s, and thought of the high-mettled men whose sense of
duty called them to arms against his grandfather; and how, in a cause
which they deemed that of their rightful prince and country,

'They fought till their hand to the broadsword was glued,
They fought against fortune with hearts unsubdued.'

Do not come at such a moment, when my head is full of plaids, pibrochs,
and claymores, and ask my reason to admit what, I am afraid, it cannot
deny--I mean, that the public advantage peremptorily demanded that these
things should cease to exist. I cannot, indeed, refuse to allow the
justice of your reasoning; but yet, being convinced against my will, you
will gain little by your motion. You might as well read to an infatuated
lover the catalogue of his mistress's imperfections; for when he has
been compelled to listen to the summary, you will only get for answer
that 'he lo'es her a' the better.'"

I was not sorry to have changed the gloomy train of Aunt Margaret's
thoughts, and replied in the same tone, "Well, I can't help being
persuaded that our good King is the more sure of Mrs. Bothwell's loyal
affection, that he has the Stewart right of birth as well as the Act of
Succession in his favour."

"Perhaps my attachment, were its source of consequence, might be found
warmer for the union of the rights you mention," said Aunt Margaret;
"but, upon my word, it would be as sincere if the King's right were
founded only on the will of the nation, as declared at the Revolution. I
am none of your JURE DIVINO folks."

"And a Jacobite notwithstanding."

"And a Jacobite notwithstanding--or rather, I will give you leave to
call me one of the party which, in Queen Anne's time, were called,
WHIMSICALS, because they were sometimes operated upon by feelings,
sometimes by principle. After all, it is very hard that you will not
allow an old woman to be as inconsistent in her political sentiments as
mankind in general show themselves in all the various courses of
life; since you cannot point out one of them in which the passions and
prejudices of those who pursue it are not perpetually carrying us away
from the path which our reason points out."

"True, aunt; but you are a wilful wanderer, who should be forced back
into the right path."

"Spare me, I entreat you," replied Aunt Margaret. "You remember the
Gaelic song, though I dare say I mispronounce the words--

'Hatil mohatil, na dowski mi.'
(I am asleep, do not waken me.)