of a town acquaintance, Captain Grantley. A look assured me that he was here, not in the social capacity of a friend, but in pursuance of his military duties, inasmuch that he wore the red coat of his regiment, and was furnished with a full accoutrement. Greetings exchanged, he said: "Lady Barbara, I am here to interview the Earl on a matter of some gravity. Nothing less, in fact, than that the Marshal at Newcastle is transmitting one of the prisoners lately ta'en, and a very dangerous and important rebel, to Newgate, and as the straightest way is across your moors, I am come here to gain the Earl's permission to billet eight men and horses on him for this evening."
"I have no doubt he will grant it readily," says I, "for are we not aware, my dear Captain, that my papa, the Earl, is the most hopeless Hanoverian in the world?"
"Yet permit me to say, madam," says the Captain, "that a lady of your sense and penetration I should judge to be quite as hopelessly correct as is her father."
'Twas a soldier's way of turning compliments, you will observe, and of so coarse and ill-contrived a nature that I could not resist a reprimand.
"'Tis the most palpable mistake, sir," I replied; "for utterly as Captain Grantley and my father are in the right, I, sir, am as utterly in error. For, Captain, I would have you know that I am a very rebel, and have shed many a tear for Charlie."
I smartly beat the carpet with my boot, and gave
