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.

1/4 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.

1/2 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.

* * * * *

RECOLLECTIONS OF A TRIP IN MR HAMPTON’S BALLOON.

IN A LETTER FROM A WOULD-BE PASSENGER.

My dear Friend.—­You are aware how long I have been longing to go up in a balloon, and that I should certainly have some time ago ascended with Mr. Green, had not his terms been not simply a cut above me, but several gashes beyond my power to comply with them.  In a word, I did not go up with the Nassau, because I could not come down with the dust, and though I always had “Green in my eye,” I was not quite so soft as to pay twenty pounds in hard cash for the fun of going, on

[Illustration:  A DARK (K)NIGHT,]

nobody knows where, and coming down Heaven knows how, in a field belonging to the Lord knows who, and being detained for goodness knows what, for damage.

Not being inclined, therefore, for a nice and expensive voyage with Mr. Green, I made a cheap and nasty arrangement with Mr. Hampton, the gentleman who courageously offers to descend in a parachute—­a thing very like a parasol—­and who, as he never mounts much above the height of ordinary palings, might keep his word without the smallest risk of any personal inconvenience.