again.  The only way you can teach these niggers a lesson and put them in their place is to go out and lynch a few of them as an object lesson.  String up a few of them.  That is the only thing to do—­kill them, string them up, lynch them.  I will lead you.  On to the parish prison and lynch Pierce.”  The mob now rushed to the prison, stores and pawnshops being plundered on the way.  Within the next few hours a Negro was taken from a street car on Canal Street, killed, and his body thrown into the gutter.  An old man of seventy going to work in the morning was fatally shot.  On Rousseau Street the mob fired into a little cabin; the inmates were asleep and an old woman was killed in bed.  Another old woman who looked out from her home was beaten into insensibility.  A man sitting at his door was shot, beaten, and left for dead.  Such were the scenes that were enacted almost hourly from Monday until Friday evening.  One night the excellent school building given by Thomy Lafon, a member of the race and a philanthropist, was burned.

[Footnote 1:  From this time forth the wildest rumors were afloat and the number of men that Charles had killed was greatly exaggerated.  Some reports said scores or even hundreds, and it is quite possible that any figures given herewith are an understatement.]

About three o’clock on Friday afternoon Charles was found to be in a two-story house at the corner of Saratoga and Clio Streets.  Two officers, Porteus and Lally, entered a lower room.  The first fell dead at the first shot, and the second was mortally wounded by the next.  A third, Bloomfield, waiting with gun in hand, was wounded at the first shot and killed at the second.  The crowd retreated, but bullets rained upon the house, Charles all the while keeping watch in every direction from four different windows.  Every now and then he thrust his rifle through one of the shattered windowpanes and fired, working with incredible rapidity.  He succeeded in killing two more of his assailants and wounding two.  At last he realized that the house was on fire, and knowing that the end had come he rushed forth upon his foes, fired one shot more and fell dead.  He had killed eight men and mortally wounded two or three more.  His body was mutilated.  In his room there was afterwards found a copy of a religious publication, and it was known that he had resented disfranchisement in Louisiana and had distributed pamphlets to further a colonization scheme.  No incriminating evidence, however, was found.

In the same memorable year, 1900, on the night of Wednesday, August 15, there were serious riots in the city of New York.  On the preceding Sunday a policeman named Thorpe in attempting to arrest a colored woman was stabbed by a Negro, Arthur Harris, so fatally that he died on Monday.  On Wednesday evening Negroes were dragged from the street cars and beaten, and by midnight there were thousands of rioters between 25th and 35th Streets.  On the