They shivered occasionally in a most complete and uncompromising manner, but there was even in that shiver an expressed determination to stand their ground to see Peace, even though an insidious fox, in the form of a biting wind, were gnawing to their very vitals.
The unmistakeable meaning conveyed in the shiver was echoed in the ceaseless stamp of feet upon the pavement, as the people endeavoured by that means to keep up something like circulation in their benumbed extremities. There could be no doubt of their intentions.
They had come to see Peace, and they would see him however much they suffered.
But waiting was very monotonous work, and despite the excitement of the occasion, the time passed slowly and wearily along.
The individuals who composed the crowd must have been those “with whom time ambles withal,” for the minutes dragged themselves along in the style supposed to be appropriated to “linked sweetness,” and each succeeding minute seemed to be longer drawn out than its predecessor.
The crowd was not large enough to get up any enthusiasm, and it was not until towards eight o’clock that anything like life and fun were observable.
Then the new arrivals were frequent and numerous, and what had been the fringe of the crowd became a compact mass.
Castle-street, near the Town Hall, was crammed full of people, and now that it was evident that the whole of them could not get in, an excited and determined struggle for places began and was carried on with vigour up to the time when it was known that their labours had been in vain.
It was an intensely and essentially selfish crowd, and its composition was a medley of a motley character.
Nearly all classes of society were represented in that mass of people, and one extraordinary feature was the immense number of women amongst them.