One point of the history, in itself apparently insignificant, was at the time invested with such extravagant importance, as to suggest a question in its regard, namely the day itself whereon the marvellous deliverance took place. A curious combination of circumstances alone assigned it to the notorious Fifth of November. Parliament, as we have seen, was originally appointed to meet on the 3rd of October, but was suddenly adjourned for about a month, and so little reason did there seem to be for the prorogation[452] as to fill the conspirators with alarm lest some suspicion of their design had prompted it; wherefore they sent Thomas Winter to attend the prorogation ceremony, and observe the demeanour of those who took part in it. Afterwards, though the discovery might have easily been made any time during the preceding week, nothing practical was done till the fateful day itself had actually begun, when, as the acute Lingard has not failed to observe, a remarkable change at once came over the conduct of the authorities, who discarding the aimless and dilatory manner of proceeding which had hitherto characterized them, went straight to the point with a promptitude and directness leaving nothing to be desired. Whatever were their motive in all this, the action of the government undoubtedly brought it about that the great blow should be struck on a day which not a little enhanced the evidence for the providential character of the whole affair. Tuesday was King James' lucky day, more especially when it happened to be the 5th of the month, for on Tuesday, August the 5th, 1600, he had escaped the mysterious treason of the Gowries. This coincidence evidently created a profound impression. "Curious folks observe," wrote Chamberlain to Carleton,[453] "that this deliverance happened on the fifth of November, answerable to the fifth of August, both Tuesdays; and this plot to be executed by Johnson [the assumed name of Faukes], and that at Johnstown [_i.e._, Perth]." On the 27th of November, Lake suggested to the Archbishop of Canterbury,[454] that as a perpetual memorial of this so providential circumstance, the anniversary sermon should always be delivered upon a Tuesday. Two days later, the Archbishop wrote to his suffragans,[455] reminding them how on a Tuesday his majesty had escaped the Gowries, and now, on another Tuesday, a peril still more terrible, which must have ruined the whole nation, had not the Holy Ghost illumined the king's heart with a divine spirit. In remembrance of which singular instance of God's governance, there was to be an annual celebration.[456]