This news from Preston infuriated rather than depressed the London Jacobites. On Queen Elizabeth’s birthday, November 17th, it was whispered about that they intended to profane the day by burning the effigies of his sacred Majesty King George himself, as well as that of King William. The Whigs of the Roebuck assembled in and about that hostelry, armed and resolved to prevent the profanation. At seven p.m. one of their scouts rushed in breathless with the news that the ‘hellish crew’ were mustered in St. Martin’s-le-Grand to cries of ‘High Church and Ormond,’ ‘Ormond and King James,’ ‘King James and Rome for ever!’ The Roebucks, thus interrupted when they were drinking to the memory of Queen Elizabeth, while keeping their powder dry for contingencies, at once marched out. The hostile forces encountered at the east end of Newgate Street. The Jacobites were thoroughly thrashed, and the assailants carried in triumph to the Roebuck the figures, which had been destined for the flames in Smithfield, of the above two kings, and also that of ‘the victorious Duke of Marlborough.’ The figures were carried to the tavern-head-quarters of loyalty, and with them a sort of Scaramouch, who had brandished in their defence a huge scymitar, four fingers broad. The Whigs had scarcely got safe within their stronghold when it was vigorously assaulted by at least five hundred Jacobites. The latter, after whetting their rage by smashing windows on their march, commenced their attack on the Roebuck fortress by pulling down the sign, and breaking everything that was breakable in front of the house. Finally, the crowning assault was made by the hatchet and cleaver wielders against the gates. They laughed at being rather politely requested to desist, and were amused when shot at from the windows with powder only. Then, in self-defence, the Whigs fired into the mass with ball. Down went two or three into the London November mud, dead for James and the High Church. Up went, at the same time, the shrieks and curses of the wounded. The remnant were staggered; for a moment indecisive, they soon came to a resolution and to action upon it. At this moment appeared in Cheapside the Lord Mayor with a guard, some officers and citizens, shouting, ‘King George for ever!’ The Jacobites fled in precipitation. The Scaramouch and some other prisoners were lodged in Newgate. Great tribulation prevailed in all the Jacobite quarters. In London, as at Preston, the star of the Stuarts paled before the fire of Brunswick. [Sidenote: _THE PRISONERS FROM PRESTON._]