make peace to run into the blacksmith shop. Some of the brethren did this,
but in a few seconds after, a volley was fired into the shop. The bullets
went between the logs, which were far apart, and in at the open door,
killing and wounding the brethren within. Some few shots were fired back,
but the brethren soon saw it was useless to resist, so they tried to save
themselves as best they could. Men, women and children scattered in every
direction taking refuge in the woods, while the bullets of the mobbers flew
thick and fast among them, wounding and killing.

The mob kept on firing at the shop until they thought all within were
killed; then they went about the place killing all they could find alive,
and robbing the houses of everything they could carry off. They even
stripped the dead and dying of their clothes. They went into the blacksmith
shop for this purpose, and there they saw dead men lying in piles, and
wounded men groaning in pain, while pools of blood stood on the floor. A
little ten year old boy named Sardius Smith had crawled under the bellows,
trying to hide from the wicked mobbers; but one of them saw him and dragged
him out. Then putting the muzzle of his gun to the boy's head he killed him
instantly. Sardius' little brother, Alma, seven years old had a great hole
shot in his hip; but he lay still, fearing that if he moved they would
shoot him again. Another boy by the name of Charles Merrick was discovered.
He pleaded with the mobbers not to kill him: "I am an American boy," he
said "O! don't kill me!" The mobber heeded not, but blew out his brains.

Thomas McBride, an old, gray-haired man who had fought in the
Revolutionary War under Washington, gave up his gun to a mobber, and then
pleaded for his life. The cruel mobber took the gun and shot the old man
dead, and then another mobber cut him to pieces with an old corn cutter.

Thus it continued. I cannot tell you half of the horrible things which