Outbreaks were made, crowds gathered, houses burned, streets barricaded, fights enacted, in a score of places at once.

Where the officers appeared they were irretrievably beaten and overcome; their stand, were it ever so short, but inflaming the passions of the mob to fresh deeds of violence.
Stores were closed; the business portion of the city deserted; the large works and factories emptied of men, who had been sent home by their employers, or were swept into the ranks of the marauding bands.

The city cars, omnibuses, hacks, were unable to run, and remained under shelter.
Every telegraph wire was cut, the posts torn up, the operators driven from their offices.

The mayor, seeing that civil power was helpless to stem this tide, desired to call the military to his aid, and place the city under martial law, but was opposed by the Governor,--a governor, who, but a few days before, had pronounced the war a failure; and not only predicted, but encouraged this mob rule, which was now crushing everything beneath its heavy and ensanguined feet.

This man, through almost two days of these awful scenes, remained at a quiet seaside retreat but a few miles from the city.