hand, and plumped into Father Holt's stomach. Then came a shower of
carrots and potatoes.

The little page was outside the coach on the step, and a fellow in the
crowd aimed a potato at him, and hit him in the eye, at which the poor
little wretch set up a shout The man, a great big saddler's apprentice of
the town, laughed, and stooped to pick up another potato. The crowd had
gathered quite between the horses and the inn door by this time, and the
coach was brought to a dead standstill. My lord jumped as briskly as a
boy out of the door on his side of the coach, squeezing little Harry
behind it; had hold of the potato-thrower's collar in an instant, and the
next moment the brute's heels were in the air, and he fell on the stones
with a thump.

"You hulking coward!" says he, "you pack of screaming blackguards! how
dare you attack children, and insult women? Fling another shot at that
carriage, you sneaking pigskin cobbler, and by the Lord I'll send my
rapier through you!"

Some of the mob cried, "Huzzah, my Lord!" for they knew him, and the
saddler's man was a known bruiser, near twice as big as my Lord Viscount.

"Make way there," says he (he spoke with a great air of authority). "Make
way, and let her ladyship's carriage pass."

The men actually did make way, and the horses went on, my lord walking
after them with his hat on his head.

This mob was one of many thousands that were going about the country at
that time, huzzahing for the acquittal of seven bishops who had been