be faced with granite, and a terrace 673 feet long next the river, and 35 feet wide, in front of the new Houses, with an esplanade at each end 100 feet square, with landing stairs from the river 12 feet wide.  The whole surface of the front building was to be excavated, and filled in with concrete 12 feet thick, thus forming a permanent and solid foundation for the superstructure.  Towards the end of this year, the Queen was somewhat pestered with lunatics.  On Nov. 4, as she was going through Birdcage Walk on her return from Brighton, a man of respectable appearance went near the Queen’s carriage, held up his fist, and made use of most insulting language towards Her Majesty and the Duchess of Kent, declaring that the Queen was an usurper, and he would have her off her Throne before a week was out.  He was afterwards arrested, and turned out to be Mr. John Goode, a gentleman of large property in Devonshire, who had been previously in custody on 24th of May (Her Majesty’s birthday) for creating a disturbance and forcibly entering the enclosure of Kensington Palace.  He was taken before the Privy Council, and when examined, declared that he was a son of George IV. and Queen Caroline, born at Montague House, Blackheath, and that, if he could but get hold of the Queen, he would tear her in pieces.  He was told to find bail, himself in £1,000, and two sureties of £500 each; but these not being forthcoming, he was sent to prison.  On entering the hackney coach, he instantly smashed the windows with his elbows, and screamed out to the sentinels: “Guards of England, do your duty, and rescue your Sovereign.”  He was, after a very short imprisonment, confined in a lunatic asylum.

The other case was a German baker, but he only uttered threats against the Queen and her mother, and he, too, was put in an asylum.

A great event, and a very grand sight, was the Queen’s

visit to the City of London on 9 Nov., when Alderman Cowan inaugurated his mayoralty.  The Queen went in State, attended by all her Court, her Ministers, the Judges, etc.  The procession started from Buckingham Palace soon after 2 p.m. and reached Guildhall about 3.30.

The interior of the Guildhall was “exceeding magnifical.”  There was a canopy of carved gilt, with draperies of crimson velvet and gold fringe and tassels, its interior, being also of crimson velvet, was relieved by ornaments in silver and a radiated oval of white satin with golden rays.  The back was fluted in white satin, enriched with the Royal Arms in burnished gold.  The State chair was covered with crimson velvet with the Royal Arms and Crown, with the rose, thistle and shamrock tastefully interwoven.

At each end of the Hall, the walls were covered with immense plates of looking-glass.  The window at the eastern end of the Hall, above the throne, having been removed, a gigantic wooden framework was substituted, on which was erected a gorgeous piece of gas illumination.  Above the mouldings of the windows, and over the City Arms, waved the Royal Standard and the Union Jack.  Above was the Royal cypher, V.R., in very large characters, surmounted by the appropriate word “Welcome,” the whole being encircled by an immense wreath of laurels, which terminated, at the lower extremity of the framework, with the rose, thistle and shamrock.  Over the clock at the western end, and reaching nearly the whole breadth of the Hall, with Gog and Magog on the right and left, was placed an immense stack of armour, with upwards of 30 furled flags as an appropriate background.  Immediately above was the magnificently radiated star of the Order of the Garter, surrounded by crimson drapery, and the scroll “God save the Queen” entirely composed of cut glass, which, when lit up, seemed, literally, one continued blaze of diamonds.  The whole was surmounted by the imperial crown and wreaths of laurel, intermingled with the rose, thistle and shamrock, covering the entire outline of the window.  Where, formerly, was the musicians’ gallery, on the opposite side, was occupied by three stacks of armour; complete

coats of mail were, likewise, suspended in other parts of the Hall; two knights in complete armour guarded the entrance of the Hall and Council Chamber, which latter was fitted up for the Queen’s reception room, and hung throughout with crimson fluted cloth, finished with gold mouldings and festoons of red and white flowers.  Upon a platform stood a chair of state, splendidly gilt and covered with crimson velvet, and there was no other chair nor seat of any kind in the apartment.  The Queen’s retiring-room was the Aldermen’s Court, and was superbly decorated, having a magnificent toilet table covered with white satin, embroidered with the initials V.R., a crown and wreath in gold, and looped with gold silk rope and tassels.

After the Queen’s arrival at the Guildhall, and having spent some little time on her toilet, her Majesty was conducted to the Council Chamber, where—seated on her throne, and surrounded by Royal Dukes and Duchesses, etc.—she listened to a dutiful address read by the Recorder, and, at its conclusion, she was graciously pleased to order letters patent to be made out conferring a baronetcy on the Lord Mayor and knighthood on the two Sheriffs, John Carroll and Moses Montefiore, Esquires, the latter, as before mentioned, being the first Jew who had received that honour.

At 20 minutes past 5 the Queen entered the Hall, in which was the banquet, wearing a rich pink satin dress, ornamented with gold and silver, a splendid pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and a tiara of diamonds.  She occupied the centre of the Royal table, having on her right the Duke of Sussex, the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duchess of Cambridge, Prince George of Cambridge and the Duchess of Sutherland; and on her left, the Duke of Cambridge, the Duchess of Kent, the Princess Augusta of Cambridge and the Countess of Mulgrave.  As a specimen of the magnificence of this banquet, it may be mentioned that at the Royal table the whole of the service was of gold, as were the candelabra, epergnes, soup tureens, cellarets, etc.; one firm furnished gold plate for the Queen’s table and sideboard to the value of £115,000, and another firm nearly the same amount, whilst the value of

plate lent by various gentlemen was assessed at £400,000, besides which there was the Civic plate.  The china dessert plates at the Queen’s table cost 10 guineas each, and all the glass decanters and china were specially made for the occasion.

At 20 minutes past 8, the Queen left the Hall, and in her retiring room was served with tea from a splendid gold service made for the occasion, and she reached Buckingham Palace about half-past 9—highly delighted with her entertainment.

There is nothing more of interest in this year, if we except the maiden speech of Lord Beaconsfield, in the House of Commons, which took place on 7th Dec.  Mr. Disraeli (as he then was) had the disadvantage of following O’Connell, in a noisy debate on the legality of the Irish Election Petition Fund.  He was not listened to from the first, and, in the middle of his speech, as reported by Hansard, after begging the House to give him five minutes, he said: “He stood there to-night, not formally, but, in some degree, virtually, as the representative of a considerable number of Members of Parliament (laughter).  Now, why smile?  Why envy him?  Why not let him enjoy that reflection, if only for one night?”  All through his speech he was interrupted, and this is its close, as reported in Hansard.  “When they recollected the ‘new loves’ and the ‘old loves’ in which so much passion and recrimination was mixed up between the noble Tityrus of the Treasury Bench, and the learned