Pole attended high mass at the cathedral, and the populace clad in holiday attire, flocked thither to receive his blessing. One circumstance occurred which was regarded as a most favourable omen. For more than a week strong adverse winds had prevailed in the Channel, but a favourable change suddenly took place, promising a swift and pleasant passage to the Cardinal. A royal vessel awaited him, in which he embarked with his train, and escorted by six men-of-war, well armed, and under the command of the Lord High Admiral, he sailed on a bright sunny day for England, and, impelled by a fresh wind, arrived in a few hours at Dover. A royal salute was fired from the guns of the castle as the Cardinal landed, and he was received by his nephew, Lord Montague, son of his elder brother, who had been put to death by Henry VIII. With Lord Montague were several other noblemen and gentlemen, amongst whom were the mayor and the town authorities, and besides these there was a vast miscellaneous concourse. No sooner did the Cardinal set foot on the mole, closely followed by his other nephew, Sir Edward Hastings, and Lord Priuli, than the whole assemblage prostrated themselves before him. Spreading his arms over them, Pole gave them his solemn benediction. All eyes were fixed on the venerable and majestic figure before them—all ears were strained to catch his words. The noble cast of the Cardinal’s countenance, proclaiming his royal descent—his reverend air, increased by the long grey beard that descended to his waist—the benignity and sweetness of his looks—the stateliness of his deportment—all produced an indescribable effect on the spectators. Lofty of stature, and spare of person—the result of frequent fastings—Pole, notwithstanding the ailments under which he laboured, carried himself erect, and ever maintained a most dignified deportment. To complete the picture we desire to present, it may be necessary to say that his garments were those proper to his eminent ecclesiastical rank, namely, a scarlet soutane, rochet, and short purple mantle. His silk gloves and hose were scarlet in hue, and from his broad red hat depended on either side long cords, terminating in tassels of two knots each. These garments became him well, and heightened the imposing effect of his presence. Behind him stood his friend, Lord Priuli, who was nearly of his own age, though he looked full ten years younger, and appeared scarcely past the prime of life. The noble Venetian had a countenance which Titian would have delighted to paint, so handsome was it, so grave and full of thought. Priuli was attired in black taffetas, over which he wore a long silk gown of the same colour, and had a black skull-cap on his head.