whose voyages to America had fired him with
republican ideas, and who treated the whole
matter as a frolic, broke the second window.
Hooper left his flag at the door in charge of
a rioter, and shouting, "Follow me—follow
me!" came into the shop to grapple with
Griffin: who, to save himself, warily said:

"What do you want with me? I come to
rescue the man as well as you."

The mob cried, "Where is our leader?"

Beckwith, the apprentice, said he was gone;
but the mob instantly ran up-stairs, rescued him,
and bore him off in triumph.

On Griffin threatening Hooper with fire-arms,
the rioter drew out a pistol and presented it,
saving, "I can fire as well as you." Griffin then
ran up-stairs in terror.

The mob soon poured in, and snatched the
guns and pistols through the broken vindow.
Cashman came into the counting-house, and
took off a dozen guns at a time, distributing
them to the men at the door. Five or six men
also took guns from the glass cases on the
counter, and Cashman carried two dozen at
one time, and ten at another, and passed them
among the cheering crowd. The sailor, and
three or four draymen, were conspicuous all
through this scene of violence. Cashman kept
a gun himself, and the mob then moved on
towards Newgate-street, firing guns and waving
pistols. Hooper marched beside the man who
carried a large red white and green silk flag,
which bore the following inscription in gilt
letters:

            NATURE to feed the hungry.
            JUSTICE to punish crimes.
            TRUTH to protect the oppressed.

In Cheapside the mob fired off their guns in
frantic delight at their first victory.

Radical mobs at this period had usually a
dangerous proclivity towards banks. The plunder
of the Bank of England was generally the
first clause in their programmes. It would have
been a pleasant revenge—a terrible blow at a
tyrannical and oppressive administration. It
would also have recompensed the gallant rioters;
but that was of no consequence.

The mob had now reached the north side of
the Royal Exchange, towards Threadneedle-
street. They had no settled purpose, except
that of getting somehow into the Tower. There
was no real cohesion among them no reliable
leader. They meant mischief, however, and the
flame was spreading. But there were two men
quite ready to meet them. The Lord Mayor and
Sir James Shaw did not wait for bayonets, nor
showers of grape, nor a body-guard of Bow-street
runners, but observing the mob loose, scattered,
and undetermined, bore down upon them. These
two men, with Mr. White and two constables,
rushed at the flag. Sir James seized the
bearer and several others, one after the other,
with his own hands. The stolen guns were not
conspicuous then. The rioters had no real heart
in the cause, no real purpose in the rioting.
Levy, a City constable, took Cashman, the sailor;
he had a gun, which was loaded with small-shot,
and primed. On drawing the load, Cartwright,
a marshalman, said to the sailor: "There is
enough here." To which Cashman replied: " I
know that. I brought it on purpose to kill or
be killed." Mr. Hodgetts, of Paternoster-row,
seeing Sir James Shaw tear down the tricolor
flag, sprang forward on the mob also and seized
Hooper, under whose coat was found a brace
of pistols (not Beckwith's), loaded with ball.
Gamble, another man, who was seen at the
Exchange busy among the mob, and with a
gun on his shoulder, was seized the same day
in the Borough, and was at that time carrying
a discharged gun. A third man, Carpenter, who
was afterwards arrested, was discovered through
sending to be pawned a pistol that he had
stolen from the shop.

The squib had no bang in it. The game was
nearly played out. It was ending in what in
American slang is called "a fizzle." The leader,
young Watson, one of those fiery shallow natures
which arc quick to heat and quick to cool, did
not appear any more after his attempt at homicide.
Hunt, the inciter, was safe in his Bouverie-
street hotel, careless of what might happen.
Some of the mob passed on towards the Minories,
where, safe from the constables' staves, they
plundered two more gunsmiths' shops, but did
nothing with the arms. They were thieves, but
hardly conspirators. Those five men at the
Royal Exchange had mopped back the Atlantic,
and saved London from plunder and burning.
The mob broke windows; and, rallying in
Aldgate, were driven by the military towards the
Tower. There there was some silly clamour, and
a speaker at Radical clubs, Preston, the lame
man, scrambled up the walls by the help of a
friend's knees and shoulders, and summoned the
soldiers to surrender. They laughed, but did
not fire; and presently the lame idiot was haled
down by his friends. The mob's blood had never
been really up. There was no military element
in them. Before ten at night the ward
constables, patrols, and marshals, passed each
other from street to street, from Temple-bar to
the Tower-gate, the encouraging words, "All
quiet!" Then London, reassured, fell asleep.

On the following Monday, a horse patrol at
Highgate espied three suspicious persons, whom
he thought belonged to a gang ot which he had
information. He and another man rode at them,
but two escaped. The third stabbed a man
named Rhodes in the right-side with a sword,
but was captured. He turned out to be the
elder Watson, the surgeon, of Newcastle-street,
in the Strand. He was tried, but acquitted
for want of evidence. In the mean time,
a reward of one hundred pounds had been
offered for the apprehension of the man who
shot Mr. Platt. Young Watson, who was
suspected of the crime, remained still hidden, in
spite of three weeks' active search, and
numerous false arrests.

On January 20, 1817, Cashman, Hooper,
Gamble, Gunnel, and Carpenter were tried at
the Old Bailey on a charge of stealing guns,
blunderbusses, and pistols from the shop of
Andrew Beckwith. Every one pitied the frank
reckless young sailor, his face browned by foreign