tion of the bargain. And such was the general impression
that they were men capable of resisting the legal execution of warning by
very effectual means, no king's messenger would execute the summons
without the support of a military force. An escort of a sergeant and six
men was obtained from a Highland regiment lying in Stirling; and the
Author, then a writer's apprentice, equivalent to the honourable
situation of an attorney's clerk, was invested with the superintendence
of the expedition, with directions to see that the messenger discharged
his duty fully, and that the gallant sergeant did not exceed his part by
committing violence or plunder. And thus it happened, oddly enough, that
the Author first entered the romantic scenery of Loch Katrine, of which
he may perhaps say he has somewhat extended the reputation, riding in all
the dignity of danger, with a front and rear guard, and loaded arms. The
sergeant was absolutely a Highland Sergeant Kite, full of stories of Rob
Roy and of himself, and a very good companion. We experienced no
interruption whatever, and when we came to Invernenty, found the house
deserted. We took up our quarters for the night, and used some of the
victuals which we found there. On the morning we returned as unmolested
as we came.

The MacLarens, who probably never thought of any serious opposition,
received their money and went to America, where, having had some slight
share in removing them from their _paupera regna,_ I sincerely hope they
prospered.

The rent of Invernenty instantly rose from L10 to L70 or L80; and when
sold, the farm was purchased (I think by the late Laird of MacNab) at a
price higher in proportion than what even the modern rent authorised the
parties interested to hope for.

Note E.--Allan Breck Stewart.

Allan Breck Stewart was a man likely in such a matter to keep his word.
James Drummond MacGregor and he, like Katherine and Petruchio, were well
matched "for a couple of quiet ones." Allan Breck lived till the
beginning of the French Revolution. About 1789, a friend of mine, then
residing at Paris, was invited to see some procession which was supposed
likely to interest him, from the windows of an apartment occupied by a
Scottish Benedictine priest. He found, sitting by the fire, a tall, thin,
raw-boned, grim-looking, old man, with the petit croix of St. Louis. His
visage was strongly marked by the irregular projections of the
cheek-bones and chin. His eyes we