that both he, and the noble animal he bestrode, began to be a little excited. "Make way, make way, I say; don't you see that my horse is young? You are frightening him. Make way, I say, or I shall be obliged to ride over some of you." "If you ride over us," said a stern voice, we will tramp you under our feet." "Don't you know that I am in Lord Pompadour's service, and this is his horse?" "We do know; and never the better are you or your beast for belonging to the same man. "Let me pass!" cried the groom, furiously striking his horse. The animal reared, and plunging forward cast two of the men violently to the ground; a third seized the reins, and the crowd closing round the man, would probably have handled him roughly, had he not, loosing all patience, struck out with his long whip-handle, one end of which unluckily reached the face of a woman, causing her nose to gush out bleeding. On this a loud cry arose from the crowd "Pull him down, pull him down!" The women shrieked and clamoured. "Come down !" said the stern voice which had first spoken. "I won't; let go my rein, or the horse will kill some of you." "Come down, I say!" The groom answered by a blow on the man's hand which cut his knuckles, and a plunge of the spurs, which hitherto he had avoided using, into the horse's flank. With a wild snort, the animal bounded forward, the crowd giving way on each side, as he shot from among them-the servant, who had been his lordship's groom before promoted to his present station, keeping his seat well, and going down the road in racing speed, so as to bid defiance to a volley of stones which followed on his flight. The mob were now thoroughly exasperated; the woman, though not much hurt, was frightened and angry; her husband, whose hand had been bruised by the whip-handle, was pale with passion; the men whispered together and strode on doggedly; the women clacked and clamoured. "Come on, my lads," said a navvie, who had joined the crowd, "let us go and pull that saucy chap out of the lord's stable, where he is hiding this mo VOL. XLVI.-NO. CCLXXV. ment behind the manger. We will duck him first in the river, and afterwards give him a good dry-rubbing with an oaken towel." This was followed by a partial and faint cheer and laugh combined; but the bulk of the men were sullen and silent, and gave no other signs of being excited than frequent whispering and a quickening of their steps on the road which led to Brockholes. And how fared they at that lovely and lordly home at this minute? Why my lord, all unconscious of coming events, had that moment got out of the Times, in which any little mind or soul he had had been absorbed since breakfast, and having just descended the long ladder of the last advertisement column, he felt a little weary, and had donned his white hat, and followed his lady, who was talking to a gardener about some flower-vases which decked the noble terrace which ran out from three sides of the beautiful mansion, descending in slopes and stone staircases to meet the velvet lawn. As they stood together in the front of the house, my lord was checked in the midst of a yawn by the sound of a horse galloping, and presently the footman appeared on the avenue "Seeming in running to devour the way;" a sight which roused my lord's choler not a little. "How dare Lawson ride the Bentinck colt at that pace. See, if he has not thoroughly heated him; the fellow must have been drinking." "I should say," answered her ladyship, "that for any servant to ride in that fashion before our windows is extremely improper." This was her ladyship's expression for every shade of moral delinquency. "Johnson," said she, addressing the gardener, "go and summon Lawson here, to speak to Lord Pompadour and me this instant.” The man came, looking dreadfully pale, and in answer to his lady's somewhat imperious questionings, told his tale meekly and truly, "nothing extenuating, nor aught setting down in malice." "In turning in on the great avenue, the colt had become unmanageable, and he could not pull him up till he reached the stable-yard. And to my mind," added honest Lawson, "those factory lads are for sartain bent on doing bad. They seemed all in a pas 2 8 sion like, and were for murdering me because I wore your lordship's livery coat. And a bad gang is joining them, I saw long Nick, the poacher, and his two sons, whom we had in gaol last Michaelmas; and I heard one of them say that they would pay Brockholes a visit before they went home to-night." "You may retire now," said her ladyship, as she turned to her husband, whose elongated and pale visage did not at all appear to relish the intelligence brought by his menial, or to enjoy the idea of the threatened visit conveyed in it. 1 "These factory mobs are ugly things; they visited my cousin Din Nottinghamshire last year, took his young ash-plants, and broke his glass in the garden; and carried away two cartloads of rare fruit from the pinery. I wish that hot-headed fellow had not come into collision with them. I do not think they would presume to approach this house, so I shall not summon the parish constables, which, after all, would be useless, as I hear they have all been sent this morning to the races at Warwick." Whereupon my lord looked very stately, and sternly strode into the house, followed by her ladyship, majestically sailing along, like a certain bird, less dignified in the farm-yard when alive, than delicious on the table when dead. So sidled my lady into the house, with every tuck and flounce of her ample gown seemingly dilated and swelling before the steady trade-wind of her self-complacency. And the great hot sun was high and clear in the blue heavens, shining with impartial and ordained ray on all alike-the evil and the good; the just and the unjust; the opulent noble in his hall of pride, surrounded by a thousand superfluities; and the starving mechanic, homeless, penniless, and vagrant, seeking for one morsel of meat to satisfy the demands of the sternest of all this weary life's hard creditors hunger. The sun is in the heavens, and a shower of meridian light and glory falls over Brockholes, bathing with beauty its green lawns, and leaves, and brakes, and forest glades, and glowing on its gardens, and yellowing on its gra. velled walks, and glancing from its lakes, and glittering, and burning back from its long line of graperies and cupolaed conservatories. And the ' lord of all this splendour and magnificence is a poor, vulgar-minded man, straitened in the emotions of the bosom, and the stirrings of the brain; without the faculties which would ena ble him to enjoy his blessings; without the feelings which would prompt him to share them with others. There he sits in his study — so called, by an architectural antiphrasis, a non studendo-huddled up, and half-hidden in an easy-chair, yawning over a Quarterly Review, which he buys, but never reads; which he cuts, but could not comprehend. There he sits, waiting for the luncheon-bell, that tocsin of the soul," which is to summon him to an extremely elegant and recherché little meal, for Brockholes is illustrious for the piquancy of its luncheons-there he lolls, almost forgetful of the fears of the morning, in the anticipation of the coming enjoyment, and utterly uncon scious of the stern fact, that there are two hundred human beings, all of the common brotherhood of Japhet, turning in at his avenue-gate this moment, angry and resolved against him, with famine gnawing at their entrails, as the fox gnawed into the Spartan's heart beneath his robe; and the black "wolf at the door" of their homestead, howling on the threshold, and awaiting their return, if they are ever spared to see its once happy shadow again. It was not that the Earl was a specially bad man-no, it was only that he was lifted too high on the pinnacles of prosperity to look down on the practical misery of others, and thus wanted the conscience and experience of poor Lear "Oh, I have taken Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp, It was not that the mob, who were now violating the laws by a wilful trespass on his park grounds, were specially bad or evil people; but they were the victims at this moment of a great misfortune, and had been, as they considered the matter, insulted in their misery by the retainer of one whom they were in the habit of associating with much of their hardship, and one whom they reputed as an enemy. And so they now approached the house, determined to have vengeance from the menial for the injury which they themselves had provoked to have food for their craving appetites, and at all events, to threaten, and humble, perhaps terrify, the great man, by a display of physical force; and so they sped up the avenue. The great gates were locked, but a workman's hammer, in the hand of a ready artisan, had dislodged the staple in a trice; and now they stood, a dense and angry mass, upon velvety lawn and white-gravelled avenue, which never yet, in the memory of man, had borne the weight of a crowd of low-born hinds, or taken the impress of hob-nailed and plebeian feet; and then they raised a shout-a rude, loud shout startling the aristocratic air of Brockholes, and violating its well-bred echoes, and furthermore, interrupting the noble owner in the midst of his luncheon, while in the act of discussing a delicate fricandeau, and excessively alarming and horrifying his ladies. A man advanced, and knocked loudly at the great door. My lord issued his directions that he should be answered by the butler from the parlour window. "What do you want? Draw off your men, or my lord will send for constables and drive you away." "We want the body of Thomas Lawson, who has wounded one of our party, and struck a woman on the face. Furthermore, we are inhabitants of the borough of Fadlingham, are out of employment, our mill is burnt, and we are starving, and we want bread. If our wants are complied with we will draw off-not till then." " Draw off this moment, or my lord will make his servants fire into your body. He bids me say he will read the Riot Act. How dare you trespass here, you and your mob? You are acting against law. What do you want with Thomas Lawson? Would you murder the man ?" "We are no rioters," answered the spokesman, "we are starving artisans, and Englishmen. If you fire among us you must take the consequences. We must have the man out who has misused us. We will murder no one, unless you attempt to fire upon us, when we cannot answer for what may happen." A very general shouting followed these words, which were heard within the splendid drawing-room, where sat the three ladies in ineffable alarm. Everything conspired to terrify themthe sense of their unpopularity; the conviction of their unprotected state; and the sight of all they had to losethe bright, the beautiful, and the brittle! and all this, mingled and enhanced by strong personal fears-for how tremendous is an English mob when once you unmuzzle that fierce bear! All their cold mannerism, their haughty indifferentism, was gone; and they now sat, in the very midst of their splendour, nothing more than three pale, terrified, shrinking, cowering women, with all their nature in its shallowness uncovered, without sense or principle to direct them in their difficulty, without dignity of action to conciliate their opponents, and, alas! without any inclination to ask assistance from Him who is a present help in time of trouble, and has promised that he will hear the cries of his people "what time the storm falls upon them." My lord, however, was too thorough an Englishman to be deficient altogether in animal plnck. He was also an extremely obstinate man; so, throwing up a window, he addressed the men below, who were now getting excited, and were pulling up some of the young ash-plants. In all he said, his manner, though a little softened by his anxiety, preserved its unwonted ungraciousness. He would not give them food, he would not deliver up his servants into the hands of a revengeful mob; and he would strongly advise them to separate and go home, or they should be punished. All this he spoke with a loud voice; but there was no boldness in the bosom to respond to the bravado of the lips. The men answered doggedly, that they would not separate till they had food given them; that they had been maltreated by a servant, and they required to see the man and chastise his insolence; and if in one hour they had not their wishes granted, they would take by force what they were willing now to accept quietly and peaceably. "Take heed to yourself, for you are totally in our power, my lord, for not a man shall leave your house for succour, and no one can approach, as we have guards on all the roads. We will give you but the one hour to decide; and if you are wise you will do as we require." The spokesman, who was the person whose hand had been bruised, now rejoined his companions, who were dispersed over the lawn in groups, standing and lying down. Lord Pompadour shut the window, and came back to his ladies. The house was closed and barred; the servants stood on the landing-places, or in the hall, uncomfortable and fearing, especially the unhappy Lawson, who had overheard every syllable of the oration, and was quaking in anticipation of the combined ducking and drubbing he was sentenced to receive. My lord still would say "The constables must be here immediately, the races are over early. Sir John Vernon will pass our entrance on his way back. He is a magistrate, and will bring men to our rescue. The whole country will rise at this monstrous outrage, this most audacious and unheard-of villany." At this moment who should enter the room, in hat and riding-habit, but Grace O'Donel, looking much flushed and hurried. She was welcomed with more than ordinary warmth by the party, with a cordiality almost natural. "You know our state, Miss O'Donel, besieged by a villanous rabble. Yes, actually besieged, and Brockholes trodden down by a pack of greasy mechanics. But how, did you get in, for they have cut off all access to this house?" "I came through the glass-covered way from the gardens, and I reached the garden by the hillside-door, of which you know I have a key from you. My lord, you are in the greatest danger from these men; you cannot tell what they may do if their blood be further stirred. My father and I were riding on the Long Down, over Brockholes, when we thought we could see some disturbance and crowd on its lawn; and while we were thinking what it might prove, a travelling chapman came up, and told us that a mob from the burnt factory at Fadlingham were about to plunder and wreck Brockholes. Now I recollected having seen, in the morning county paper, that two troops of dragoons had been dispatched from Coventry en route for L, and were to bait and water at the village of Downsridge at noon today, and so, as my father knows the officer who commands the dragoons, he immediately galloped off across the Down. It is not more than a twenty minutes' canter; and he directed me to come in to you by the back way, and tell you that he had every hope that he would succeed in bringing the dragoons to your rescue; and if not, he advised you, my lord, to make the best terms you could with these angry men, and above all, to remove Lady Pompadour and your young ladies out of the house by this back door, which communicates, through the conservatories, with the hill-side, and which these men know nothing of. And before my father started, he sent his groom home, and he is to bring our little phaeton on the Long Down, to remain as near to the back gate as the plantation will admit. And so we can take your ladyship ov to the glebe, where you can remain til such time as this distressing scene is over." The cold heart of the Countess was touched by all this foresight and care for her comfort; and, for the first time in her life, she caught and kissed Grace, and the two young ladies followed, mechanically, their mamma's example. My lord looked a new man. "'Pon my word, Miss O'Donel, you have managed admirably. I shall be proud to have the siege of Brockholes raised by my young friend, Major P., and his dragoons. I am excessively obliged to O'Donel for all his trouble; perhaps, after these factory scoundrels have been properly punished, and sent to the right about, we may have a resumée of our luncheon, and a rechauffée of the fricandeau, if the culinary authorities are agreeable-for, truth to say, I am very hungry. But are you not afraid to remain here, situated as we are? I wish you could impart some of your courage to Lady Pompadour; and these young friends of yours are anything but good soldiers." "I have no fear," answered Grace; "these men, who are behaving so foolishly, are my father's parishioners, and they would not harm me for his sake. Of this my father is sure, or 1 should not be here. Indeed he was coming at first with me to speak to the poor misguided creatures; but, on second thoughts, he considered it the most certain mode to have them scattered by the army, and the method most likely to break up such gatherings in future." Here she was interrupted by loud shouts and hurrahs from the beleaguerers; and, on going to the window, they were aware that some new arrival had taken place. This was a miserable, ricketty old gig, or congeries of rotten wood, yellow paint, and rusty iron, of the genus formerly called Stanhope, with dirty cushions of red dimity rather blasé-and drawn by an ancient steed, lean as death, lazy as lead, and vicious as sin; spavined behind, groggy before; with a wall eye, a broken knee, and yew neck; a slobbering gait, and a long draggling tail, which had never known horsecomb or brush, and had, on the present occasion, swept the mud from Birmingham to Brockholes. Within the gig sat a little dapper man, with light whiskers, pale face, and eyes of a catlike grey; on his pert and vapid face ignorance, vulgarity, and conceit, strove for pre-eminence. He was one of the itinerating orators mentioned before-a demycraw would Edie Ochiltree have named him. He would, probably, if asked the question himself, have described his identity according as he had written in the flyleaf of his "Political Primer ". r" "Joseph Simkins is my name, England is my nation, Brummagem is my dwelling-place ——” The fourth line we will not quote, from its excessive inapplicability to the subject in question. He had mounted the gig cushion, and was evidently about to deliver what an Irishman, who was an eager listener, entitled " a narration from the althar;" and so, having cleared his throat, he thus began: "Gents, hartizans, and much-suffering hoperatives, I would say to you what Julius Cæsar said to the Romans, after he had stabbed Mark Antony in the cause of liberty, at the siege of Troy- Lend me your ears.' same sacred cause of liberty has brought me 'ere, has brought you 'ere, has brought your vives 'ere, has brought your little uns 'ere. This • Let us do or die!' as Robert Bruce, the King of England, said to Mary Queen of Scots, at the battle of Bannockburn. That battle was fought for liberty; and, gents, we have a battle to fight, too, against the 'eartless harrystrocacy. Gents, you are now on the right spot the foe you 'ate is before you,' as Tommy Moore says in his Pleasures of 'ope.' Look at his proud castle frowning o'er- ahemahem — the deep-that is-I mean-frowning o'er us all. Vithin its valls is titled hinsolence, bloated vealth, and hoverbearing hextravagance, and (as I understand, the Earl keeps a good larder and a large cellar), I may add, lots to eat (hear, hear,' from a few), as well as lots to drink (vociferous cheers from the Irishman). Gents, we must-we shall be heard ('one cheer more,' from Paddy). Our 'aughty tyrants shall bite the dust. They conquered us at 'Astings, when the Black Prince invaded England at the Revolution, and brought in Norman hinsolence; but, gents, who have been ever since the assertors of England's freedom, but men of our class? Who was it forced King John and his Runagate barons to give us Magna Charta, but honest Jack Cade and the hop-pickers of Kent? Who was it shot a harrow at King Richard, the Curdy Lion, but Wat Tyler, the blacksmith? Who fought, under King Edward, the battles of Greasy and of Potters, but the cooks and the scullions of England? Who delivered our children and our vives from Crookbacked Richard, who smothered 'elpless hinfancy in the Tower, but Mr. Henry Tudor, a gent from Wales-and, for that matter, not much better than one of ourselves? Who hindered the Pope ('hear, hear,' and God bless him, from Paddy)— the Pope, I say, from burning Henry the Eighth and his six vives for bigamy, but Cardinal Wolseley, who was a butcher's son? What was Holiver Cromwell but a brewer of good stout, and suckled on 'Untingdon ale? and did he not afterwards cut off King Charles's 'ead, when he had pulled him by the ears out of the royal hoak, where he was a hiding of Magna Charta from the people? Was not Bacon a Lord? and yet did not he pick a gent's pocket in the Court of Chancery? Was not Byron a nobleman? and yet he turned Turk. Was not Shakespear a poacher in this very shire of Warwick (hear, hear,' from long Nicholas and his two sons)? and didn't he write Sermons on Stones?and Burns, the Irish ploughman, like one of yourselves, didn't he compose a poem called The Loves of the Angels?' Gents, these are facts from the wolume of our country's 'istory: these show the degeneracy of the harrystro |