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believed your assertion: it was only at our last meeting when you pledged your honour he should be here this week. I will not insult you with a doubt of your honour: we all know it unimpeachable; but we believe you to be the dupe of misrepresentation. Like ourselves, you naturally are sanguine in a cause dear to our oppressed country; but allow me to repeat respectfully, but firmly, that we will no longer give credit to mere hopes, or even well-founded expectations. France does nothing for us, though under a solemn pledge to do so; the discontented of England murmur, but advance not; our own countrymen groan in slavery and want, the only reward of their loyal devotion to a legitimate prince. Troops must be raised, trusty generals appointed, money to pay them withal. We are ready to do so, and can calculate upon a brave array; and the defences, I may say, the impregnable arch of our dear mountains, where the red deer browses the purple heather in safety from the huntsman's snares, seems to ensure security to our holy cause till further aid arrives. But upon what guarantee do we act? No more than the simple word of an honourable man, no doubt, but one who, like ourselves, may be deceived, and made the dupe of artfu traitors to win our heads and our estates. You all, my lords and gentlemen, I know, participate in these sentiments, and have done me the honour to consider me the organ of your opinions. I have but one short phrase to add, Sir Gregor-where is he?"

"Permit me, my lords and friends, to offer some explanation in vindication of my apparent want of good faith. I have been led--"

"We want no explanations from you, Sir Gregor-we have had too many of them already: we well know what the present one will end in," observed the fiery Clanronald, striking the table violently.

"I will not now stop to answer you, my lord; we may talk this matter over to ourselves. I am as chary of my honour as your lordship can be of yoursneither will I be thus rudely interrupted in a vindication of my conduct."

"I perfectly agree with Clanronald." rejoined the Lord of Sky. "And I""And I," the others all exclaimed. "Where is he? is all we want to know; and then farewell, Sir Gregor."

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'My lords, have but a short patience-allow me, I trust, a few words of explanation more. You will not now have long to wait before you may use the evidence of your own senses, in confirmation of my assertions."

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No, no-we will not wait-all patience is exhausted; and, if he is not produced, or we are told where to seek him, our bond is cancelled, and each one free to act as best may please him."

Lord Lovat here joined in, and quietly remarked-"Sir Gregor, in deference to the high opinion we all entertain of you, I shall propose that, if he is not here within three days, or news of him from the most authentic source, our compact

ceases, and, as Murray, of Broughton, has just said, each one will act as best pleases himself. You must, on cool reflection, think we have no other step to take."

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Then, my lords, be it so. As you will not believe your ears, believe your eyes-he is here; and soundly sleeps, in the assurance of a good cause, and the honour of true friends."

Sir Gregor then proudly rose, and, withdrawing the velvet bed curtains, pointed to the sleeping figure. "There slumbers our beloved monarch, Charles Edward. Draw nigh gently, my lords, and gaze upon the lovely face, then judge if Gregor M'Gregor has proved false."

The sleeper's attitude remained unchanged, his face lay towards the spectators; his right hand was pressed upon his heart, the other seemed to touch the hilt of his sword, which, with the other insignia of royalty, was laid careless on the coverlid; his floating curls of light hair and long eyelashes gave an air of charming serenity to a face that singularly resembled that of the unfortunate prince whom he personated.

The impression this sight made upon the group, eagerly gazing on the scene, cannot be described; but all their doubts instantly vanished, and they almost simultaneously dropped upon their knees, offering voluntary oaths of loyalty to Charles Edward until death.

"Let us now withdraw," observed Lord Lovat; "should his Majesty suddenly awake thus surrounded, he might think himself betrayed, instead of being in the midst of friends, and faithful adherents to his throne. Return to my house tonight, we will talk our measures over; and to-morrow wait upon the King, to receive his commands, when the fatigue of travelling shall in some measure have passed away. Good night, my dear Sir Gregor. You know I never doubted your truth." And good night was softly echoed by all the rest.

"Good night?" soliloquized M'Gregor-" is it good a night? To-morrow!what will that bring? Poets and philosophers, say, to-morrow never comes. Yet it is but a logical quibble. My to-morrow must surely come-and the sun of my existence set in blood, if fortune does not favour me with some other happy stratagem to gain time until the real hero of this drama appears upon the scene. I have, indeed, most truly set my life upon the cast, and must abide the consequences. McKay, your prudence and judgment will all be required to help me at this crisis: come with me, and let us deliberate what next is to be done. The storm lowers heavily-God send it may not fall on us. Come, my trusty friend, we have no time for idle talk."

These deliberations ended in a resolution instantly to remove Donald to a more distant spot, under pretext of not considering the assumed prince in safety where he was, while the Goverment troops were everywhere scouring the country.

Considerable time would thus be gained, during which McKay and his scouts could visit the sea coast, and, probably, gain some certain intelligence respecting the real Pretender.

This scheme was scarcely executed, by removing Donald on horseback, in his sleeping state, before fortune once more favoured M'Gregor's plans beyond his utmost hopes, and at once presented a ready excuse for the supposed Prince's sudden departure.

The Lieutenant and his detachment, after halting at the Lochabar Axe, pushed on, and entered at a gallop the court yard, but recently quitted by M'Gregor and his escort of Highlanders, already far away to the rountain passes.

"Be pleased to present my humble respects to my lady McKenzie, your mistress, and say I am the bearer of our King's and his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland's kind enquiries after her health.”

"My mistress, general, is absent from home, and has been at Edinburgh these six weeks; but pray dismount and refresh yourself and men; your horses also need some rest, they look covered with foam."

"Why yes, we have not spared our spurs. These are queer times, Master Butler; but we can talk more in private, over a bottle of your Bordeaux, in the pantry, and the men can remain in the hall."

The order for dismounting was quickly obeyed, and men and horses seemed rejoiced that a slight repose was in prospect.

When seated in the butler's pantry, the lieutenant disclosed the nature of his present business.

"You must know, Master Butler, that I have sharp work of it night and day— it is a thousand times worse than fighting, for we cannot anywhere in this infernal country catch a glimpse of the enemy. My orders, too, are most unpleasant to an honourable soldier. I am more like a thief taker than a gentleman; for I have to search and ransack every hole and corner to discover a certain person, whose description only is known to me, by orders from head quarters. If this person was not extremely remarkable, I should have by this time arrested half the young men in Scotland; but, as yet, I have not seen one exactly corresponding. I will leave a copy with you when I quit, as it is barely possible you may meet such a man, and your fortune is made if you do so: it is not very likely, however, that his friends will bring him near this house, which belongs to a staunch supporter of our beloved King George. In a few words, Master Butler I will let you into the secret. The English Government have received certain intelligence that a French frigate is hourly intended to land the Pretender secretly, to be followed by ten thousand soldiers; thus, you see, there is plenty of amusement cut out for us before long, and happy will the man be who first can trap the bird, before he is able to take his flight towards the mountain passes, where, we

are well informed, he will be joined by thousands of Highland savages, and Lowland beggars."

As the sequel of this historical fragment must have been anticipated by every one versed in the history of those troublous times, it may be well merely to add some account of Donald, and his friend McCromby, with the others who have only played a subordinate part in this drama.

Charles Edward, the Pretender, soon after landed, and his adherents rallied round his standard with enthusiasm. The illustrious name he bore was not, however, sufficient to command success. France was backward in supporting his cause; so that, after a series of triumphant victories, he was finally defeated at the Battle of Culloden; and, after passing through a thousand hair breadth escapes, quitted Scotland never more to return, a sad instance of the instability of fortune and the fate of Princes.

The enchanted Donald, his double and representative, had no very long part to play; but was immediately released on the Pretender landing in Scotland, without McGregor's fraud having been detected or even suspected. On returning to the good old doctor's, his dream of greatness resolved itself into being acknowledged his master's son-he wedded his first and only love Effie-and succeeded to the fortune and business of McCromby upon that worthy's death, which shortly after occurred. The cause of all Donald's strange adventures, arose from his having given a bottle of rose water to Martha, the fortune-telling Cameronian, instead of the Doctor's death reviving elixer, and the council having clearly ascertained that fact, Donald was absolved from all blame, and the Doctor's shop front, with splendid improvements, rebuilt at the town's expense.

The martial Lieutenant turned out to be Effie's cousin, the innocent cause of Donald's jealousy; and Lady McKenzie proved to be the great lady of whom Effie spoke as her Godmother.

It would be well if so good an account could be rendered of some other of the persons we have named; but, in charity to their names, we will pass them over, "de mortuis nil nesi bonum." Some died gloriously on the field of battle, others met the fate of a traitor's death.

Strange it is, that a difference of political feeling should make the right cause appear the wrong-reward a man's fidelity to one prince-and punish it towards another, equally entitled to claim his support, by the divine right of rule.

THE OPERA COMPOSERS.

(FROM THE FRENCH.)

THE following production is from the pen of M. Adam, member of the Institute of France, and one of the principal contributors to the Gazette Musicale; and we understand that the incidents which it embraces were originally communicated to the author by Méhul himself, one of the characters that figure most prominently in the story. At the same time, there can be no doubt of Adam having lent many of his own touches to it, so that the particulars can have lost nothing in his hands; for it is so theatrically told, that, were it not for a certain air of truthfulness and actuality which pervade it, one would really set down the whole as a clever creation of the brain. It deals, however, with real personages; and there can be no doubt thot the scenes which it describes, or something very like them, in fact took place,—a circumstance which, together with the correct delineation of the character of Gluck, one of the most powerful and original geniuses that ever adorned the musical art, and who, considering the state in which he found it, did more for the establishment of the true principles of the lyrical drama than any other composer, not even excepting Mozart,-gives it a value apart from the characteristic vivacity of the author, and may perhaps make some amends, in the estimation of our readers, for that evaporation which cannot fail to take place more or less in every process of transfusion into another language.

Paris presented a curious spectacle at the opening of the year 1779. There had fallen, during the night, a good deal of snow, but the foot prints of the passengers had already deprived it of much of its primitive whiteness, and the Rue St. Honore presented very much the appearance of a long dirty lane, crowded with people in their holiday attire, some jostling, others avoiding each other with extreme care, and all bent on paying their respects, according to the custom of the time, to their various patrons. As yet, the custom of cards was unknown, so that it was necessary, on these occasions, to go in person to pay the compliments of the season to individuals, for whom one often cared very little, but with whom it was of some importance to stand on good terms. Every great man's door was besieged by tradesmen, and dependents of one kind or another, that called in order to leave their names with the great Swiss lacquey, who, in a splendid suit of new livery, vouchsafed a gracious smile to all who, to insure themselves a favourable reception at the convenient season, had taken the precaution to soften him with a crown or two; while his frowning aspect pretty plainly intimated to such as were so poor or so inexperienced as to satisfy themselves with simply inscribing their names in the book kept for that purpose, that

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