CAROLINE, LADY NAIRN. Yesterday, when Flora and I sat at our sewing in the manse parlour, something happened which has set everything in a turmoil. We had been talking, but we were silent just then: and I was thinking over what my Uncle Drummond and Mr Whitefield had said, when all at once we heard the gate dashed open, and Angus came rushing up the path with his plaid flying behind him. Flora sprang up and ran to meet him. "What is the matter?" she said. "'Tis so unlike Angus to come dashing up in that way. I do hope nothing is wrong with Father." I dropped my sewing and ran after her. "Angus, what is wrong?" she cried. "Why should anything be wrong? Can't something be right?" cried Angus, as he came up; and I saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes flashing. "The Prince has landed, and the old flag is flying at Glenfinnan. Hurrah!" And Angus snatched off his cap, and flung it up so high that I wondered if it would come down again. "The Prince!" cried Flora; and looking at her, I saw that she had caught the infection too. "O Angus, what news! Who told you? Is it true? Are you quite sure?" "Sure as the hills. Duncan told me. I have been over to Monksburn, and he has just come home. All the clans in Scotland will be up to-morrow. That was the one thing we wanted--our Prince himself among us. You will hear of no faint hearts now." "What will the Elector do?" said Flora. "He cannot, surely, make head against our troops." "Make head! We shall be in London in a month. Sir John Cope has gone to meet Tullibardine at Glenfinnan. I expect he will come back a trifle faster than he went. Long live the King, and may God defend the right!" All at once, Angus's tone changed, as his eyes fell upon me. "Cary, I hope you are not a traitor in the camp? You look as if you cared nothing about it, and you rather wondered we did." "I know next to nothing about it, Angus," I answered. "Father would care a great deal; and if I understood it, I dare say I might. But I don't, you see." "What do I hear!" cried Angus, in mock horror, clasping his hands, and casting up his eyes. "The daughter of Squire Courtenay of Brocklebank knows next to nothing about Toryism! Hear it, O hills and dales!" "About politics of any sort," said I. "Don't you know, I was brought up with Grandmamma Desborough, who is a Whig so far as she is anything--but she always said it was vulgar to get warm over politics, so I never had the chance of hearing much about it." "Poor old tabby!" said irreverent Angus. "But have you heard nothing since you came to Brocklebank?" asked Flora, with a surprised look.