"And will ye, my friends," exclaimed this worthy magistrate in a thin, piping voice, "allow this man, Charles, to ride rough-shod over your heads? Or will ye join with the people of England in putting down this sink of iniquity in our midst? What of our ancient rights and privileges--have they not been trodden in the dust and our birthright sold by this son of Belial for a mess of pottage? Up! up! I say, and join in the undoing of the tyrant. Where is this man Charles? He hath fled--fled from the City of London, and no man knoweth whither! News hath arrived that the trainbands have sided with the Parliament, the seaports have declared for liberty and freedom, and even now George Goring holds Portsmouth against the----" "Nay, Master Mayor," shouted a bull-lunged spectator. "Therein thou art wrong. Goring hath declared for His Majesty King Charles, whom God preserve; and even now thy foul rabble yap round the gates of that town, afraid to venture therein!" Cheers and groans greeted this announcement, and for the moment the traitorous mayor was taken aback. "How know you that this be true, Master Rich?" he asked suspiciously. "Considering I came hither but this morning, I am well prepared to abide by what I have said," replied the interrupter boldly. "And I tell thee, Mr. Mayor, what thou hast said shall be duly recorded against thee, and within a week thy head will grace the tower of St. Thomas." Upon this there was a considerable tumult, some siding with the Royalist, though the majority upheld the mayor, till above the noise came a hoarse, authoritative voice shouting: "Way! Way! I ride on affairs of State!" The crowd gave way right and left, and, urging a restive horse through the press, a mail-clad man rode towards the spot where the mayor stood. The new-comer was a heavy, thick-set man, with a bronzed face, pointed beard, and an upturned moustache, while his iron-grey hair was cut close to his massive head. He was bareheaded, his steel cap hanging from his saddle-bow, and his buff-coat and breast-plate were flecked with dust, while his steaming and foam-covered steed showed that he had not spared the spur. "The chief magistrate of the town of Newport?" he demanded curtly. "I am he, worthy sir," replied the mayor, all bravado having, for the moment, left him. Without speaking, the messenger put on his steel cap, drew his sword, and saluted the startled mayor; then, returning the weapon to its scabbard with military smartness, he handed him a sealed packet. Tearing the seals, the mayor read the contents of the letter in silence, and then looked at the messenger as if undecided as to his reply. "Read! Read it aloud!" shouted the crowd, and, his courage slowly returning, the mayor raised his hand for silence, and then began to deliver the message in an almost inaudible voice. "Louder! Louder!" was the cry and the chief magistrate handed the letter to the clerk, who stood at his elbow.