Charles Edward enjoyed from the monotony and anxiety of his situation; and when, as sometimes happened, three or four days passed away without a visit from Flora, it was with difficulty that he could curb his impatience. And well may his impatience be excused, for it would be hard to conceive of a situation more trying. The spot in which he had taken shelter was rather a crevice in the rocks than a cavern. With every shower, and in that climate there are many, — the water penetrated through the fissures, dropping upon his head, and collecting in the folds of the tartan with which he vainly endeavoured to protect himself. All that his companion, a hardy islander, could do to assist him was to shake out the water when the folds were filled. To complete his misery, the flies gathered around him in swarms, biting him on the hands and in the face with a sharpness that sometimes, with all his self-control, wrung from him a shriek of agony. His food was brought to him by a little milk-girl, who also stood on the watch to keep him informed of the movements of the soldiery. At length, after many a day of anxious expectation, and many a hair-breadth escape, the preparations were all completed; and on the evening of the 28th of June, after one more narrow escape from a party of soldiers that were prowling along the coast, he embarked with Flora and MacEachen in an open boat for the isle of Skye.

They had hardly been aboard an hour, when the wind began to rise, and the sea with it. The oarsmen shook their heads ominously as they gazed at the rising billows, for their frail bark was but ill fitted to stand the shock of a tempest. To distract their attention from the danger, Charles Edward sang them the songs which he had learned around the Highland watch-fires, and rehearsed those wild legends of the olden time, which have such a charm in that land of mist and storm. Calm returned with daylight, and, after wandering for a while at venture, they found themselves near the western point of the isle of Skye. As they were rowing along under the shore, a platoon of soldiers suddenly appeared on the rocks and ordered them to land. They were within gunshot, and before the boatmen could put about, the soldiers fired. Flora would not consent to stoop her head until the prince did so too, and the balls fell around them without doing any harm.

At last, they landed at the north end of the island, and Charles Edward remained with MacEachen, while Flora VOL. LXIV. - NO. 134.

5

went forward to MacDonald castle to consult about their future movements. She found the castle full of officers and soldiers. It was decided that the prince should take refuge in the little island of Raasay. Lady MacDonald sent Kingsbury, her steward, to attend him and conduct him to his own house, where he was to pass the night. Flora rejoined them on the road. It was long after nightfall when they reached the house, and all the family were abed. Mrs. Kingsbury hastened down to receive her husband and guests, and was not a little terrified, upon saluting the supposed Betty, to feel the impression of a rough beard upon her cheeks. "It is an outlaw, then, that you have brought home with you!" said she to her husband. "It is the prince himself," replied Kingsbury. "The prince! alas! then we are all undone!" "We can die but once," said the faithful islander, "and where could we find a nobler cause to die in? But make haste, and get some supper for his Royal Highness; give us some eggs, and butter, and cheese." “Eggs, butter, and cheese for a prince's supper!" cried the good woman in astonishment. "If you knew what kind of suppers he has been living upon of late, you would call that a feast. Besides, if you were to make any unusual preparation, it might excite suspicion; so make haste, and come and take your place at table." "At table with a prince!" "To be sure. He would not eat without you, and his gracious manners and affability will soon put you at your ease." supper was indeed a feast for Charles Edward, and when the ladies had retired, he remained at table to keep his host company, as gay and apparently as unconcerned as though he had never seen a day of sorrow. It was only in his slumbers that he betrayed the real state of his mind, and then no selfish complaint, no lament for his own sufferings, was ever heard to escape him; but "Alas, my poor Scotland!" was the exclamation that broke from his lips.

The

Next morning he was again on his way; but not till after a hearty breakfast, and after leaving a lock of his hair for Flora and his hostess, which, with the worn-out shoes that he had exchanged for a new pair of Kingsbury's, and the sheets in which he had slept, were carefully treasured up as precious relics of those days of trial. A circuitous route brought them down to the shore, where he was to embark for Raasay. The blood gushed from his nostrils in a copious stream as he time, after walking all night, he came out upon a point whence he could see the kind of chase in which the soldiers pursued the mountaineers, driving them before them and keeping up a constant fire from their muskets, as if the poor wretches had been beasts of prey enveloped in the toils. He laid his hand upon his sword, and would have rushed forward to their defence, if his companions had not forcibly prevented him from this rash exposure of his person. He continued his march all day, and at night took shelter in a crevice among the rocks, so narrow that he could not lie down in it, and where the wind and the rain came in on every side. At first, his companions tried to kindle a fire, but found it impossible. "Never mind," said he ; " let us content ourselves with the sparks."

The next day brought them to the canton of the "seven men of Glenmoriston," a band of outlaws who had taken refuge among the wildest passes of the mountains, every foot of which they were familiar with, and where they lived at the sword's point, setting the English at defiance, while all the rest of the country, a prey to the outrages of the soldiery, was trembling around them. It was from these men that Charles Edward resolved to ask shelter. Glenaladale went forward to treat with them, hoping to pass off the prince for Clanranald. "Clanranald is welcome," said they; but no sooner did they see the pretended chieftain, than one of them hastened forward, crying aloud, with a significant air, "You are come, then, at last, Dougal Maccolony ?" had recognized the prince under his coarse tartan, all soiled and ragged as he was, and Charles Edward, perceiving his intention, answered readily to the name. The chief now proposed the robber's oath : - " May we turn our backs to God and our faces to the Devil, may all the curses of the Bible fall upon us and our children, if ever we betray those who confide in us." When it came to the prince's turn, they told him that an oath from him was needless, for they knew who he was, and, falling on their knees, swore to stand by him to the last drop of their blood.

He

To procure him a change of linen, they waylaid an English officer; to supply his table, they laid the sheepcots of the surrounding country under contribution; and, hearing him express a wish for a newspaper, one of them ventured into Fort Augustus in disguise, and brought away the papers of the moreover, could no longer be relied upon as a shelter, Charles Edward resolved to return to the main land. MacKinnon

furnished him with a boat, and, bidding adieu to Malcolm, he embarked in the height of a gale, and under the guns of two cruisers, confidently assuring his companions that the weather would quickly change, and deliver him both from the tempest and his enemies. Months of peril and daily familiarity with danger had given him a confidence in his good fortune, which could not easily be shaken. His prediction was verified. The horizon cleared, and a sudden change in the wind drove the cruisers off the coast. In embarking for Raasay, Charles Edward had quitted his disguise for the dress of an islander, and this he now exchanged for the costume of a mountaineer. The passage was quick, and the MacKinnons moored their little boat at the southern extremity of Loch Nevis. The first three nights they slept in the open air, the fourth in a cavern, and then wandered from one to another of the miserable little huts which the inhabitants had hastily erected upon the ruins of their houses; for the vengeance of the Hanoverians had swept over the country, and blood and ashes were the records it had left behind. In this way the MacKinnons brought him in safety to the lands of MacDonald of Boisdale. "We have performed our duty," said they, "to the son of our king; it is now your turn." "And I am happy to have the opportunity," was the noble reply.

Great as Charles's sufferings and privations had been, the hardest were yet to come. The passes of the mountains had been occupied by two corps of troops, of five hundred men each, who, like skilful hunters, were every day drawing closer and closer the circle which they had formed around their prey. After three days, which he passed in a cave, he was joined by his new guide, MacDonald of Glenaladale, and began his life of wandering once more. Sometimes a glass of milk was his only food for twenty-four hours, and then again two whole days would pass before he could find even that. His pursuers were so close upon him, that the light of their watchfires was often his only guide in escaping them, and more than once he had cause to bless the tempest and the mist, which came to screen him when every other shelter had failed. Once he forgot his purse, and, while Glenaladale went back to look for it, a party of soldiers passed directly under the rock behind which the prince was secreted. Another time, after walking all night, he came out upon a point whence he could see the kind of chase in which the soldiers pursued the mountaineers, driving them before them and keeping up a constant fire from their muskets, as if the poor wretches had been beasts of prey enveloped in the toils. He laid his hand upon his sword, and would have rushed forward to their defence, if his companions had not forcibly prevented him from this rash exposure of his person. He continued his march all day, and at night took shelter in a crevice among the rocks, so narrow that he could not lie down in it, and where the wind and the rain came in on every side. At first, his companions tried to kindle a fire, but found it impossible. "Never mind," said he ; "let us content ourselves with the sparks."

The next day brought them to the canton of the "seven men of Glenmoriston," a band of outlaws who had taken refuge among the wildest passes of the mountains, every foot of which they were familiar with, and where they lived at the sword's point, setting the English at defiance, while all the rest of the country, a prey to the outrages of the soldiery, was trembling around them. It was from these men that Charles Edward resolved to ask shelter. Glenaladale went forward to treat with them, hoping to pass off the prince for Clanranald. "Clanranald is welcome," said they; but no sooner did they see the pretended chieftain, than one of them hastened forward, crying aloud, with a significant air, "You are come, then, at last, Dougal Maccolony ?" had recognized the prince under his coarse tartan, all soiled and ragged as he was, and Charles Edward, perceiving his intention, answered readily to the name. The chief now proposed the robber's oath : - " May we turn our backs to God and our faces to the Devil, may all the curses of the Bible fall upon us and our children, if ever we betray those who confide in us." When it came to the prince's turn, they told him that an oath from him was needless, for they knew who he was, and, falling on their knees, swore to stand by him to the last drop of their blood.

He

To procure him a change of linen, they waylaid an English officer; to supply his table, they laid the sheepcots of the surrounding country under contribution; and, hearing him express a wish for a newspaper, one of them ventured into Fort Augustus in disguise, and brought away the papers of the