The spirit of devilry had now got into them. They insisted that the remains must be interred with due formality. They chanted over their burden the office for the dead, and digging a huge trench in Beaumont meadows, they performed mock obsequies in a very irreverent fashion. But hardly had this been accomplished before the cry was raised,-- "The Provosts! the Provosts! and the worshipful Mayor himself!" It was true. The city authorities had heard of this outbreak, and the Provosts, or Bailiffs, had gathered together a body of bold citizens, and were marching out to quell the disturbance and punish the rioters. Indeed, it was said that they had already made some arrests amongst the clerks, and this news ran like wildfire through the crowd. In another moment the bell of St. Martin's rang out in the city, and more clerks came flying out to learn what had happened, and where help was needed. Thus the luckless Mayor and Provosts were hemmed in between two furious bodies of clerks, who inflicted grievous wounds upon many of them, tore their banner, and put them to speedy and ignominious flight. Now the blood of the students was up. They had gone too far to stop without doing worse. "We will teach the town varlets to interfere with our liberties!" roared the excited and incensed youths, as they rushed back once more into the city, filled with the desire for mischief and destruction which is characteristic of a mob. "Teach the Bailiffs to mind their manners!" roared the excited students, and dashed upon the houses of their foes. A bowyer's shop was plundered, the house of one Bailiff was set on fire, those of the others were plundered after being broken open, and a store of spicery was scattered in all directions. "Now for the Mayor! now for the Mayor!" shouted the hot and panting depredators, flushed with victory and carrying all before them. The Mayor was a vintner by trade, and had a fine cellar stocked with goodly wine. This cellar was on the street level, but was strongly barricaded. Nothing, however, could withstand the fury of the attack made upon it. The mob of unruly clerks rushed in, drew all the taps, drank their fill of intoxicating beverages, and let the rest flow out into the street. When the Chancellor and the Proctors, who had in the first instance proceeded towards Beaumont meadows through the Bocardo Gate, returned to the city to seek to quell the unseemly riot, it was to find one house in flames in the south part of the city, whilst the drunken mob was clamouring around the vintners store, singing wild bacchanalian songs, and disporting themselves like veritable demons. The street ran red with good wine, and the Mayor, white-faced and terrified, watched helplessly from an upper window the destruction of his property and the wanton waste of his stock in trade.