And sure enough it was lost, and never found
again. We telegraphed, we wrote, but in vain.
We described our friends to every one we met,
in hopes of ascertaining their names, but equally
without result; and here for two years we have
been labouring under the certainty of being
considered the most ungrateful, ill-bred, and
treacherous guests that ever inveigled hospitality
under the guise of respectable foreigners. Non
Angli, sed diaboli. They know our names, and
we don't know theirs; and if we receive our
deserts, our cards must now be pilloried with
opprobrious epithets on the walls of that cheery
drawing-room in Petroffski Park.

Our only hope is that these lines may
penetrate to Russia, where the press is much more
free than it was. So Russian papers, please
copy; and friends in Moscow, accept of this
intimation.

                OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.

LONDON STREET RIOTS IN THE LAST CENTURY.

FKOM 1700 to 1780 street riots seem to have
been of almost annual occurrence in London,
and to have been seldom quelled without
bloodshed.

To begin with 1715. In that year the Whig
and Tory footmen had several furious battles
while waiting for their masters outside the House
of Commons. At last the Tory Jeameses gained
the day, elected a speaker, carried him three
times round Westminster Hall, and then
adjourned to an alehouse to dine and propose
Tory toasts.

This same year several hundred Whig citizens
celebrated the accession of George the First by
burning an effigy of the Pretender, dressed in
mourning, before the door of the Roebuck
Tavern, in Cheapside. On the anniversary of
the king's coronation they assembled again,
wearing white and orange cockades, carrying
links, and burnt before Bow Church effigies
of the Pope, Ihe Pretender, the Earl of Mar,
the Duke of Ormond, and Lord Bolingbroke.
On November 17th there was another riot, the
Whigs seizing on some Jacobite effigies of
George the First, King William, Marlborough,
Newcastle, and Dr. Burnet, which the Tories
were about to carry in procession. This maddened
the Jacobites, who assembled, shouting
"High Church and Ormond," and attempted to
tear down the Roebuck Tavern. The Whigs
replied with a volley which killed two of the
assailants and wounded others. The Jacobites
then fled ingloriously.

In 1716, there were more Jacobite riots at
the mug-houses. A tavern in Salisbury-court
was attacked by the Tories, and their leader, a
Bridewell apprentice, was shot dead by the
landlord. Five of the rioters were hung for
this. The Roebuck loyalists retorted later in
the year by an enormous bonflre in Cheapside,
drinking healths, and sounding trumpets in the
open street. They then got up a procession
of a thousand links, and men representing Highland
prisoners, and protected by soldiers, burnt
a quantity of obnoxious effigies at Charing-
cross.

In 1717, there were several pitched battles
between the butchers and the footmen of St.
James's. The "Bridewell boys" joined the footmen,
and the men of Westminster, Clare, and
Bloomsbury markets helped the butchers. The
same year the Roebuck Whigs attacked the
Jacobites, and laid siege to Newgate-market.
In 1718 the "Bridewell boys" beat the loyalists,
and the civil power at last wisely put a stop to
the irritating processions of the Whigs.

On the 23rd of July, 1723 (George the First),
a party of volunteer militia gentlemen of Cap-
tain Saunders's company were invited by their
officer, after their usual Tuesday's muster in the
Artillery Ground, to sup with him at the Crown
Tavern, near Cripplegate, a tavern kept by a
Mr. Adams, major of the White Regiment, and
therefore naturally regarded by them in those
troublous Jacobite times not merely as an
obliging host but as a comrade in arms. The
militiamen had eaten and drunk of the fattest
and the best, when all at once a pale-faced man
ran into the room and informed the guests
that "Williams's mob" (an election was then
raging) was out, and that they were pulling
down the house of Mr. Jones, an apothecary
who lived a door or two off. Mr. Carter, a
prudent officer who was present, at once rose
and gave the mot d'ordre:

"Let them alone; I hope that not a man
here will stir."

It grew quieter then; but between six and
seven the distant murmurs became more
threatening, the shouts more stormy, the clatter of
clubs more menacing and nearer. About twenty
men with large cudgels began to surround
Mr. Jones's door, and hiss, halloa, and rattle
their sticks. They then came to the Crown
Tavern and Crown Coffee-house, and marched
backwards and forwards defiantly. The cries
were: "Down with the Rump!—No King
George! Lockwood and Williams for ever!
—High Church and Williams!" The mob
continued to gather as the waters of an inundation
roar and roll on to destroy. Ill-favoured faces
were surging up from every alley as gutters
swell in heavy rain. Thieves and rogues hurried
out from their lairs and dens. Rascaldom was
armed and dangerous. The Jacobites, maddened
by election insults and threats, were surging
over with rage and sedition. They were sick of
King George and his Germans. A presentiment
of the rising of 'forty-five was stirring within
them. A few thoughtful men were goading on
the brute herd to violence, the scum of a great
city was eager for blood, riot, and mischief.
The hissing, many-armed, many-tongued monster
had awoke from ils sleep, and was eager for its
food. By about eight o'clock the human
avalanche had rolled into a vast moving mountain.
The people began to light great wavering
bonfires on both sides of Cripplegate When the
fire roared fiercer, they began to surround the
Crown Tavern, and to shout: