The Argosy — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

58 Three Glimpses at Royalty. hangings, statues, illuminations, prepared through the four miles of streets from station to palace? What of the millions of spectators? What of the procession ? Later on in the morning, thanks to a courteous citizen, we had standing-room in a corner house looking into Oxford Street. As far as eye could reach, there was a mass of human beings packed closely as a swarm of bees just settled. As the flakes of snow diminished in number and size, the scene grew eminently picturesque, and the white spots on their many-coloured ground rather embellished than disfigured it. As the decorations of the line of route were tolerably uniform, what we saw was a fair specimen of the.whole festive four miles. Temporary balconies were erected on almost every house. These were covered with crimson cloth, and adorned with crests and monograms, mostly in the Russian colours of black and yellow—the initials M A prevailing. The bal- conies were filled with ladies, many wearing complimentary yellow bows, some with handkerchiefs over the “ best bonnets,” all in brave good-humour, despite the snow; remembering, doubtless, that thou- sands of their sex, less favoured, were ankle deep in slush close by. Hot-house flowers, statues, banners, furs, mottoes of ‘* Welcome” and good wishes, and crystal preparations for the illumination, adorned the facades. Every available ledge, window, and balcony, covered or uncovered, was full of eager gazers, even to the house-roofs. Now a movement in the crowd without, gives notice of the approach of something new, and our patience is sustained by the appearance of two officers on horseback and some soldiers. We are told that the one with the waving white plume is Prince Arthur. They disappear quickly. The question arises for the hundredth time of—“ Will the Queen come? Will the carriages be closed?” There is a general laugh outside: aman has picked up a chignon encased in a net, and is holding it aloft for inspection. “Here they are! Here they are!” arises in the midst of it, and the band strikes up at last, ‘‘God save the Queen.” On come the soldiers! A troop of dragoons, with helmets bur- nished and uniforms and saddle-cloths sprinkled with snow, file down the street. More soldiers, and more, for a quarter of a mile at least, and then the nodding plumes of England’s picked men the Life Guards! What a glorious show they make! _Down go the umbrellas, up go the hats, out wave the handkerchiefs. An open carriage appears—filled with gentlemen who look Russian: another and another, all open. The crowds rejoice and shout. Five carriages succeed one another slowly, in the occupants of which the people are scarcely interested ; but when the first horse of the sixth appears, a cry of “‘Here she is! The Queen ! the Queen!” testifies to the loyalty of London, Six horses with crimson-tasselled housings draw the royal carriage, Gomichbooks.co m i i i EE EE".