out against her husband for having any share in the business. The whole plan was in this manner frustrated, and Mr. Johnstone, afraid of a discovery, was forced back to a cavern along the sea shore, in which he had formerly taken refuge. When the alarm was over, he returned to the house of Mrs. Lillie's mother, by whom, to his no small astonishment and alarm at first, he was introduced to an officer of the customs under king George. He was given to understand, however, that this was a true man, having been, as he informed him, out in 1715; having in consequence lost his property, and being now reduced to the cruel necessity of accepting a mean employment under the usurper. By him he was introduced to one David Cousselain, a sexton of the non-jurors, who offered to take an oar to ferry him across, if they could find another person. He conducted him to the village of Dubbieside, to one Robertson, who was secretly attached to the Prince, and who told them that he would allow them to carry off his boat. He recommended to him, at the same time, to call on Mr. Seton, a gentleman in Dubbieside, whose oldest son had been in the rebellion, and who was well known to Mr. Johnstone. The account of this interview, as given by our author, is extremely touching.

"Having found Mr. Seton at home, I acquainted him with my name, and my intimacy with his son; he immediately desired me to walk into the parlour, where he tired me to death with a thousand questions, which I knew not what to make of, with a number of abrupt and disjointed observations, receiving me in the coldest manner possible, which I could not possibly account for; after harassing me in this manner for half an hour, all of a sudden his son entered the parlour, and clasped me in his arms. He told me that they had suspected me of being a spy sent to take him prisoner, and that though he had examined me for half an hour from head to foot, through a hole in the partition of the room, it was only that instant that he had been able to recognize me under my disguise. 1 was very glad to see young Seton again, particularly as I knew nothing of his fate since the battle of Culloden, and our pleasure at meeting was reciprocal; there is always a friendship between persons involved in the same misfortunes. He invited me to remain with him at his father's house, and his offer was the more agreeable to me, as Dubbieside was conveniently situated for my obtaining an opportunity of crossing the arm of the sea."

Here our adventurer remained in concealment for eight days, without advancing one whit nearer his object, and at last the whole family were put in a great alarm, by intelligence which Miss Seton procured from a fish woman, that the general talk was of a rebel who was seen hovering about Wemyss, and who had offered a great deal of money to the fishermen for a passage. With that decision which seems consonant to his character, he resolved that very night to attempt the passage of the firth, and Mr. Seton, a younger brother of his friend, offered to take an oar along with Cousselain. This attempt was necessarily deferred till the evening, when the

noise which they made in launching the boat alarmed the inhabitants, who set up a cry that a rebel was attempting to escape, on which Seton and Cousselain esteemed themselves fortunate in getting off without farther discovery. The whole family of the Setons now earnestly entreated our adventurer to desist from attempting the passage that night; but he was immoveable. Ten o'clock being the hour appointed, Cousselain returned; but so drunk that he could scarcely stand. Mr. Johnstone was, however, determined to persevere, replying to all their persuasions, that Cousselain could sleep himself sober in the boat, and that he himself would take an oar with Seton, and row the boat across. The boat was accordingly launched without the least noise-Cousselain was carried into it, and stretched in the bottom, and the two gentlemen began to row with all their strength.

They had rather a tempestuous passage; an easterly wind rose; their little boat was tossed by the winds, and in danger of being swallowed up; and, to add to their danger, the drunken Cousselain was constantly rising up, and had nearly overset the boat. At last they landed opposite the field of Gladsmuir, where the Prince had gained such a decisive victory; and our hero, after tenderly embracing Seton, his deliverer, remained here until it was dark, moralizing on the scene before him, and on all the associations which it suggested. His purpose was to conceal himself in the house of a Mrs. Blythe, at Leith, who had been 22 years in the service of his mother, and who had been entrusted with the care of him since his infancy. "The trouble and uneasiness," (he observes,) "which she continually experienced on my account, both from the dangerous illness to which I was subject in my youth, and the passionate, impetuous, and imprudent character which I possessed in common with most only sons, only served to increase her kindness and affection for me. She loved me as if I had been her own child." This woman, when she was 50 years of age, received an advantageous offer of marriage from Mr. Blythe, a shipmaster, with whom she lived very happily.

For this house the fugitive adventurer, after it became dark, made his way, and, on entering, he thought the good woman would have stifled him with her caresses. She sprung to his neck, clasped him in her arms, and shed torrents of tears for the joy of seeing him again. She was immediately dispatched to his father's house to acquaint him and his mother of his safety, and returned with abundance of clothes and every thing necessary for him. He was extremely anxious to see his father, although he was afraid of his reproaches, as he had joined Prince Charles in express disobedience to his positive commands. His father, however, gave him the kindest reception possible. The following is the account of their first interview.

"My father came to visit me; but, instead of reproving me, the good old man was so affected at seeing me again, that his eyes were filled with tears, and locking me in his arms, he was for some time unable to utter a single word. As soon as we were a little

composed after this scene of mutual tenderness, I amused him with the recital of all the particulars of our expedition, since our departure from Edinburgh for England, and all that had happened to me personally since the battle of Culloden. He remained with me till nine o'clock in the evening, and the day passed over with the rapidity of lightning. I was deeply afflicted on learning that my mother was very ill, and had been obliged to keep her room for a long time, and was still more so, when Mrs. Blythe told me that her anxiety for me was the cause of her illness, and that the physicians thought her life in danger. My grief was natural and well founded, she had always adored me with the most tender maternal affection. I proposed several projects to my father for going to see her, but he would not hear of it, alleging that I run a risk of being discovered, and that if unfortunately I should be arrested, it would be the death of both of them. I therefore ceased to insist on seeing her. What a cruel situation to be so near a mother, whom I had such a reason for loving tenderly without being able to embrace her."

He frequently afterwards laments his cruel fate in being separated from his mother by her long illness, and the earnestness with which he constantly recurs to this subject, shows his disposition to have been naturally amiable and affectionate. At this time Leith was filled with Hessian and English soldiers, who were waiting to be embarked for Flanders. One day two English serjeants called on Mr. Blythe with billets, and remained in the house wrangling for nearly an hour, during which their lodger was concealed in a partition between two rooms, where he continued watching them through a hole which he had made, and saw Mrs. Blythe trembling, and turning pale, and changing colour every minute.

A long and intimate friendship had subsisted between our adventurer and the well-known Lady Jane Douglass, who now proposed to pay him a visit. Of this lady he draws the following most engaging portrait.

"This worthy and virtuous lady, who was idolized by her country, possessed every good and amiable quality that could adorn her sex. She was beloved, respected, and adored by all those who had the advantage of knowing her, as well as by the public in general, who only knew her through the high character and reputation she possessed. She had been very beautiful in her youth, and was still beautiful at the age of forty-five, appearing at least fifteen years younger than she really was, from the uniform, temperate, regular, frugal, and simple way of living she had always observed; she was virtuous, pious, devout, and charitable without ostentation, he devotedness was neither affected nor oppressive to others. Her affability, easy and engaging manners, and goodness of heart, soon set at their ease those who paid court to her, whom her graceful and majestic air might at first have rendered timid. Her mind was highly cultivated; she had a decided taste for literature: she had a great memory, much good sense and intelligence, a sound

judgment, and a quick discernment; her library was well stored with the best authors, without any of those trifling novels which generally form so large a portion of the libraries of women. She possessed great elevation of soul, and was even haughty and proud on proper occasions, supporting her illustrious birth with dignity, without arrogance, and without vanity, but in a manner truly noble."

Lady Jane, hearing of the dangers with which he was threatened, insisted that he should remove to her house, which was situated about half a league from Leith. This was effected in safety, and he remained here secluded about two months, which he passed away very agreeably by the help of books, for which he now acquired a decided taste. He was at last, however, suddenly roused from his retirement, by a piece of alarming intelligence. One of the servants, who had been at market for provisions, was there told by the lacquey of an English gentleman, a commissioner of the customs, that they knew that he was concealed with Lady Jane Douglass, and that the house would be immediately searched. It was then only nine o'clock in the morning, and it was necessary therefore speedily to contrive the means of escape. It was impossible to get out of the house without being seen by the servants, and it was equally impossible to remain concealed in it. As they were at that time making hay in an enclosure belonging to Lady Jane, it was proposed to conceal him in a cock of hay. He accordingly went into the enclosure with the footman, who was let into the secret, and Mr. Stewart, the gentleman who was afterwards married to Lady Jane. The footman and gardener immediately began throwing each other down among the lay, with which the one who happened to be undermost was covered by the other. At last they threw down Mr. Johnstone, and, as a part of the same sport, covered him with hay, and here he remained during a long hot day, almost suffocated, having scarcely space to breathe.

In consequence of this and other alarms, it became necessary to think of a retreat, and London was fixed upon as the safest asylum. Our adventurer was in consequence disguised as a pedlar, and every preparation was made for leaving his native country, never to see it more. The following passage gives a most painful picture of his agitated feelings.

"Next day my father came to bid me an eternal adieu, and passed the afternoon with me. I felt the utmost affliction and grief at the approach of this perpetual separation. I warmly urged my father, as well as Lady Jane, to permit me to go to Edinburgh for a few moments to embrace for the last time the most tender and affectionate of mothers, in the bed where she was then dangerously sick; but they would not give their consent on account of the danger I should run of being discovered, either in passing through the town, or by the servants of the house. What a cruel situation; to be within a mile of a tender mother, who had always fondly loved me, then dangerously ill, and yet be unable to bid her an eternal adieu."

After setting out he proceeded on horseback six leagues without stopping, and having alighted at a public house for the purpose of taking some refreshment, he consented to join a gentleman who was in the next room; but what was his surprise when he found that it was a Mr. Scott, banker in Edinburgh, to whom he was well known. Trusting, however, to his disguise, he continued to preserve his assumed character, when Mr. Scott unwarily pronounced his name. After this, however, he was at great pains to induce him to believe that he did not know him, for which Mr. Johnstone was unable to assign any motive. Having endeavoured to deceive Scott as to the road he was to take, he arrived at Kelso, where he slept at a private house, absorbed in the most melancholy reflections. Next day he entered England; and, without any farther accident, though he was occasionally exposed to danger, he arrived in London the seventh day after his departure from Lady Jane Douglass. Here he endeavoured to find out some safe lodgings, and he bethought himself of a female, with whom he was formerly acquainted, and who kept a shop. Having procured lodgings with her, he also renewed an attachment with a young lady, whom he celebrates in a strain of the most ardent tenderness and devotion. With her he exchanged mutual vows of eternal attachment, and during the short time he remained in London he passed his whole time with her. He dwells on this fleeting interval of happiness and joy with all the enthusiasm of an enraptured lover; and the remembrance of those delightful moments, he adds in his usual melancholy strain, has only served to embitter the hours of sorrow he has experienced since. He was at length awakened from this dream by an offer from Lady Jane Douglass to take him to the Continent disguised as her servant. This offer, after at first rejecting, owing to the attachment which he had formed, he at last determined to accept; and a separation from his mistress, who was now become the idol of his heart, was, in consequence, rendered necessary. The agony of their last interview is described in a strain calculated to touch every feeling of the heart.

"I took leave of her uncle immediately after dinner, and went to meet my charming Peggy at a rendezvous which we had agreed on, to pass the few precious moments that were left us in some solitary walk out of town. This was the more necessary, as so affecting a separation would not admit of witnesses, and especially of the presence of her uncle, who had not the least suspicion of our sentiments; the afternoon, which was the most melancholy we ever knew, was spent in reciprocal vows and promises of eternal fidelity and constancy, nevertheless it passed with the velocity of lightning; a hundred times I was tempted to renounce my intention of departing, and I had occasion for all the fortitude of my charming Peggy, to confirm me in my resolution. She accompanied me to the coach-office, where, having remained together till half-past eight o'clock, she called a coach, and entered it more dead than alive. I followed her coach with my eyes, and when it altogether disappeared, my resolution then became weak and wavering.