It was as though the stars had somehow kept back their radiance till the
young moon revealed herself in all her silver splendor.

Then came the exhortation, an anthem, and a benediction, and after a few
more forms and pomps, the Queen was conducted to the Chair of Homage.
Before the next long ceremony began, the Queen handed her two sceptres to
two of the lords in attendance, to keep for her, as quietly as any other
girl might hand over to a couple of dangling young gentlemen her fan and
bouquet to hold for her, while she drew on her gloves.

The Lords Spiritual, headed by the Primate, began the homage by kneeling,
and kissing the Queen's hand. Then came the Dukes of Sussex and
Cambridge, who, removing their coronets, and touching them to the Crown,
solemnly pledged their allegiance, and kissed their niece on the left
cheek. Her manner to them was observed to be very affectionate. Then the
other Dukes, and Peers on Peers did homage by kneeling, touching coronet
to crown, and kissing that little white hand. When the turn of the Duke
of Wellington came, the entire assembly broke into applause; and yet he
was not the hero of the day, but an older and far more infirm Peer, Lord
Rolle, who mounted the steps with difficulty, and stumbling at the top,
fell, and rolled all the way back to the floor, where "he lay at the
bottom of the steps, coiled up in his robes." At sight of the accident
the Queen rose from her throne, and held out her hands as though to help
him. It was a pretty incident, not for the poor Peer, but as showing Her
Majesty's impulsive kindness of heart. The old nobleman was not hurt, but
quickly unwound himself, rose, mounted the steps, and tried again and
again to touch the crown with the coronet in his weak, uncertain hand,
every plucky effort being hailed with cheers. At length the Queen,
smiling, gave him her hand to kiss, dispensing with the form of touching
her crown. Miss Martineau, who witnessed the scene, states that a