One can imagine how the country folk from far and wide came flocking to the capes and headlands of the Devon shore, straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of the coming ships. Some, we learn from the same diarist, thought the fleet was French, “because they saw divers white flags, but the standard of the Prince, the motto of which was ‘For the Protestant religion and liberty,’ soon undeceived them.” Then the fleet entered Torbay, and coming off Brixham, the Prince’s barge was lowered, and he was rowed ashore amid scenes of enthusiasm and the sound of cannon; for we are told, “the Admiral of Rotterdam gave divers guns at his landing.” The Prince, his guards, and sundry lords were speedily ashore and received a warm welcome. It would appear, however, to be a mere legendary story which tells us that he stopped the weigh of his barge when still some distance from the shore, and called out to the people who stood waiting on the quay, “If I am welcome, come and carry me to land,” and that thereupon a little man plunged into the water and carried William on his back; at any rate, it finds no place in the authority we have quoted, who appears to have been a keen and accurate observer, unlikely to omit an incident of such importance. [Illustration: BRIXHAM] We can gather from this writer a very vivid picture of the scene. The people came running out of their houses to welcome the Deliverer.... And then the Prince, with Marshal Schomberg, and many lords, knights, and gentlemen, marched through the narrow streets up the hillside, whilst those aboard the fleet in the Bay could watch the progress of the procession by means of the flags and banners waving above the house-tops; whilst cheers, music and huzzas floated down and across the water to the ships at anchor. A vivid touch which places before one like a picture the conflicting interests, sympathies, and forces of those troublous times is afforded by a description in which the Catholic as against the Protestant attitude is exemplified. The causes of the rejoicings at Protestant Brixham were construed quite differently by a priest in the house of Mr Carey (probably the owner or a relative of the owner of Cockington) near Torquay, for we are told “This priest going to recreate himself upon the leads, it being a delightsome day, as he was walking there, he happened to cast his eye upon the sea, and espying the fleet at a distance, withal being purblind in his eyes, as well as blinded by Satan in his mind, he presently concludes that ’twas the French navy come to land the sons of Belial which should cut off the children of God.” Naturally transported by joy and excitement he descended from his point of vantage to tell the occupants of the house, who, being Catholics, had doubtless been “parlously low in their spirits since the flight of the King; and now rejoiced greatly with him.” These unfortunate people seem to have celebrated the (as they supposed) happy event by merry-making, and also