw its purpose he tried to run, but fell. He didn't know any of
the men in the crowd. There is hardly a chance that Taylor will recover.

The police told the crowd to move on, but no attempt was made to arrest
anyone.

+A GRAY-HAIRED VICTIM+

The bloodthirsty barbarians, having tasted blood, continued their hunt and
soon ran across an old man of seventy-five years. His life had been spent
in hard work about the French market, and he was well known as an
unoffending, peaceable and industrious old man.

But that made no difference to the mob. He was a Negro