ception. His
expectations were not disappointed.

The inhabitants of the upper, as well as the lower classes, vied with
each other in testifying their affection for his person, and their zeal
for his cause. While the latter rent the air with applauses and
acclamations, the former opened their houses to him and to his followers,
and furnished his army with necessaries and supplies of every kind. His
way was strewed with flowers; the windows were thronged with spectators,
all anxious to participate in what the warm feelings of the moment made
them deem a triumph. Husbands pointed out to their wives, mothers to
their children, the brave and lovely hero who was destined to be the
deliverer of his country. The beautiful lines which Dryden makes
Achitophel, in his highest strain of flattery, apply to this unfortunate
nobleman, were in this instance literally verified:

"Thee, saviour, thee, the nation's vows confess,
And, never satisfied with seeing, bless.
Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim,
And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name."

In the midst of these joyous scenes twenty-six young maids, of the best
families in the town, presented him in the name of their townsmen with
colours wrought by them for the purpose, and with a Bible; upon receiving
which he said that he had taken the field with a design to defend the
truth contained in that Book, and to seal it with his blood if there was
occasion.

In such circumstances it is no wonder that his army increased; and,
indeed, exclusive of individual recruits, he was here strengthened by the
arrival of Colonel Bassett with a considerable corps. But in the midst
of these prosperous circumstances, some of them of such apparent
importance to the success of his enterprise, all of them highly
flattering to his feelings, he did not fail to observe that one
favourable symptom (and that too of the most decisive nature) was still
wanting. None of the considerable families, not a single nobleman, and
scarcely any gentleman of rank and consequence in the counties through
which he had passed, had declared in his favour. Popular applause is
undoubtedly sweet; and not only so, it often furnishes most powerful
means to the genius that knows how to make use of them. But Monmouth
well knew that without the countenance and assistance of a proportion, at
least, of the higher ranks in the country, there was, for an undertaking
like his, little prospect of su