t the Hanover family; and as soon
as the rebels came into England, he met them between Lancaster and
Preston, and came with them to Manchester. At the trial Roger M'Donald,
an officer's servant, deposed to seeing Townley on the retreat from
Derby, and between Lancaster and Preston riding at the head of the
Manchester regiment on a bay horse. He had a white cockade in his hat
and wore a plaid sash.

George Fletcher, who was tried at the same time as Townley, was a rash
young chapman, who managed his widowed mother's provision shop "at
Salford, just over the bridge in Manchester." His mother had begged him
on her knees to keep out of the rebellion, even offering him a thousand
pounds for his own pocket, if he would stay at home. He bought a
captain's commission of Murray, the Pretender's secretary, for fifty
pounds; wore the smart white cockade and a Highland plaid sash lined
with white silk; and headed the very first captain's guard mounted for
the Pretender at Carlisle. A Manchester man deposed to seeing at the
Exchange a sergeant, with a drum, beating up for volunteers for the
Manchester regiment.

Fletcher, Townley, and seven other unfortunate Jacobites were hanged on
Kennington Common. Before the carts drove away, the men flung their
prayer-books, written speeches, and gold-laced hats gaily to the crowd.
Mr. James (Jemmy) Dawson, the hero of Shenstone's touching ballad, was
one of the nine. As soon as they were dead the hangman cut down the
bodies, disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered them, throwing the hearts
into the fire. A monster--a fighting-man of the day, named Buckhorse--is
said to have actually eaten a piece of Townley's flesh, to show his
loyalty. Before the ghastly scene was over, the heart of one unhappy
spectator had already broken. The lady to whom James Dawson was engaged
to be married followed the rebels to the common, and even came near
enough to see, with pallid face, the fire kindling, the axe, the
coffins, and all the other dreadful preparations. She bore up bravely,
until she heard her lover was no more. Then she drew her head back into
the coach, and crying out, "My dear, I follow thee--I follow thee! Lord
God, receive our souls, I pray Thee!" fell on the neck of a companion
and expired. Mr. Dawson had behaved gallantly in prison, saying, "He did
not care if they put a ton weight of iron upon him, it would not daunt
him."

A curious old print of 1746, full of vulgar triumph, reproduces a
"