So he did go as conqueror and king; there being most easy march to London; the political scene changing like the turn of a kaleidoscope; but there came fighting in Ireland, as at Londonderry and the battle of the Boyne; and a brooding unrest in Scotland, of which, whenever you come to read or study, you should mate your reading with that charming story of _Old Mortality_--one of the best of Scott’s. Its scene reaches over from the days of Charles II. to the early years of the Dutch King William, and sets before one more vividly than any history all those elements of unrest with which the new sovereign had to contend on his northern borders--the crazy fanaticism of fierce Cameronians--the sturdy, cantankerous zeal of Presbyterians--the workings of the old, hot, obstinate leaven of Prelacy, and the romantic, lingering loyalty to a Stuart king. But William ended by having all his kingdom well in hand, and all his household too. There was strong affection between William and Mary; he relishing her discretion, her reserves, and her culture; and she loving enough to forget the harsh gauntleted hand which he put upon those who were nearest and dearest to him. He was more military than diplomatic, and I think believed in no Scripture more devoutly than in that which sets forth the mandate, “Wives, obey your husbands.” The King was not a strong man physically, though a capital soldier; he was short, awkward, halting in movement, appearing best in the saddle and with battle flaming in his front; he had asthma, too, fearfully; was irritable--full of coughs and colds--building a new palace upon the flank of Hampton Court, to get outside of London smoke and fogs; setting out trees there, and digging ponds in Dutch style, which you may see now; building Kensington, too, which was then out of town, and planting and digging there--of which you may see results over the mouldy brick wall that still hems in that old abode of royalty. He carried his asthma, and dyspepsia, and smoking Dutch dragoons to both places. People thought surely that the Queen, so well made and blessed with wonderful appetite, would outlive him, and so give to the history of England a Mary II.; but she did not. An attack of small-pox, not combated in those days by vaccination, or even inoculation, carried her off on a short illness. He grieved, as people thought so stern a master could not grieve; but rallied and built to the Queen’s memory that most magnificent of monuments, Greenwich Hospital, which shows its domes and its royal façade stretching along the river bank, to the myriad of strangers who every year sail up or down the Thames.