“The town,” she says, “was in an uproar. The Chartists had been drilling in the Dingle. The news came that a regiment of soldiers was coming to put down the riots, and I can remember watching their arrival. I was standing in a crowd on the Bank, and the soldiers in red coats and brass helmets came up the Pool road, the band playing before them. I shall never forget the scene. The women and children were crying like wild things, they thought everybody was going to be slaughtered. The soldiers proceeded to Newtown Hall, followed by a great and excited crowd. Here they were met by George Arthur Evors, the chief magistrate, who gave instructions to fire. But the officer in charge refused. ‘What,’ he said, ‘fire upon a lot of women and children? Certainly not.’ The soldiers, after all, did no harm, but in the course of a row one man was killed with clubs. After that we did not hear much about the Chartists. Many of them left the country, and never returned. Some were arrested and put into gaol, others managed to hide till things had quieted down, and then came back. But poor Frost, Jones, and Williams were transported.” A schoolmaster of Newtown named George Thomas wrote a Hudibrastic poem on the riots, containing allusions and sly hits at local characters that were much relished at the time. According to him-- “The rebels had a bullet mould, A pistol rusty, crack’d and old, Some bellows, pipes, and lucifers, Tweezers, card-plates, and goose-oil cans, With dust and other nameless pans, Hot water, soapsuds, toasting prongs, With cat-calls, horns, and women’s tongues.” All ended with much noise and little harm done. “When eggs were spent, tongues peace desir’d, The spoils of war had brought no crust, The rebels fled, the troops retir’d, Covered with glory, sweat and dust.” In the old churchyard of Newtown may be seen the plain slab that covers the body of Robert Owen, the Socialist. He was born in the place, but his father was from Welshpool, and had set up business as saddler, ironmonger, and postmaster. Robert was born in 1771, and was sent to London to a situation in a haberdasher’s shop. Thence he removed to Manchester, where he started cotton-spinning. His life is too well known to be given in full here, but a few points may be mentioned. He had imbibed very strong anti-religious ideas, and he was persuaded that the whole social world was topsy-turvy, and required reorganising on the new principles that he had excogitated. “Character,” said he, “is formed _for_ and not _by_ the individual, and society now possesses the most ample means and power to well form the character of everyone by reconstructing society on its own true principles”--that is to say, on those devised by Robert Owen.