signed them on the field of Bannockburn. The Camerons and Appin Stuarts formed the left wing, under Lord George Murray; and in the centre were the MacGregors, with the levies of the Duke of Perth. The second line was composed of the Athols and Robertsons on the right, and the MacLachlans and MacDonalds of Glencoe on the left. The prince placed himself, with a small body-guard, between the two lines. An old cannon, too much shattered to be loaded with any thing but powder, but which the Highlanders looked upon with a sort of blind veneration, was their only artillery. The English army, though nearly equal in number, was drawn up in a single line, with the cavalry on the flanks, and six pieces of artillery on the right.

Although the men had been under arms since three o'clock, it was broad day when the battle began; but the mist was still dense, and, swaying to and fro as the sunbeams broke through it, served to conceal the inequalities of the Highland line. As they came within gun-shot, they discharged their firelocks, and, shouting their war-cry, rushed forward, with drawn claymores, upon the enemy's ranks. Each man held a naked dirk in his left hand, and on his arm the little target,

"Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
Had death so often dashed aside."

The

The English presented their bayonets, and stood firm to receive the shock. But the hardy mountaineers, stooping on one knee, struck up the bayonets with their targets, pierced their enemies from below with their swords, and throwing the dead bodies upon the second line, pressed on in their headlong career. Two balls pierced the chief of the MacGregors, as he was advancing to the charge: -"I am not dead, my children," cried he, instantly raising himself upon his elbow, "I am looking at you to see if you do your duty." Stuarts and Camerons rushed upon the artillery, and mastered it in a moment. The British line wavered; the cavalry turned and fled, and in a moment the field was covered with the flying and their pursuers, and wounded and dead, and scattered arms; while here and there a few, held at bay by the nature of the ground, strove to make good their stand, or yielded themselves prisoners, without waiting to count their enemies. A large number of standards, six cannon, a supply of tents, ammunition, and baggage, and a military chest of four thou

sand pounds, were the immediate fruit of this victory, in which the conquerers lost but thirty or forty men, and the conquered five hundred killed and a thousand prisoners.

Next day the victorious troops made their triumphal entry into Edinburgh. First came the pibroch-players, a hundred men in all, playing the favorite old air of the Jacobites,

"The king shall enjoy his own again,”—

the predictions of which seemed at last upon the point of being accomplished. Then came the clans, part in their mountain garb, and part decked out in the uniforms and ornaments which they had won from the English. Some bore aloft their own victorious banners, others those of the enemy; and a few, in the wildness of their exultation, fired their guns in the air. A ball from one of these grazed the forehead of Miss Nairn, as she stood waving her handkerchief from a balcony. "Thank Heaven," cried she, "that it did not strike a Whig! for what would they not have said against these brave defenders of the good cause?" The prisoners, a train almost as numerous as the army itself, marched next, and the baggage and cannon of Sir John Cope closed the procession. Everywhere, as they passed along, the streets and squares were crowded with spectators; there was waving of handkerchiefs from every balcony and window, and a mingling of shouts and benedictions, as though one wish and one feeling had animated the whole population.

In this scene of triumph and exultation Charles Edward took no part; but, entering Edinburgh quietly in the evening, returned without pomp or parade to his apartments at Holyrood. His thoughts were already running forward to London, the next great point in his progress, and the first question that he brought before his council was how to make the most of his victory. His own wish was to enter England without delay, and push directly forward for the capital, while the impression produced by his victory was still fresh in the minds of his enemies, as well as of his friends. The king was still absent, the troops scattered, the cabinet taken by surprise, the Whigs disheartened and dismayed; his adherents full of hope, and ready to spring to arms at the first waving of his banner.

But these were far from being the views of his council. "A march into England," said some, "is a serious enter

prise, and demands mature consideration. The country is thickly peopled, and the parties nicely balanced. You have friends there, it is true; but they are so closely watched, that you cannot count upon them. The king is absent, but the cabinet is on its guard, with all the means and resources of an established government at its command. The troops are scattered, but they are gathering rapidly, and the ministry are levying new forces. Meanwhile, you have rivers to cross, and fortified towns to pass, and supplies and provisions to collect on your march from men whom you dare not irritate by your exactions, although you can seldom hope to win them by your forbearance. And what are your means for so great an enterprise? An army flushed indeed by victory, but which that very victory has reduced to a bare third of its original number; for a battle, as you well know, is for your Highlanders the signal of temporary desertion; if conquered, to seek a refuge, if victorious, to secrete their plunder and enjoy their triumph. Soon they will all be back again, and many more with them, whom the sound of victory and the sight of spoil will draw forth, thus swelling your ranks and keeping alive that spirit of enthusiasm which stands them in the place of discipline. Await, then, their return; hasten the longpromised succours of France; establish yourself more firmly in Scotland; and then, with all the resources of one kingdom at your command, you can march with confidence and security to the conquest of another."

Some went still further. According to them, the misfortunes of the Stuarts had commenced with their claims to the throne of England. It was this that had brought the lovely Mary to the scaffold, and Charles had atoned by the same bloody penalty for an elevation so fatal to his race. "Think, then, of Scotland, the birthplace of your fathers, the true source of their greatness, the only spot where their names are hallowed by bright and enduring associations. Make this the foundation of your strength, the starting-point of your new career. Repeal that detested Union, by which her pure fame has been degraded and the blood of her children made the spoil of a foreign tyrant. Redeem her from this abasement; restore her to her former glory and her inalienable rights; atone for the humiliation which the ill-judged policy, the fatal ambition, of your fathers, have brought upon her; and what may you not hope from the self-devotion of gratitude, and the irresistible energy of independence?

Thus compelled to remain in Scotland in opposition to his judgment and his wishes, Charles Edward resolved to make the most of this inauspicious delay for increasing his forces and organizing his government. He issued proclamations of amnesty and entire oblivion for all political offences. He sent circulars to all the local authorities, calling upon them to send in their reports and bring their contributions to Edinburgh. He despatched glowing accounts of his success to the court of France, urging the necessity of immediate coöperation in order to complete the work which had been so successfully begun. He renewed his applications to the chiefs who had not yet declared themselves, assuring them that they would be received as cordially as if they had joined him at the first moment; and he sent chosen emissaries into England to consult with his partisans there, and prepare the way for his invasion of that kingdom.

Meantime, his little army was encamped at Duddingstone, about two miles from Edinburgh, where, except that there was less of hardship in it, they led nearly the same lives as at their homes among the mountains. The tents of Cope's army had been pitched for their use, but it was long before they could accustom themselves to the restraint, breathing freer in the open air, and loving to sit round their watchfires and listen to the songs of their bards. Every day the prince came to visit them, and make his rounds in person; and wherever he saw a group collected, he would join in their conversation with a familiarity which went directly to their hearts, for it seemed to flow from his own; and he was always ready with some of those happy sayings which take such strong hold of the popular mind. Or if it chanced that some old bard was singing the glories of his clan, he would stop to listen and applaud, showing all the while, by his animated gestures and excited countenance, how deeply his imagination was struck by these wild old traditions of other days. Sometimes, instead of returning to town, he would pass the night in camp.

At Holyrood every thing wore the aspect of a splendid court, and the old halls, so long condemned to solitude, now rang once more with the sounds of festivity and triumph. Every morning a crowd of courtiers thronged the prince's levee, and the moment that this formality of royal life was over, he took his seat at the council-board. Then came the

public dinner and the visit of his posts; and in the evening balls and receptions, where the wives and daughters of the Jacobites displayed their richest attire, and oftentimes, won by his grace and affability, would send next morning to pledge the jewels he had praised, in order to raise contributions for the good cause. New levies, too, were coming in from the mountains; new chiefs declaring their adherence and enrolling their vassals; and, notwithstanding the cautious policy of the Lowlands, a few small bands of volunteers were raised in the cities. But the most important event of all was the arrival of the Marquis d'Equilles as ambassador from France, with letters from the king, and a small supply of arms and ammunition; and although he was not yet authorized to announce his mission openly, yet the presence of a Frenchman of rank, and the assurance that he would soon be followed by others with money and supplies, seemed a sufficient proof that the court of Versailles was at last beginning to open its eyes to its true interest, and would not long delay those more extensive succours, with the aid of which it would be so easy to decide the contest.

Feeble as these supplies were, Charles Edward resolved to put off his march into England no longer. Meeting the opposition of his council with the letters of his English adherents, who complained of being thus left a defenceless prey to the Hanoverians, he announced his fixed determination of entering England immediately, even at the risk of doing it alone. "I will raise my banner there," said he, "as I did in Scotland; the faithful subjects of my father will gather round it, and with them I will either conquer or perish." The council yielded, and orders were issued for the march. By the troops the tidings were received with enthusiasm, for they were wearied with the monotonous inaction of a camp, and longed once more for the excitement of battles and marches. In a general review of all the forces, they were found to amount to little more than seven thousand men ; but Scotland had been won with but half this number, destitute both of horse and artillery, and now they were supported by five hundred cavalry, they had seven cannon and four mortars, and, what was of far more account than all this, were glowing with enthusiasm and flushed by

success.

Meanwhile, the interval had been employed by the Eng