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“ Indeed I do, Donald," said Lady Jane, smiling ; " is my brother still with them?"

“ Na, na, he didna care to be o'er lang o' their company, seeing aiblins they wad be cracking o' Charlie Stuart; no, but my lord hae a gude bould face o' his ain for keeping a secret. He! he! he! I'd match him wi' the best o' them ; sae he wished them a' luck, and went quietly back to bed, and there hae the loons been ivir sin' guzzling o' the best o' the cellar wi' nae mair decency nor savages."

Lady Jane watched the sun rise, and still no appearance of the troops made her fear they had taken up their abode as spies upon the proceedings of the castle. At last, they sallied out with their captain, whose beautiful face and chivalrous figure my grandmother could not but admire. Looking up as he passed, he glimpsed the fair face of Lady Jane, and gracefully doffing his plumed cap, proceeded on to the water's side, where a boat soon conveyed them from Bute.

The events of the past night had caused the earl much disquietude, and, at an early hour, he was on the alert to depart for Edinburgh. “ Remember,” said he to Lady Jane, “ what I told you last night. On no account suffer the Chevalier Charles to prolong his stay here beyond the shades of evening. At dusk Donald can lead him by the private way to the water's side ; it might be advisable also for him to change his dress, the better to disguise his person." Lady Jane promised to attend to all her brother said, and the earl departed.

When my grandmother had dismissed the business of the toilet, always a light labour to real beauty, she stole to visit the prince. If his personal attractions shone over night through the eclipse which fatigue had spread over them, they now appeared with double claims to admiration after repose had renewed the bloom of his cheek and lustre of his eye; he was in sooth, my grandmother said, “as beautiful and noble looking a creature as ever wore a star.” After the first salutation, Prince Charles thanked Lady Jane with grace and feeling for the friendly interest she had taken in his safety. “I cannot feel,” said he, smiling, “ the same gratitude towards the Earl of Bute, who, I believe, would very willingly have given me up to the English last night." Lady Jane excused her brother, as well as she could, on the plea of his great loyalty to the king. They then fell into a desultory conversation highly interesting to my grandmother, who could not but admit the rank injustice of party spirit which had so often described him either as an “effeminate Italian,” or “lawless bandit,” whichever best suited the purpose of the speaker; when, in fact, his language and manners were those of the accomplished, well-bred, and elegant man. He had great facility in speaking both in English and broad Scotch. And, as to his being effeminate, all his actions gave the lie to the shameless remark; for he had braved every toil and danger with the utmost ease, “marching all the day on foot, and every river they had to cross, he was the first man that leaped into it; he dined in the open field, and slept on the hard ground, wrapped in his plaid.”

My grandmother's heart melted at the prospect of those fearful dangers and hardships in which the prince seemed destined to end his romantic attempt to win back the crown of his grandfather ; but do not, gentle reader of these records of bygone years, give Lady Jane credit for any of those Jacobite feelings which animated so many of the Scottish maidens at that period, for such was not the case. She had never been zealous in his cause till his misfortunes pleaded for him at the bar of human feeling and Christian justice.

It is very remarkable, that many of the prettiest ladies in “bonnie Scotland” were Jacobites, and members of non-juring meeting-houses. The Laird of Mackintosh's lady, who joined the rebel army at Inverness, was accounted the greatest beauty there. She got together all her clan, and marched at their head, (with a white cockade,) and presented them to Prince Charles. The Lady Seaforth also headed a clan of the Mackenzies, and many other fair faces put their blushes to flight in the cause of a young and chivalrous prince.

Perhaps, of all the fair friends of Charles Stuart, none merited so little the praise bestowed upon her services as Flora Macdonald, who, so far from playing the heroine, and entering heart and soul into the plan which the faithful O'Sullivan (the devoted friend of Charles in his fallen fortunes) concerted as the only means of saving the prince's life, absolutely refused, at first, to lend him her help. I would not be severe upon that fair northern flower, but only show how prone the foolish multitude are to run after every will-o'-the-wisp, often mistaking that for a star which is but the glimmering of a glowworm.

As the day wore away, and the shades of evening began to fall over the face of nature, my grandmother felt very acutely the unpleasant situation in which her brother's commands had placed her : to send the prince forth, again a wanderer, upon the chance of the troops being gone, when perhaps they were lying in ambush, ready to spring upon their victim, was against all her notions of Christian charity, or human sympathy. The prince, however, with a nobleness characteristic of his chivalrous nature, declared to Lady Jane his determination to run all hazard, rather than break his promise given to the earl, to avail himself of only one night's shelter at the castle.

Day wore apace, and, with the gathering shades of eve, Donald's face became more and more clouded, and his speech teemed with more bitterness against the “southern bloodhounds,” dashed with occasional caustic witticisms, covertly directed at the earl's timidity and want of hospitality.

“ Weel ye ken,” said the old man, eyeing the prince with affectionate glances, “ the warld's no the same as langsyne, the auld canna mak the young o' the sam mettle wi' themselves ; na, na, thae days have fitted frae Scotland, when a leal heart an a bra han tauld mair nor onything, for now feint a crumb cares ony o' the great lords whilk is the right, seeing they hae gane the safe gate."

The prince, having equipped himself in the dress which old Donald had procured, (as a safe disguise,) consisting of “a loose jacket of coarse tartan, stuff

gray breaks, and blue cloth bonnet," and put up in a wallet his own more costly wardrobe, together with some provisions, and a bottle of mountain dew, followed Donald from his place of concealment just as the old clock in the hall struck the hour fixed upon for his departure.

Lady Jane accompanied the prince to the private door, through which they could pass unseen by any of the servants, when my grandmother, with the tears of pity standing in her eyes, pronounced her farewell to the prince, mingled with many wishes for his safety. Charles, respectfully raising her hand to his lips, exclamed, “ God bless you, lady! and, whatever may be the fate of Charles Stuart, he will never forget your generous sympathy;" then turning away, he followed Donald a few paces, when looking round and seeing Lady Jane still standing to watch them, he waved his hand again, repeating with energy, “God bless you !" and then quickly passing onward was soon out of sight.

Deep and heartfelt were the wishes of my grandmother for the prince's escape ;* but, alas ! wishes are but the idle blossoms of the tree of human life, seldom bearing fruits. Yet still we wish on, even to the gates of another world, where alone the promise made to the ear is not broken to the heart. To conclude, the times are now happily gone by, when to speak of the Stuart could, by possibility, be liable to either misunderstanding or misrepresentation. The last of that most unfortunate race is now extinct, and the present illustrious family have been long securely enthroned in the hearts of the people.

Yet, that such a people as the Scotch, brave, free, and chivalrous by nature, should still among their mountain homes invoke the shades of their native kings, and love the legend and the song that embalms the memory of their fathers, who fought and bled for the rights of the expatriated Stuarts, cannot be wondered at; and though, as the immortal bard beautifully and truthfully says,

“Old times are changed, old manners gone,

A stranger fills the Stuart's throne;"7

and though Scotland now beholds in that stranger a father and a benign ruler of the nations, yet the hardy highlander will tell you, as he treads with free step the pine-covered hills and bracken shades, that the memory of other days and other men is still “

green in his soul."

The young prince, after sustaining an innumerable variety of hardships, well worthy of a romance, at last made his escape out of Scotland with Cameron of Loebiel, Mac Donald of Burrisdale, Stuart of Ardshield, and some otber of bis faithful adherents, who had long wandered with, or followed him from shore to shore, and from island to island, encountering the most incredible difficulties, surrounded with imminent dangers, and partaking of all his calamities while eluding the vigilant search of the royal forces, everywhere dispersed, and constantly on the watch to take bim captive.'

+ “Some years after the rebellion in Scotland, the pretender came in disguise to London. Tbis was a natural, but dangerous curiosity, to behold the place where bis grandfather, King James the Second, had been on the throne. Ministers being apprised of the circumstance, went in baste to King George the Second with the in. formation, and strongly recommended his immediate apprehension. The monarch, with one of those sbrewd answers for which he was remarkable, replied, “No-let the poor man satisfy his curiosity; when done, he will quietly go back to France;' and the king's observation was verified."

June 1836.–VOL. XVI.—NO. LXII.

N

That there's a pleasant odour still,

Time has na swept away,
It haunts the stream, it haunts the hill,

Like friends remembered aye!
It hangs around the wassail bowl,

It scents the cotter's sang;
O' Scotia's harp it is the soul,

And steals the strings amang. Touching these records, it may be necessary, perhaps, to assure the reader that they are undeniably true. The circumstance of the young pretender having been concealed at Mount Stuart, in the Isle of Bute, at the time the British troops arrived there in search of him, is an actual fact, which can be proved by many, now living, of Lady Jane's relations, although the knowledge of it was, for obvious reasons, confined to the Earl of Bute's own family, and has never before been, as the writer of these records believes, publicly divulged. The plaid, or tartan cloak of the fugitive prince having been left behind him, in the hurry of his flight from Bute, it fell into the hands of Lady Jane Stuart, who carefully preserved it during the remainder of her life, in memory of its illustrious but unfortunate owner. It also served, indeed, to commemorate an event, to herself personally, most interesting and extraordinary: for on the night of Prince Charles Edward's concealment at Bute, she first saw, in the young officer who commanded the king's troops, her future husband, for literally, as I before stated, Lady Jane was preparing to retire to rest, when Captain Courtenay entered her chamber, at the head of his soldiers, in search of the pretender ; a mutual attachment arose between them, they were subsequently married, and lived together many years the happiest and most united pair in the world.

I have a part of the identical plaid, in which the unfortunate Charles wandered perhaps many a stormy night, houseless and heart-sick : and when I look upon its faded colours, and reflect upon all the changes it has undergone, I cannot resist the wish, that it had a voice to tell the tale of other years.*

* A singular case of deuteroscopia, or second sight, is recorded. “In April, 174+, a man of the name of Forbes, walking over Culloden Muir, with two or three others, was suddenly, as it were, lost in deep thought, and wben in some short time after he was interrupted by his companions, he very accurately described the battle which was fought on that very spot two years afterwards, at which description all his companions laughed heartily, as there was no expectation of the pretender's coming to Britain at that time."

A PEDESTRIAN TOUR OF 1347 MILES THROUGH WALES AND ENGLAND; PERFORMED IN THE SUMMER OF 1833.1

BY PEDESTRES, AND SIR CLAVILENO WOODENPEG, KNIGHT, OF

SNOWDON.

CHAPTER IX.

“ They entered the dungeon . “This dungeon is no place for trifling. Prisoners ten times more distinguished tban thou have died within these walls; and their fate hath never been known.”

IVANHOE.

Let us now, all three of us—that is, Pedestres, Clavileno, and my most sapient and worthy reader-(with which qualifications there is not the slightest doubt but that thou art richly endued, if thou hast just bought the book thou art reading)-let us all three, since the conclusion of the last chapter, fancy we have travelled sixteen miles through a very pleasing country, and that we now find ourselves safely arrived in Tiverton: (which, by-the-bye, as we are entering the town, Cambden derives thus :Twy-ford-ton-Two-ford-town:) let us think we are come to Tiverton, the town of lace notoriety.

This wise and appropriate name, as Cambden gives it, tells of the situation of the place with regard to position that is to intimate, that it is situated near two fords or rivers, or that two fords, and, per consequence, two rivers, exist in the neighbourhood. For, be it remembered, the Saxons of a thousand or more years ago, knew little of pontine architecture; or, if they did, their knowledge was like the miser's gold, which lacked a Telford to know how to spend it. One of these rivers is the Exe, or Isca, as Ptolemy says, that afterwards flows through Exeter, and the other, the Lowman, passing on the opposite or eastern side of the town: which name comes from the Saxon word Duning, signifying slow. The Saxons crossed these rivers by fords, and not by bridges, and hence the name Two-fordtoron.

Tiverton was known by the appellation of Twyford as early as the year 872, which was in the beginning of the reign of Alfred the Great; but the appearance of it then, and during some centuries subsequently, was miserable to a degree. It consisted only of a few Arablike hovels huddled together near that part of the town now occupied by Frog Street—this was all. When the Saxons set themselves earnestly to build a house—perhaps, we should imagine a pig-sty—they, in the first place, cleared the ground of stocks, stones, rubbish, or other impediments, and formed a level surface of earth, which surface was to be the floor of the interior. When this was done to satis

Continued from page 100.

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