The revived popularity of the Throne in England may be dated, I believe, from that period. The Queen's long withdrawal from the public eye, consequent upon her widowhood, had led the multitude, ignorant of the manner in which she devoted herself to the heavy duties of her position, to regard her as being little more than a figurehead. Certain politicians, in the autumn of 1871, had taken advantage of this state of feeling to begin a crusade against the monarchy, and a section of the extreme Radicals really seemed to believe that the glorious Throne of England was about to be overthrown. But the sharp touch of personal sorrow changed all this, and revealed to the English people their true sentiments towards the Queen and her family. The grief, universally felt when it was believed that we were about to lose the heir to the Crown, and the affectionate sympathy with which his slow recovery was followed, convinced us all, as they convinced the outside world, that the bonds between the English Throne and the English people were far closer and stronger than most persons had imagined. The trumpery campaign against the monarchy died in a single night, and from that day to this the mutual love and trust of monarch and people have gone on steadily increasing. The announcement that the Queen proposed to attend St. Paul's Cathedral in state to return thanks for the recovery of her eldest son touched the heart of the nation afresh, and evoked the first great popular demonstration of loyalty that had been witnessed since the early days of the reign. I was present in the Cathedral at that solemn and stately service on the 27th February, 1872, the precursor of the still more stately service held at Westminster on the 21st June, 1887. Except on the occasion of the Jubilee of the last-mentioned year, and of that of 1897, London has never witnessed a more remarkable outburst of loyal enthusiasm. At night the whole town was illuminated, St. Paul's Cathedral being lighted up after the fashion of St. Peter's at Rome on Easter Day. The crowds which filled the streets were enormous, and as the London police had not then acquired the art of marshalling vast multitudes, there was terrible crushing, and several lives were lost. Three persons were suffocated at Temple Bar, which was already marked for removal. I myself had the narrowest escape from death on Ludgate Hill, where the multitude was packed in one dense, immovable mass for hours. The people in the houses on the hill passed down water in buckets to the fainting crowd, and now and then some woman or child was positively hauled out of it by ropes, and thus placed in safety. It was not a sight that could ever be forgotten, and it impressed forcibly upon one's mind the strength of the hold which the monarch has upon the hearts of the people of this country.