I started to leave the house; but just before I got to the door I met Mr. James Litchford, who touched me on the shoulder, and I followed him back.  He observed to me that if I went out of that room I should in less than five minutes be a dead man; for there was a mob outside waiting to drink my life.  Mr. Loring then spoke to me again and said that notwithstanding I had been found guilty of nothing, yet public opinion was law; and he advised me to leave the place the next day, otherwise he was convinced I should have to suffer death.  I replied, “not to-morrow, but to-day.”  He answered that I could not go that day, because I had not done my business.  I told him that I would leave my business in his hands and in those of other such gentlemen as himself, who might settle it for me and send my family to meet me at Philadelphia.  This was concluded upon, and a guard appointed to conduct me to the depot.  I took my seat in the cars, when the mob that had followed us surrounded me, and declared that the cars should not go, if I were permitted to go in them.  Mr. Loring inquired what they wanted of me; he told them that there had been an examination, and nothing had been found against me; that they were at the examination invited to speak if they knew of aught to condemn me, but they had remained silent, and that now it was but right I should be permitted to leave in peace.  They replied that they wanted a more thorough investigation, that they wished to search my trunks (I had but one trunk) and see if I was not in possession of abolition papers.  It now became evident that I should be unable to get off in the cars; and my friends advised me to go the shortest way possible to jail, for my safety.  They said they were persuaded that what the rabble wanted was to get me into their possession, and then to murder me.  The mob looked dreadfully enraged, and seemed to lap for blood.  The whole city was in an uproar.  But the first men and the more wealthy were my friends:  and they did everything in their power to protect me.  Mr. Boylan, whose name has repeatedly occurred in this publication, was more than a father to me; and Mr. Smith and Mr. Loring, and many other gentlemen, whose names it would give me pleasure to mention, were exceedingly kind.

The guard then conducted me through the mob to the prison; and I felt joyful that even a prison could protect me.  Looking out from the prison window, I saw my trunk in the hands of Messrs. Johnson, Scott, and others, who were taking it to the City Hall for examination.  I understood afterwards that they opened my trunk; and as the lid flew up, Lo! a paper! a paper!!  Those about seized it, three or four at once, as hungry dogs would a piece of meat after forty days famine.  But the meat quickly turned to a stone; for the paper it happened, was one printed in Raleigh, and edited by WESTON R. GALES, a nice man to be sure, but no abolitionist.  The only other printed or written things in the trunk were some business cards of a firm in Raleigh—­not incendiary.