It was only recently that the Rev. Ephraim K. Avery had been tried in Rhode Island for the murder of Miss Cornell, whose body was discovered in a stack-yard, and though Avery was acquitted in court, the general sentiment of the country condemned him. It was this Avery whom Turner made me represent. I had not walked far in my fine clothes, before I was overtaken by a mob of a dozen, which rapidly increased to at least a hundred, and my ears were suddenly saluted with such observations as, “the lecherous old hypocrite,” “the sanctified murderer,” “the black-coated villain,” “lynch the scoundrel,” “let’s tar and feather him,” and like remarks which I had no idea applied to me till one man seized me by the collar, while five or six more appeared on the scene with a rail. “Come,” said the man who collared me, “old chap, you can’t walk any further; we know you, and as we always make gentlemen ride in these parts, you may just prepare to straddle that rail!” My surprise may be imagined. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as they all pressed around me, “gentlemen, what have I done?” “Oh, we know you,” exclaimed half a dozen voices; “you needn’t roll your sanctimonious eyes; that game don’t take in this country. Come, straddle the rail, and _remember the stack-yard_!” I grew more and more bewildered; I could not imagine what possible offence I was to suffer for, and I continued to exclaim, “Gentlemen, what have I done? Don’t kill me, gentlemen, but tell me what I have done.” “Come, make him straddle the rail; well show him how to hang poor factory girls,” shouted a man in the crowd. The man who had me by the collar then remarked, “Come, _Mr. Avery_, it’s no use, you see, we know you, and we’ll give you a touch of Lynch law, and start you for home again.” “My name is _not_ Avery, gentlemen; you are mistaken in your man,” I exclaimed. “Come, come, none of your gammon; straddle the rail, Ephraim.” The rail was brought and I was about to be placed on it, when the truth flashed upon me. “Gentlemen,” I exclaimed, “I am not Avery; I despise that villain as much as you can; my name is Barnum; I belong to the circus which arrived here last night, and I am sure Old Turner, my partner, has hoaxed you with this ridiculous story.” “If he has we’ll lynch him,” said one of the mob. “Well, he has, I’ll assure you, and if you will walk to the hotel with me, I’ll convince you of the fact.”