From this record of London in the Jacobite times must not be omitted the death of a most remarkable Jacobite, of whom little is remembered. This was Mr. John Painter, of St. John’s, Oxford. This Jacobite scholar made three several attempts, by letter, to induce the Government to allow him to be beheaded in place of Lord Lovat! Mr. Painter asked it as a particular favour. The ministers were not amiable enough to grant his prayer, and he was never happy afterwards. Just previous to his death, he forbade his executors to bury him near any of his relations. He urged them to obtain permission for his corpse to hang in chains over the spot where Lovat’s head was struck off. On being questioned as to his reasons, he replied vaguely, that he had not been guilty of any baseness, but he had committed a fatal error in judgment which had led to Lovat’s destruction. He did not define it; he left complimentary farewells to Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Pelham, and an expression of pity for Lovat’s son. ‘That unfortunate gentleman,’ said Painter, ‘suffers not only through his father’s folly, but through mine.’ [Sidenote: _GLOOMY REPORTS._] As the year drew to an end, adverse parties quarrelled over the terms of the peace of Aix la Chapelle; but this matter was forgotten in the news which reached London that the young Chevalier had been literally seized ‘neck and heels’ at the Paris Opera house, and deposited at Vincennes, as a preliminary to turning him out of France. About the same time his conqueror, the Duke of Cumberland, quietly returned to London from the continent. He came post from the coast to Lambeth, where he took a boat from which he landed at Whitehall; and thence he quietly walked across the park, to St. James’s. He was warmly greeted on his way, especially by that part of the garrison from Carlisle which had reached the metropolis before their fellows. Rumours of fresh outbreaks by the Jacobites had been freely circulated in London from the moment of the suppression of the last. The sight of the Duke of Newcastle, entering Leicester House, one November day, gave rise to a report with which London was speedily busied. ‘It was owing,’ writes the Countess of Shaftesbury, in the ‘Malmesbury Correspondence,’ ‘to a message from the Prince of Wales, that he had something of importance to communicate; and he accordingly laid before him the intelligence he had received of a new rebellion forming, and almost ready to break out in the Highlands. The Duke assured His Royal Highness that his Majesty would take very kindly this information, which he observed to concur exactly with the accounts sent to the Government above a month ago. I heartily wish this may produce a union between the King and people which, sure, can never be more necessary than at this crisis, when new dangers threaten us from the untamable bigotry of the Scotch Jacobites, encouraged, perhaps, by the insolence of their friends in many parts of England.’