The ninth of November brought with it the accustomed features of that date, including the presentation of the new Lord Mayor by the Recorder at the Law Courts in the inevitable speech, replete with pompous stereotype. The Chief Justice took occasion to comment on the increasing signs of popular unrest, and various other indications of the times, which made it of paramount importance that the chief magistrate of the City of London should possess very special qualifications for his ancient and important office. His lordship added that so far as his Majesty’s judges were concerned, the country might be well assured that the fabric of social safety would be resolutely maintained, depending as it did on the vindication of justice and the punishment of evil-doers. With that significant allusion to what every one was thinking of, the civic party was dismissed. The puerile pageant, traditionally associated with the occasion, once more appealed to the contempt of gods and men, and the Lord Mayor’s show, having wound its way home through the miry and melancholy streets, was lost to sight in the foggy City. At the mayoral banquet in the evening, the First Lord of the Treasury made his eagerly expected speech, which, however, contained nothing that had been expected on the burning subject of the hour. The right honourable gentleman was an oratorical acrobat of no mean talent. He winged his flight from trapeze to trapeze with marvellous agility, turned oratorical somersaults at unexpected moments, and came down on his feet whenever it was expected he would arrive on his hands. The whole performance was extremely dexterous and carefully non-committal. When the Prime Minister sat down, of course there were thunders of applause. Criticism of such speeches comes on the following day. Less cautious, but also well applauded, were the utterances of my Lord Mayor. Inspired with the ambitions of the new broom, and encouraged by the counsel of the Chief Justice delivered earlier in the day, the unfortunate gentleman made a doughty onslaught on the Leaguers, and hinted at drastic action if any of them came before him in the justice room. With a sense of having risen to the occasion, the chief magistrate retired late to his couch, fully confident that he had struck the right note. But next day, when rising from his bed with a slight headache and other symptoms of discomfort, his lordship speedily discovered that there was something wrong without, as well as within. From an early hour small groups of men were observed in the neighbourhood of the Mansion House, whose gestures and looks indicated no friendly feeling towards its official resident.