At Garstang, Brigadier Mackintosh set free Christopher Hopkins, who had been hitherto detained a prisoner, telling him if he again fell into his hands, he would shoot him.
Long before the cavalry reached Preston they came in sight of the town, delightfully situated on a ridge overlooking the flat district they were traversing, and the aspect of the town was so cheerful, that the spirits of the young troopers began to revive.
They had heard much of the beauty of the ladies, and curiosity to behold them was suddenly awakened in their breasts.
Could they compare with the lovely girls they had left behind? That was a question which would very soon be answered.
The young troopers now became impatient to get to Preston, and wondered whether the ladies would come forth to meet them as had been the case at Lancaster.
In this respect they were disappointed.
There were no ladies at the foot of the hill-none on Friargate brow-but in the market-place an agreeable surprise awaited them.
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BOOK THE SEVENTH
THE ATTACK
I
Proud Preston
PROUD Preston-or Priests’ Town, as it was originally called from the number of its religious houses-merited the epithet applied to it, albeit somewhat derisively.
Proud were its inhabitants-proud of their town-of its fine situation, its beauty, its salubrity-proud of their wives and daughters, whom they deemed, and not erroneously, the handsomest women in the kingdom.
As a place of fashionable resort, where the best society could be found, Preston, at the period of our story, ranked higher than any other town in the North of England. A great number of gentry resided there-many of them belonging to the oldest Catholic families of the county, and these persons gave an aristocratic character to the place.
But the Preston gentry were not as wealthy as they were proud. High Churchmen as well as Roman Catholics abounded in the town, and the only thing low about the parish church was the steeple. Hence the old rhyme:
Proud Preston, poor people,
High church, and low steeple!
Delightfully situated on the summit of a ridge, rising gradually from the Ribble, which sweeps round it on the south, and commanding extensive and beautiful views in every direction, Preston, from its salubrious climate, and contiguity to the sea, enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most agreeable and healthy towns in England.
In the early part of the eighteenth century Preston was but a small place, and could boast little regularity of construction, but it had a remarkably clean and cheerful aspect.
Attached to many of the houses were good gardens, and these being laid out on the slopes of the eminence on which the town was reared, contributed materially to its beauty.
The best houses were in Church-street and Fishergate, running from east to west on the south side of the hill. A few of the habitations were old, but the greater part were modern. Amongst the latter were two large mansions, standing nearly opposite each other in Church-street, and belonging respectively to Sir Henry Hoghton and Mr. Eyre. Both these mansions possessed large gardens and good stables, and are specially referred to because we shall have to speak of them hereafter.
But there were also some good old houses in Friargate, which led from the Lancaster road on the north side of the hill to the market-place.
In the market-place, which formed a large square, with an obelisk in the midst instead of a cross, there were several good old houses; and here, also, was the town-hall, an extremely picturesque old edifice, four stories high, and each story projecting above the other, painted black and white, and having great gables and large windows.
At the corner of one of the streets communicating with the market-place stood the Mitre, the principal hostel of the town, and noted for its good cheer and good wines. Not far off was the White Bull, another good inn, much frequented by the townsfolk.
The parish church, dedicated in the first instance to Saint Wilfrid, but more recently to Saint John, stood on the south side of Church-street. A fine old structure, it had undergone repairs, not altogether judicious, and was disfigured by a low tower. A large churchyard separated it from the street.
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