ad been accomplished. The decrees of the Convention were
everywhere received with submission. London, true during fifty eventful
years to the cause of civil freedom and of the reformed religion, was
foremost in professing loyalty to the new Sovereigns. Garter King at
arms, after making proclamation under the windows of Whitehall, rode in
state along the Strand to Temple Bar. He was followed by the maces of
the two Houses, by the two Speakers, Halifax and Powle, and by a long
train of coaches filled with noblemen and gentlemen. The magistrates
of the City threw open their gates and joined the procession. Four
regiments of militia lined the way up Ludgate Hill, round Saint Paul's
Cathedral, and along Cheapside. The streets, the balconies, and the very
housetops were crowded with gazers. All the steeples from the Abbey to
the Tower sent forth a joyous din. The proclamation was repeated, with
sound of trumpet, in front of the Royal Exchange, amidst the shouts of
the citizens.

In the evening every window from Whitechapel to Piccadilly was lighted
up. The state rooms of the palace were thrown open, and were filled by a
gorgeous company of courtiers desirous to kiss the hands of the King and
Queen. The Whigs assembled there, flushed with victory and prosperity.
There were among them some who might be pardoned if a vindictive feeling
mingled with their joy. The most deeply injured of all who had survived
the evil times was absent. Lady Russell, while her friends were crowding
the galleries of Whitehall, remained in her retreat, thinking of one
who, if he had been still living, would have held no undistinguished
place in the ceremonies of that great day. But her daughter, who had a
few months before become the wife of Lord Cavendish, was presented to
the royal pair by his mother the Countess of Devonshire. A letter is
still extant in which the young lady described with great vivacity
the roar of the populace, the blaze in the streets, the throng in the
presence chamber, the beauty of Mary, and the expression which ennobled
and softened the harsh features of William. But the most interesting
passage is that in which the orphan girl avowed the stern delight with
which she had witnessed the tardy punishment of her father's murderer.
[1]

The example of London was followed by the provincial towns. During three
weeks the Gazettes were filled with accounts of the solemnities by which
the public joy manifested itself, cavalcades of g