the columns of the "Pennsylvania Freeman." "In the heart of this city a flame has gone up to Heaven. It will be seen from Maine to Georgia. In its red and lurid light men will see more clearly than ever the black abominations of the fiend at whose instigation it was kindled." The disaster did not temper the language of the abolitionists, and they became more radical in their utterances than ever. It was a day when mobs were in the ascendency and crowds of men gathered at a moment's notice, in answer to the appeal of some rowdy or a blatant demagogue. The police force of the city was most inefficient, if we may judge from the number of outrages that were committed, and frequently the militia had to be called out to quell riots that should have been dispersed by a city constabulary force, if they had been brave and resolute. Fights took place between white men and negroes and often upon the slightest provocation. In many instances these encounters resulted in murder, and if a white man happened to be killed in the fray, the mob wreaked its vengeance on black men. in all directions who were not in any wise responsible for the crime. Whenever the mob gathered and began its depredations, the State House bell rang out an alarm like a tocsin to call the people to arms. Frequently fires would be started only for the purpose of giving the firemen an opportunity to enjoy a run. At the slightest provocation crowds of men would gather, and where they could find no negroes to beat they turned their attention to the destruction of property.

In July, 1835, a crowd of ruffians attacked eight or nine houses known as the Red Row, occupied by negroes and located on Eighth street below Shippen. They were not only bombarded with bricks and cobble stones, but were set on fire and when the hose and engine companies arrived the mob had grown to such proportions that it kept the firemen at bay, and those that were successful in directing a stream upon the burning buildings had their apparatus destroyed or the hose cut. The southern section of the city where were located the homes of the blacks, was thrown into a panic and there was a general exodus, the colored people removing with as much furniture and household utensils as they could carry, hurried to the suburbs and encamped in the woods.

During all this time when the mob was so violent, the anti-slavery men seemed to grow more radical and bitter in their denunciations. Their publications were distributed not only in the Northern States, but were scattered broadcast through the South. That they were incendiary in character and incited a spirit of revolt in the hearts of the slaves was unquestionably true and in order to show that the people of the North were not all in accord with such teachings, meetings were held and resolutions adopted which declared that the citizens viewed with indignation and horror the publication of such doctrines and sentiments among our Southern brethren. Individual negroes, too, committed acts, which did not tend to calm the opposition. A number of them, fifty and upwards, gathered within a building, determined to resist the mob to the last. The house was fortified, the doors and windows barricaded and the men armed with bludgeons and pistols awaited the attack, which fortunately did not occur, for at this time the authorities were awake and dispersed the mob before it reached the locality where the blacks were intrenched.

These constant outrages reflected upon the fair name of the city and put in jeopardy the property and the lives of the citizens. Halls, meeting houses, churches and even Masonic lodge rooms belonging to the negroes, were ruthlessly destroyed. These race riots continued for many years, in fact, almost to the beginning of the war. A spirit of rowdyism seemed to pervade certain classes of citizens, and it is surprising that this condition was allowed to continue. At every election, riots and fires were of certain occurrence, and it was indeed exceptional when a day passed without the State House bell ringing an alarm, calling the firemen to extinguish flames, or the militia to subdue a mob.

In 1838 occurred what is known in history as The Buckshot War. It arose from a political contest between the Whigs and the Democrats in the matter of the election of representatives to the Legislature at Harrisburg. The claimants of both parties presented themselves at the opening of the session, and demanded the right to take their seats. It looked as if there would be a clash of arms, and Governor Ritner called out a division of the State militia. About twelve hundred soldiers left this city for the capital, and after standing on guard for some weeks, the Democrats were successful in seating their representatives. Then the militia, having marched up the hill, marched down again, returned to their homes without having an occasion to use their arms, or to fire a shot. Their presence on the scene was sufficient to keep the rebellious from rising.

As bad as the race and election riots had been, they were nothing as compared with what were known as the native American riots. The negro riots were confined mostly to the southern section of the city in the neighborhoods where the colored people resided, and up to this time that portion of the city north of Market street was not disgraced by scenes so riotous.

The native American riots or the Weavers' Riots, as they were sometimes called, began in Kensington, the first of them as early as 1828. It was a manufacturing district and certain localities were crowded with Irish weavers, who had their looms in their houses, for mills were as yet comparatively few in number, and the manufacturers gave out the material to their employees to be taken home and wrought into shape on their individual machines. In the first riot, some indiscreet rowdy, in expressing his views in a bar room discussion, referred to the weavers as "those bloody Irish transports." The taunt was resented and a general fight took place. Guns and pistols were fired, stones were thrown and a number of persons were injured, and the man who uttered the original insult is said to have been kicked to death before the Sheriff's posse arrived upon the scene.. The prejudice against the Irish increased as time ran on, and unfortunately some of the hot-headed foreigners, by their language and conduct only intensified it.

About this time a political movement was set on foot for the organization of a party to be called The Native American. Its battle-cry was "America for Americans," its supporters forgetting in their wild enthusiasm that this country had been looked upon as a refuge for the oppressed of all nations.

In the Spring of 1844 a meeting was held in one of the wards of Kensington to organize a branch of the Native American party. The meeting

was held in the open on a vacant lot at the corner of Second and Master streets, when suddenly a number of men armed with clubs made an attack upon the attendants at the mass meeting and drove them away. Another meeting, much larger, was held on the following Monday at the same place. Again the Native Americans were disturbed, and after a short scuffle they sought shelter in the Nanny Goat Market, which was located in American street north of Master. The house of an Irish fire company was located nearby and from its windows was poured a volley of shots. Recruits on both sides came in from every direction, and a general fight took place. In one of the frays, George Shiffler, who, it was said, was carrying at that time an American flag, was shot down. The excitement spread like wild-fire through the city, and men hastened to the scene of action and a meeting was called for the next day in the State House yard, where resolutions were adopted denouncing the Irish inhabitants of Kensington, and further resolving that the reading of the Bible in the public schools was necessary for a faithful course of instruction. The crowd was wrought up to great excitement by the harangues of several eloquent speakers and in the midst of the commotion and excitement, some one suggested the mob should proceed at once to Second and Master streets. The crowd increased in numbers as it advanced, and when Kensington was reached an effort was made to erect a pole and raise a flag on the spot where George Shiffler had fallen. Having arrived there, some men while occupied in the work of raising a pole, were fired upon from the Irish hose house. The people, becoming infuriated, made an attack upon the building, broke open the doors, and set fire to it. Several persons were killed and wounded in the fight, and before the fire was extinguished, thirty buildings had been destroyed, including the Nanny Goat Market. The militia was called out, but did not seem to be enthusiastic in the work of guarding and preserving the public peace. The soldiers having been withdrawn, pillage began at once, and the Irish families in the neighborhood, packed up their goods and made a general exodus.

Not content with destroying homes, the mob turned with a vindictive spirit upon the churches. St. Michael's, in Kensington, was set on fire and completely destroyed. The whole city was in a state of suspense and apprehension, for the rioters apparently were in complete control. At St. Augustine's Catholic Church, on Fourth street below Vine, the Mayor, John M. Scott, with a special posse of citizens who were sworn in for the occasion, stood on guard and kept the mob at bay, but some ruffian securing an entrance to the building, set it on fire, and in a moment the flames were leaping through the roof, and the entire structure was soon reduced to a heap of ashes. The mob in its wild enthusiasm, shrieked for joy, and cheered when the structure was enveloped in flames. The firemen did all in their power to save adjoining buildings, but only partially succeeded, for in the conflagration was destroyed a number of houses together with the Catholic school, which was under the care of the Sisters of Charity, who had so devotedly given their efforts to the relief of the suffering in the pestilential summer of 1832.

Public meetings were held by conservative and law abiding citizens and addressed by influential men, denouncing the conduct of the rioters, and condemning them for the destruction of church property, but the religious fanatical spirit rose to such a height that the Native American Party was organized in

every ward of the city. They gave a grand demonstration on the Fourth of July, and their ranks were increased by visiting delegates from other States. It was feared that the celebration would result in an outbreak but the day fortunately passed without any disturbance.

A rumor had gone forth that in the Church of St. Philip de Neri, on Queen street above Second, in Southwark, arms had been stored and every preparation made to resist an attack by the mob. A party entered the building and brought forth a large number of guns, pistols, axes, and a quantity of powder. This verified the report and was enough to doom the building to destruction. General Cadwalader, assisted by the Sheriff, Morton McMichael, undertook to protect the property. Cannon were planted in the streets, which kept the rioters at bay, but they hurled their taunts at the General and defied him to open his guns. The General, bearing patiently the insults for some time, at Cast determined upon active measures, and ordered the cannoneers to prepare to fire. Charles Naylor, a well known lawyer of the city, and who at one time. had been a Congressman, stepped boldly in front of the cannon and appealed to the gunners not to obey the order. He was immediately placed under arrest and taken as a prisoner into the church. At day-break on July seventh, timbers were brought up to push in and batter down the doors. The troops inside the church hesitated to open fire and the mob demanded the immediate release of Naylor. Upon his appearance before the crowd, he was cheered to the echo, but addressing them, he said that as citizens they should, under all circumstances, preserve the peace. The troops inside the church were a company known as the Montgomery Hibernia Greens, an Irish military organization, and when they were withdrawn they marched out of the building in order, but no sooner were they in the street than they were attacked by the throwing of stones and other missiles and at last they had to flee for their lives. Another body of militia that had been encamped in Independence Square, ready to be called to action at a moment's notice, was hastened to the scene, and arrived in time to prevent the destruction of the building. One rowdy, in endeavoring to wrest the sword from the hands of a Captain, provoked anew the attack, and stones were hurled in every direction against the militia that had just arrived. The command was given to fire, and four or five of the mob were killed. Troops were called in from every section of the State, and at last peace was restored and the fair name of the city saved from further shame and disgrace.

The whole contest was the result of narrow bigotry and intolerance, and strange to say men whose lives were in direct contradiction to the teachings of religion were the most active and vindictive leaders of the mobs on both sides. There is nothing that creates in the minds of some men as bitter an antagonism as religious differences and yet there are no questions that should be so moderately and dispassionately discussed.

In the vast majority of instances, religious belief is a matter of birth, early associations and education, and the intolerant bigot of one sect would be just as intolerant if he had been born and bred under the other conditions or in the fold of another creed.

It is to be hoped that under the influence of general education, enlightenment and expanding civilization, such scenes as were witnessed in the riots of 1844 may never again be repeated.

CHAPTER XXIV.

DEATH OF CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. JOHN RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE. LAFAYETTE. THOMAS MARSHALL. APPEARANCE OF PHILADELPHIA.

CONSTITUTION OF 1837. FIREMEN. ACT OF CONSOLIDATION.

HE men who had taken an active part in the early history of the Republic were passing one by one rapidly away.

TH

On the fourteenth of November, 1832, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence, died in Baltimore. It seemed like the snapping of a tie that bound the past to the present, and as if the nation had entered upon a new career, freed from the direction and the salutary influence of the fathers and creators of the Republic.

A procession marched solemnly through this city on the date of Carroll's burial, eloquent orations were delivered by distinguished speakers, and resolutions of respect adopted.

In the summer of the following year, John Randolph, of Roanoke, that caustic, sarcastic, eccentric, but brilliant statesman from Virginia, died in the City Hotel, on North Third street, in Philadelphia. He had come here to receive the attention of a well known physician. He was frail and delicate in figure, less than one hundred pounds in weight, but in that feeble body beat the heart of a lion. His physical weakness did not impair his mental strength. The City Councils made preparations to pay respect to his memory by giving him an impressive funeral as his body passed through the city on the way to its Southern home, but when his friends informed the authorities and the public that this was not in accord with his dying wishes, his views in this matter were complied with, and his remains were carried to his native State without any special ceremony. He had been a most prominent figure in Congress, noted for his quick repartee, and his incisive speeches. His uncompromising integrity in public and in private life had won for him the regard and admiration of the people, although he had not those qualities that induced affection. His voice was thin and penetrating, and a witness, standing in the lobby of the Capitol at Washington, with the doors of the House closed, said it sounded like the screeching of a boy, and he could not tell at first whence the sound issued supposing that it came from children at play. He was ready at all times to cross swords with the ablest orators, and he was feared by most of them because he spared no one when he was irritated or aroused.

He it was that designated the compromisers of the North as doughfaces. In describing Clay, whom he considered corrupt but brilliant, he declared in his own characteristic style that "he stinks and stinks and shines and shines like a rotten mackerel in the moonlight." In commenting upon the fact that many men of local reputation sank into insignificance when they came to Wash