said, in clear tones, silvery yet solemn: "The things which I have here
before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God!"

She then kissed the book, and after that the hymn, "_Come, Holy Ghost,
our souls inspire_" was sung by the choir, the Queen still kneeling.

I read the other day that the Duke of Connaught (Prince Arthur), on
visiting Norwich Cathedral, was shown the very Bible on which his mother
took her well-kept coronation oath, forty-five years ago. It was a most
solemn pledge, and yet it was all comprehended in the little girl
Victoria's promise to her governess, "I will be good."

Her Majesty next seated herself in St. Edward's chair; a rich cloth of
gold was held over her head, and the Archbishop anointed her with holy
oil, in the form of a cross. Then followed more prayers, more forms and
ceremonies, the presentation of swords and spurs, and such like little
feminine adornments, the investing with the Imperial robe, the sceptre
and the ring, the consecration and blessing of the new crown, and at last
the crowning. In this august ceremony three Archbishops, two Bishops, a
Dean, and several other clergymen were somehow employed. The task was
most religiously performed. It was the Primate of all England who
reverently placed the crown on that reverent young head. The moment this
was done all the Peers and Peeresses, who, with their coronets in their
hands, or borne by pages at their sides, had been intently watching the
proceedings, crowned themselves, shouting, "God save the Queen!" while
again trumpets pealed forth, and drums sounded, and the far-off Tower and
Park guns, fired by signal, boomed over the glad Capital.

It is stated that the most magically beautiful effect of all was produced
by the Peeresses, in suddenly and simultaneously donning their coronets.