ONE:It was five o'clockthe House densely crowded; for Lord Surrey was going to make the great Opposition motion of want of confidence, and only waited for the arrival of the Minister. As North hurried up the House, there were loud cries of "Order! order! Places! places!" North no sooner reached the Treasury bench than he rose to make his important disclosure; but the Opposition called vociferously for Lord Surrey, while the Ministerial members called for Lord North. Fox then moved that "Lord Surrey do speak first," but North instantly exclaimed, "I rise to speak to that motion." Being now obliged to hear him, for he was perfectly in order, he observed, that, had they suffered him at once to proceed, he might have saved them much useless noise and confusion, for, without any disrespect to the noble lord, he was going to show that his motion was quite unnecessary, as the Ministers had resigned, and that that resignation was accepted by the king! He had only wanted to announce that fact, and to move an adjournment of a few days, in order to make the necessary arrangements for the new Administration. Never was there a more profound surprise. The House was adjourned for five days, and the members prepared to depart and spread the news. But it proved a wild, snowy evening; the carriages had not been ordered till midnight, and whilst the members were standing about in crowds waiting for their equipages, rather than walk home through the snow, Lord North, who had kept his carriage, put three or four of his friends into it, and, bowing to the other members, said, laughingly, "You see, gentlemen, the advantage of being in the secret. Good night!"
TWO:
ONE:The earliest statistics by which the progress of popular education may be measured are contained in the Parliamentary returns of 1813, when there were in England and Wales nearly 20,000 day schools, with about 675,000 scholars, giving the proportion of 1 in 17 of the population. There were also 5,463 Sunday schools, with 477,000 scholars, or 1 in 24 of the population. Lord Kerry's Parliamentary returns for 1833 showed the number of day schools and scholars to be nearly doubled, and the proportion to be 1 in 11 of the population. The Sunday schools, during the same period, were trebled in number, and also in the aggregate of children attending; while their proportion to the population was 1 in 9the population having in the interval increased 24 per cent., the day scholars 89 per cent., and the Sunday scholars 225 per cent. Up to this time (1833) the work of education was conducted by private liberality, incited mainly by religious zeal, and acting through the agencies of the two great societies, the British and the National. In that year Government came to their aid, and a meagre grant of 20,000 a year continued to be made till 1839, when it was increased to 30,000. This was shared between the two societies,[426] representing two educational parties. The principle of the British and Foreign School Society, chiefly supported by Dissenters, was, that the Bible should be read without note or comment in the schools, and that there should be no catechism admitted, or special religious instruction of any kind. The schools of the National Society, on the other hand, were strictly Church schools, in which the Church Catechism must be taught. The total number of schools in 1841 was 46,000, of which 30,000 were private. These statistics indicate an immense amount of private energy and enterprise, the more gratifying from the fact that the greater portion of the progress was due to the working classes themselves. Great improvements had been effected in the art of teaching. Both the British and the National Societies from the beginning devoted much attention to the training of efficient teachers. In 1828 the former sent out 87 trained teachers; in 1838 as many as 183. The National Society commenced a training institution in 1811, and after forty years' progress it had five training colleges, sending out 270 teachers every year.Washington, who had witnessed the battle, saw, to his infinite mortification, the British pursuing his flying troops almost up to their entrenchments. The ardour of the English soldiers was such that they would speedily have stormed and carried the lines, and not a man of the American army on Long Island would have escaped being taken or killed. But General Howe, with that marvellous stupidity which marked all our generals in this war, ordered them back, saying that the lines could be taken with less loss of life by regular approach. The next morning they began throwing up trenches near one of the American redoubts, from which to cannonade it; but Washington was much more aware of the untenable nature of his position than Howe, and, under favour of darkness, and of a thick fog in the morning, he had been for hours busily transporting his forces over the East River to New York. All that day, and in the night of the 29th, he continued, with all possible silence, conveying over his troops, artillery, and stores, expecting every moment that General Howe would burst through his lines at Brooklyn, and attack him in the rear, whilst Lord Howe, with his ships, would advance, and blow all his fragile transports into the water. Soon, however, Washington saw there was no maintaining his position there. He found the British fast enclosing him on all sides, too; and on the 12th of September he began to evacuate the place in such haste as to leave behind him a great quantity of his artillery and stores. The English landed on York Island without the loss of a man. Three thousand men had placed themselves ready to attack the British as they landed, and before they could form; but the sight of two companies of grenadiers, already in position, had such an effect on them, that they fled, leaving their blankets and jackets, which they had thrown off in certainty of beating the English.
TWO:The Government was paralysed by the greatness of the evil. While the House of Commons had[268] been sitting, the mob had attacked Lord North's house, in Downing Street, close by; but a party of soldiers had succeeded in interposing themselves between the mansion and its assailants. The house of the Minister was saved; but the gigantic mass of rioters then rolled towards the City, vowing that they would sack Newgate, and release their comrades, who had been sent there on Friday. On the 6th they appeared in vast numbers before that prison, and demanded of Mr. Akerman, the keeper, the delivery of their associates. Their cry was still "No Popery!" though their object was havoc: they were armed with heavy sledge-hammers, crowbars, and pick-axes; and on the keeper refusing to liberate the prisoners, they commenced a desperate attack on his doors and windows, and, collecting combustibles, flung them into the dwelling. It was speedily in flames, and, whilst it burned, the mob thundered on the iron-studded doors of the prison with their tools. But, as they made no impression, they formed heaps of the keeper's furniture, and made a fire against the doors. The fires spread from the keeper's house to the prison chapel, and thence to some of the doors and passages leading into the wards. The mob raised terrible yells of rage and triumph, which were as wildly echoed by the prisoners within, some of whom were exulting in the expectation of rescue, and others shrieking, afraid of perishing in the conflagration. The crowd, now more furious than ever, from greedily drinking the wine and spirits in the keepers cellar, rushed through the gaps made by the flames, and were masters of the prison. They were led on by ferocious fellows, who were but too familiar with the interior of the place. The different cells were forced open, and the now half-maddened prisoners were either rudely dragged out, or they rushed forth in maniacal delight. Three hundred of these criminals, some of them stained with the foulest offences, and four of them under sentence of execution on the following Thursday, were let out, to add to the horrors of the lawless tumult. They came out into the surging, roaring multitude to raise their shouts at the sight of the great prison, which had lately been rebuilt at a cost of one hundred and forty thousand pounds, in one vast conflagration. Nothing was left of it the next morning but a huge skeleton of blackened and frowning walls.
