This morning, at an early hour, we were thrown into the greatest consternation by a column of boys, who poured in upon us from the northern entrance, and, taking up their-station near the pump, we expected the worst.
8 o’clock.—The worst has not yet happened. An inhabitant has entered the square-garden, and planted himself at the back of the statue; but everything is in STATUE QUO.
5 minutes past 8.—The boys are still there. The square-keeper is nowhere to be found.
10 minutes past 8.—The insurgents have, some of them, mounted on the fire-escape. The square-keeper has been seen. He is sneaking round the corner, and resolutely refuses to come nearer.
¼ past 8.—A deputation has waited on the square-keeper. It is expected that he will resign.
20 minutes past 8.—The square-keeper refuses to resign.
22 minutes past 8.—The square-keeper has resigned.
25 minutes past 8.—The boys have gone home.
½ past 8.—The square-keeper has been restored, and is showing great courage and activity. It is not thought necessary to place him under arms; but he is under the engine, which can he brought into play at a moment’s notice. His activity is surprising, and his resolution quite undaunted.
9 o’clock.—All is perfectly quiet, and the letters are being delivered by the general post-man as usual. The inhabitants appear to be going to their business, as if nothing had happened. The square-keeper, with the whole of his staff (a constable’s staff), may be seen walking quietly up and down. The revolution is at an end; and, thanks to the fire-engine, our old constitution is still preserved to us.