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12 On the 5th November, there was a great deal of fun in the streets of London. Lots of people went about the streets dressed in a grotesque style, carrying about the effigy of Guy Fox to be burnt at last.

As I got up on the morning of the 8th November I saw on all sides,—what do you think?—streets, houses, gardens, trees, all covered with snow!— all one sheet of molten silver. A wonderful and novel sight it was for me.

During the last fortnight (5th to 20th November, 1868) London and in fact the whole of the British Isles have been in a state of great excitement on account of the Parliamentary elections going on. The amount of excitement in London on the day of election was simply incredible. Booths were erected every here and there, and voters came to these booths to give their votes. The streets were crowded with people, those who had votes and those who had not, and all engaged in the one absorbing topic of conversation, while the candidates for election could be seen going about from place to place, and from booth to booth with an agitation of mind which can easily be imagined. All the voters were to give their votes on that particular day, and as the day advanced the public could guess pretty correctly what the result in the evening would be, for the number of votes given for each candidate was published hourly in a hundred newspapers to satisfy the insatiate anxiety of the people. Wherever the chances were in favour of a liberal