found myself well
within the English border, and turned my horse's head toward the city of
Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I bought clothing fit for a
gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a breastplate, and a steel-lined
cap, and feeling once again like a man rather than like a half-drowned
rat, I turned southward for Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.

When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England; but at
Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward Scottish refugees.
I also learned that the direct road from Carlisle to Haddon, by way of
Buxton, was infested with English spies who were on the watch for friends
of the deposed Scottish queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it
was the general opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be
hanged. I therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It would
be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south than from
the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town and stabled my
horse at the Royal Arms.

I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of beef a
stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free, offhand manner
that stamped him a person of quality.

The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before the fire
we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a disposition to talk,
I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were filling our glasses from the
same bowl of punch, and we seemed to be on good terms with each other. But
when God breathed into the human body a part of himself, by some
mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and loosen it. My
tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved, upon this occasion
quickly brought me into trouble.

I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms. And so we
were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's hatred of Mary's
friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name and quality, said:--

"My name is Vernon--Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand of Queen Mary
of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course, required that my
companion should in return make known his name and degree; but in place of
so doing he at once drew away from me and sat in silence. I was older than
he, and it had seemed to me quite proper and right that I should make the
first advance. But instantly after I had