were resented by any act of violence, the inmates of each shop were
ready to pour forth in succour; and in the words of an old song which
Dr. Johnson was used to hum,--

"Up then rose the 'prentices all,
Living in London, both proper and tall."

Desperate riots often arose on such occasions, especially when the
Templars, or other youths connected with the aristocracy, were
insulted, or conceived themselves to be so. Upon such occasions, bare
steel was frequently opposed to the clubs of the citizens, and death
sometimes ensued on both sides. The tardy and inefficient police of
the time had no other resource than by the Alderman of the ward
calling out the householders, and putting a stop to the strife by
overpowering numbers, as the Capulets and Montagues are separated upon
the stage.

At the period when such was the universal custom of the most
respectable, as well as the most inconsiderable, shopkeepers in
London, David Ramsay, on the evening to which we solicit the attention
of the reader, retiring to more abstruse and private labours, left the
administration of his outer shop, or booth, to the aforesaid sharp-
witted, active, able-bodied, and well-voiced apprentices, namely,
Jenkin Vincent and Frank Tunstall.

Vincent had been educated at the excellent foundation of Christ's
Church Hospital, and was bred, therefore, as well as born, a Londoner,
with all the acuteness, address, and audacity which belong peculiarly
to the youth of a metropolis. He was now about twenty years old, short
in stature, but remarkably strong made, eminent for his feats upon