acclamation of the King. 'Three cheers for the King-Emperor!' and our pent-up feelings found relief in those deep enthusiastic shouts that rose in quick unanimous response. Then in one long line they came—the Princes of the East from every corner of the vast Indian Empire, from far-famed Mysore and Travancore in the south to the wild Baluchi country in the north, from the remote Shan states on the outskirts of the Empire to the sandy reaches of the Persian Gulf—they came with words of loyalty on their lips to lay for the first time in all the countless ages of Indian history a common tribute at the same Emperor's feet. Nothing could have more impressed one with the strength and wealth and splendour of our Indian Empire than this. It was well to be an Englishman that day.
There was just one little scene more. The Viceroy and Vicereine had left the daïs, and the first gun of the royal salute was sounding as they stepped into their carriage and drove away. On the daïs for a moment the Duke and Duchess of Connaught stood alone. It was the last breathless pause, as we watched the closing scene before the end. Then with inimitable grace and dignity they turned slowly and bowed right and left to that vast assemblage. It was done so charmingly, so personally, as it were, that each one felt it as a gracious personal act towards himself, and the great concourse gave vent to its appreciation in one last roar of deafening loyalty and enthusiasm.
