proper cause of the riot which followed: but that the mischief had been pre-concerted, and that this particular opportunity was laid hold of for the purpose.

Some days before this meeting, a few copies of a printed hand-bill of an inflammatory nature had been found in a public-house in the town, and of this, great use was made to inflame the minds of the people against the Dissenters, to whom, though without any evidence whatever, it was confidently ascribed. The thing itself did not deserve any notice, and paragraphs of as seditious a nature frequently appear in the public newspapers and other publications, and (as would, no doubt, have been the case with this) are neglected and forgotten. But the magistrates of Birmingham, and other known enemies to the Dissenters, were loud in their exclamations against it, though perhaps fabricated for the use that was made of it; and a copy was officiously sent to the secretaries of state, who ordered a strict inquiry to be made after the author, printer, or distributor; and in consequence of this, a reward of a hundred pounds was offered for the discovery of any of them.

In consequence of all this preparation, we were informed that, though the trade of Birmingham had never been more brisk, so that hands could not be found to manufacture the goods that were ordered, many of the public-houses were that day full of people, whose horrid execrations against the Dissenters were heard into the streets; and it has been asserted, that some of the master manufacturers had shut up their work shop, and thereby left their men at full liberty for any mischief.

It has since appeared, that besides the dinner at the hotel, there were also meetings of the opposite party on this 14th of July; some of whom had distributed copies of a letter signed by Dr. Tatham. This seemed to increase the animosity of the lower class of people, with whom the common alehouses were filled. Some of these meetings did not rise from their tertainment so early, or with so much sobriety, as those who

dined at the hotel; and it was at the breaking up of their companies that the riots commenced. Let the impartial, then, judge to which of the dinners the riot that followed is to be ascribed.

Mr. Adam Walker, the ingenious and well-known lecturer in Natural Philosophy, was passing through the town with his wife and family, and dined with me at my own house, for the last time, on that day. Before dinner, I had walked to the town with him, and they left me in the evening. Some time after this, three of my intimate friends, whose houses were situated near the same road, and farther from the town than mine, called upon me to congratulate me, and one another, on the dinner having passed over so well; and after chatting cheerfully some time on the subject, they left me just as it was beginning to be dark.

After supper, when I was preparing to amuse myself, as I sometimes did, with a game of backgammon, we were alarmed by some young men rapping violently at the door; and when they were admitted, they appeared to be almost breathless with running. They said that a great mob had assembled at the hotel, where the company had dined; that after breaking the windows there, they were gone to the New Meeting and were demolishing the pulpit and the pews, and that they threatened me and my house. That they should think of molesting me, I thought so improbable, that I could hardly give any credit to the story. However, imagining that perhaps some of the mob might come to insult me, I was prevailed upon to leave the house, and meant to go to some neighbour's at a greater distance from the town; but having no apprehension for the house itself, or any thing in it, I only went up stairs, and put some papers and other things of value, where I thought that any persons getting into the house would not easily find them. My wife did the same with some things of hers. I then bade the servants keep the doors fastened; if any body should come, to say that I was gone, and if any stones should be thrown at the windows, to keep themselves

out of danger, and that I did not doubt but they would go away again.

At this time, which was about half-past nine o'clock, Mr. S. Ryland, a friend of mine, came with a chaise, telling us there was no time to lose, but that we must immediately get into it and drive off. Accordingly, we got in with nothing more than the clothes we happened to have on, and drove from the house. But hearing that the mob consisted only of people on foot, and concluding that when they found I was gone off in a chaise, they could not tell whither, they would never think of pursuing me, we went no farther than Mr. Russell's, a mile on the same road, and there we continued several hours, Mr. Russell himself, and other persons, being upon the road on horseback to get intelligence of what was passing. I also more than once walked about half way back to my own house for the same purpose; and then I saw the fires from the two meeting-houses, which were burning down.

About twelve we were told that some hundreds of the mob were breaking into my house, and that when they had demolished it they would certainly proceed to Mr. Russell's. We were persuaded, therefore, to get into the chaise again, and drive off; but we went no farther than Mr. Thomas Hawkes's, on Moseley-Green, which is not more than half a mile farther from the town, and there we waited all the night.

It being remarkably calm, and clear moonlight, we could see to a considerable distance, and being upon a rising ground, we distinctly heard all that passed at the house, every shout of the mob, and almost every stroke of the instruments they had provided for breaking the doors and the furniture. For they could not get any fire, though one of them was heard to offer two guineas, for a lighted candle; my son, whom we left behind us, having taken the precaution to put out all the fires in the house, and others of my friends got all the neighbours to do the same. I afterwards heard that much pains was taken, but without effect, to get fire from my large electrical machine, which stood in the library.

About three o'clock in the morning, the noises ceased; and Mr. Russell and my son coming to us, said that the mob was almost dispersed, that not more than twenty of them remained, and those so much intoxicated, that they might easily be taken. We, therefore, returned with him, and about four o'clock were going to bed at his house. But when I was undressing myself for that purpose, news came that there was a fresh accession of some hundreds more to the mob, and that they were advancing towards Mr. Russell's. On this we got into the chaise once more, and driving through a part of the town distant from the mob, we went to Dudley, and thence to my son-in-law's, Mr. Finch, at Heath-Forge, five miles farther, where we arrived before breakfast, and brought the first news of our disaster.

Here I thought myself perfectly safe, and imagining that when the mischief was over (and I had no idea of its going beyond my own house), and supposing that, as the people in general would be ashamed and concerned at what had happened, I might return; thinking also that the area within the walls of the meeting-house might soon be cleared, I intended, if the weather would permit, to preach there the Sunday following, and from this text "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

At noon, however, we had an express from Stourbridge, to acquaint us that the mob had traced me to Dudley, and would pursue me to Heath. To this I paid no attention, nor to another from Dudley in the evening to inform us of the same thing; and being in want of sleep, I went to bed soon after ten. But at eleven I was awaked, and told that a third express was just arrived from Dudley, to assure us that some persons were certainly in pursuit of me, and would be there that night. All the family believing this and urging me to make my escape, I dressed myself, got on horseback, and with a servent rode to Bridgenorth, where I arrived about two in the morning.

After about two hours' sleep in this place, I got into a

chaise, and went to Kidderminster, on my way to London. Here I found myself among my friends, and, as I thought, far enough from the scene of danger, especially as we continually heard news from Birmingham, and that the mischief did not extend beyond the town. Hearing, particularly, that all was quiet at Dudley, I concluded that there could be no real cause of apprehension at Heath; and, being unwilling to go farther than was necessary, I took a horse, and arrived there in the evening.

There, however, I found the family in great consternation at the sight of me; and Mr. Finch just arriving from Dudley, and saying that they were in momentary expectation of a riot there, that the populace were even assembled in the street, and were heard to threaten the meeting-house, the house of the minister, and those of other principal Dissenters, and that all attempts to make them disperse had been in vain,—I mounted my horse again, though much fatigued, and greatly wanting sleep.

My intention was, to get to an inn about six miles on the road to Kidderminster, where I might get a chaise, and in it proceed to that town. No chaise, however, was to be had; so that I was under the necessity of proceeding on horseback, and neither the servant nor myself distinguishing the road in the night, we lost our way, and at break of day found ourselves on Bridgenorth race-ground, having ridden nineteen miles, till we could hardly sit our horses.

Arriving at this place a second time, about three o'clock in the morning, we with some difficulty roused the people at an indifferent inn, and I immediately got into bed, and slept a few hours. After breakfast, we mounted our horses, and I got a second time to Kidderminster. There, finding that if I immediately took a chaise, and drove fast, I might get to Worcester time enough for the mail-coach, I did so; and meeting with a young man of my own congregation, he accompanied me thither; which was a great satisfaction to me, as he acquainted me with many particulars of the riot of which