ce, and warmly attached
to the House of Hanover; yet such was the confidence existing between
these two honourable men, though of different political principles, that,
while the civil war was raging, and straggling officers from the Highland
army were executed without mercy, Invernahyle hesitated not to pay his
late captive a visit, as he returned to the Highlands to raise fresh
recruits, on which occasion he spent a day or two in Ayrshire among
Colonel Whitefoord's Whig friends, as pleasantly and as good-humouredly
as if all had been at peace around him.

After the battle of Culloden had ruined the hopes of Charles Edward and
dispersed his proscribed adherents, it was Colonel Whitefoord's turn to
strain every nerve to obtain Mr. Stewart's pardon. He went to the Lord
Justice Clerk to the Lord Advocate, and to all the officers of state, and
each application was answered by the production of a list in which
Invernahyle (as the good old gentleman was wont to express it) appeared
'marked with the sign of the beast!' as a subject unfit for favour or
pardon.

At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumberland in person.
From him, also, he received a positive refusal. He then limited his
request, for the present, to a protection for Stewart's house, wife,
children, and property. This was also refused by the Duke; on which
Colonel Whitefoord, taking his commission from his bosom, laid it on the
table before his Royal Highness with much emotion, and asked permission
to retire from the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare a
vanquished enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He bade the
Colonel take up his commission, and granted the protection he required.
It was issued just in time to save the house, corn, and cattle at
Invernahyle from the troops, who were engaged in laying waste what it was
the fashion to call 'the country of the enemy.' A small encampment of
soldiers was formed on Invernahyle's property, which they spared while
plundering the country around, and searching in every direction for the
leaders of the insurrection, and for Stewart in particular. He was much
nearer them than they suspected; for, hidden in a cave (like the Baron of
Bradwardine), he lay for many days so near the English sentinels that he
could hear their muster-roll called. His food was brought to him by one
of his daughters, a child of eight years old, whom Mrs. Stewart was under
the necessity of entrusting with t