THE LAWRENCE MASSACRE 363

worn by his father, and a guerrilla pursued the boys and shot him, his brains splashing in the face of one of the Fisher boys. The children became separated, were shot at a number of times from a distance, but were not killed.

When Fisher returned to the house he went into the cellar, which did not extend under the whole house. Earth from the cellar had been thrown on the part not excavated, and he crawled behind that. Four guerrillas came to the house and inquired for Fisher. His wife said he had left the house. They insisted that he was about the house and went to the cellar entrance, but it was so dark below that they called for a light. Mrs. Fisher brought a lamp, but they turned the wick down into the bowl of oil, and then told her to fix it so it would light.   She said it

as possible and began to talk over what was best to do. My first thought was to get away to some hiding place, but on looking out there seemed no possibility of that as the enemy were everywhere, and I had a feeling that I ought not to leave my family, a young wife and two children, one a babe of three months old, and so we sat down and awaited developments. We saw men shot down and fires shooting up in all directions.

Just on the north of our house, a half a block away and in full view was a camp of recruits twenty-two in all, not yet mustered into service and unarmed. They were awakened by the noise, got up and started to run but were all shot down but five. I saw this wholesale shooting from my window, and it was a sight to strike terror to a stouter heart than mine. But we had not long to wait before our time came. Three of the guerrillas came to the house, stepped up on the front porch, and with the butt of a musket smashed in one of the front windows; my wife opened the door and let them in. They ransacked the house, talked and swore and threatened a good deal, but offered no violence. They set the house on fire above and below, took such things as they fancied, and left. After they had gone I put the fire out below, but above it had got too strong a hold, and I could not put it out.

Not long after a single man rode up to the front gate; he was a villainous looking fellow, and was doubly villainous from too much whiskey. He saw me standing back in the hall of the house, and with a terrible oath he ordered me to come out. I stepped out on the piazza, and he leveled his pistol at me and said; "Are you union or secesh?" It was my time of trial; my wife with her little one in her arms, and our little boy clinging to her side, was standing just a little ways from me. My life seemingly hung on my answer, my position may be imagined but it cannot be described. The thought ran through me like an electric shock, that I could not say that I was a secessionist, and deny my loyalty to my country; that I would rather die than to live and face that disgrace; and so I answered that I was a union man. He snapped his pistol but it failed to fire. I stepped back into the house and he rode around to the north door and met me there, and snapped his pistol at me again, and this time it failed. Was there a providence in this? Just then a party of a half dozen of the raiders came riding towards the horse from the north, and seeing my enemy, hallooed to him "Don't shoot that man."   They rode up to the gate and told me to come there;