‘Our mischiefs,’ says the _Mercurius Caledonius_, ‘began with tumults and sedition, and we are restored to our former felicity with miracles. The sea-coasts of Fife, Angus, Mearns, and Buchan, which was famous for the fertility of fishing, were barren since his majesty went from Scotland to Worcester; insomuch that the poor men who subsisted by the trade, were reduced to go a-begging in the in-country. But now, blessed be God, since his majesty’s return, the seas are so plentiful, that in some places they are in a condition to dung the land with soles. An argument sufficient to stop the black mouths of those wretches that would have persuaded the people that curses were entailed on the royal family. As our old laws are renewed, so is likewise our good, honest, ancient customs; for nobility in streets are known by brave retinues of their relations, when, during the captivity, a lord was scarcely to be distinguished from a commoner. The old hospitality returns; for that _laudable custom of suppers_, which was covenanted out with raisins and roasted cheese, is again in fashion; and where before a peevish nurse would have been seen tripping up stairs and down stairs with a posset or berry for the laird or the lady, you shall now see sturdy jackmen, groaning with the weight of sirloins of beef, and chargers loaden with wild fowl and capons.’ [Sidenote: 1661.] _Mercurius_ is careful to state that, on the 1st of January 1661, the swans which used to dwell on Linlithgow Loch, and which had deserted their haunt at the time of the king’s departure from Scotland, did now grace his return by reappearing in a large flock upon the lake. There was also a small fish called the _Cherry of the Tay_, a kind of whiting, which returned from a voluntary exile along with the king. John Ray was at Linlithgow in August 1661, and heard from Mr Stuart, one of the bailies, about the return of the swans. Mr Stuart alleged that two had been brought to the lake for trial during the Commonwealth, but would not stay. ‘At the time of the king’s coming to London, two swans, _nescio unde sponte et instinctu proprio_, came hither, and there still continue.’[192] The superstitious Wodrow notes the fact of the swans in his _History_, and adds: ‘Upon the citadel of Perth, where the arms of the Commonwealth had been put up, in May last year a thistle grew out of the wall near the place, and quite overspread them. Both these may be, without anything extraordinary, accounted for; but they were matter of remark and talk, it may be more than they deserve.’ [Sidenote: 1661.]