Well, a mob began gathering in Huntsville before the grand jury had ceased its labours. It was chiefly composed of the workmen from the cotton-mills. These are of a peculiar class--pure American stock, naturally of high intelligence, but almost wholly illiterate--men from the hills, the descendants of the "poor white trash," who never owned slaves, and who have always hated the Negroes. The poor whites are and have been for a long time in certain lines the industrial competitors of the Negroes, and the jealousy thus engendered accounts in no small degree for the intensity of the race feeling. Anticipating trouble, Judge Speake ordered the closing of all the saloons--there were then only fifteen to a population of some twenty-one thousand--and called out the local military company. But the mob ran over the militiamen as though they were not there, broke into the jail, built a fire in the hallway, and added sulphur and cayenne pepper. Fearing that the jail would be burned and all the prisoners suffocated, the sheriff released the Negro, Maples, and he jumped out of a second-story window into the mob. They dragged him up the street to the square in the heart of the city. Here, on the pleasant lawn, the Daughters of America were holding a festival, and the place was brilliant with Japanese lanterns. Scattering the women and children, the mob jostled the Negro under the glare of an electric light, just in front of the stately old court-house. Here impassioned addresses were made by several prominent young lawyers--J. H. Wallace, Jr., W. B. Bankhead, and Solicitor Pettus--urging the observance of law and order. A showing of hands afterward revealed the fact that a large proportion of those present favoured a legal administration of justice. But it was too late now. A peculiarly dramatic incident fired the mob anew. The Negro was suddenly confronted by the son of the murdered peddler. "Horace," he demanded, "did you kill my old dad?" Quivering with fright, the Negro is said to have confessed the crime. He was instantly dragged around the corner, where they hanged him to an elm-tree, and while he dangled there in the light of the gala lanterns, they shot him full of holes. Then they cut off one of his little fingers and parts of his trousers for souvenirs. So he hung until daylight, and crowds of people came out to see. _Effort to Punish the Lynchers_