se calm answers only seemed to enrage Sir Samuel Starling, who,
heaping further abuse on the prisoners, exclaimed, "Take the varlets off
to the `Black Dog' in Newgate Market; there they shall remain in durance
till they are tried for their crimes at the Old Bailey, and we shall
then see whether this young cock-of-the-woods will crow as loudly as he
now does."

Young Wenlock could with difficulty restrain his father's indignation
when he heard this order pronounced by the city magistrate. He however,
managed to get him out of the court.

"We will go and see where they are lodged, at all events," said the
captain, who at length yielded to his son's expostulation. "Perchance I
may render my old friend Mead, and that noble young fellow Penn, some
assistance."

CHAPTER THREE.

In a dirty, ill-ventilated room in a low sponging-house in Newgate
Market, known as the "Black Dog," two persons were seated. Cobwebs hung
from the windows and the corners of the ceiling, occupied by huge,
active spiders, lying in wait for some of the numerous flies which
swarmed on the dust-covered panes. On the walls were scrawled numerous
designs, executed by the prisoners who had from time to time occupied
the room, to while away their hours of durance. The air felt close and
sultry, the heat increased by the rays of the sinking sun, which found
their way in by the window, through which also entered unpleasant odours
ascending from the court-yard below. One of the persons, whose handsome
dress contrasted strangely with the appearance of the room, was busy
writing at a rickety table. With youth, wealth, talents, a fair fame,
the godson of the future monarch of England, he might, had he so willed,
have been a peer of he realm, the founder of a noble family. The other,
who has been described as Captain Mead, rose from his seat, and walked
up and down with somewhat impatient steps. "I am writing to my dear
father to tell him the cause of my absence," said young Penn, stopping
for a moment. "I fear that his sickness is very serious, and deep is my
regret to be kept away from him; yet do I glory in thus suffering for
the great and noble principles for which we are striving,--liberty of
conscience, liberty of action. What is life worth to man without these?
And yet our infatuated countrymen run a great risk of losing both, if
they refuse to listen to the voice of warning, and to prepare in time
for the threatened danger." Just then a t