It is also worthy of note that every paper which copied the article, varied the details, in order to suit its specific locality.  Some of the versions of the affair were extremely amusing.

One of the papers described the mob as having taken place at Syracuse, and the onslaught as having been made upon us while the ceremony was about being performed, whereat Miss King fled in one direction, and I in another.

One Editor in furnishing his readers with the details thought it necessary to a completion of the picture to describe my personal appearance.  He had never seen me—­but no matter for that.  He had seen the “Star’s” report, and what that did not give him, his imagination could supply.  So he at it; and the next morning I appeared in print as “a stout, lusty, fellow, six feet and three inches tall, and as black as a pot of charcoal.”  Reader, you would laugh to see me after such a description—­of my height, at least.

The telegraphic wires were also put in demand, and in less than forty-eight hours after the occurrence of the mob, the terrific news had spread throughout the country that a “Colored man had attempted to marry a White woman!” And incredible as it may seem to Britons, this “horrid marriage” was for weeks, not only discoursed of in the papers but was the staple of conversation and debate in the grog shops, in the parlors, at the corners of the streets, and wherever men and women are accustomed to assemble; and during this time also my life was in danger whenever I ventured in the streets.  The reader will get some idea of the state of things when I assure him that about a week after the mob, I had occasion to call at the Globe Hotel, Syracuse; and had not been in the house more than ten minutes before the landlord came to me and requested me to retire, as he feared the destruction of his house—­the multitude having seen me enter, he said, and were now assembling about the building.  I walked quietly out in company with a gentleman in a counter direction to the mob, and so escaped their wrath.

But to return to the narrative.  On Tuesday afternoon (two days after the mob) I awaited again at the Syracuse depot, the arrival of the Fulton train of cars; supposing it possible that I might meet Miss King.  She did not make her appearance, and there was now not a doubt left on my mind as to the character of what was going on in Fulton.  Just as I was on the point of turning away from the depot, a gentleman came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, and bade me get out of the way as quickly as possible; for the Fulton mobocrats, he informed me, had sent up word by telegraph to certain persons in Syracuse to mob me, if I should be seen about the car house.  This gentleman also added that some of these persons were about the car house, wishing to have me pointed out.

It seems, the Committee that visited us on the evening of the mob, had overheard Miss King assure me that she would meet me on the following day in Syracuse; and they, or others of our keepers, had not only determined that no such meeting should be held, but that the mobbing should be repeated if I attempted again to see her.