both grievous and oppressive to the people of Hanover. In consequence of this, on the twentyninth of September, the King, as Elector of Hanover, found it necessary to issue a proclamation, ordering the whole of them to be removed; adding also, as a reason, that he, as elector, had declared his acquiescence in the treaty concluded at Basle in the preceding April, between the King of Prussia and the French government.

On the twenty-ninth of October, whilst proceeding to open the parliamentary session, and surrounded by a most ferocious mob, who manifested a truly jacobinical spirit, a pebble was either thrown at, or discharged into his coach; but the King, without any apparent alarm, displayed a calmness and selfpossession highly honourable to his character, both as a man and a monarch and even in his conduct during the subsequent investigations, he fully exhibited a generosity of feeling, and an unwillingness to go beyond the limits of prerogative or the constitution, which fully justified an observation already noted, that His Majesty would live on bread and water to preserve the constitution of this country, and would sacrifice his life to maintain it inviolate.

The whole occurrences of that day, indeed, deserve a minute detail, we shall therefore observe, that although there was no apparent reason for pre vious alarm, yet early in the day the Mall and Paradé

of St. James's Park and Parliament Street were completely choked up with spectators. It was remarked that the crowd was by no means so great at the coronation; and, to see the King go to the house, there never had been more than a tenth of those assembled this day, computed to amount at least to two hundred thousand!

Several noblemen and cabinet ministers passed through the Park, from Buckingham House, about two o'clock. The Duke of Gloucester, Duke of Portland, Earl of Chatham, and many others, were very much hissed and hooted.

About twenty minutes afterwards the King also left Buckingham House, and was violently hissed and hooted, and groaned at the whole way; but no violence was offered until he arrived near St. Margaret's Church, when a small pebble, or marble, was thrown, and broke one of the windows. This was picked up by the King himself, who very calmly presented it to one of the noblemen in the coach, saying, "Keep this, as a mark of the civilities we have met with to-day!"

In returning, the moment His Majesty entered the Park the gates of the Horse Guards were shut, for the purpose of excluding the mob who followed the carriage; at which, as it passed Spring Garden Terrace, another stone was thrown: but it fortunately struck the wood-work between the windows,

The crowd now pressed closely round the coach;

and the King was observed, by waving his hands to the Horse Guards on each side, to signify a wish that the multitude should be kept at a distance. In this way he passed on through the Park, and round by the Stable-Yard into St. James's Palace, at the front gate at the bottom of St. James's Street. A considerable tumult took place when His Majesty was about to alight; and one of the horses in the state coach was so alarmed as to plunge and kick, throwing down one of the grooms, with some dangerous fractures. A few minutes after the King entered the palace, the mob attacked the state coach with stones, and did it much injury; and in its way from Pall Mall to the Mews, many missiles were thrown at it.

After a short period the King set off in his private coach from St. James's to the Queen's Palace; but on his way through the Park the mob surrounded the carriage, and prevented it from proceeding, crying out, "Bread! bread! peace! peace!" The Guards were however speedily brought up, and they accompanied the carriage until His Majesty got safe to Buckingham House.

Throughout the whole of this scene His Majesty displayed the greatest coolness and presence of mind. Even at the time when the glass of the coach was broken, he coolly said to Lord Westmoreland-" That's a shot." Yet, instead of leaning back in the carriage, or striving to avoid the

assassin, he pointed to the hole, and examined it. On his arrival, indeed, in the House of Peers, he seemed a little flurried; but merely said to the lord chancellor " My lord, I have been shot at."

This, indeed, was the only agitation he displayed; for with the most conscious integrity he required no guards when getting into his private carriage, but set off boldly in the midst of the wildest commotions of the multitude, when his person was certainly for a short time in the most imminent danger.

Three or four persons were taken up immediately, on suspicion of having thrown the stones; and one of them, Kyd Wake, was charged with having called out" No King," and such disloyal expressions; yet there was evidently no settled plan of insult in the great body of the people; and perhaps the commotion in the Park arose as much out of curiosity to see what was going on as from any sinister intention. But it is impossible to say to what lengths the mob might have been instigated, had not a military force arrived in sufficient time to repel the first insults.

The coachman afterwards declared, that he had never been so frightened in his life, as he was whilst the mob was pressing round the carriage. He was fearful of putting his horses into a gallop, as they were so full of spirit as to render him apprehensive that he should not be able to stop them;

and he was equally afraid of preserving his usual pace, lest he might expose his sovereign to still more serious dangers. The manner in which he stated his embarrassment, before the lords, displayed the most grateful zeal, and a most feeling heart. The following letter was written by the late Earl of Onslow, upon this occasion.

October 29, 1795, 12 at night.

"Before I sleep, let me bless God for the miraculous escape which my King, my country, and myself, have had this day. Soon after two o'clock, His Majesty, attended by the Earl of Westmoreland and myself, set out from St. James's in his state coach, to open the session of parliament. The multitude of people in the Park was prodigious. A sudden silence, I observed to myself, prevailed through the whole, very few individuals excepted. No hats, or at least very few, pulled off; little or no huzzaing, and frequently a cry of 'Give us bread ;' 'No war;' and once or twice No King,'-with hissing and groaning.. Nothing material, however, happened till we got down to the narrowest part of the street, called St. Margaret's, between the two Palace-yards, when the moment we had passed the Office of Ordnance, and were just opposite the parlor window of the house adjoining it, a small ball, either of lead or marble, passed through the window-glass on the King's right hand, and