y hands, and by me was burned, unopened.

To be very exact as to the adventures of the Master after Culloden, I
wrote not long ago to Colonel Burke, now a Chevalier of the Order of St.
Louis, begging him for some notes in writing, since I could scarce
depend upon my memory at so great an interval. To confess the truth, I
have been somewhat embarrassed by his response; for he sent me the
complete memoirs of his life, touching only in places on the Master;
running to a much greater length than my whole story, and not everywhere
(as it seems to me) designed for edification. He begged in his letter,
dated from Ettenheim, that I would find a publisher for the whole, after
I had made what use of it I required; and I think I shall best answer my
own purpose and fulfil his wishes by giving certain parts of it in full.
In this way my readers will have a detailed, and, I believe, a very
genuine account of some essential matters; and if any publisher should
take a fancy to the Chevalier's manner of narration, he knows where to
apply for the rest, of which there is plenty at his service. I put in my
first extract here, so that it may stand in the place of what the
Chevalier told us over our wine in the hall of Durrisdeer; but you are
to suppose it was not the brutal fact, but a very varnished version that
he offered to my lord.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] A kind of firework made with damp powder.

CHAPTER III

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

_From the Memoirs of the Chevalier de Burke_

... I left Ruthven (it's hardly necessary to remark) with much greater
satisfaction than I had come to it; but whether I missed my way in the
deserts, or whether my companions failed me, I soon found myself alone.
This was a predicament very disagreeable; for I never understood this
horrid country or savage people, and the last stroke of the Prince's
withdrawal had made us of the Irish more unpopular than ever. I was
reflecting on my poor chances, when I saw another horseman on the hill,
whom I supposed at first to have been a phantom, the news of his death
in the very front at Culloden being current in the army generally. This
was the Master of Ballantrae, my Lord Durrisdeer's son, a young nobleman
of the rarest gallantry and parts, and equally designed by nature to
adorn a Court and to reap laurels in the field. Our meeting was the more
welcome to both, as he was one of the few Scots who had used the Irish
with consideration, and as he might now