On the afternoon of Monday, the 22nd of August, there occurred the world-famous act of setting up the King's standard at Nottingham. After dinner, he with his company rode into the town from Leicester Abbey. The standard was taken out of the castle and carried into a field behind the castle wall. It resembled one of the city streamers used at the Lord Mayor's show; it had about twenty supporters; on its top hung a flag with the royal arms quartered, and a hand pointing to the crown, with the motto, "Give Cæsar his due." It was conducted to the field in great state by the King, Prince Rupert, and divers Lords. A proclamation respecting the war had been prepared, which his Majesty read over, and, seeming to dislike some expressions, called for pen and ink, and with his own hand crossed out or altered them; after which, when the paper was read, the multitude threw up their hats and cried, "God save the King." It was now late in the month of August, the days were closing in, and the evening shadows fell on the King and his staff as they engaged in this act which finally plunged England into a civil war. A violent storm of wind arose and blew down the standard, almost as soon as it was unfurled.[308] As the cavaliers, in the dim twilight, wheeled off from the spot, did not their hearts beat with a sense of something very awful done that night? [Sidenote: 1642, August.] As from one end of England to the other rumours of war were current, pious men betook themselves to the exercises of devotion; and the two Houses of Parliament, on hearing that the standard had been set up at Nottingham, published an ordinance for observing, with more than usual humiliation, the monthly fast, the services of which were to last from _nine in the morning till four in the afternoon_. At the same period, a religious service in London, known as "the Morning Exercise," was commenced, in connection with which special intercessions were offered up on behalf of the Parliamentary forces.[309] But whilst peaceable Puritans were praying, their armed brethren were marching through the country. In the State Paper Office there are letters, probably intercepted ones, written by a Roundhead soldier named Wharton, reporting to a friend the adventures of the regiment to which he belonged. They are so curious and interesting, and throw such light on the feelings of a religious nature which existed in the hearts of the Parliament soldiers, that we cannot forbear making use of them largely in this part of our narrative. [Sidenote: _Troops on the March._]