THREE:The same evening the new prison of Clerkenwell was broken open, and all the prisoners were let loose. These joined the drinking, rabid mass, and, in their turn, attacked and gutted the houses of two of the most active magistrates��Sir John Fielding and Mr. Cox. As they went along, they compelled the inhabitants to illuminate their houses, under menace of burning them down. Everywhere they seized on gin, brandy, and beer, and thus, in the highest paroxysm of drunken fury, at midnight they appeared before Lord Mansfield's house, in Bloomsbury Square. He was quickly obliged to escape with Lady Mansfield by the back door, and to take refuge in the house of a friend in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The mob broke in, and, having demolished the doors and windows, proceeded to destroy and fling out into the square the furniture, pictures, and books, of which their fellows outside made several bonfires. Then perished one of the finest libraries in England, not only of works of law but of literature, which his lordship, through a long course of years, had been collecting.Whilst this progress in operatic and sacred music was being made, the Church Service had received some admirable additions. Jeremiah Clarke, the Rev. Henry Aldrich, D.D., dean of Christ Church, John Weldon, organist to Queen Anne, and Georges I. and II., and the Rev. Dr. Robert Creighton, canon of Salisbury, composed many admirable pieces. William Croft, Mus. Doc., is the author of thirty-one splendid anthems, and Maurice Greene, Mus. Doc., of forty, which are still heard with solemn delight in old choirs. William Boyce, Mus. Doc., organist to Georges II. and III., added to these numerous anthems and services the oratorio of "Solomon," and many other compositions of a superb character��one of them the grand anthem performed annually at the Feast of the Sons of the Clergy. Boyce also composed a variety of secular pieces of rare merit.

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THREE:It was not of much avail in the end, the conference. There was more than one tribe to be pacified. The restlessness of the wild things, of the goaded, and of the spring was in their blood.Cabot told him that he was preparing to remain where he was. His voice was firm and his lips were[Pg 4] set under the sun-bleached yellow of his beard, but his face was gray, for all the tan. He lapsed into the speech of other days. "No use, Jack," he said; "it's worse than court-martial��what I've got to face here. Just leave me some water and rations, and you go on."

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THREE:So Sandy watched and waited.Visiting the guard is dull work, and precisely the same round, night after night, with hardly ever a variation. But to-night there occurred a slight one.[Pg 187] Landor was carrying his sabre in his arm, as he went by the back of the quarters, in order that its jingle might not disturb any sleepers. For the same reason he walked lightly, although, indeed, he was usually soft-footed, and came unheard back of Brewster's yard. Brewster himself was standing in the shadow of the fence, talking to some man. Landor could see that it was a big fellow, and the first thing that flashed into his mind, without any especial reason, was that it was the rancher who had been in trouble down at the sutler's store.

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THREE:Her lips parted, and quivered, and closed again. The winds from the wide heavens above the gap whined through the pines, the river roared steadily down below, and the great, irresistible hand of Nature crushed without heeding it the thin, hollow shell of convention. The child of a savage and a black sheep looked straight and long into the face of the child of rovers and criminals. They were man and woman, and in the freemasonry of outlawry made no pretence.

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