The municipal magistrates still hesitated; the prince refused to receive their deputies, for the second time. As the carriages were re-entering the town, and as the gate opened to give them passage, eight hundred Camerons, commanded by Lochiel, flung themselves on the guards and easily effected an entrance into the city. In an instant they had command of every gate. At the break of day, Charles Edward, who had immediately been informed, set out with his little army. Avoiding the fusillade from the castle, which was occupied by Lord Guest, he entered the capital at midday, without striking a blow. The Scotch heralds, incontinently brought to the Square were forced to proclaim King James VIII., and to read in a loud voice the proclamations of the king and his son. The Jacobite ladies crowded to the windows, saluting the prince with their applause. James Hepburn, of Keith, carrying his drawn sword before the young regent, introduced him into the palace of his ancestors. Holyrood resounded with shouts of joy. A crowd of noble lords pressed round the young prince. "To-morrow, gentlemen, we will march to meet General Cope," said he, as he parted from his guests. Acclamations from all sides answered him. On leaving the town, at daybreak, Charles Edward drew his sword and brandished it above his head, exclaiming, "Gentlemen, I have thrown away the scabbard." General Cope, having landed at Dunbar, had rallied his fugitive dragoons, and was advancing with all speed on Edinburgh. On the 20th of September, the two armies found themselves face to face on the plain of Prestonpans. It was late: the prince was urged to make the attack, but marsh separated him from the foe. A council was held. Charles Edward lay down on a bundle of straw in the midst of his soldiers. {200} In the night he was awakened by one of his aides-de-camp. The proprietor of the piece of ground occupied by the troops, Mr. Wilson, of Whitbough, had remembered an indirect passage which enabled them to avoid the dangerous parts of the marsh. He communicated his plan to the prince. At sunrise the highlanders had surmounted the obstacle, and already threatened the royal troops. A moment of meditation, with uncovered head, on the part of all the soldiers, preceded the shrill summons of the bagpipes and the shouts of the mountaineers. Before the English soldiers could draw, the highlanders had turned aside, with blows of their daggers, the barrels of the muskets, striking with their claymores the foremost ranks, who fell back dying. The cannon had been discarded from the first. Like the Vendean peasants, the Scotch mountaineers dreaded artillery, and their impetuous bravery was constantly bent on hindering its ravages. Like the former, also, they dragged after them an old field-piece, which they called 'the mother of muskets,'--a worthy predecessor of the illustrious _Marie Jeanne_ of the army of Lescure and under Laroche-jacquelin.