satisfied or beguiled for the moment the so-called Republicanism now again rampant among the inferior Army-men.  But there was no money; Government in any form was at a deadlock until money could be raised; and how was that to be effected?  The Wallingford-House magnates did meditate for an instant whether they should not try to raise money by their own authority, but concluded that the experiment would be too desperate, and that, for this reason, if for no other, some kind of Parliament must be at once set up.—­But what Parliament?  Here they had not far to seek.  For the last month or more, placards on all the walls of London, the very cries of news-boys in the streets, had been telling them what Parliament.  We have several times quoted the phrase “The Good Old Cause,” as coming gradually into use after Oliver’s death, and passing to and fro in documents and speeches.  But no one can describe now the force and frequency of that phrase in London and throughout England in April 1659 and for months afterwards.  If two men passed you in the street, you heard the words “the good old cause” from one of them; every second or third pamphlet in the booksellers’ shops had “The Good Old Cause” on its title-page or running through its text; veterans rolled out the phrase sonorously in their nightly prayers, or went to sleep mumbling it.  One notes constantly in the history of any country this phenomenon of the expression of a great wave of feeling in some single popular phrase, generally worn out in a few months; but the present is a peculiarly remarkable instance.  The phrase, in itself, was ambiguous.  One might have supposed “the good old cause” to be the cause of Royalty and the Stuarts.  This was an ironical advantage; for the phrase was a Republican, and even a Regicide, invention.  It meant, as we have passingly explained, the pure Republican constitution which had been founded on the Regicide and which lasted till Cromwell’s dissolution of the Rump on the 20th of April, 1653.  It proclaimed that Cromwell’s Interim Dictatorship and Protectorate had been an interruption of the natural course of things, dexterously leaving it an open question whether that interruption had been necessary or justifiable, but calling on all men, now that Oliver was dead and his greatness gone with him, to regard his rule as exceptional and extraordinary, and to revert to the old Commonwealth.  It involved, therefore, a very exact answer to the question which the Wallingford-House magnates were now pondering.  A Parliament was wanted:  what other Parliament could it be than the Rump restored?  Let that very Assembly which Cromwell had dissolved on the 20th of April, 1653, resume their places now, treat the six years of interval as a dream, and carry on the Government.—­With this course prescribed to them by the very clamours that were in the air, and pressed upon them by Ludlow, Vane, Hasilrig, and the more strenuously Republican men of the Army-Council itself, Fleetwood, Desborough, and the other magnates