Last evening there was a furious organized mob.  I stood at the foot of the stairs to take the admission fee.  Some thirty or forty had properly paid and passed up when a great uproar in the street told of times coming.  It proved to be a closely packed gang of forty or fifty rowdies, who stamped and yelled and never halted for me.  I said, “Ten cents, sir,” to the leader, but he brushed me aside, big cloak, furs and all, as if I had been a mosquito, and cried, “Come on, boys!” They rushed to the platform, where were Foster and Powell who had not yet commenced speaking, seated themselves at the table, drew out packs of cards, sang the Star-Spangled Banner and hurrahed and hooted.  After some thirty or forty minutes, Mr. Foster and Aaron came down and I accompanied them back to Stanwix Hotel, where the gang made desperate efforts to get through the entrance room in pursuit of the “damned Abolitionists.”  The Republican paper called us pestiferous fanatics and infidels, and advised every decent man to stay away.  Were the Republicans true at this crisis, we not only should be heard quietly, as in past years, but should have far larger audiences; and yet a hundred unmolested conventions would not have made us a tithe of the sympathizers this one diabolical mob has done.

Mr. May was in favor of giving up the conventions and was especially anxious that one should not be attempted in Syracuse, which city, he said, had always maintained freedom of speech and he did not want the record broken; but still, if they insisted upon coming he would do all in his power to help them.  Miss Anthony was firm, replying:  “If Syracuse is capable of maintaining free speech the record will not be broken; if it is not capable, it has no right to the reputation.”  Convention Hall was engaged and Mr. May and Mr. C.D.B.  Mills lent every possible assistance, but the Abolitionists encountered here the worst opposition of all.  The hall was filled with a howling, drunken, infuriated crowd, headed by Ezra Downer, a liquor dealer, and Luke McKenna, a pro-slavery Democrat.  Even Mr. May, who was venerated by all Syracuse, was not allowed to speak.  Rotten eggs were thrown, benches broken, and knives and pistols gleamed in every direction.  The few ladies present were hurried out of the room, and Miss Anthony faced that raging audience, the only woman there.  The Republican chief of police refused to make any effort toward keeping order.  The mob crowded upon the platform and took possession of the meeting, and Miss Anthony and her little band were forced out of the hall.  They repaired to the residence of Dr. R.W. and Mrs. Hannah Fuller Pease, which was crowded with friends of the cause.  That evening the rioters dragged through the streets hideous effigies of Susan B. Anthony and Rev. S.J.  May, and burned them in the public square.