the house of a carpenter, the husband of a servant
of Thistlewood's, in East–street, Manchester–
square. From Hunt's, Watson was taken to
the house of a Mr. Carr, an ornamental painter
in Tottenham–court–road, from whence he used
to watch the police stop any young men who,
like himself, wore a brown great-coat, or had a
mole on his face. Finding that a friend of
Carr's, named Pemberton (who soon afterwards
betrayed Thistlewood), was certain to inform
against him, Watson, on the 16th of December,
sought a shelter provided for him by a tailor
named Moggridge, in Somers–town. Two days
after, Carr's house was searched for him.
Watson was now secreted at Mr. Holl's, an
engraver, in a lonely residence in Bayham–street,
Camden–town. Here the most singular
precautions were taken: he was passed off as a
pupil, and took the name of Dudley. The moles
on his face were removed with caustic. On
very dark nights only, he took walks in the
fields towards Kentish–town. The officers,
Vickery and his men, were soon on the track,
and houses were searched close to Mr. Holl's.
One day Vickery himself was seen watching
from the windows of an opposite house. Watson
kept pistols always by his side, and on the least
alarm prepared for a desperate resistance.

By the advice of a Mr. Pendrill, a bootmaker
in Newgate–street singularly enough a lineal
descendant of the man who saved Charles the
Second—young Watson resolved to escape to
America. He was not only to dress as a Quaker,
and disguise himself with stained skin, dyed
hair, and wadded clothes, but actually assumed
to be a confederate—a provincial Quaker—who
gave up to him his letters and such documents
as might support the person he pretended to be–
the real man going into hiding until the escape
was effected. On March 5, young Watson left
Mr. Holl, and went to stay at Mr. Pendrill's
shop in Newgate–street. While the knell of
Cashman was actually groaning through the
air, Watson started for Gravesend to join his
ship. He arrived safely on board, and the
voyage had commenced, when a gun from
the shore bade the vessel lie to, and off
came a boat with the officers Vickery and
Lavender, who instantly boarded the Venus,
and examined the passengers and crew one by
one. Watson would probably have been
detected, had not a young woman fainted close
to him. The spurious young Quaker, stepping
forward to prevent her from falling, so occupied
the officers' attention, that they were thoroughly
deceived. As he passed between the two watchful
keen–eyed men, Watson said his heart beat
so loud that he thought the officers must have
heard it. Great was his joy when he heard them
whisper, "He is not here," and descend into
their boat. The fugitive reached America, but
died a few years afterwards. The father also
went to America after Thistlewood's and his
own escape from the jaws of the law. A few
days only after Watson's flight, Mr. Holl was
seized, and remained a prisoner in Coldbath–
fields for six weeks.

In the mean time, the pity felt for Cashman
was great. There was nothing of the conspirator
in him; clearly lie was only a hot–headed young
fellow, restless for want of bread. He was only
twenty-eight; born at sea, he had lived a long
time in America, having been wounded and made
prisoner there during the war. The Reverend
Mr. Cotton, the chaplain, did his best to
propitiate government, and to ascertain from
Cashman what share he had had in the conspiracy.
Cashman's unvarying reply was:

"Don't bother me; it's no use; I know
nothing about it."

There were shouts of "Murder!" from the
mob when he leaped gaily upon the scaffold,
which was reared in Skinner–street, opposite Beckwith's.
He shouted to the listeners below it:

"Hurrah, my boys, I'll die like a man!"

As he looked across angrily towards the gun-
shop that he had plundered in such fierce spirits
only a few weeks oefore, he said:

"I'll be with you—there!"

He cried to the astonished crowd:

"Now, you beggars, give me three cheers
when I trip! Hurrah, you beggars!"

Then he said to the hangman:

"Come, Jack, you beggar, let go the jib–
boom!"

He was cheering, cursing, and huzzaing when
the rope tightened and the drop fell.

So he went out of life, and thus ended a riot
that delayed reform for many a day. In that
very year (1816), however, Mr. Brougham
brought forward his first scheme for national
education.

Many years after these riots, Captain Gronow,
then member for Stafford, met Orator Hunt,
then member for Preston (where he had beaten
Mr. Stanley, now Earl of Derby), in the
smoking-room of the House of Commons. He
mentioned to Hunt that in 1816 he (Captain
Gronow) had been sent with a company of the
Guards to garrison Coldbath–fields prison, with
orders, if any attack were made, to pick off
every orator in the cart. Hunt was astonished;
his eyes flashed fire.

"What, sir!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean
to say you would really have been capable of
such an act of barbarity?"

"Yes," said Gronow; "and I almost regret
you did not give us the opportunity, for you
wanted that day to create a revolution, and
you would have richly deserved the fate you so
narrowly escaped by the cowardice or
lukewarmness of your followers."

      CAPTAIN ANGELO BERTANI.

I WAS in Florence in eighteen hundred and
fifty–nine. That was a terribly hot summer all
over Europe. In Florence the heat was very
great; and I remained in the city all through
the dog days, instead of going to make a
villeggiatura amongst the hills or by the seaside.
For was not that the year of the Austro–Franco–
Italian campaign? And did not every lover of
Italy feel chained to the focus of news from the
seat of war?