The Jacobite sympathy for Atterbury was, of course, very active. Hawkers boldly sold seditious songs and broadsheets in his favour, despite the magistrates. The prelate himself lay day and night in bed in the Tower, suffering from gout in hands and feet. The Jacobite barrister, Sir Constantine Phipps, moved for his release, and that of Kelly, on bail; but the application was refused. On the following Sunday bills were distributed by active agents through the London churches, asking the prayers of the congregation for a suffering captive in bonds. The only favour granted to Atterbury was that he should have the occasional company of the Rev. M. Hawkins, of the Tower, to whose companionship the bishop preferred that of the gout. When the illustrious prisoner was convalescent, he used to sit at a window of the house in which he was confined, and converse with his friends who assembled below. It was manifest that mischief might come of it, but there was meanness in the method taken to prevent it. The window was nailed up and partly covered with deal boards. The chief warden of the Tower was censured for allowing Atterbury’s servants to speak with those of his son-in-law, Mr. Morrice, without the warden being present. At last, the bishop’s servants were kept as closely confined as their master. [Sidenote: _SCENES IN CAMP._] London was busy with the Tower incidents to talk about, and with the martial spectacle in the Park, which people daily witnessed. But all things must have an end; and the camp, which was pitched in May, was broken up towards the end of October. The gayest times were when the king visited it, or reviewed the troops. He was popular there, for the various regiments, foot, horse, and artillery, had, in marching to or from the ground, to pass through the Mall, and the king invariably greeted them from his garden wall. He was so pleased with the City of London artillery, that he ordered 500_l._ to be paid in to their treasurer. After the reviews held near the camp, the Earl of Cadogan entertained the monarch and a noble company, either in the earl’s tent or at his house in Piccadilly. Each banquet cost the host about 800_l._ A costly hospitality was maintained by other commanders. The dinners in tent given by Colonel Pitt to the Duke of Wharton and other peers were the subject of admiration. In what sense the Jacobite duke drank the king’s health, may be easily conjectured. A coarser jollity prevailed in the booths set up near the camp, and there, a reckless reveller of the night was, now and then, to be found stark dead on the grass in the morning. [Sidenote: _SOLDIERS AND FOOTPADS._]