did. Prynne, who was in the House, pointed all this out, and warned

them that Charles had been too long under the counsels of his mother, and too long in France and in Flanders--"the most Jesuited place in the world"--to be in religion anything better than a Papist; that at best he would be found only a Prelatist, and that his word had already been proved, on various occasions, of no more value than his father's. The Royalists, he said, would never cease instilling into him that the Presbyterian religion, now the religion of the nation, had destroyed his great-grandmother, tormented his grandfather, and put to death his father; and that as certain as there was a restoration, there would be a destruction of all the liberties of England, civil and religious. The pious Sir Matthew Hale urged on them the necessity of some better guarantee than this declaration of constitutional rights before they readmitted the king.

But all warning was lost on the House: the crisis was come, Parliament and nation seemed smitten with a sudden oblivion of their past miseries and oppressions under the Stuarts, and every branch of the community seemed impatient to be the first to put its neck once more under their yoke, and under the foot of the most debauched, unprincipled, and scandalous member which the family had ever seen. Instead of sending Grenville to the Tower, the Commons voted him thanks and a present of five hundred pounds. The Speaker, in communicating these votes to Grenville, launched into the most extravagant terms of joy on the prospect "of having their king again." The Commons drew up a most glowing letter to his Majesty, in which they declared their thankfulness to God for putting the thoughts of returning into the king's mind, "to make him glorious in the eyes of his people;" protesting that "the persons of their kings had always been dear unto Parliaments," and that they "could not bear to think of that horrid act committed against the precious life of their late king," and so forth. They not only delivered this letter to Sir John Grenville, but appointed twelve of their members to wait on his Majesty at the Hague. The London Corporation were as enthusiastic and as profuse of their proffered devotion; they presented Grenville with three hundred pounds, also appointed some of their members to wait on the king, made haste to erect the royal statue in Guildhall, and to pull down the arms of the Commonwealth.

Montague had long been prepared to go over to the king on the first opportunity; and lest he might seem to be sent by the Parliament, and not by his own voluntary act, he set sail for the coast of Holland, leaving Lawson to bring over the deputations going to his Majesty. He lay to at Scheveling, and sent word to the king that his fleet was at his command. The Duke of York, whom Charles had made admiral, went on board, and was received with all respect and submission. Soon after came up the other ships with six members of the Peers, twelve of the Commons, fourteen from the City of London, and eight or ten of the most popular ministers in London of the Presbyterian party, including Reynolds, Calamy, Case, and Marten. These gentlemen entered zealously on the hopeless task of endeavouring to persuade Charles to leave their form of worship in the ascendant, and to abstain from the use of the Common Prayer Book and the surplices; but they got no further satisfaction than that he would leave all that to the wisdom of Parliament. On the 24th of May he embarked at Scheveling, in the _Naseby_, which the day before had been rechristened the _Royal Charles_, the rest of the ships at the same time having doffed their republican appellations of unpleasant memory, and assumed right royal ones. On the 26th he landed at Dover, where, amid the thunder of cannon, he was received by Monk at the head of a splendid assemblage of the nobility and gentry. From Dover to Canterbury, and thence to London, the journey was one triumphant procession. The crowds of gentry and of shouting people presented only the aspect of a most loyal nation, amongst whom it was hard to imagine that such a thing as a Commonwealth had ever existed. On Blackheath Charles was received by the army with acclamations. The Lord Mayor and Corporation invited him to a splendid collation in a tent prepared for the purpose. All the way to Whitehall, attended by the chief nobility and by his Life Guards, and several regiments of cavalry, the houses being hung with tapestry, and the windows crowded with applauding men and women, the king riding between his two brothers, beheld nothing but an enthusiastic people. When he dismissed the last of his congratulators from the hall where his father perished, he turned to one of his confidants and said, "It surely must have been my own fault that I did not come before, for I have met no one to-day who did not protest that he always wished for my restoration."