The event was soon to be decided. all this time the roll of the drum had been approaching through cornhill, louder and deeper, till with reverberations from house to house and the regular tramp of martial footsteps it burst into the street. a double rank of soldiers made their appearance, occupying the whole breadth of the passage, with shouldered matchlocks and matches burning, so as to present a row of fires in the dusk. their steady march was like the progress of a machine that would roll irresistibly over everything in its way. next, moving slowly, with a confused clatter of hoofs on the pavement, rode a party of mounted gentlemen, the central figure being sir edmund andros, elderly, but erect and soldier-like. those around him were his favorite councillors and the bitterest foes of new england. at his right hand rode edward randolph, our arch-enemy, that "blasted wretch," as cotton mather calls him, who achieved the downfall of our ancient government and was followed with a sensible curse-through life and to his grave. on the other side was bullivant, scattering jests and mockery as he rode along. dudley came behind with a downcast look, dreading, as well he might, to meet the indignant gaze of the people, who beheld him, their only countryman by birth, among the oppressors of his native land. the captain of a frigate in the harbor and two or three civil officers under the crown were also there. but the figure which most attracted the public eye and stirred up the deepest feeling was the episcopal clergyman of king's chapel riding haughtily among the magistrates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representative of prelacy and persecution, the union of church and state, and all those abominations which had driven the puritans to the wilderness. another guard of soldiers, in double rank, brought up the rear. what point of view is it in