was then so reduced to the bottom of my casket, I felt that it was becoming impossible for me to continue the aid I had hitherto given to Louise, and what then would become of her? I thought it fair to tell Louvier "Louvier-the financier?” "Ah, that was a slip of the tongue, but no matter; there is no reason for concealing his name. I thought it right, I say, to tell Louvier confidentially the history of the unfortunate illegal marriage. It did not damp his ardour. He wooed her to the best of his power, but she evidently took him into great dislike. One day she sent for me in much excitement, showed me some advertisements in the French journals which, though not naming her, evidently pointed at her, and must have been dictated by her soi-disant husband. The advertisements might certainly lead to her discovery if she remained in Paris. She entreated my consent to remove elsewhere. Madame Marigny had her own reason for leaving Paris, and would accompany her. I supplied her with the necessary means, and a day or two afterwards she and her friend departed, as I understood, for Brussels. I received no letter from her; and my own affairs so seriously preoccupied me, that poor Louise might have passed altogether out of my thoughts, had it not been for the suitor she had left in despair behind. Louvier besought me to ascertain her address; but I could give him no other clue to it than that she said she was going to Brussels, but should soon remove to some quiet village. It was not for a long time -I can't remember how long-it might be several weeks, perhaps two or three months,—that I received a short note from her stating that she waited for a small remittance, the last she would accept from me; as she was resolved, so soon as her health would permit, to find means to maintain herself-and telling me to direct to her, Poste restante, Aixla-Chapelle. I sent her the sum she asked, perhaps a little more, but with a confession reluctantly wrung from me that I was a ruined man; and I urged her to think very seriously before she refused the competence and position which a union with M. Louvier would insure. "This last consideration so pressed on me that, when Louvier called on me, I think that day or the next, I gave him Louise's note, and told him that, if he were still as much in love with her as ever, les absens ont toujours tort, and he had better go to Aix-la-Chapelle and find her out; that he had my hearty approval of his wooing, and consent to his marriage, though I still urged the wisdom and fairness, if she would take the preliminary stepwhich, after all, the French law frees as much as possible from pain and scandal-of annulling the irregular marriage into which her childlike youth had been decoyed. "Louvier left me for Aix-laChapelle. The very next day came that cruel affliction which made me a prey to the most intolerable calumny, which robbed me of every friend, which sent me forth from my native country penniless, and resolved to be nameless-untiluntil well, until my hour could come again, every dog, if not hanged, has its day; affliction befell me, I quitted France, heard no more of Louvier nor of Louise; indeed, no letter addressed to me at Paris would have reached--” when that The man paused here, evidently with painful emotion. He resumed in the quiet matter-of-fact way in which he had commenced his narrative. "Louise had altogether faded out of my remembrance until your ques tion revived it. As it happened, the question came at the moment when I meditated resuming my real name and social position. In so doing, I should, of course, come in contact with my old acquaintance Louvier; and the name of Louise was necessarily associated with his. I called on him, and made myself known. The slight information I gave you as to my niece was gleaned from him. I may now say more. It appears that when he arrived at Aix-la-Chapelle he found that Louise Duval had left it a day or two previously, and according to scandal had been for some time courted by a wealthy and noble lover, whom she had gone to Munich to meet. Louvier believed this tale; quitted Aix indignantly, and never heard more of her. The probability is, M. Vane, that she must have been long dead. But if living still, I feel quite sure that she will communicate with me some day or other. Now that I have reappeared in Paris in my own name-entered into a career that, for good or for evil, must ere long bring my name very noisily before the public-Louise cannot fail to hear of my existence and my whereabouts; and unless I am utterly mistaken as to her character, she will assuredly inform me of her own. Oblige me with your address, and in that case I will let you know. Of course I take for granted the assurance you gave me last year, that you only desire to discover her in order to render her some benefit, not to injure or molest her?" "Certainly. To that assurance I pledge my honour. Any letter with which you may favour me had better be directed to my London address; here is my card. But, M. le Vicomte, there is one point on which pray pardon me if I question you still. Had you no suspicion that there was one reason why this lady might have quitted Paris so hastily, and have so shrunk from the thought of a marriage so advantageous, in a worldly point of view, as that with M. Louvier,-namely, that she anticipated the probability of becoming the mother of a child by the man whom she refused to acknowledge as a husband?" "That idea did not strike me until you asked me if she had a child. Should your conjecture be correct, it would obviously increase her repugnance to apply for the annulment of her illegal marriage. But if Louise is still living and comes across me, I do not doubt that, the motives for concealment no longer operating, she will confide to me the truth. Since we have been talking together thus frankly, I suppose I may fairly ask whether I do not guess correctly in supposing that this soi-disant husband, whose name I forget,Mac something, perhaps Scotch I think she said he was Ecossais, is dead, and has left by will some legacy to Louise and any child she may have borne to him?" "Not exactly so. The man, as you say, is dead; but he bequeathed no legacy to the lady who did not hold herself married to him. But there are those connected with him who, knowing the history, think that some compensation is due for the wrong so unconsciously done to her, and yet more to any issue of a marriage not meant to be irregular or illegal. Permit me now to explain why I sought you in another guise and name than my own. I could scarcely place in M. Lebeau the confidence which I now unreservedly place in the Vicomte de Mauléon." "Cela va sans dire. You believed, then, that calumny about the jewels; you do not believe it now?" "Now! my amazement is, that any one who had known you could believe it." "Oh, how often, and with tears of rage in my exile-my wanderings -have I asked that question of myself! That rage has ceased; and I have but one feeling left for that credulous, fickle Paris, of which one day I was the idol, the next the byword. Well, a man sometimes plays chess more skilfully for having been long a mere bystander. He understands better how to move, and when to sacrifice the pieces. Politics, M. Vane, is the only exciting game left to me at my years. At yours, there is still that of love. How time flies! we are nearing the station at which I descend. I have kinsfolk of my mother's in these districts. They are not Imperialists; they are said to be powerful in the department. But before I apply to them in my own name, I think it prudent that M. Lebeau should quietly ascertain what is their real strength, and what would be the prospects of success if Victor de Mauléon offered himself as député at the next election. Wish him joy, M. Vane! If he succeed, you will hear of him some day crowned in the Capitol, or hurled from the Tarpeian rock." Here the train stopped. The false Lebeau gathered up his papers, readjusted his spectacles and his bag, descended lightly, and, pressing Graham's hand as he paused at the door, said, "Be sure I will not forget your address if I have anything to say. Bon voyage! CHAPTER VII. Graham continued his journey to Strasbourg. On arriving there he felt very unwell. Strong though his frame was, the anguish and selfstruggle through which he had passed since the day he had received in London Mrs Morley's letter, till that on which he had finally resolved on his course of conduct at Paris, and the shock which had annihilated his hopes in Isaura's rejection, had combined to exhaust its endurance, and fever had already commenced when he took his place in the coupé. If there be a thing which a man should not do when his system is undermined, and his pulse between 90 and 100, it is to travel all night by a railway express. Nevertheless, as the Englishman's will was yet stronger than his frame, he would not give himself more than an hour's rest, and again started for Berlin. Long before he got to Berlin, the will failed him as well as the frame. He was lifted out of the carriage, taken to a hotel in a small German town, and six hours afterwards he was delirious. It was fortunate for him that under such circumstances plenty of money and Scott's circular-notes for some hundreds were found in his pocketbook, so that he did not fail to receive attentive nursing and skilful medical treatment. There, for the present, I must leave him-leave him for how long? But any village apothecary could say that fever such as his must run its course. still in bed, and very dimly-and that but at times-conscious, when the German armies were gathering round the penfold of Sedan. He was VOL. CXIV.-NO. DCXCVI. 2 E NARRATIVE OF PRINCE CHARLIE'S ESCAPE: BY ONE OF HIS COMPANIONS. [EDINBURGH, September 9, 1873. SIR, The Manuscript narrative of the escape of Prince Charles Stuart, by John Macdonald, one of his companions, of which a copy follows, is the property of the Misses Macdonald of Dalilea, granddaughters of the author, and was intrusted to me by them. I have transcribed the MS. carefully, verbatim et literatim, and have merely added an introduction and conclusion, partly from information I already possessed, and partly from that furnished to me by the family. Of the authenticity of the MS. itself, I have not the shadow of a doubt. The appearance of the original MS., which was in my hands for some time, carries truth in its face, and I know that it has been in the possession of the author's descendants from his death to the present time, having been always prized by them as an interesting family relic.-I am, Sir, yours faithfully, TO THE EDITOR OF 'BLACKWOOD.' AMID the wildest scenery of the West Highlands, and just on the the boundary-line that separates the counties of Argyll and Inverness, lies the sequestered sheet of water known as Loch Shiel. Even in that land of lakes and rocky mountains, it would be difficult to find a more striking landscape than is afforded by that lonely lake. Hemmed in, throughout the most part of its extent, by high mountains of the most picturesque forms, the opposite heights approach so near, that although the lake at their foot is upwards of twenty-six miles in length, it never attains even to one mile in breadth. This wild glen was in former days, and indeed still is, the home of a family of the name of Macdonald, who possessed a considerable extent of property in the neighbourhood, comprising Dalilea and Glenaladale on the lake shore, Glenfinnan at its head, and the farm of Borradale on the shore of Lochnan-Ua. These different parts of the property were frequently occupied by members of the family, as circumstances might render convenient, and, as was usual in other GEORGE SKENE.] Besides Highland families, the different occupants were then distinguished by the names of their residences. A green island in the lake, known as St Finian's Isle, has been the burialplace of the race since they first settled there, and is covered with the memorials of the dead. the natural beauty of its scenery-in which this estate is hardly equalled, certainly not excelled, by any other in the Highlands-an interest of a different kind attaches to it, from the fact, that both the commencement and the close of the romantic expedition of Prince Charles Edward Stuart took place within its bounds. At the farm of Borradale, that daring adventurer first set foot on Scottish ground; in Glenfinnan he raised his standard and assembled the clans who took arms for the restoration of their ancient royal line; and at Borradale, again, he succeeded in baffling his enemies, and embarking on board of the French man-of-war that carried him from the country. On the outbreak of the insurrection of 1745, the ClanRonald, to whom the Macdonalds of Loch Shiel belonged, took an active part on behalf of the House of Stuart, bearing their full share of all the difficulties and dangers of that unfortunate campaign. A hundred and twenty-seven years have elapsed since the fatal battle of Culloden terminated the last attempt of the Highlanders to place their ancient royal House on the British throne. The chief incidents of the expedition of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, and of his own romantic adventures, after the final dispersion of his adherents, are known to every reader of our history, and are generally regarded as no more than an interesting episode in our national annals, and a remarkable instance of the devoted affection of a primitive people to the descendant of their ancient kings. In the Highlands, however, the recollection of the "45" is something very different from this. Even to this day, every incident in the personal history of those devoted men who strove to cut a path for their Prince to the British throne, is remembered, and related by their descendants as an honour to the family, never to be forgotten. Every relic, even remotely connected with "Bonnie Prince Charlie," is preserved as a cherished heirloom by its fortunate possessor. In the immediate neighbourhood of Loch Shiel, at the foot of Glenfinnan, a monument, surmounted by a statue of the Young Adventurer, has been erected by Mr Macdonald of Glenaladale. It occupies the exact spot where Charles Edward unfurled his banner on August 19, 1745. In this neighbourhood also there was brought to light, a few years ago, a most interesting memorial of the unfortunate Prince's wanderings, after the final destruction of his hopes of success in his expedition on the field of Culloden. As will be seen hereafter, the Prince was for some time in hiding in the neighbourhood of Loch Shiel, and it has been remem bered ever since that time that he and those with him found it expedient to cross the loch, in order to proceed to new quarters. The Argyll militia, however, were then patrolling all round the loch, and had destroyed all the boats, in order to prevent the fugitive party from crossing. In these circumstances, the party having found a large oak-tree in a favourable position, felled it, and hollowed the trunk, partly with their axes and partly by fire, as many savage tribes are in the habit of doing, till they had produced a rude imitation of a canoe, of the kind known in America as a dug-out. This primitive boat they then conveyed at midnight to the lake shore; and being afraid to use oars, lest the sound should betray them to their watchful enemies, they laid the Prince at full length in the boat, and entering the water themselves, swam across the loch, dragging the boat after them. Having thus effected the desired passage, they sank the boat, at a place called Camus Blain, nearly opposite St Finian's Isle. Here the boat lay under water for a hundred and nine years, till 1855, when a gamekeeper of Mr Hope Scott's, known in the neighbourhood as Black John, brought it again to light. It is now in the possession of Colonel Robertson Ross of Glen Moidart. The account of its construction above given was derived from the grandson of the man who made it, and who is still alive, or at least was recently so. It is difficult to conceive a more interesting memorial of the dangers and difficulties to which the fugitive Prince was exposed than is afforded by this old canoe. At the time when Charles Edward landed at Borradale, that farm was held by a gentleman named Angus Macdonald; whilst that part of the property of the family which was |