the hall accompanied by the usual ceremonies. We are told that he was habited in a robe of white satin, which was probable intended to denote the purity of his intentions; but his predecessors having invariably been robed in purple at their coronations, it was inferred, we are told, by the superstitious that hereafter he would have to rely rather upon his own virtues and integrity, than upon the greatness of regal power. More than one other incident occurred at the time, which were regarded as extremely ominous to the young king, and which, considering the misfortunes of his subsequent career, were certainly singular coincidences. That which was thought particularly to forbore ill, was the golden dove falling from the sceptre during the coronation ceremony; while the text selected by Stenhouse, Bishop of Carlisle, for the sermon (Rev. ii. 10, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life," &c.) was considered far more suitable for a funeral sermon than adapted to the gorgeous ceremonial of a coronation.

On the 22nd of March, 1641, Westminster Hall witnessed the trial of the stately and high-minded Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford. It was a scene which, for grandeur and solemnity, has never been surpassed; presenting the extraordinary spectacle of a great and free people bringing an unpopular minister to the bar of justice, in spite of their sovereign, whose arm was powerless to save his minister and his friend. From the account of Rushworth, who was employed to take notes of the evidence, and from others who were present, we are able to form a tolerable conception of the memorable scene.

At the upper end of the hall was placed a throne for the king, and by the side of it a chair for the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles the Second, then in his

eleventh year. The throne was vacant, but the young prince, dressed in his robes, occupied the place appointed for him. On each side of the throne were erected temporary closets, covered with tapestry, in one of which sat some French noblemen who were then in England, and in the other the king and queen, and several ladies of the court. In front of this box was a curtain, which had been placed there for the purpose of screening the royal party from observation, but Charles no sooner entered the box than he tore it down with his own hands. The queen and her ladies, we are told, were observed constantly taking notes during the trial.

Beneath the throne, on seats covered with green. cloth, sat the peers in their parliamentary robes; and near them them the judges, on "sacks of wool," in their scarlet gowns. Lower down were ten ranges of seats for the members of the House of Commons. A bar, covered with green cloth, ran across the center of the hall, and behind were placed a table and desk for the convenience of the prisoner, and a chair which he could make use of if he felt fatigued. Close to him stood Sir William Balfour, the Lieutenant of the Tower. Strafford employed four secretaries, who sat on a desk behind. him; and one side of them were the witnesses for the prosecution. Galleries were erected on each side of the hall, which were filled with the rank and beauty of the land; and here also sat apart such members of the House of Commons as were not actually concerned in the impeachment.

The trial of Strafford lasted from the 22nd of March to the 17th of April; nearly a month of miserable suspense; less, however, to the even-minded Strafford than to the unfortunate Charles, who, says Whitelock, "did passionately desire of them not to proceed severely against the Earl," and who was himself so shortly to