Abraham Franklin was murdered by the mob on the corner of twenty-seventh St., and Seventh avenue. He was a quiet, inoffensive man, 23 years of age, of unexceptionable character, and a member of Zion African Church. Although a cripple, he earned a living for himself and his mother as a coachman. A short time previous to the assault upon his person, he called upon his mother to see if anything could be done by him for her safety. The old lady, who is noted for her piety and her Christian deportment, said she considered herself perfectly safe; but if her time to die had come, she was ready to die.

Her son then knelt down by her side, and implored the protection of Heaven in behalf of his mother. The old lady was affected to tears, and said that it seemed to her that good angels were present in the room. The mob broke down the door and seized Franklin as he prayed by his mothers side. He was beated over the head and face with fists and clubs, and then hanged in the presence of his mother.

The military came and drove the mob away and cut down Franklin's body. Franklin raised his arm once slightly and gave a few signs of life.

The military moved on to quell other riots and the mob returned. Franklin was hung again and the mob cut out pieces of his flesh and otherwise mutilated him until he died.

Augustus Stuart died at the Hospital, Blackwell's Island July 22d, from the effects of a blow received at the hands of the mob, within one block and a half of the State Arsenal, corner 7th Avenue and 35th street, on Wednesday evening, July 15th. He had been badly beaten previously by a band of rioters and was frightened and insane from the effects of the blows which he had received. He was running towards the Arsenal for safety when he was overtaken by the mob from whom he received his death blow.

Mrs. Stuart, his wife, says that some of the rioters declared that at the second attack upon him he had fired a pistol at his pursuers; but she says that if he did, he must have obtained the weapon from some friend after he had left home, a few minutes before, for he had no weapon then, nor was he ever known to have had one. He was a member of the church.

Peter Heuston was a sixty-three year old Mohawk Indian, with dark complexion and straight black hair. He worked as a laborer and lived at the corner of Rosevelt and Oak streets. He had been a resident of New York for several years when he was murdered by the rioters.

His wife had died about three weeks before the riots, leaving with her husband an only child, a little girl named Lavinia, aged eight years, Hueston served with the New York Volunteers in the Mexican War, and has always been loyal to our government. He was brutally attacked on the 13th of July by a gang of ruffians who evidently thought him to be of the African race because of his dark complexion. He died within four days at Bellevue Hospital from his injuries.

At the end of the Mexican War Heuston received a land warrant from the government, which enabled him to settle on a tract of land at the West, where he lived but a short time previous to his coming to this city.

Jeremiah Robinson was killed in Madison near Catherine street.His Widow, Mrs. Nancy Robinson, said that her husband dressed in some of her clothes, and in company with herself and one other woman left their residence and went towards one of the Brooklyn Ferries in an attempt to escape

Robinson wore a hood, which failed to hide his beard. Some boys seeing his beard, lifted up the skirts of his dress, which exposed his heavy boots. Immediately the mob set upon him and mutilated his body in an obscene and grotesque manner. The mob finally killed him and threw his body into the river.

His wife and her companion ran up Madison street and escaped across the Grand street Ferry to Brooklyn.

William Jones was killed by a crowd of rioters in pursuit of a negro, who had fired on some rowdies in self defense when they attacked him

Jones was returning from a bakery with a loaf of bread under his arm. The mob instantly set upon and beat him and after nearly killing him, hanged him to a lamp-post. His body was left suspended for several hours and was mutilated obscenely.

Jones" body was not identified for two weeks. The fear inspired by the mob was so great that no white person had dared to manifest sufficient interest in the mutilated body of the murdered man while it remained in the neighborhood to be able to testify as to who it was.

The principal evidence which the widow, Mary Jones, has to identify the murdered man as her husband is the fact of his having a loaf of bread under his arm. He having left the house to get a loaf of bread a few minutes before the attack.

William Henry Nichols died July 16th, from injuries received at the hands of the rioters on the 15th of July.

The father of William Henry died some years ago, and the boy has since, by good behavior, with persevering industry, earned his own living; he was a communicant of the Protestant Episcopal Church, in good standing. I had arrived from Philadelphia, the previous Monday evening, before any indications of the riot were known, and was temporarily stopping, on Wednesday, July 15th, at the house of my son, No. 147 East 28th street.

At 3 o'clock of that day the mob arrived and immediately commenced an attack with terrific yells, and a shower of stones and bricks, upon the house. In the next room to where I was sitting was a poor woman, who had been confined with a child on Sunday, three days previous. Some of the rioters broke through the front door with pick axes, and came rushing into the room where this poor woman lay, and commenced to pull the clothes from off her.

Knowing that their rage was chiefly directed against men, I hid my son behind me and ran with him through the back door, down into the basement. In a little while I saw the innocent babe, of three days old, come crashing down into the yard; some of the rioters had dashed it out of the back window, killing it instantly. In a few minutes streams of water came pouring down into the basement, the mob had cut the Croton water-pipes with their axes. Fearing we should be drowned in the cellar, (there were ten of us, mostly women and children, there) I took my boy and flew past the dead body of the babe, out to the rear of the yard, hoping to escape with him through an open lot into 29th street; but here, to our horror and dismay, we met the mob again; I, with my son, had climbed the fence, but the sight of those maddened demons so affected me that I fell back, fainting, into the yard; my son jumped down from the fence to pick me up, and a dozen of the rioters came leaping over the fence after him.

As they surrounded us my son exclaimed, "save my mother, gentlemen, if you kill me." "Well, we will kill you," they answered; and with that two ruffians seized him, each taking hold of an arm, while a third, armed with a crow-bar, calling upon them to stand and hold his arms apart, deliberately struck him a heavy blow over the head, felling him, like a bullock, to the ground. (He died in the N. Y. hospital two days after). * I believe if I were to live a hundred years I would never forget that scene, or cease to hear the horrid voices of that demoniacal mob resounding in my ears.

They then drove me over the fence, and as I was passing over, one of the mob seized a pocket-book, which he saw in my bosom, and in his eagerness to get it tore the dress off my shoulders.

I, with several others, then ran to the 29th street Station House, but we were here refused admittance, and told by the Captain that we were frightened without cause. A gentleman who accompanied us told the Captain of the facts, but we were all turned away.

I then went down to my husband's, in Broome Street, and there I encountered another mob, who, before I could escape commenced stoning me. They beat me severely.

I reached the house but found my husband had left for Rahway. Scarcely knowing what I did, I then wandered, bewildered and sick, in the direction he had taken, and towards Philadelphia, and reached Jersey City, where a kind, Christian gentleman, Mr. Arthur Lynch, found me, and took me to his house, where his good wife nursed me for over two weeks, while I was very sick.

I am a member of the Baptist Church, and if it were not for my trust in Christ I do not know how I could have endured it.

James Costello, 97 West 33d street, was killed on Tuesday morning, July 14th. Costello was a shoe maker, an active man in his business-- industrious and sober. He went out early in the morning upon an errand, was accosted, and finally was pursued by a powerful man. He ran down the street--endeavored to make his escape-was nearly overtaken by his pursuer in self-defense he turned and shot the rioter with a revolver. The shot proved to be mortal--he died two days after.

Costello was immediately set upon by the mob. They first mangled his body, then hanged it. They then cut down his body and dragged it through the gutters smashing it with stones, and finally burnt it. The mob then attempted to kill Mrs. Costello and her children but she escaped by climbing fences, and taking refuge in a Police Station house. Mrs. Costello is a Christian woman and has three or four children.

Meantime a woman told the mob that a row of tenement houses in the rear were occupied by colored people, when the ringleader armed with a cudgel, entered the place in search of the inmates, but they had effected their escape, having been apprised of their danger by some friendly neighbors, at the commencement of the outbreak. Incensed at the escape of their prey, the mob burned the buildings. Upon the arrival of the police the rioters fled.

Mrs. Derickson was assaulted by the mob and so severely beaten, that she died a week afterwards. Mrs. Dericksonwas was a white woman married Mr. Derickson and lived at No 11 York Street,

Mrs. Susan Reed, who, with her two children, one a babe of tender years and the other Joseph Reed, an invalid boy, about seven years of age was living with her mother, Mrs. Simmons, at 147 East 28th street.

Upon the approach of the mob, the inmates of this humble tenement became alarmed. The mother, with simple but still, under the circumstances the most commendable honesty, fearing that the clothes which had been intrusted to her in her business as a laundress might be destroyed, hastened to return them to the owner. The grandmother thus left alone, at the approach of the rioters, started for a place of safety with the babe, directing the poor, sick boy to follow her. In the dreadful confusion he was parted from her, was set upon by the mob, was beaten, was savagely asked with frightful oaths if he would be hung or have his throat cut, and some of the more busy devils looked about for a rope to execute their fiendish purpose. He was rescued by a gallant fireman, named John F. McGovern, a member of 39 Hose Company, who carried him to a house in 30th street. The landlady was so frightened at the consequences of harboring a colored boy at that time of terror that she begged the fireman on her kneesto take him elsewhere. A German neighbor next door overhearing the interview came forward and promptly offered to take care of him.

The fright, the dreadful beating which he had received and the shock to his nervous system were too much for tyoung Joseph Reed, and on Tuesday he went to a place where black and white are alike in the sight of Him who made both, and where the prejudices and cruelties of man will no longer torture his young soul.

Joseph was a Sunday school scholar at the Church of the Mediator, The Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., pastor, spoke thus of Joseph:

A Child Martyr.

Early in the month of May a boy of some seven summers presented himself for admission to the Sunday School of the Church of the Mediator in this City. From the first Sunday he was the object of special interest on the part of both his pastor and teacher.

Always punctual in his attendance tidy in appearance, and eager to learn, he soon won the affection of all his fellows in the Infant-Class to which he belonged. But though comely, he was black. The prejudice which his color excited amongst those of meaner mould he quickly disarmed by his quiet, respectful, Christian manner. He was a child-Christian. What more lovely is there on earth! What more highly esteemed is there in Heaven! Little did those who thus casually met him from Sunday to Sunday imagine the witness of suffering, God had purposed to perfect in him!

At the time of the late riot he was living with an aged grandmother and widowed mother at No.--East 28th street. On Wednesday morning of that fearful week, a crowd of ruffians gathered in the neighborhood, determined on a work of plunder and death. They stole everything they could carry with them; and, after threatening and affrighting the inmates, set fire to the house.

The colored people, who had the sole occupancy of the building, were forced in confusion into the midst of the gathering crowd. And then the child was separated from his guardians. He was alone among lions. But ordinary humanity, common decency, had exempted a child so young anywhere from brutality. But no. No sooner did they see his unprotected, defenceless condition, than a company of fiendish men surrounded him.

They seized him in their fury and beat him with sticks and bruised him with heavy cobble-stones. But one, ten-fold more the servant of Satan than the rest, rushed at the child, and with the stock of a pistol struck him on the temple and felled him to the ground.

A noble young fireman--God bless the firemen for their manly deeds--a noble young fireman by the name of McGovern instantly came to the resene, and single handed held the crowd at bay. Taking the wounded and unconscious boy in his arms, he went to the house of an American citizen close by, and asked to have him received.

But on her knees the woman begged him not to leave the dying sufferer with her, "lest the mob should tear her to pieces." It was a suffering Saviour in the person of His humblest child. Naked, and wounded, and a stranger, they took him not in.

But a kind hearted German woman made him a sharer of her poverty. With more than a mother's care did she nurse the forsaken one. A physician was called, and both night and day she faithfully watched over the bed of him outcast from his brethren. Our hearts bless her for her goodness to our child.

By name she is as yet unknown, but by her deeds well known and well be loved. His distracted mother found her cherished boy in these kind hands. And when she saw him, in the earnest simplicity of her spirit she kneeled in prayer to thank God for the fulfillment of His promise. "God hath taken him up." The lad lingered until Thursday evening, when the Saviour released him from his sufferings; and "the child was caught up to God and the throne."

S.H.T. Jr.
NEW-YORK CITY
September 10th, 1863.}

A tablet to Joseph's memory swas placed on the walls of the Sunday-School room to which he loved to come.

A man with a basket on his arm was going down Washington street; on the corner of Leroy street he stopped to inquire of some young men, the way to the market. He was immediately attacked and badly beaten. The police arrived and drove off the ruffians; but the poor fellow was so much injured, that after lingering in great suffering and in an insensible condition for several days at the New York Hospital, he finally died. In response to the inquiry as to what was his name, made by the attending surgeons, he replied in an indistinct way, "Williams."

Joseph Jackson, age 19 years, lived in West 53d Street near 6th Avenue. Joseph was in the industrious pursuit of his humble occupation gathering provender for a herd of cattle when he was set upon by the mob near the foot of 34th street, East River, on July 15th, and killed. The mob threw Joseph's body into the East River.

Samuel Johnson was killed in the neighborhood of Fulton Ferry. The particulars of his history have not yet been obtained, though he is supposed to have been the son of William Johnson, whose experience we quote below:

William Johnson lived with his family in Roosevelt street. He was walking down the Second avenue near Thirty-sixth street, at a late hour on Wednesday night, July 15th, hoping that the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the street would shield him from observation, and enable him to visit a friend who resides in an alloy-way not far from that locality. As he reached the corner he was hailed by a party of young men--none of them more than twenty-two or three years of age--who asked him jokingly to look at his watch and tell the time.

Johnson made no reply but passed quietly on, when one of them running up behind him, struck him a violent blow on the back of the head, and at the same time tripped him, so that he fell full length upon the pavement. Instantly the whole set jumped upon him, kicked him, and brutally bruised him, so that he lay for a while insensible. He was then thrown upon the steps of a grocery and left to die or get up, as the chances of life might best favor.

Toward morning the unfortunate man came to, and slowly dragged himself the long, weary distance to his home. Fortunately he was unnoticed, and unhindered, so that he reached his door in safety.

But, as though to prove the old adage that troubles never come singly, he had but just stepped in doors, when he was met by his heart-broken wife, who told him of the presence of his dying son, a waiter, whose employer's place is in the lower part of the City, and who, on his way home was beaten and left for dead by a mob of 'long-shoremen, and was brought home in a dying state by the kind hands of the police. The son died before noon, but the father, though terribly battered and bruised, is living, and will doubtless fully recover.

The following Case of Brutality is one of the worst, so far as beating is concerned:

Charles Jackson, was passing along West street, in the neighborhood of Pier No. 5, North river late hour on Wednesday night,. He was a laboring man, and was dressed in a tarpaulin, a blue shirt, and heavy duck trousers. As he was passing a groggery in that vicinity, he was observed by a body of dock men, who instantly set after him. He ran with all the swiftness his fears could excite, but was overtaken before he had gone a block.

His persecutors did not know him nor did they entertain any spite against him beyond the fact that he was a black man and a laborer about the docks, which they consider their own all the swiftness his fears could excite, but was overtaken before he had black man and a laborer about the docks, which they consider their own peculiar field of labor. Nevertheless they knocked him down, kicked him in the face and ribs, and finally by the hands of their leader, deliberately attempted to cut his throat. The body, dead they supposed it, was then thrown into the water and left to sink,

Fortunately life was not extinct and the sudden plunge brought the poor fellow to his senses, and being a good swimmer he was enabled instinctively to seek for the net work of the dock. This he soon found, but was so weak from the loss of blood and so faint with pain that he could do no more than hold on and wait for day. The day after, Messrs. Kelly and Curtis, of Whitehall, discovered him lying half dead in the water. They at once attended to his wants, gave him in charge of the Police-boat and had him sent to the hospital. The escape of the man from death by the successive abuses of beating, knifing, and drowning, is most wonderful. So determined and bitter is the feeling of the 'longshoremen against negroes that not one of the latter dared show themselves upon the docks or piers, even when a regular employee of the place.

An old man that lived in Sullivan street, gave the following account.

I am a whitewasher by trade, and have worked, boy and man, in this city for sixty-three years. On Tuesday afternoon I was standing on the corner of Thirtieth street and Second avenue, when a crowd of young men came running along shouting "Here's a nigger, here's a nigger." Almost before I knew of their intention, I was knocked down, kicked here and there badgered and battered without mercy, until a cry of "the Peelers are coming was raised; and I was left almost senseless, with a broken arm and a face covered with blood, on the railroad track.

I was helped home on a cart by the officers, who were very kind to me, and gave me some brandy before I got home. I entertain no malice and have no desire for revenge against these people. Why should they hurt me or my colored brethren? We are poor men like them; we work hard and get but little for it. I was born in this State and have lived here all my life, and it seems hard, very hard, that we should be knocked down and kept out of work just to oblige folks who won't work themselves and don't want others to work.

He was asked if it was true that the negroes had formed an organization for self-defence, as was rumored. He said no; that, so far as he knew, "they all desire to keep out of the way, to be quiet, and do their best toward allaying the excitement in the City."

At a little after noon, on Monday, July 20th, a number of Negroes were attacked on Broad street by a rough mob of rioters. At first the negroes were disposed to stand and resist the attack, but being overpowered by superior numbers, they broke ranks and scattered, seeking refuge in the halls and cellars of the adjacent stores. Individuals of them were caught and severely injured by kickings and beating, but none were fatally injured.

A Raid

On Wednesday July 15th, about twelve o'clock, the neighborhood of St. John's Park was thrown into terrible confusion by an onslaught upon the houses of a community of unfortunate negroes. In York street, which is only a block in length, running from West Broadway to a lane back of St. John's Church, two rows of small wooden and brick houses are situated, mostly occupied by negro white washers and ironers, who are among the most harmless and law abiding of our citizens. In accordance with intimations thrown out during the day before by the habitues of a low tavern at the corner of York street and West Broadway, a crowd of Irish about a hundred strong, at midnight assaulted the buildings, and amid the shrieks and groans of the unfortunate women and children the whole precinct was devoted to destruction.

How the ill-fated negroes contrived to escape is perfectly marvelous; with one or two exceptions, however, in which the parties were slightly wounded, they managed somehow to get away. Renewed attempts were made at a later hour to set the neighborhood in flames, but from some reason or other they proved abortive. About 1 o'clock, after the rioters had done their worst, and carried off the little all of these unfortunate creatures, in the way of beds, chairs, tubs, smoothing irons, etc., a body of cavalry arrived upon the ground.

On Thursday morning the scene presented was desolate beyond description. Not a vestige of glass remained in the windows, the sashes were gone, the doors presented the appearance of lattice-work with the apertures very large, and great heaps of bricks and stones were piled upon the stoops and dispersed about the floors of the rooms. In response to our question as to whether the mob had robbed her of everything, a poor negro woman replied, with a look of abject despair and quiet resignation: "Pretty much all, sir."

Guide In General Burnside's Department.

Samuel Williams acted as a guide under General Burnside during his campaign in North Carolina. While serving in this capacity Williams rendered valuable service to the Union troops, in the department and in one instance projected and led a reconnoitering expedition against the enemy, which resulted in obtaining much valuable information, besides the capture of prisoners.

When General Burnside left the coast for the Rappahannock and Washington, Williams was conveyed north with his family He soon found means for gaining an honest livelihood and settled down in Jersey city.

At the time of the riots he was driven, with his family ,from his home and was obliged to take refuge in the salt meadows back of Jersey City, where he remained for ten days, subsisting on such articles of food as could be obtained. Upon returning home they found that their house had been sacked of everything, including their small stock of goods which was their only means of subsistence.

An Heroic White Woman.

An interesting story of the heroism with which a lady, the wife of a firemen, saved the lives of several colored people, is told by Richard Wilson, a Methodist Elder, who resided at No. 95 West 32d. street.

"On Tuesday at 9 o'clock, A.M. the mob came; my wife and one daughter went out the front basement way, escaping with a few bruises. As it was the men they were most violent against, my other daughter remained with me and my three sons, declaring that she would risk her life with her father. Finding the rioters would soon break through, we all climbed over the back fence into the yard where this lady lived. Instantly she came out to meet us and told us to hide ourselves as quickly as possible in her basement cellar. But the mob had espied us and quick as thought they surrounded her house. She calmly went out to the front door and met them, demanding what they were making all that clamor about, at her house.

The mob were for a moment foiled by her coolness, and she immediately took advantage of the quiet to tell a neighbor to run as quick as his feet could carry him to the Arsenal and bring the soldiers. She then ordered her girl to pack up all her more valuable things in trunks and sent for a carman to come for them.

By this time the mob had become intensely excited-assured by some of their fellows-of the presence of the blacks in the basement. They rushed the steps and tried to get past the noble woman. 'I tell you, she said, no one goes in this house except over my dead body.' Her resolute manner, though she was a woman of small stature, awed them. 'If had my sword here,' muttered a ruffian who appeared a runaway soldier,' I would settle you.'

'As soon as I remove my trunks and furniture,' she said, 'you can come in, not before.' In a few minutes the military appeared, and the lady, the negroes and the cart load of valuables, were all safely conveyed to the Arsenal."

Burning Of The Colored Orphan Asylum.

The Colored Orphan Asylum, on Fifth Avenue, near Forty-third street was the Mob's next target following the attack on the Bull's Head Hotel. The mob swelled to an immense number at this locality, went professionally to work in order to destroy the building, and at the same time, to make appropriation of any thing of value by which they might aggrandize themselves.

About four hundred entered the house at the time, and immediately proceeded to pitch out beds, chairs, tables, and every species of furniture, which were eagerly seized by the crowd below, and carried off. When all was taken, the house was then set on fire, and shared the fate of the others.

While the rioters were clamoring for admittance at the front door, the Matron and Superintendent were quietly and rapidly conducting the children out the back yard, down to the police station.

They remained there until Thursday, (the burning of the Asylum occurred on Monday, July 13th, when they were all removed in safety to Blackwell's Island,.

There were 230 children between the ages of 4 and 12 years in the home at the time of the riot.

The Asylum was located on the Fifth Avenue, between 43d and 44th streets. The main building was nearly 200 feet in length, three stories and light basement in height, with an hospital 100 feet long, three stories high, connected with the main building, by a covered way. Several work shops were attached, and the residence of the Superintendent, Mr. Wm. Davis was next door. The buildings were of brick and were substantial and commodious structures. A number of fine shade trees and flowering shrubs adorned the ample play grounds and front court yard, and a well built fence surrounded the whole.

The main buildings were burned. The trees girdled by cutting with axes; the shrubs uprooted, and the fence carried away. All was destroyed except the residence of Mr. Davis, which was sacked.

Mr. H., a man about thirty years of age, was driven from his house on Grand street. On Monday, July 13th, he was taken ill at the store where he works, and was going home when he rioters fell upon him and hit him with sticks and stones, injuring him badly, but he reached his home, with the assurance of the mob that they would kill him. In the afternoon, about four o'clock, they came back to execute their threat. They broke in the door, smashed the windows, and swore the would burn the house over his head. He slipped out of the way, and remained under a neighbor's roof over night. He afterwards reached the station-house in safety.

There were a number of instances like the following.

A Landlord Threatened.

Mrs. T., from Third street (her daughter and grand-daughter, almost white, were with her), said that her landlord had been threatened with the halter because he hired his houses to colored people. She and her husband and children were compelled to leave their residence.

A Timid Landlord.

A landlord on 52d street threatened to turn a woman and her two infants into the street if she did not leave the premises. She could not find a place to move, and as a last resort went to the station-house on Forty-seventh street.

A Widow.

Mrs. R., a widow, had to run for her life--a house in the same yard being on fire. She lost every article of property save the clothes upon her person.

An Old Lady.

Mrs. W., an old lady from Cannon street, says, that she, her husband, and ten or a dozen others were concealed in a white neighbor's house for two days. This white family not only had the heroism to protect these poor people, but the humanity to feed them, and the discretion at the proper time to get a police force to escort them to the station-house. Their benefactors are Irish Catholics.

Another Old Lady.

An old lady of 60 said she had to run for her life from her home in the Eighteenth ward. She was followed by the mob, who pursued her with yells and curses and dangerous missiles. She was slightly wounded.

A Cripple.

A woman who was crippled at the riot in Brooklyn in the Summer 1862 was driven from her residence in Elizabeth street by a band of rowdy boys, who broke the windows of her house and threatened to put it to the torch. She is the mother of two children.

Attempt To Burn The Residences.

A woman with an infant in her arms fled from the Archway on Sullivan street. She states that not less than one hundred colored people fled from that neighborhood. The Arch had been set on fire three times by the mob. Even the white families in the vicinity moved their furniture, anticipating a fearful conflagration.

White Women.

Some four or five white women, wives of colored men were assaulted. In every instance they had been severely dealt with by the mob. One Irish woman, Mrs. C. was so persecuted and shunned by every one, that when she called for aid, she was nearly insane.

Insanity.

Several cases of insanity among the colored people appear, as directly traceable to the riots.

Colored Families Moving.

A number of poor colored families in various parts of the city collected their scanty supplies of furniture on carts and moved from their homes the 15th. They had to work among the sneers, and threats, and cruel assaults of the rioters, and to watch for opportunities to make their escape when the rioters were out of sight.

Mrs. Simmons.

Another interesting case is that of a Mrs. Simmons, who resided at 147 East Twenty-eighth street, where she had a comfortable abode.

The rioters attached her house, with several others near by, and drove her with her two children off without giving them time to save any article of clothing or other goods. She lost everything.

This woman has a son--a sergeant in the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts regiment--from whom she has just received information to the effect that during the last battle in which that regiment was engaged at Charleston, and while charging the batteries on Morris Island, he was taken prisoner. His reputation for skill and bravery is very high.

By referring to tthese incidents, it will be seen that among the killed are men, women and children--White, Colored and Indian--from the tender babe of three days old, up to the venerable man of three score years and three. The two young men, Abraham Franklin and William Henry Nichols, were members of Christ's body--the Church; both were siezed and murdered while striving to comfort and protect their mothers.

Joseph Reed was a Sabbath School boy, aged seven years. Augustus Stuart was a Christian man, and insane at the time he was killed, and as if to show that it was not the timidity of the blacks, that encouraged the rioters, James Costello was killed for having defended himself with a pistol. And all were slain, either while in the peaceful pursuit of their honest, though humble vocations, providing for their families, or while endeavoring to escape from the hands of their destroyers.

The New York City Draft Riots

Letters to William H. Seward on New York Draft Riots

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