"This dynasty will stand," said Sir John Newark, to himself. "Yes, it will stand. It may not have the affections of the nation--doubtless, it has not; but it has the passions and prejudices of Englishmen--ay, and their good sober sense too. Love is a mad passion that will not be subservient. Prejudice is a sturdy beast, which will be guided any way, so that it get home at last. There is no lack of zeal amongst the Jacobites. Zeal! Heaven keep us from zeal. It is like a sky-rocket, which no one can direct. The Whigs have something better than zeal. They have firmness, consistence, unity, common sense, energy. Then they have the words, that sooner or later rule the multitude--liberty--freedom--rights--privileges, and those not the rights and privileges of the few, but of the many. The others have nothing but zeal. Heaven help us! And courage--ay, and courage! There is no lack of courage; but with it, luckily, its usual adjuncts, wild rashness, pig-headed obstinacy, and a mighty host of all those brilliant qualities which, sooner or later, bring a party to destruction. Nevertheless, I must be somewhat of a Jacobite for the time--with caution--with caution. I must give a few hints to the people--some encouragement, also, to my Jacobite friends amongst the magistracy, for fear of the vigorous energy of the Whigs frightening them; but with many a saving clause, and much reservation." With these thoughts, he rode on, and, at the end of a few hours, entered the good old town of Exeter, with dusty dress, and horses and attendants tired.