tween, and that wretched woman had cut off all opportunity of a crossing. But, rather reBut, rather remarkably, another way was opened up, and that on the

evening of the day of his disappointment. He thought Lillie's mother-in-law had lost her head, or was about to betray him, when she brought a man to his room and announced him as an officer of customs. The officer soon put him at his ease. He was a Jacobite, though in the pay of King George, and had been similar predicament in the year 1715. He in turn brought one. Cousselain, sexton to the non-jurors, who was willing to take an oar if another man could be found. Cousselain then took Johnstone to a Mr Robertson at Dubbieside, a village a mile or two farther along the coast, and Mr Robertson advised him to go to Mr Seton of Dubbieside, whose eldest son had been with the Prince's army. Johnstone did not know Mr Seton, but he had been intimate with the son, though unaware that he came from this neighbourhood. He disclosed himself to Mr Seton. His reception was of the coldest, until the son, who was concealed in the house, entered the room and explained that he had been observing him through a hole in the partition, and only that moment had penetrated his disguise. They had taken him for a spy. Johnstone's efforts to obtain a second boatman became known, and on the eighth day

VOL. CCXXII.-NO. MCCCXLI.

of his stay with the Setons, a fisherwoman selling fish to Miss Seton dropped a friendly warning by way of news. Fearing that the house would be searched, the son left to take refuge elsewhere, and Johnstone resolved at all hazards to attempt a crossing that night. A younger Seton, a youth of eighteen, offered to take an oar with Cousselain, and when all was quiet they set about the launching of Mr Robertson's boat. The noise they made alarmed the villagers, and a cry was raised that a rebel was escaping. They were obliged to desist, and considered themselves fortunate in not being discovered. Against all advice Johnstone decided to try again later, and Cousselain was given money to purchase the refreshment he was in need of. At the hour agreed on Cousselain returned, drunk— so drunk that Johnstone stretched him out in the bottom of the boat, which, now that they were without his assistance, was launched quietly. They had to take him. Seton could not bring the boat back by himself. They rowed like galley-slaves, and were like to be swamped, the wind having risen, but Johnstone was, he says, in fear of nothing but the scaffold. An added danger was Cousselain, who, coming out of his drunken stupor, wished to get up, and several times nearly upset the boat. by kicking him, and threatening to throw him overboard, could they keep him down.

C

Only

About six in the morning they landed within a musket-shot of the battlefield of Prestonpans, having been carried eastward by the ebbing of the tide. He had got away just in time. Cousselain was arrested, and the boat burned.

Johnstone was too well known in his native city to venture into Edinburgh, but he found an asylum at Leith in the house of his old governess. Then for two months Lady Jane Douglas concealed him at Drumsheugh. While he was there, his late sergeant, the gallant Dickson, hero of Manchester, was hanged. He lay close. Every precauEvery precaution was observed. None of the servants knew of his being in the house, only the gardener, who was reliable. He was not allowed to wear boots until the household retired for the night, when he went for a walk in the garden. The gardener brought him his meals. Yet the secret leaked out. Johnstone believed the authorities would not dare to search Lady Jane's house, but the risk could not be taken. A plan which had been devised for his greater safety was now put into execution. It emanated from the brain of Lady Jane, who thought that there would be less danger of discovery in London with its large population and so many strangers coming and going. On the road he was to pass as a Scots linen-draper, whose goods had been sent by sea. To sustain the character a stock of handkerchiefs was purchased and a suitable disguise. He put on a black wig, Lady Jane

blackened his eyebrows, and with a portmanteau in which the handkerchiefs were packed, he set off mounted on a pony. Only one thing was overlooked. They forgot to tell him the price of the handkerchiefs, and he nearly tripped over this. On the first day he was recognised by an Edinburgh banker, a partisan of the House of Hanover, one capable of giving information, which obliged him to dissemble and deviate from the direct route. On the fourth day he had a still more startling experience. He was passing some covered waggons when he heard his name, and a voice call out, "See, see, if there is not a man on horseback who resembles our rebel captain as much as one drop of water resembles another!" The waggons were filled with soldiers wounded at Culloden, and the man had been in his company, one of those taken prisoner at Prestonpans, who elected to serve. He affected not to hear, and pressed on. An encounter with a highwayman, and the questions of an inquisitive person who overtook him, instigated, he feared, by the soldiers in the waggons, occasioned him some uneasy moments. On the evening of the seventh day he arrived in London. He put up his horse at an Inn in Greek Street as had been arranged, and called on the party who was to provide a private lodging. This person would have nothing to do with him. The landlord of the Inn, he said, being a Scotsman, was suspected by

waiters were spies who reported the arrival of all who came from Scotland. He passed the night at the inn, anxious and sleepless, and left at an early hour.

In a fix, he bethought him of friends made in London six years before. They were not forgetful. He spent his time mostly indoors, and by shunning the places where he was likely to meet his countrymen, he seems never to have been in danger, though he had two grim reminders. On the first occasion, hearing a noise in the street, he looked out, and saw twelve of his former companions in arms being taken to the place of execution. They were of the garrison left behind at Carlisle on the retreat, and be would have been one of them had he not refused to remain when told to do so by the Duke of Perth, declaring that while he was willing to shed the last drop of his blood for Prince Charles, he would never allow himself to be marked out as a victim for certain destruction. On the second occasion the landlord of his lodging obligingly offered to find him a place on Tower Hill, from which to see the rebel Scots peers, the Earl of Kilmarnock and Lord Balmerino, beheaded.

Johnstone dallied in London, and made no effort to leave the country until Lady Jane Douglas sent him word that she was on her way to the Continent, and, in order that he might escape beyond seas,

one servant more than her needs. Through blameworthy dilatoriness and indecision in starting, and coaching delays, he missed Lady Jane at the place appointed, and followed her to Harwich, where he found himself stranded on the wrong side of an arm of the sea, all passage being prohibited after sunset. A frigate was anchored there to see that the order was obeyed, and there was no evading it. His entreaties to the owner of the boats were disregarded. The captain of the frigate, who was drinking in the tavern, overhearing, came out to question him. Any hesitation would have been fatal. He told a plausible tale, and the captain, saying that he was pleased to be of service to his mistress, took him in the frigate's boat. Scarcely had they left the shore, when he pointed to one of his midshipmen, said his name was Lockhart, and inquired of Johnstone if he knew his family in Scotland. He was a son of Lockhart of Carnwath, and Johnstone as a schoolfellow of his elder brother had frequently been in their house. He began to suspect that Lockhart had recognised him, and mentioned his name to the captain. almost got the better of him. The captain continued to ply him with questions, and when on reaching the ship he was asked aboard to drink the health of his mistress, his fears took definite shape. He saw a sinister meaning in this in

His nerves

vitation, and pictured himself in irons. But it was all wellintentioned, and when in desperation he explained that his mistress would be in bed if he did not hasten, the captain called to the sailors to land him in the town. "Of all my adventures since the battle of Culloden," says Johnstone, "this caused me the most cruel suffering and agitation."

For two days they were detained at Harwich by contrary winds, and the attentions of the Governor of the town to Lady Jane, at the instance of the Government, were disconcerting. He called at all hours, and they were constrained to lock the door of the room in which they took their meals, so that the servant might not be discovered dining with his mistress. It was plain that he was puzzled, and suspected some mystery, but without something definite to go upon hesitated to act in the case of so highly placed a personage. The result was a report in London, after the ship sailed, that Prince Charles had escaped to Holland in the train of Lady Jane Douglas.

Even in Holland the long arm of the English government contrived to reach him. The Resident presented a petition to the States-General demanding that all the Scots who had taken refuge in the Netherlands should be delivered up. The Dutch agreed. was arrested and sent to Lon

One

don; the others fled, and Johnstone found an ingenious means of dodging the edict.

He entered himself as a student of medicine at Leyden, the privileges of the university being such that its students were exempt from arrest except for the crime of assassination. His mind was made up to return to Russia, and he was on the point of departure when Lady Jane Douglas counselled him to wait until they had ascertained the fate of the Prince. It was bad advice.

When Charles reached France Johnstone left for Paris. He would have us believe that he remained there buoyed up by false hopes of another attempt, and that his eyes were not opened till the Prince was arrested in 1748 and deported, when he had to think of his future. No doubt there was talk enough, but Johnstone could have placed little confidence in it. In truth he was content to lead an idle and gay life without much thought for the morrow, until he was thrown upon his own resources. Johnstone's belief that his father was a man of wealth, and that one day he would be rich, proved ill-founded. The paternal purse was empty. He had helped to empty it. Out of the fund set aside by Louis XV. for the subsistence of the exiled Scots, he was awarded in 1746 twelve hundred livres, augmented to two thousand two hundred in 1749. His name did not appear in the list again. He entered the French service in 1750, and was considered provided for. As captain in the Prince's army he was entitled by the King's

ratification to equal rank in the army of France, but they fobbed him off with a subaltern's commission, which at first he indignantly refused, but was induced to accept by specious promises of speedy promotion. He had lost both years and opportunity.

Ensign Johnstone was posted to Cape Breton, "the most wretched country in the universe." The ship in which he and his brother officers, with two hundred recruits, sailed from Rochelle was rotten and undermanned. The beams crumbled on being touched by the finger.

From the third day out the soldiers had to take turns at the pumps, being relieved every quarter of an hour. The mizzen-mast fell in the finest of weather. The water was stinking and black as ink. In a storm off the banks of Newfoundland the captain, who was ignorant and no seaman, warned them to prepare for death, and suggested that they should join with the crew in a vow to St Nicholas for a grand mass, as the only means of preserving their existence. Fortunately the second in command was competent. When they made the port of Louisbourg, the crew went in procession to the church, with nothing on but their shirts, and a grand mass was performed. As for the master of the ship, Johnstone made him submit, as he expresses it, "to a different sort of procession." He marched him along the quay under the blows of a cudgel, much to the

satisfaction of those who had suffered from his stupidity and insolence during the voyage. Unable to live on his pay, a meagre four hundred and eighty livres per annum, he came back to Paris in the hope of obtaining a company, but the crooked ways

of the Jacks-in-office more than matched his persistency. He was told he would get it at Louisbourg on his return. He returned, but there was no promotion for him, only the appointment of interpreter, which, however, brought in another four hundred livres. In 1754 the new Governor, who esteemed him and valued his services, demanded his promotion, and he received a lieutenancy; but he was far from being pleased with his prospects. He felt that he had been duped, and was meditating a change, when hostilities broke out.

Johnstone began the war with a knowledge of his profession which can have been possessed by few, if any, of the other officers of the French forces in North America. Turenne, Vauban, Montecuculi, Prince Eugene, and Cæsar were among the authors he read and studied at Louisbourg. Widely different as Wolfe and Johnstone were in many respects, they had much in common. In a brutal age both were humane men, and well read and thinking soldiers; both held in contempt the petticoat influence in high places, and refused to advance themselves by it; they had a common impatience with the mediocrity which ruled them. And the culminating point in