te bodyguard.

Such was the last battle, the result of civil war, which has been fought
on British soil. Those who were defeated have acquired as much glory
from it as the conquerors--and even more, for never was a conquest
sullied by such deeds of deliberate cruelty as were perpetrated upon the
survivors of the battle of Culloden. It is not, however, the object of
the present paper to recount these, or even the romantic history or
hairbreadth escapes of the Prince, whilst wandering on the mainland and
through the Hebrides. Although a reward of thirty thousand pounds--an
immense sum for the period--was set upon his head--although his secret
was known to hundreds of persons in every walk of life, and even to the
beggar and the outlaw--not one attempted to betray him. Not one of all
his followers, in the midst of the misery which overtook them, regretted
having drawn the sword in his cause, or would not again have gladly
imperilled their lives for the sake of their beloved Chevalier. "He
went," says Lord Mahon, "but not with him departed his remembrance from
the Highlanders. For years and years did his name continue enshrined in
their hearts and familiar to their tongues, their plaintive ditties
resounding with his exploits and inviting his return. Again, in these
strains, do they declare themselves ready to risk life and fortune for
his cause; and even maternal fondness--the strongest, perhaps, of all
human feelings--yields to the passionate devotion to Prince Charlie."

The subsequent life of the Prince is a story of melancholy interest. We
find him at first received in France with all the honours due to one
who, though unfortunate, had exhibited a heroism rarely equalled and
never surpassed: gradually he was neglected and slighted, as one of a
doomed and unhappy race, whom no human exertion could avail to elevate
to their former seat of power; and finally, when his presence in France
became an obstacle to the conclusion of peace, he was violently arrested
and conveyed out of the kingdom. There can be little doubt that
continued misfortune and disappointment had begun very early to impair
his noble mind. For long periods he was a wanderer, lost sight of by his
friends and even by his father and brother. There are fragments of his
writing extant which show how poignantly he felt the cruelty of his
fortune. "De vivre et pas vivre est beaucoup plus que de mourir!" And
again, writing to his father's secretary, eight years a