certain railway lines and the cutting of the telegraphic wires leading
into Chester. I, therefore, surveyed the ground, and besides the
required personal assistance, had in readiness crowbars, sledges, and,
among other implements, the wrenches for unscrewing the nuts of the
bolts fastening the fishplates which bound together the rails, end to
end. I now held myself prepared for the moment when the call to action
would reach me.

This, however, never came, for I found afterwards that the leaders had
learned in time of Corydon's betrayal of the project, and made their
arrangements accordingly.

I heard nothing further of the projected Chester expedition until
Monday, February 11th, 1867.

My employment was at this time in Liverpool, but I lived on the opposite
bank of the Mersey, at New Ferry. Anybody who has to travel in and out
of town, as I did by the ferry boat, to his employment gets so
accustomed to his fellow-passengers that he knows most of them by sight.
But this morning it was different. In a sense some of those I saw were
strangers to me, but I had a kind of instinct that they were my own
people. They were fine, athletic-looking young men, and had a
travel-stained appearance, as if they had been walking some distance
over dusty roads.

When I reached the landing stage and saw the morning's papers I got the
explanation--the police had heard of the projected raid.

These were our men returning from Chester, having been stopped on the
road by friends posted there for the purpose, and turned back--and were