The advanced guard had endeavoured to disperse the mob in Field Lane, but were not prepared to meet with the resistance they encountered. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. "Did you ever hear me whine?" "No," admitted McClintock "You've no objection to my dropping in again later, after your guests go?" "No. You MUST not, you SHALL not go. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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