At length the long pent-up rage of the Londoners burst forth; the priests from the pulpit denounced the strangers, who could not venture into the streets alone; several foreigners were assaulted and wounded by the populace, for which offence some half-dozen Englishmen were committed to prison. But this was only adding fuel to fire: a report which reached the court itself, was circulated, that on the May-day the English would rise, and destroy all the foreigners within the city and its liberties.

Measures were immediately taken to avert the threatened rising. Cardinal Wolsey in alarm sent to the lord mayor, whom he urged to adopt prompt measures. The mayor held a council, at which it was resolved that an order should go forth, commanding every man to keep his door closed, his servants and apprentices within, and that no person should be abroad after nine o'clock in the evening. It is said that this order was not properly published, for many idlers were seen in the streets, and the 'prentices appeared ripe for mischief as they collected in the public places.

A lovely evening had succeeded an unusually fine day, and the streets of London were gradually darkening, although the setting sun still gilded the steeples and weathercocks. The tall towers of Saint Pauls shot up into the clear, unclouded sky, and echoed with the sharp and incessant cawing of the jackdaws. Below were groups of persons, conversing on the subject of the foreigners. At the west-end of Cheapside, a number of apprentices were assembled; two of them were playing at sword and buckler, and the others were vociferating their opinions of the skill of the mock combatants.

"Hammer away, my boys!" cried one: "Jem Studely you handle your broadsword as though you had got the mercers' measuring yard!"

"Mass! what a clatter ye make," roared another. "Sam Hall, that was not fair; you aimed below Jem's girdle, 't was a foul blow!"

A dispute here arose, and some of the elder boys were appealed to; but ere it could be settled the clatter of hoofs was heard, and six borsemen dashed into the Westchepe, from Saint Paul's Churchyard. They were two of the aldermen, Sir John Munday and Master Joel Bokerell, with four attendants in the city livery.

"Ha!" cried Sir John Munday, suddenly pulling up, "is London run mad?

here's a pretty pack of young knaves! What the good day are we to be flouted thus? Go home ye varlets, or we'll fit a score of ye with the stocks!"

The knight expected to see the group quail before him. But he was sadly mistaken; they answered him with a burst of riotous laughter.

Here Master Bokerell, who was not so choleric as his brother alderman, attempted to remonstrate with the apprentices; but as he was beginning to address them, one of the urchins discharged a handful of black mud full in his magisterial face.

"Take that, you old rascal!" cried the boy, "'t was you who sent Nic Fortescue to prison this morning ;" and again a loud peal of laughter burst from the 'prentices.

"Mother of God!" cried Sir John Munday, "this will never do—and he spurred his horse among the group, and seized the boy who had bespattered Master Bokerell; but the little fellow was instantly torn from his grasp by the elder boys, and the knight received some hard blows in the scuffle.

Master Bokercll, having by this time cleared his eyes, unsheathed his sword, and his example was followed by his attendants, who advanced to support the knight.

Then arose that tremendous cry which of old was wont to fill the more quiet Londoners with alarm and dread.

'Prentices! 'prentices! clubs! clubs!" shouted the boys, and a crowd was instantly gathered round the spot.

"'Prentices and clubs!" yelled the rabble, which had been drawn together by the tumult, and the danger of the aldermen and their attendants became imminent, as many an execration rose against them.

"Prentices and clubs!" again shouted the boys, and as the sound penetrated the adjoining streets, the affrighted citizens closed their doors, and listened to the uproar in breathless suspense. The cry was spreading: Blow-bladder Lane poured out scores of stout youths, with bat in hand.

"Prentices and clubs!" rose the cry in Paternoster-row, and knives and cleavers clashed in St. Nicholas' shambles. That tremendous shout had gone forth, and was extending like a train of ignited gunpowder.

"Prentices and clubs!" shouted the boys of Ludgate-hill and Fleet-street, and the inhabitants of the Whitefriars came forth from their holes, like owls

and bats when an eclipse has darkened the sun. From Temple-bar to Aldgate, from Aldersgate to the River-side; in Leadenhall-street, Bishopsgate-street, Cornhill, Coleman-street, and the innumerable streets and alleys which intersected them, the well known cry of "Prentices and clubs," froze the hearts of the forrigners with terror, and filled the peaceable citizens with consternation and dismay.

The aldermen plainly saw that it was impossible to stem the torrent. They certainly cut a contemptible figure: their faces streamed with perspiration; their swords were dashed from their hands, and their soiled and torn apparel excited the laughter of the mob; they could no longer resist, and wisely determining on a retreat, they galloped down the Chepe pursued by a shower of sticks, stones, and mud, mingled with the choicest maledictions.

CHAP. VI.

AN UNWELCOME VISIT.

THE discomfited aldermen and their attendants with some difficulty made their way through the crowd, which by this time almost blocked up the Chepe, and repaired to the Guildhall, where Sir John Rest, the lord mayor, had summoned a Common Council. But we must leave these archons to their sage deliberations, and once more lead the reader to the cell of Nicholas Fortescue, in the Poultry Compter.

The 'prentice had received his master's forgiveness, and delivered to him the purse which the turnkey had faithfully kept and returned when demanded. But the dread of public punishment in the eyes of all the citizens almost drove him mad; he thought himself the most wretched youth in christendom, and as he lay on his straw bed, he prayed that an earthquake might shake down the prison, and bury him beneath its ruins.

All of a sudden a wild cry arose, which made him start like the hunter when reynard breaks cover, and the view halloo is given. The shout of "Prentices! 'prentices! clubs! clubs!" had penetrated even to the cells of the Poultry Compter.

"Holy Mother!" exclaimed Fortescue, "the 'prentices are up, and there 'll be sharp work anon.

Soon the noise approached nearer, and there was a sound like the wrenching of crow-bars and the blows of axes; then a struggling succeeded, and the clashing of steel sounded within the

building. In another moment, the door of Fortescue's cell was opened, and several youths entered, stumbling one over the other.

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Up, Nic!" cried one of them, "up! we are going to have a fling at the foreigners;- Newgate is forced by this time-come on to the Steel-yard."

"What does all this mean?" inquired Fortescue, as he suffered himself to be led into the Poultry. Here he beheld a strange scene. A furious rabble rent the air with wild shouts of vengeance, while they brandished aloft almost every description of weapon then known. Halberds, pikes, bills, scythes fixed on poles, axes, spits, swords and knives, flashed in the red light of cressets and torches. The 'prentice, whose spirits had been depressed, shuddered as he looked on that fearful rabble; but he dared not withdraw from it.

"Saint George for England! 'prentices, 'prentices, clubs!" roared the boys, striking their swords and bucklers together.

"Slice! slice! kill the rogues! kill all! down with the French, Flemings, and Lombards!" yelled the rabble, brandishing their various weapons.

"To the Steel-yard, boys!" cried a stout fellow with a red woollen cap ;--it was the Alsatian butcher; he had girded on an enormous broadsword, and carried a buckler as large in circumference as a good sized table. Master Lorymer was there, and the other gentry of the Friars.

"Come on, my lads!" cried the butcher, "we are wasting time. Van Rynk will be prepared for us!-to the Steel-yard!

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hall-street, where several foreign traders resided. It was a fearful sight, and the bells which now rung alarm increased the hideous uproar.

Among those who had provoked the vengeance of the Londoners was Philip Van Rynk, a wealthy Flemish merchant, dwelling near the Steel-yard in Thamesstreet. He and his countrymen, as well as the French and Lombards, had received intimation of the intended rising against them, and each adopted his own measures of precaution. While, therefore, the tumultuous procession was on its way to the Steel-yard, Van Rynk was sitting in a room up stairs conversing with his daughter-two serving-men and an apprentice keeping good watch below. An expression of deep sadness wrung the fine countenance of the venerable Fleming; and now and then a tear would start, as he raised his head and gazed on the beautiful features of his only child.

"Dearest father," said the lovely foreigner, "take heart-there can be no danger-Englishmen are generous, and will not harm aged men and weak women."

"Alas!" sighed the old 66 man, many Englishmen have done me good service --but this rabble rout!-Oh, Margaret, there was a day when I could have died with honour in defending thee! In my good Almain harness I could have returned the thwacks of these clowns-but we are their prey now."

The large lustrous eyes of his daughter were dimmed with tears, but checking her emotion, she renewed her endeavours to persuade her father that the danger was not so great as he anticipated.

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My child! my sweet Margaret!" murmured the old man, as he repeatedly kissed her pallid cheek-"'Tis not for my merchandize I fear; for thy dear sake I have braved the seas and perilled my life in strange lands; the thought of harm to thee wrings my old bosom and makes me womanish."

The old man here rose from his seat and dropped on his knees before a carved wooden image of the Virgin, which occupied a niche in the wall of the apartment. Thrice he crossed himself and then burst into extempore prayer.

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'Holy Mother! ever blessed Virgin! guardian of the weak and innocent, vouchsafe to hear the prayer of a distracted old man. Oh, blessed Lady! for thy dear Son's sake, turn the wrath of these fierce men, and shield my child!" He continued to pray, but his voice died away into a scarcely audible mur

mur, with which the whispered orisons of his daughter mingled, as her long white fingers separated the beads of her rosary. There was a beautiful contrast in those two figures. The painter of a later period might have taken the old man as a model for his favourite saint, while the Madonna-like form that knelt near him, would have inspired Murillo himself, heightened as it was by the light of the small silver lamp which stood on the oak table. How different the scene without! While the merchant and his lovely daughter continued in prayer, the tumultuous procession was descending Dowgate-Hill. Had a well disciplined band encountered that disorderly throng as they entered Thames-street, their progress might have been arrested and their flight certain; but the civic authorities appeared to despise the old adage, “prevention is better than cure," and suffered the riot to proceed until their own force was too weak to cope with it.

The rioters set up a frightful yell as soon as they entered Thames-street, and saw the houses of the foreigners, and the capacious warehouses of the Steelyard.

If the reader be a citizen, he will not require to be told that a stack of warehouses still bears the name of the Steelyard, and that they stand less than a stone's throw from Dowgate Hill; but if he be a stranger, desirous of making a personal survey of this once celebrated spot, let him repair to it early in the morning; at mid-day the attempt will be dangerous, the pavement being (to use Mr. Snooks' phrase)" nor broader nor a twopenny ribbon." There is nothing glorious in being squeezed to death between the wall and the broad wheel of a coal wagon. But to return to the gentry whose array now filled the street, their numerous torches rendering every object visible.

Countless heads waved to and fro in the torch light, and a roar of voices in which fierce oaths and execrations were mingled, smote the hearts of the foreigners, who indeed had much to fear from their infuriate visitants.

Their windows were now assailed with a shower of large stones, some of which fell down again on the heads of the crowd, who in their blind fury supposed that their enemies had hurled them back again upon the throwers. A few dropping hackbut-shots were returned by a Lombard merchant who lived opposite the Steel-yard, and some of the crowd bit the dust, while the

wounded yelled with pain, and called upon their comrades to revenge them.

A window was now opened, and the aged Philip Van Rynk appeared for a second, and cast a hasty glance at the crowd below. The sight made him quail: he had supposed that the assembly was such as the watch might disperse, if assisted by the more respectable citizens. A momentary view, however, of the scene beneath, shewed him that he had miscalculated. He disappeared in a twinkling, and it was well for him that he did so, for three arrows whistled over the heads of the crowd: two of them entered the house, while a third quivered in the frame of the window.

Then arose another wild cry, as the old man withdrew from the view of the assailants.

"Van Rynk! Van Rynk!" shouted a ruffian, who had armed himself with a brown-bill. "Ha! you whoreson Flemish goat! you took the wall of me in the Chepe last Friday.'

"And you beat my trusty dog with your riding staff in the stocks' market," cried another.

"The Devil wears such a beard when he meets the witches," said a woman, shaking aloft a large torch, and looking herself like a priestess of Hecate.

"I will have that beard in my hand ere long!" cried the Alsatian butcher "burst the doors and help yourselves, my boys-he has stuff in the house that the Pope might covet."

Several men accordingly began to batter the door of the old merchant's house, which shook with the blows. Shots were again discharged from the opposite side of the street, and several of the besiegers were killed and wounded, while large stones and scalding water were thrown upon the heads of those who were immediately under the door.

But the second story of Van Rynk's house projected far over the foot-path, so that the attacking party could not he seriously molested. They soon ceased to batter the door, and at the suggestion of a stonemason, commenced making a breach in the wall, where it was impossible for the besieged to reach them.

While this was preparing, Nicholas Fortescue, who had fallen in with five or six of his acquaintances, was deliberating how he should save the Fleming and his daughter from their fierce enemies. The butcher and his friends had nearly effected a breach in the house, while the other part of the rabble prevented the foreigners on the opposite side of the street from

appearing at the windows with their cross-bows and hackbuts.

Fortescue did not love the foreigners any more than the rest of his countrymen, but Van Rynk had a grey head, and his daughter was passing beautiful, two things that always operated strongly on our 'prentice's feelings: he determined to save them at the risk of his life; and his companions, to whom he communicated his intentions, swore to assist him.

"My lads," said he, addressing them, "there is an alley below, which leads to the water-side; if we could climb the wall, we are at the back of the old Fleming's house"

"Be quick, then," cried the 'prentices, "or that blood-thirsty dog the butcher will have run down his game.'

The 'prentice and his friends cautiously withdrew from the crowd, and diving into the alley scaled the high wall, and soon found themselves at the rear of Van Rynk's house, which they entered without opposition, the door being left on the latch, the inmates having probably calculated upon the possibility of their being obliged to retreat, in the event of the assailants succeeding in forcing an en

trance.

They ascended the stairs which led to the principal apartments, and heard loud shouts, mingled with the clash of weapons and the knell of fire-arms; the butcher and his desperate band had broken through the wall, and after a short but violent struggle, in which the merchant took a part, the old man retreated, leaving his two serving men and his apprentice mortally wounded.

Determined to sell his life dearly, Van Rynk flew from the spot and gained time to ascend the stairs, by closing a strong inner door upon the intruders. But great was his alarm as he encountered the little band of apprentices. Nevertheless, he raised his sword, and seemed inclined to dispute their possession; and it was not until after they had disarmed him, that he could be persuaded of their friendly intentions. his sword was wrenched from his grasp, his daughter rushed from an adjoining room, and fell at the feet of Fortescue.

As

"Oh good Englishmen," cried she, in broken English, "save my father!"

"Save him!" said Fortescue, raising her up, “I'll be cut to the chin, ere they touch a hair of his head; but you must fly-another moment, and you are lost. Have you the key of the door which opens into the alley?"

"'Tis here," said the old merchant,

taking the key from his bosom, "hasten good youth and I will reward thee nobly.'

"You must fly' to the water-side, alone," said Fortescue, "your daughter shall be protected-but time presses. Will Studely, Sam Hall, Jem Rendell, see Master Van Rynk to the water-side, I'll follow with the lady; and Hugh Smithson, Walter Browne, and little Jack Wayte, shall help me.

As he spoke, a thick vapour was spreading itself through the house, and a loud crackling was heard below.

"By heaven!" exclaimed the 'prentice, "they have fired the house!"

Van Rynk was about to depart, when he suddenly recollected his money chest. This was soon dragged out by two of the 'prentices, and the merchant and his escort departed.

"Heaven bless thee, youth, I feel that thou wilt not betray me!" ejacu lated the merchant as he passed out.

"Now then," said Fortescue, "your hand, fair lady—oh! your jewel casket! give it to me," he thrust it under his girdle. "So, now, let us begone-ha! they have entered the court yard!"

He spoke truly: as they emerged from under the porch, which shaded the door by which he and his companions had entered, several men rushed towards them. The foremost was Lorymer, who instantly made a lunge at the 'prentice, shouting at the same time, "unhand the wench, knave, and defend thyself!"

"To the devil with thee, gallows bird!" replied Fortescue, and with a back-handed blow of his broadsword, he struck off the right hand of his assailant : another stroke followed, and alighted on the head of the unfortunate man, crashing through bone and brain, and the body of Lorymer fell quivering to the ground.

A man of giant frame and fierce aspect next advanced with a dreadful oath-it was the Alsatian butcher.

The 'prentice looked at the athletic ruffian with something like dread-he felt the weight on his left arm increasing -his lovely charge had fainted; but he kept on his guard, and waited for the blow of his antagonist.

Another execration burst from the lips of the butcher as, with flashing eyes and clenched teeth, he struck at the youth's bare head. The stroke was parried, and the ruffian overreaching himself, slipped and fell. Ere he could recover his legs the swords of Fortescue's companions

were sheathed in his body, and his followers fled away in alarm.

All this was the work of a moment. "Now then, my lads, let us run for it!" cried the 'prentice, taking in his arms the still insensible form of the beautiful little Fleming.

They hurried to the water-side, where the other 'prentices had already unmoored a boat.

"Whither would you go, master?" inquired Fortescue, placing his burthen in the lap of the old man.

"To St. Saviour's church-we shall obtain sanctuary there-the priest knows me well," said Van Rynk, kissing his child, who was slowly reviving.

"We must be your guard, then," observed Fortescue, stepping into the boat, "there is a stir on the other side of the river, and you may be stopped.'

In the mean time the fire was gaining on the house of the venerable Fleming, and as the boat proceeded across the river, the bright flames rose to a great height, lighting up the whole neighbourhood, and the tall towers which surmounted London Bridge, while the Thames beneath glowed like molten lead.

But not a sigh heaved the breast of the old man, as he gazed on the bright flames that consumed his most valuable merchandize. His lips moved, but not in murmurs; his overcharged heart throbbed with gladness—he was breathing a prayer to that Power, which had preserved to him his only child.

Ere the boat had reached the other side of the river, a strong body of soldiers and armed citizens, headed by Sir John Rest, the lord mayor, entered Thames-street, and the rioters fled in confusion and dismay, leaving sad traces of their violence. Other bands, which had spread themselves through the city, were also dispersed, and by day-break tranquillity was restored.

CHAPTER VII. FORTESCUE MEETS MASTER WILLOUGHBYE..-CONCLUSION.

THE calm of the following morning was more terrible than the storm of the night before. It was May-Day, but no revelling was contemplated by the citizens. The huge May-pole which was wont to be set up in Leadenhall-street, hung undisturbed against the wall of the church of St. Andrew Undershaft. Tears stood in the eyes of bearded men as they passed