his
way, turned into Holborn for the twentieth time, when a great many women
and children came flying along the street--often panting and looking
back--and the confused murmur of numerous voices struck upon his ear.
Assured by these tokens, and by the red light which began to flash
upon the houses on either side, that some of his friends were indeed
approaching, he begged a moment's shelter at a door which opened as he
passed, and running with some other persons to an upper window, looked
out upon the crowd.

They had torches among them, and the chief faces were distinctly
visible. That they had been engaged in the destruction of some building
was sufficiently apparent, and that it was a Catholic place of worship
was evident from the spoils they bore as trophies, which were easily
recognisable for the vestments of priests, and rich fragments of altar
furniture. Covered with soot, and dirt, and dust, and lime; their
garments torn to rags; their hair hanging wildly about them; their hands
and faces jagged and bleeding with the wounds of rusty nails; Barnaby,
Hugh, and Dennis hurried on before them all, like hideous madmen. After
them, the dense throng came fighting on: some singing; some shouting in
triumph; some quarrelling among themselves; some menacing the spectators
as they passed; some with great wooden fragments, on which they spent
their rage as if they had been alive, rending them limb from limb,
and hurling the scattered morsels high into the air; some in a drunken
state, unconscious of the hurts they had received from falling bricks,
and stones, and beams; one borne upon a shutter, in the very midst,
covered with a dingy cloth, a senseless, ghastly heap. Thus--a vision
of coarse faces, with here and there a blot of flaring, smoky light; a
dream of demon heads and savage eyes, and sticks and iron bars uplifted
in the air, and whirled about; a bewildering horror, in which so much
was seen, and yet so little, which seemed so long, and yet so short, in
which there were so many phantoms, not to be forgotten all through life,
and yet so many things that could not be observed in one distracting
glimpse--it flitted onward, and was gone.

As it passed away upon its work of wrath and ruin, a piercing scream was
heard. A knot of persons ran towards the spot; Gashford, who just then
emerged into the street, among them. He was on the outskirts of the
little concourse, and could not see or hear what passed within; but one