Among the advertisements which offered places to spectators along the whole line, from Greenwich to St. James’s, there was one which announced that ‘several senior gentlemen, with their own gray hairs,’ had resolved to ride before the king ‘in white camblet cloaks, on white horses.’ They advertised for volunteers, old and gray enough, who were assured that they ‘would be led up in the procession by persons of eminence and figure.’ It was subsequently reported that these ‘senior gentlemen, in their own gray hairs,’ applied too late to the Earl Marshal to have a place appointed for them in the procession, but that they would have seats in a gallery of their own at the east end of St. Paul’s. They would be presented, it was said, with lovely nosegays, to revive their spirits and refresh their memories, ‘which will be a fine orange stuck round with laurel――the former to put them in mind of the happy Revolution; the latter, of the glorious victories gained under the Duke of Marlborough in the late wars.’ The above is a specimen of the mild political wit of the day. Curious eyes looked at the gallery at the east end of St. Paul’s. They saw nothing of the seniors and their emblems, but others swore they were there, nevertheless, or why was the heroic Marlborough factiously hissed as he passed? At other points, the Church and King party had their revenge. The king and prince in their state coach might have been excused for wearing an air of surprise at the unusual huzzaing and clapping of hands of the gentlemen, and the ecstacy of the ladies in the balconies of the Three Tuns and Rummer tavern in the City. The applause was not for Great Brunswick but for the Earl of Sutherland. The people in the balcony remembered that in King William’s days, Lord Sutherland had been insulted in that very tavern. He had drunk King William’s health on his birthday, and the Jacobites present flourished their swords and vapoured about the Earl as if they would slay him and all Protestantism with him. [Sidenote: _THE ROYAL ENTRY._] The stately line――and it was a right pompous affair――was a little cumbrous, but it was well kept together, from the kettle-drums and trumpeters, followed by hosts of officials, troops, coaches, &c., to the dragoons who snatched a drink from the people, as they brought up the rear. Perhaps the road about the east end of Pall Mall was the most joyous; for there the balconies and galleries were filled with people who had something to satisfy besides curiosity or loyalty, and who had been attracted thither by the promise that all the fronts of the balconies and galleries should have ‘broad flat tops large enough to hold plates and bottles.’ The spectators there were primed to any pitch of loyalty as his Majesty passed. [Sidenote: _THE PLAYERS’ HOMAGE._]