h lances and pennons,
mounted on chargers. One of these "wouldn't go," and had to be dragged
on ignominiously by a policeman. Then the Epping Forest rangers came.
They were picturesquely dressed in green velvet coats, broad-brimmed
hats and long feathers. After these, trumpeters, under-sheriffs in
their state carriages, aldermen, the Recorder, more trumpeters, and
then a most gorgeous coach--with hammer-cloth of red and gold, men in
liveries too splendid to describe, and four fine horses--brings the
late lord mayor. The mounted band of household cavalry follows. These
really look splendid in crimson coats covered with gold embroidery and
velvet caps, riding handsome white horses.

There is a stoppage just as they come up. They are rapturously greeted
by the crowd, and requested to "play up." The mayor's servants, in
state liveries, follow on foot. After them rides a very important
person, the city marshal, on horseback. The city trumpeters come now,
preceding the right honorable the lord mayor's most gorgeous gilt
coach, drawn by six horses. In it sits Sir Thomas White, supported by
his chaplain, and attended by his sword-bearer and the common crier.
An escort of the 21st Hussars brings up the rear. Policemen follow,
and after them a stray mail-cart, a butcher's boy with his tray; after
that, not just the deluge, but the crowd.

"Oh, mamma!" says Willie, "the beefeaters didn't come! Nine of them
there are in my book, and a grand one going in front, blowing a
trumpet. And the man holding his thumb to his nose at the sheriffs;
and the policeman knocking a thief down with a staff! And the lord
mayor had no spectacles on. That's not fair! Do beefeaters eat lots of
beef, mamma?"

"Oh, no," says Charlie, with a superior air, "they are only sideboard
chaps."

Willie is still more puzzled, until he is told that in the olden time
servants so costumed used to stand by the sideboard, or buffet, as
it was called, at feasts, and so got the name of buffetiers, and by
degrees the name became changed into beefeaters, which was more easily
remembered by the people.

[Illustration: THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON'S SHOW.]

From our window we could not, of course, follow the procession on its
winding way, nor had we seen it start. On looking at the paper next
morning, we read that at first it was feared that the elephants had
failed to keep their appointment. It was almost time to set out, and
no elephants were to be seen. What must be d