When he was
told that he was the king's prisoner, he vociferated with sundry strange
oaths, which we forbear to repeat. "No, I am not the king's prisoner! I
am the prisoner of that shabby, rascally tanner, Jonathan Hill. None but
he would arrest a gentleman in this way, for a trifle not worth
mentioning."
Miss Jenny Brown screamed when she found herself under the protection of
a man who was arrested; and, what between her screams and his oaths,
there was such a disturbance that a mob gathered.
Among this mob there was a party of Irish haymakers, who, after returning
late from a hard day's work, had been drinking in a neighbouring
ale-house. With one accord they took part with their countryman, and
would have rescued him from the civil officers with all the pleasure in
life if he had not fortunately possessed just sufficient sense and
command of himself to restrain their party spirit, and to forbid them, as
they valued his life and reputation, to interfere, by word or deed, in
his defence.
He then despatched one of the haymakers home to his mother, to inform her
of what had happened, and to request that she would get somebody to be
bail for him as soon as possible, as the officers said they could not let
him out of their sight till he was bailed by substantial people, or till
the debt was discharged.
The widow O'Neill was just putting out the candles in the ball-room when
this news of her son's arrest was brought to her.
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