the other, the Marquis of Winchester displays
the Cap of Maintenance, and beside him,
upon the extended arms of the Marquis of
Lansdowne, rest the cushion and the crown.

The sensation of beauty communicated
through the eye when it drinks in an endless
variety and exquisite groupings of colour, is
that which predominates, on viewing the scene
in the mass, from above. Below, two large
patches of spectators, arrayed in every tint and
texture of female attire, are fringed by the red
robes of the lay peers on the bottom benches,
and tapered off on one side by the lawn
sleeves of the bishops; while, in the Peeresses'
gallery, similar hues are repeated—from the
black silk of the mourner to the white satin of
the bride. On the right of the throne, in the
Ambassadors' box, is a more compact kaleidoscope
of colours. The red Fez cap of the
Turkish envoy, and the sky-blue uniform of
the Foreign Minister of one of the Northern
Courts, tell out conspicuously from the rest.
Opposite, on the left of the throne, a group
of Life-Guards and Gentlemen-at-Arms make
a gorgeous display of scarlet and gold. The
Judges of the land, packed together on the
woolsack under their powdered wigs, look like
a blooming bed of cauliflowers.

The almost painful silence of this gorgeous
still-life is suddenly and rudely broken by
disorderly sounds, like those which follow
the opening of the pit door of a theatre, or
which precede the battering in of a house at
a riot. The Speaker of the House of
Commons, answers the summons of his liege lady
the Queen, as if he were a schoolmaster with
a mob of unmannerly boys at his heels; and is
propelled to the bar of the House with the
frantic fear of being knocked down and
trampled upon by the rush of M.P.'s. A transient
cloud passes over the Royal countenance;
but it is rapidly succeeded by a prolonged
smile at the ludicrous efforts of a couple of
hundred of her eager Commons to squeeze
themselves into a space only ample enough for
a hundred. The account of a sufferer in the
scramble is amusing:—"I happened," said Mr.
Joseph Hume, in his place in Parliament
on the following evening, "to be the twenty-
fifth from the Speaker; but both sides of the
bar were so filled, that I neither saw the
Queen, nor heard her voice. I was knocked
against a corner; my head was knocked
against a post, and I might have been much
injured, if a stout member, to whom I felt
much obliged, had not come to my assistance.
(Hear, hear, and laughter). It was no laughing
matter." Mr. Hume recollected, moreover,
that on a similar occasion, the coat of a member
of the House who now fills a high office
abroad, had been torn, and that his shoulder
was dislocated.

Before the hubbub at the bar has quite
subsided, the Lord Chancellor, kneeling on a step
of the throne, presents to the Queen the
manuscript of the speech. Its appearance is that of
a piece of music, so unskilfully stitched with
ribbon to a cover, that the royal reader is
more than once interrupted by a difficulty in
turning over the leaves. At the words, "My
Lords and Gentlemen," increased efforts are
made at the bar towards silence. The Queen
pauses for an instant; but when she resumes,
not a sound is heard but her voice.

In her clear, fresh, distinct tones, Queen
Victoria expresses her satisfaction at again
meeting her Parliament. She continues to
maintain relations of peace and amity with
Foreign Powers. She is much gratified that
the German Confederation and the Government
of Denmark are putting an end to
hostilities which threatened the Peace of
Europe, and that the Government of Brazil
has taken new and efficient measures, to
abolish the "atrocious" traffic in slaves. The
"Gentlemen of the House of Commons" are
assured, as usual, that the Estimates of the
coming year have been framed with a due
regard to economy, and to the necessities of
the public service. "My Lords and Gentlemen"
are again addressed in terms of
satisfaction at the prosperity of the country,
with the exception of the owners and occupiers
of land; but a hope is expressed that
the prosperous condition of all other classes
will eventually diminish even their difficulties.

Here there is a short pause. And the
following sentences are read with a slight
elevation of tone:—

"The recent assumption of certain ecclesiastical
titles conferred by a foreign power, has excited
strong feelings in this country, and large bodies
of my subjects have presented addresses to me,
expressing attachment to the Throne, and praying
that such assumptions should be resisted. I have
assured them of my resolution to maintain the
rights of my Crown, and the independence
of the nation, against all encroachment, from
whatever quarter it may proceed. I have, at the
same time, expressed my earnest and firm
determination, under God's blessing, to maintain
unimpaired, the religious liberty which is so justly
prized by the people of this country."

After announcing measures for the better
administration of justice, and for the registry
of deeds, the peroration closes the political
brief. The cover is folded over; and the
manuscript handed to the Lord Chancellor.

The elocution of the speech was perfect.
Nature has combined in Queen Victoria's
voice, sweetness, youthfulness, and fulness;
and Art has taught her to deliver it with
exceeding purity of tone, and without the
smallest effort. Every syllable, therefore,
entered every sound pair of ears in the House;
except those placed, unhappily like Mr.
Joseph Hume, more than twenty-five removes
from the Speaker—not of the speech—but of
the House of Commons.

The music of the last words has scarcely
passed into silence before the Queen rises, and
bows to the spectators; who, also, rise is a body.
Prince Albert hands her from the throne, and
the short procession retires into the Prince's