To quote again from Mr. G. W. Steevens, who witnessed the Procession from St. Paul's:--"The eye was filled with splendour, but fresh splendour came crowding in on it. The advancing pageant shifted and loosened and came up in opener order. But as the mass of colour became less massive, it became more wonderfully coloured. Here, riding three and three, came a kaleidoscope of dazzling horsemen--equerries and aides-de-camp and attachés, ambassadors and Princes, all the pomp of all the nations of the earth. Scarlet and gold, azure and gold, purple and gold, emerald and gold, white and gold--always a changing tumult of colours that seemed to list and gleam with a light of their own, and always blinding gold. It was enough. No eye could bear more gorgeousness; no more gorgeousness could be, unless princes are to clothe themselves in rainbows and the very sun. The prelude was played, and now the great moment was at hand. Already the carriages were rolling up full of the Queen's kindred, full of her children and children's children. But we hardly looked at them. Down there, through an avenue of eager faces, through a storm of white waving handkerchiefs, through roaring volleys of cheers, there was approaching a carriage drawn by eight cream-coloured horses. The roar surged up the street, keeping pace with the eight horses. The carriage passed the barrier; it entered the churchyard; it wheeled left and then right; it drew up at the very steps of the Cathedral; we all leaped up; cheers broke into screams, and enthusiasm swelled to delirium; the sun, watery till now, shone out suddenly clear and dry, and there--and there-- "And there was a little, quiet, flushed old lady. All in black,[K] a silver streak under the black bonnet, a simple white sunshade, sitting quite still, with the corners of her mouth drawn tight, as if she were trying not to cry. But that old lady was the Queen, and you knew it. You didn't want to look at the glittering uniforms now, nor yet at the bright gowns and the young faces in the carriages, nor yet at the stately princes--though by now all these were ranged in a half circle round her. You couldn't look at anybody but the Queen. So very quiet, so very grave, so very punctual, so unmistakably and every inch a lady and a Queen. Almost pathetic, if you will, that small black figure in the middle of these shining cavaliers, this great army, this roaring multitude; but also very glorious. When the other kings of the world drive abroad, the escort rides close in at the wheels of the carriage; the Queen drove through her people quite plain and open, with just one soldier at the kerbstone between her and them." [Illustration: _From a Photograph_} {_by Symmons & Co., Chancery Lane._ THE ROYAL PROCESSION: THE "DEATH-OR-GLORY BOYS" (17th LANCERS) IN PALL MALL.]