he nephew of Mr. Townley, whose seat in Townley Hall,
Lancashire, lays claim to high antiquity; and yet, is modern in
comparison with a former residence, once seated on what is still called
the Castle Hill. Francis Townley was a man of literary acquirements,
which, indeed, eminently distinguished his relative, the celebrated
Charles Townley, who formed at Rome, and afterwards brought to London,
the well-known collection of marbles which was bought by the Trustees of
the British Museum for twenty thousand pounds; (supposed to be a sum far
beneath its actual value,) and which still graces that national
structure.

The family of Townley had been remarkable for their fidelity to the
Stuarts long before Colonel Francis Townley raised a troop for the
Chevalier. The grandfather of this unfortunate man, had been tried for
rebellion, in 1715, but acquitted; it was therefore very unlikely that
when his accomplished descendant espoused the same ill-starred cause,
there would be any mercy shown to a family so deeply implicated in
Jacobitism. Francis Townley was afterwards taken prisoner, and tried
with other persons, chiefly captains in the Manchester regiment. Of
these the greater number were hung on Kennington Common. The head of
Colonel Townley was severed from his body, according to sentence, after
death, and was placed upon Temple Bar; but those of most of his brothers
in arms were preserved in spirits, and sent into the country, to be
placed in public situations in Manchester and Carlisle.[109]

Prince Charles now prepared to proceed on his march to Macclesfield,
while Lord George Murray was sent with his division to Congleton. The
accompaniments of the Jacobite army, if we can venture to believe a
letter inserted in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, and purporting to
be written by a lady in Preston to her friend in London, formed a
singular spectacle. Four ladies of some distinction are stated in this
letter to have marched with the army. These were Lady Ogilvie, Mrs.
Murray of Broughton, a lady of great beauty and spirit, the celebrated
Jenny Cameron, and another female, unknown, but who is supposed to have
been the mistress of Sir Thomas Sheridan. The populace, nevertheless,
mistook Sheridan for a priest, and assigned to him the nick-name of the
"Archbishop of Canterbury." The first two ladies went in a chariot by
themselves; the others were in a coach and six with the young Chevalier,
to whose dejection and weariness as