Mr. Paul at Tyburn recovered his spirits, and turned Jacobite, again. He asked pardon of God for having taken oaths of allegiance to an usurping power.――‘You see by my habit,’ he said to the crowd, ‘that I die a son, though a very unworthy one, of the Church of England, but I would not have you think that I am a member of the schismatical church, whose bishops set themselves up in opposition to those Orthodox Fathers who were unlawfully and invalidly deprived by the Prince of Orange. I declare that I renounce that communion, and that I die a dutiful and faithful member of the Nonjuring church, which has kept itself free from rebellion and schism; and I desire the Clergy and all members of the Revolution church to consider what bottom they stand upon, when their succession is grounded upon an unlawful and invalid deprivation of Catholic bishops, the only foundation of which deprivation is a pretended Act of Parliament. The Revolution instead of keeping out Popery, has let in Atheism.’ As Justice Hall was standing meekly at Paul’s side, a cowardly Whig ruffian, in the crowd, flung at the doomed man a stone which reached its aim. The poor gentleman bowed his head in acknowledgment of the civility, turned to the hangman, and died without fuss or protest. The Whig press spared him. They did not attack him as they did Paul. In July, the king, longing to revisit Hanover, and satisfied that his throne was now unassailable, took his departure. A few hours previously, Lady Cowper saw the sovereign, at a drawing-room, ‘in mighty good humour.’ She wished him a good journey and a quick return; and, ‘he looked,’ she says, ‘as if the last part of my Speech was needless, and that he did not think of it.’ [Sidenote: _THE KING IN FLEET STREET._] A curious encounter took place in Fleet Street, as George I., in a semi-state coach, with a kingly escort, was on his way to the Tower, where he was to take water for the continent. The king was met with a procession of six coaches coming from Newgate. They contained eleven prisoners with attendants, the former on their way to Westminster, to receive formal sentence of death. The royal carriage and one in which was Mr. Radcliffe, with a fellow prisoner, and a ‘servant of Newgate,’ were the first to meet. The latter drew on one side; those which followed did the same. The king looked hard at the Jacobites and passed on, without remark. When the king had gone by, Charles Radcliffe, seeing that the carriage in which he was seated was drawn up in front of a tavern, called for a pint of liquor, and he and his fellow in misfortune drank to the health of King James. If the ‘servant of Newgate’ got a good pull at the tankard he said nothing about it at Westminster to aggravate their position or to make unpleasant his own. [Sidenote: _A READING AT COURT._]