elsy and ballad-singing of the streets, all
rigorously pulled down. But whatever the worthy Turkey merchant and his
household could do in the way of carrying Arabella about to suppers,
christenings, country gatherings, and so forth, was cheerfully and
courteously done. Sir Fortunatus maintained a coach (for he was one of
the richest merchants in the City of London), and in this conveyance
Arabella was ofttimes taken to drive in Hyde Park, or towards the
Uxbridge Road. 'Twas on one of these occasions that she first saw the
Protector, who likewise was in his coach, drawn by eight Holstein mares,
and attended by a troop of Horse, very gallantly appointed, with scarlet
livery coats, bright gorgets and back-pieces, and red plumes in their
hats.

"He is very like, very like," she murmured, looking long and earnestly
at the grand cavalcade.

"Like unto Whom, my dear?" asked Mrs. Nancy Geddings, the youngest
daughter of Sir Fortunatus, who was her companion in the coach that day.

"Very like unto him who is at Home in the West yonder," she made answer.
"Now take me back to Ludgate, Nancy sweet, for I am Sick."

She was to be humoured in everything, and she was taken back as she
desired. It chanced, a few days after this, that word came that his
Highness the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England (for to such
State had Oliver grown) designed to visit the City, to dine with the
citizens at Guildhall. There was to be a great Pageant. He was to be met
at Temple Bar by the Mayor and Aldermen, and to be escorted towards
Cheapside by those city Trainbands which had done such execution on the
Parliament side during the wars, and by the Companies with their Livery
banners. Foreign Ambassadors were to bear him company; for Oliver was
then at the height of his power, and had made the name of England
dreaded, and even his own prowess respected, by all nations that were
beyond sea. He was to hear a sermon at Bow Church at noon, and at two
o'clock--for the preacher was to be Mr. Hugh Peters, who always gave his
congregation a double turn of the hour-glass--he was to dine at the
Guildhall, where I know not how many geese, bustards, capons, pheasants,
ruffs and reeves, sirloins, shoulders of veal, pasties, sweet puddings,
jellies, and custards, with good store of Rhenish and Buckrack and
Canary, and Bordelais and Gascoin wines, were provided to furnish a
banquet worthy of the day. For although the Protectorate was a stern sad
period