Bench prison, and the death of Allen, which made a great stir at the
time. The incident I refer to happened thus:--At the gate of the prison
two sentinels were placed. One of these was a fine-built young man, full
six feet high: he had been servant to my father. On the day Allen was
shot, or a day or two after, he came to my father for protection: my
father having a high opinion of his veracity and moral goodness, took
him in and sheltered him until quiet was restored. His name was M'Phin,
or some such name; but as he was always called "Mac" by us, I do not
remember his name perfectly. He stated that he and his fellow-soldier,
while standing as sentries at the prison, were attacked by an uproarious
mob, and were assailed with stones and brickbats;--that his companion
called loudly to the mob, and said, "I will not fire until I see and
mark a man that throws at us, and then he shall die. I don't want to
kill the innocent, {275} or any one; but he that flings at us shall
surely die." Young Allen threw a brick-bat, and ran off; but Mac said,
his fellow-soldier had seen it, and marked him. The crowd gave way; off
went Allen and the soldier after him. Young Allen ran on, the soldier
pursuing him, till he entered his father's premises, who was a
cow-keeper, and _there_ the soldier shot him. Popular fury turned upon
poor Mac; and so completely was he thought to be the "murderer" of young
Allen that 500l. was offered by the mob for his discovery. But my good
father was faithful to honest Mac, and he lay secure in one of our upper
rooms until the excitement was over.

Allen's funeral was attended by myriads, and a monument was erected to
his memory (which yet remains, I believe) in Newington churchyard,
speaking lies in the face of the sun. If it were important enough, it
deserves erasure as much as the false inscription on London's monument.

As soon as the public blood was cool, "Mac" surrendered himself, was