which the simple parsimony of the commissariat of the Scots camp has astonished the people of more luxurious countries. But it became a second nature with the wandering man-at-arms to bear enforced starvation at one time, and compensate it by superfluous indulgence at another. The Scots probably took their opportunity in a country which, desolated though it was by warfare, was a garden of Eden after their own desolate bogs, and they earned for themselves the designation of sacs à vin et mangeurs de

moutons.

But an opportunity occurred for wiping off such a reproach. The Scots and some French, all under the command of Buchan, approached the old town of Beaugé, in Anjou, on one side of the stream of the Cauanon, while Clarence and the great English host were encamped on the other. The Scots, just in time to save themselves, discovered their danger. The English were crossing the river by a narrow bridge when Buchan came up and fought the portion of the army which had crossed over. As M. Michel remarks, it was the same tactic that enabled Wallace to defeat Surrey and Cressingham at Stirling-it might also be described as a seizing of the opportunity that was afterwards so signally missed at Flodden. Then took place one of those hand-to-hand conflicts in which the highest-spirited and bestmounted knights of the age encountered in a mingled turmoil of general battle and single combat. The great host meanwhile struggled over, and was attacked in detail. It was a victory attended, from its peculiar conditions, with more than the average slaughter of the conquered. In the words of Johns's Monstrelet,' "The Duke of Clarence, the Earl of Kyme (?), the Lord Roos, Marshal of England, and, in general, the flower of the chivalry and esquiredom, were left dead on the field, with two or three thousand fighting men.'

Henry V. was naturally provoked

by a defeat that so strongly resembled those he had been accustomed to inflict, and his anger, sharpened by grief for the death of his brother, tempted him into one of those unworthy acts which great conquerors sometimes commit when thwarted by defeat. He had then in his possession the young King of the Scots, James I. With his consent, or in his name, an instruction was issued to the Scots army no longer to fight in the cause of France against England. Buchan protested that the orders of a monarch not at freedom were of no avail. Henry chose to treat them as rebels not entitled to the courtesies of war. To make the case more clear, he took his captive to France. James was in the English camp when Melun was taken, and therefore Henry hanged twenty Scotsmen found among the garrison. On the surrendering of Meaux, too, there were especially excluded from the conditions of the capitulation all the Welsh, Irish, and Scotchas if all these were alike rebels.

It is generally said that Buchan got the Baton of High Constable of France as a reward for the victory of Beaugé, though Monstrelet speaks of him as Constable when he fought it. At all events, he held this high office-an office so very high that his poor countrymen at home cannot have easily seen to the top of it. We are told that, in court precedence, it ranked next after the blood-royal; that an insult to the holder of it, being equivalent to one on royalty itself, was similarly punished; and that he was the highest military authority in the kingdom, having at his disposal all its warlike resources-the commander-inchief, in short. Moreri, who tells us this, also, to be sure, tells us that when a king of England dies, the lord mayor of London acts as interim king until another is fairly settled on the throne; but it is to be presumed that Moreri had a better knowledge of the practices on the banks of the Seine than of those on the banks of the Thames.

We know the title here by the great names coupled with it-the Constable de Luxemburg, the Constable Montmorenci, du Guesclin, and the terrible Bourbon. Among such names, to stumble on the Constable Buchan sounds quite homely, as we say in Scotland. The constabulary was considered too formidable an office to be always full, and seems to have been reserved for emergencies, like the Roman dictatorship; and that hour of emergency and of destitution of native spirit, must have been dark indeed, when its highest dignity, and also the custody of the honour of the nation, were together conferred upon a stranger. The dignity was balanced by princely domains and castles stretching over the territory between Avranches and Chartres. These he seems to have almost taken into his own hand, for our author speaks of his putting himself in possession of the castle at Chartres after the battle of Beaugé.

Of other branches of the house of Stewart who established principalities in France - the Lords of Aubigny, Albany, and Darnley-we may have something hereafter to say. Next to the royal family in France, were the houses of Hamilton and of Douglas, who at times almost rivalled them at home. The French dukedom of Chatelherault is a name almost as familiar in history as the home title of the Hamiltons. By the side of the Scottish Constable of France rode a countryman scarcely less powerful-the lord of the vast province of Touraine, which had been conferred on the gallant Douglas, who fought at Beaugé. It may interest the reader to see a contemporary account of the pomps and ceremonies, as also of the state of public feeling, which accompanied the investiture of the territory in its new lord.

"Four days after the date of the letters-patent, the news of the change which they celebrated reached Tours. Several ecclesiastics, burghers, and inhabitants assem

bled in alarm in the presence of Jehan Simon, lieutenant of the Bailley of Touraine, William D'Avaugour, and charged Jehan Saintier, one of their representatives, and Jehan Garnier, King's Sergeant, to go to Bourges, to William de Lucé, Bishop of Maillezais, and to the Bailley, to learn for them whether the King had and could have given the Duchy of Touraine to the Earl of Douglas, of the country of Scotland; and, if it was true, to beg of them to advise the said churchmen, burgesses, and inhabitants, what course they ought to pursue, and what was to be done in the circumstances, for the honour and advantage of this town of Tours and country of Touraine.

"The which Jehan Saintier and Garnier brought back for answer, that the said nobles above mentioned said to them that it is true that the King has given the said Duchy of Touraine to the said Earl of Douglas, and that they should not be at all alarmed at it, and that the people of the said Tours and country of Touraine will be very gently and peaceably governed; and that before the said Earl of Douglas shall have, or shall go to take possession of the said Duchy, the King will send letters to the said churchmen, burgesses, and inhabitants and each of his officers commissioned to make over to him the said possession, and that my Lord Chancellor and the said Bailley would in a short time be in the said town, the which would tell them at greater length what they had to do in the circumstances, and the causes by which the King had been moved to give him the said Duchy; and also the said Saintier and Garnier brought the copy of the letter of gift of the said Duchy to the said Earl.

"As soon as they knew at Tours that the King had given the Earl of Douglas the Duchy of Touraine, and that the new duke was preparing to set out to take possession of it, they assembled at the Hotel de Ville to consider whether they

would go to meet this stranger, and whether they would make him the customary presents, which consisted of six pipes that is twelve barrels, of wine, six measures of oats, fifty sheep, four fat oxen, and a hundred pounds of wax in torches.

"They deputed two churchmen and four of the most considerable citizens to go to Loches to compliment the Duke in name of the town, and they formed a company of mounted burghers to go to meet him. Having found him at a certain distance from the town, it accompanied him till his arrival at Tours, into which he made his entry on the 7th of May, by the gate of Notre Dame la Riche. There he was received by the four representatives of the town, and by all the burgesses, in arms. Martin d'Argouges, principal representative, spoke on presenting him the keys, and begged of him to maintain the inhabitants in their privileges, franchises, and liberties. The Duke promised, and the representatives took note of his consent, by three notaries, whom they had brought for the purpose. The Duke having then taken the keys, restored them immediately to the first represent ative. Then he entered the town, where he was received by the people with acclamation. The streets were hung with tapestry and strewed with flowers. He went straight to the cathedral, at the great door of which he found the archbishop and all the canons in canonicals. The dean presented to him a surplice, an amice, and a breviary. The Duke, having taken the oaths at his hands, was received as a canon, and installed in the choir in presence of Louis of Bourbon, Count of Vendome, grand chamberlain of France; of John of Bourbon, his brother, Prince of Carency; of Francis of Grigneux; and of several other noblemen. Next day he went to the church of St Martin, where he was similarly received as honorary canon. After these ceremonies, he established his cousin, Adam Douglas, governor of

the town and castle of Tours, according to his letters of the 27th May. The inhabitants, after deliberation by their representatives, made a present to the new governor of two pipes of wine and a measure of oats."

So ends the history of the public inauguration of Douglas in his Duchy of Touraine, the extent of which one may see by looking at any old map of France in Provinces. It would be competent, had we space enough, to follow the fortunes of some of our countrymen, whose career, as churchmen and civilians, was nearly as brilliant as those we have just glanced at. The great Cardinal Beaton, Bishop of Mirepaux, was an ecclesiastical prince in France, whence great portion of his lustre was reflected on his own poor country. His nephew James, à far worthier man, had a different career, spending his old age in peace among his French endowments, instead of coming home to fall in the wild contests of his native land. He was employed as Queen Mary's ambassador in France, and continued ever faithful to her cause. He saw as the shadow of the change of rule and religion in his own country, a like change come over the fortunes of the Scot in France. His countrymen were now no longer adventurers seeking the region best fitted for pushing their fortunes, but poor refugees seeking bread or a place of hiding and refuge. Yet a gleam of patriotic feeling came over the old man when he heard from his retirement that the son of his old mistress heretic though he was - had succeeded to the broad empire of Britain, and he caused fire on the occasion certain feux de joie at St Jean de Lateran. He was comforted by Sully, who through the name of Bethune claimed kindred with him; thus, like some other eminent men, seeking at a distance the ancient nobility of race which it was known did not belong to him in French soil. A mystery hangs about the

question whether the name is originally of Scotland or France, or rather in which country it can be traced farthest back. In 'Burke's Landed Gentry' we are told that it is of French origin, and that Alexander de Bethun "is mentioned amongst other great men, by Hector Boece, as one of the chiefs who were killed at the great battle of Duplin ;" and that miracle of accuracy further sets forth. that the wife of Graham of Claverhouse,

Viscount of Dundee, was sister to the Cardinal and aunt to the Ambassador- an instance of longevity beside which the Countess of Desmond and Old Parr are trifles. Somewhat might we have discoursed here about the claim of Scots descent made by the great financier, Colbert, as also by Molière's friends, in virtue of his name of Poquelin, which certainly has not a home sound. But the reader is tired, and so are we.

BUT while Mrs Vincent sat in Susan's sick-room, with her mind full of troubled thoughts, painfully following her son into an imaginary and unequal conflict with the wife of the rebellious deacon; and while the Salem congregation in general occupied itself with conjectures how this internal division could be healed, and what the pastor would do, the pastor himself was doing the very last thing he ought to have done in the circumstances-lingering down Grange Lane in the broad daylight with intent to pass Lady Western's door-that door from which he had himself emerged a very few minutes before. Why did he turn back and loiter again along that unprofitable way? He did not venture to ask himself the question; he only did it in an utterly unreasonable access of jealousy and rage. If he had been Lady Western's accepted lover instead of the hopeless worshipper afar off of that bright unattainable creature, he could still have had no possible right to forbid the entrance of Mr Fordham at that garden gate. He went back with a mad, unreasoning impulse, only excusable in consideration of the excited state of mind into which so many past events had concurred to throw him. But the door opened again as he passed it. Instinctively Vincent

stood still, without knowing why. It was not Mr Fordham who came out. It was a stealthy figure, which made a tremulous pause at sight of him, and, uttering a cry of dismay, fixed eyes which still gleamed, but had lost all their steadiness, upon his face. Vincent felt that he would not have recognised her anywhere but at this door. Her thin lips, which had once closed so firmly, and expressed with such distinctness the flying shades of amusement and ridicule, hung apart loosely, with a perpetual quiver of hidden emotion. Her face, always dark and colourless, yet bearing such an unmistakable tone of vigour and strength, was haggard and ghastly; her once assured and steady step furtive and trembling. She gave him an appalled look, and uttered a little cry. She shivered as she looked at him, making desperate vain efforts to recover her composure and conceal the agitation into which his sudden appearance had thrown her. But nature at last had triumphed over this woman who had defied her so long. She had not strength left to accomplish the cheat. "You!" she cried, with a shrill tone of terror and confusion in her voice, "I did not look for you!" It was all her quivering lips would say.

The sight of her had roused Vin

cent. "You were going to escape," he said. "Do you forget your word? Must I tell her everything, or must I place you in surer custody? You have broken your

word."

"My word! I did not give you my word," she cried, eagerly. "No. I -I never said-: and," after a pause, "if I had said it, how do you imagine I was going to escape? Escape! from what? That is the worstone cannot escape," said the miserable woman, speaking as if by an uncontrollable impulse, "never more; especially if one keeps quiet in one place and has nothing to do," she continued after a pause, recovering herself by strange gleams now and then for a moment; "that is why I came out, to escape as you say, for half-an-hour, Mr Vincent. Besides, I don't have news enoughnot nearly enough. How do you think I can keep still when nobody sends me any news? How long is it since I saw you last? And I have heard nothing since then-not a syllable and you expect me to sit still, because I have given my word? Besides," after another breathless pause, and another gleam of self-recovery, "the laws of honour don't extend to women. We are weak, and we are allowed to lie."

"You are speaking wildly," said Vincent, with some compassion and some horror, putting his hand on her arm to guide her back to the house. Mrs Hilyard gave a slight convulsive start, drew away from his touch, and gazed upon him with an agony of fright and terror in her eyes.

"We agreed that I was to stay with Alice," she said. "You forget I am staying with Alice: sheshe keeps me safe, you know. Ah! people change so; I am sometimes —half afraid—of Alice, Mr Vincent. My child is like her-my childshe did not know me!" cried the wretched woman, with a sob that came out of the depths of her heart; "after all that happened, she did not know me! To be sure, that

was quite natural," she went on again, once more recovering her balance for an instant, "she could not know me! and I am not beautiful, like Lady Western, to please a child's eye. Beauty is good-very good. I was once pretty myself; any man would have forgiven me as you did when Alice came with her lovely face; but I daresay your mother Iwould not have minded had it been she. Ah, that reminds me," said Mrs Hilyard, gradually acquiring a little more steadiness, "that was why I came out: to go to your mother to ask if perhaps she had heard anything-from my child."

"This is madness," said Vincent; "you know my mother could not possibly hear about your child; you want to escape-I can see it in your eyes."

"If you will tell me what kind of things people can escape from, I will answer you," said his strange companion, still becoming more composed. "Hush! I said what was true. The governess, you know, had your address. Is it very long since yesterday when I got that news from Dover? Never mind. I daresay I am asking wild questions that cannot have any answer. Do you remember being here with me once before? Do you remember looking through the grating and seeing? Ah, there is Mr Fordham now with Alice! Poor young man!" said Mrs Hilyard, turning once more to look at him, still vigilant and anxious, but with a softened glance. "Poor minister! I told you not to fall in love with her lovely face. I told you she was kind, too kind-she does not mean any harm. I warned you. Who could have thought then that we should have so much to do with each other?" she resumed, shrinking from him, and trying to conceal how she shrank with another convulsive shiver; "but you were going to visit your people or something. I must not keep you, Mr Vincent; you must go away.'

"Not till you have returned to the house; and given me your word