he too much wished the favor of all who had influ-
Chap. XLIII.} 1770.
ence at Westminster
Evening came on. The young moon was shining brightly in a cloudless winter sky, and its light was increased by a new fallen snow.1
Parties of soldiers were driving about the streets,2
making a parade of valor, challenging resistance, and striking the inhabitants indiscriminately with sticks or sheathed cutlasses.
A band which rushed out from Murray's Barracks,3
in Brattle Street, armed with clubs, cutlasses and bayonets, provoked resistance, and an affray ensued.
, at the gate of the barrack-yard, cried to the soldiers, ‘Turn out, and I will stand by you; kill them; stick them; knock them down; run your bayonets through them;’4
and one soldier after another levelled a firelock and threatened to ‘make a lane’ through the crowd.
Just before nine, as an officer crossed King Street, now State Street, a barber's lad cried after him, ‘There goes a mean fellow who hath not paid my master for dressing his hair;’ on which the sentinel stationed at the westerly end of the Custom House
, on the corner of King Street and Exchange Lane, left his post, and with his musket gave the boy a stroke on the head, which made him stagger and cry for pain.5
The street soon became clear,6
and nobody troubled