On the 17th of the month, Atterbury received company in the Tower for the last time. During the whole day there was no cessation of arrivals of friends of all degrees who came to bid a last and long farewell. On the following morning, Tuesday, June 18th, which was fixed for the bishop’s departure, every avenue to the Tower was closed. The authorities were in fear of a riotous demonstration. The vicinity was densely crowded. The river was covered with boats. As Atterbury passed the window where his old acquaintance, Dr. Freind, sat (under arrest in the old matter of the Plot), the two were allowed to converse together for a quarter of an hour. In a sedan chair, preceded by the deputy-governor, and surrounded by warders, the bishop was conveyed to the King’s Stairs. ‘He was not in a lay habit, as it was reported he would be,’ says one paper, in censuring mood. ‘He was in a lay habit, a suit of grey cloth,’ says another journal. A third confirms the second, but generally adds: ‘He was waited on by two footmen, _more episcoporum_, in purple liveries.’ Some of the spectators boasted of the sums that had been raised for him. One sympathising lady had subscribed 1000_l._, and the total was said to reach six times that amount. He had many a tender greeting from sympathising women as he passed. One of the fair enthusiasts went up to his chair and kissed his hand. She manifested a world of affectionate tenacity, and the ex-prelate was only just in time to discover that the pretty, tearful _Jenny Diver_ had quietly drawn a valuable ring off his finger, with her lips. The ring was saved, but Atterbury consigned her to the mob who, as the papers remark, followed the usual custom, on such occasions. They ducked her in the river. Forgiveness would have been a more appropriate act on the prelate’s part. [Sidenote: _ATTERBURY ON THE THAMES._]