On the night of Monday, the fifth of July, 1875, the ordinarily quiet city was considerably excited over the conclusion of the observance of the national anniversary, which had absorbed attention during the day. There were many people upon the streets, among others a few visitors from adjoining localities. The police, at the time, consisted of only two men, Benj. F. Yost and Barney McCarron, the former a German and the latter of Irish descent, and they were expected, in addition to regular patrol service, to light and extinguish the gas lamps in the principal streets. Yost had experienced considerable trouble with the Mollies, at the head of whom was one James Kerrigan; had arrested the latter for drunkenness on several occasions, and, as would be natural in his position, sometimes felt compelled to use his club to enforce obedience on the part of those apprehended. McCarron came in for his share of ill-will, but, from his German parentage, Yost was peculiarly disliked. Several times had he been threatened with violence, but, being a fearless man, an old soldier, and veteran of many battles, the policeman laughed at danger and kept on in the performance of his duty. McCarron was also openly menaced. Time passed until about midnight of the fifth, or the first small hours before the dawn of the sixth, when McCarron and Yost, passing Carroll’s saloon, noted that the place was still open, went into a hotel, where they saw and drank with Kerrigan—described as a small, round-faced, short and stubbed little Irishman, and a miner, but then out of employment. Subsequently they moved to the westward, on Broad Street, extinguishing the lamps in their way. Soon their task was almost done, and, before two o’clock in the morning, the policemen turned toward Yost’s residence, near the corner of Broad and Lehigh Streets, to partake of a lunch, preparatory to finishing up the night’s work. They had not put out all the lamps in the locality, but it was customary, on their part, to have some refreshments before ending the last half of the patrol, during which the city would be in utter darkness, unless the moon shone—which it did not—and, on this occasion, opened Yost’s front gate, passed to a rear door, used a latch key, went into the house, and found a simple repast ready spread for them, Mrs. Yost having long since retired to her chamber on the second floor of the building. Having satisfied their appetites and enjoyed some moments of repose, they emerged from the same door and went upon the street, prepared to turn off more lights. Hearing the noise below Mrs. Yost was awakened, arose, the night being warm, and sat by an open front window, sending a loving word and look to her husband, as he and his companion advanced to the performance of their duty. It was a few minutes after two o’clock when she saw Yost go toward the lamp at the corner, place the ladder against its iron post, lightly ascend two steps, extending his arm to shut off the gas.