Could there be any mischance in the meantime?
It did not seem so.

The late politicians of the Rump were dispersed and powerless.

Hasilrig sat by himself in London, moaning "_We are undone: we are undone_"; Scott was in Buckinghamshire, if perchance they might elect him for Wycombe: Ludlow hid in Wiltshire and Somersetshire, also nominated for a seat, but careless about it; the rest absconded one knows not where.

The "Fanatics," as the Republican Sectaries were now called collectively, were silenced and overwhelmed.

Even Mr.Praise-God Barebone, tired of having his windows broken, was under written engagement to the Council to keep himself quiet.