At nightfall, an inhabitant of London who had known it in more prosaic times might well have been pardoned for thinking the whole Nation were mad and had turned the Metropolis into Bedlam. Vast armies of excited people invaded the streets and, in spite of the fatigues that must have been endured, comported themselves most admirably. There was little prospect of their getting home. But no one cared. Why should they? They had come to see the Jubilee, some of them from the uttermost ends of the earth, and see the Jubilee they would, though they spent the night in the streets--and thousands of them did so spend the night. Some possibly had been unable to secure sleeping accommodation, others evidently thought it scarcely worth while to return to distant suburbs when it would be necessary for them to be up and doing early the next morning. As the short night broke into day clusters of people were seen grouped round the base of the Arch, on Constitution Hill, at Hyde Park Corner, and in Trafalgar Square. Hundreds took their stand on the kerb all along the route, and waited patiently. If they had but known it these loyal souls might have saved themselves so much trouble--for if there was one thing about Jubilee Day more remarkable than another, it was the complete absence of undue crowding in the streets. Those who strolled down to Piccadilly, St. James's Street, Fleet Street, or the Strand two or three hours before the Procession started, were as well able to witness the most impressive pageant that London has ever seen as those whose eagerness led them to take up their positions four or five hours earlier. The route was long, and the spectators, except at points of convergence like Hyde Park Corner and Ludgate Circus, well distributed throughout its entire length, while many hundreds of thousands were accommodated in the houses; but this only partially explains the complete immunity from uncomfortable crushing enjoyed by those who lined the streets. The fact is, that a very large number of Londoners fearing the crowd, and apprehensive perhaps of extreme fatigue and even of actual danger, migrated from the Metropolis and spent the day in the country or at the seaside. It is beyond doubt, moreover, that London crowds grow more orderly and manageable year by year. [Illustration: MORNING ON THE LINE OF ROUTE. These two illustrations are copies of actual photographs taken for this volume in the early morning of the great day. The upper one represents the steps beneath the Duke of York's Column in Waterloo Place, and was taken at half-past five. The other is the fountain near St. Mary-le-Strand Church at six o'clock. A policeman with his horse is already stationed in the roadway beyond the fountain, and many spectators have taken their places for the day.] [Illustration: _From a Photograph_} {_by York & Son, Notting Hill._ THE COLONIAL PROCESSION: ARRIVAL OF THE CANADIAN PREMIER (THE HON. WILFRID LAURIER) AT HYDE PARK CORNER.