us visible from any moderate coign of vantage, and
from the Grand Stand in Donegal Place the sight was truly wonderful.
The vast space, right, left, and front, was from 10 o'clock closely
packed with a mighty multitude that no man could number, and
locomotion became every moment so painful as to threaten total
stagnation. The crowd was eminently respectable and perfectly orderly,
and submitted to the passage of innumerable musical organisations with
charming good humour. Never have I seen or heard of such an assemblage
of bands, all uniformed, all preceded by gorgeous banners bearing all
kinds of loyal and party mottoes, all marching in splendid military
fashion, and of themselves numerous enough to furnish a very
considerable demonstration. Many of the tunes were of a decidedly
martial character, and strange to English ears, such as the "Boyne
Water," the "Orange Lily" and the "Protestant Boys," the last being a
version of the "Lillibulero" so often mentioned by Scott. All these
tunes, more or less distasteful to Nationalists, were interspersed
with others less debatable, such as "Rule Britannia," "The Old Folks
at Home," "The Last Rose of Summer," "God Save the Queen," and "See
the Conquering Hero comes," which last generally accompanied the
portrait of Orange William, the "Glorious, Pious, and Immortal,"
mounted on his famous white charger, which noble animal is depicted in
the attitude erroneously believed to be peculiar to that of Bonaparte
when crossing the Alps. The Earl of Beaconsfield was also to the fore
with primroses galore; indeed, the favourite flower was invariably
worn by the ladies, who were greatly in evidence. "Our God, our
Country, and our Empire" was the motto over Mr. Balfour, with a huge
"Welcome" in white on scarlet ground, the whole surrounded by immense
Union Jacks. The familiar red, white, and blue bore the brunt of the
decorative responsibilities, although here and there the green flag of
Ireland hung cheek by jowl with the English standard, emphasising the
friendliness of the present Union. As time went on the crowd became
more and more dense, and a breathless pressman, who reached his post
at twelve o'clock, stated that the seething myriads of Donegal Place
and the adjacent streets were "hardly a circumstance" to what he had
seen in the York Road, where the people awaited the hero of the hour.
Things were getting serious at 12.15, and then it was that the active
members of the crowd swarmed