“We must take a note of the date.  It is one we shall remember all our lives.  It is the 25th of November, and we will keep it up as a day of festivity and rejoicing, as long as we live.”

“That will we,” Harry agreed.  “It shall be the occasion of an annual gathering of those who got into trouble from those suppers at Sir Marmaduke’s.  I fancy the others are all in France, but their friends will surely be able to let them know, as soon as they hear the good news.

“I think we shall have a stormy ride tomorrow.  The sky looks very wild and threatening.”

“It does, indeed; and the wind has got up very much, in the last hour.’’

“Yes, we are going to have a storm, beyond all doubt.”

The wind got up hourly, and when, before going to bed, they went to pass an hour at a tavern, they had difficulty in making their way against it.  Several times in the night they were awoke by the gusts, which shook the whole house, and they heard the crashing of falling chimney pots above the din of the gale.

They had arranged to start as soon as it was light, and had, the evening before, been to a posting inn, and engaged a carriage with four horses for the journey down to Lancashire.

“There is no starting today, gentlemen,” the landlord said, as they went down to breakfast by candlelight.  “I have looked out, and the street is strewn with chimney pots and tiles.  Never do I remember such a gale, and hour by hour it seems to get worse.  Why, it is dangerous to go across the street.”

“Well, we must try,” Charlie said, “whatever the weather.  It is a matter of almost life and death.”

“Well, gentlemen, you must please yourselves, but I am mistaken if any horse keeper will let his animals out, on such a day as this.”

As soon as they had eaten their breakfasts, they wrapped themselves up in their cloaks, pressed their hats over their heads, and sallied out.  It was not until they were in the streets that they realized how great was the force of the gale.  Not only were the streets strewn with tiles and fragments of chimney pots, but there was light enough for them to see that many of the upper windows of the houses had been blown in by the force of the wind.  Tiles flew about like leaves in autumn, and occasionally gutters and sheets of lead, stripped from the roofs, flew along with prodigious swiftness.

“This is as bad as a pitched battle, Charlie.  I would as lief be struck by a cannonball as by one of those strips of lead.”

“Well, we must risk it, Harry.  We must make the attempt, anyhow.”

It was with the greatest difficulty that they made their way along.  Although powerful young fellows, they were frequently obliged to cling to the railings, to prevent themselves from being swept away by the gusts, and they had more than one narrow escape from falling chimneys.  Although the distance they had to traverse was not more than a quarter of a mile, it took them half an hour to accomplish it.