Hyde.

Charles himself tells an interesting story of one of his adventures
while at Trent House. He, with some companions, had ridden to a place
called Burport, where they were to wait for Lord Wilmot, who had gone to
Lyme, four miles farther, to look after a possible vessel. As they came
near Burport they saw that the streets were full of red-coats,
Cromwell's soldiers, there being a whole regiment in the town.

"What shall we do?" asked Colonel Windham, greatly startled at the
sight.

"Do? why face it out impudently, go to the best hotel in the place, and
take a room there," said Charles. "It is the only safe thing to do. And
otherwise we would miss Lord Wilmot, which would be inconvenient to both
of us."

Windham gave in, and they rode boldly forward to the chief inn of the
place. The yard was filled with soldiers. Charles, as the groom of the
party, alighted, took the horses, and purposely led them in a blundering
way through the midst of the soldiers to the stable. Some of the
red-coats angrily cursed him for his rudeness, but he went serenely on,
as if soldiers were no more to him than flies.

Reaching the stable, he took the bridles from the horses, and called to
the hostler to give them some oats.

"Sure," said the hostler, peering at him closely, "I know your face."

This was none too pleasant a greeting for the disguised prince, but he
put on a serene countenance, and asked the man whether he had always
lived at that place.

"No," said the hostler. "I was born in Exeter, and was hostler in an inn
there near Mr. Potter's, a great merchant of that town."

"Then you must have seen me at Mr. Potter's," said Charles. "I lived
with him over a year."

"That is it," answered the hostler. "I remember you a boy there. Let us
go drink a pot of beer on it."

Charles excused himself, saying that he must go look after his master's
dinner, and he lost little time in getting out of that town, lest some
one else might have as inconvenient and less doubtful a memory.

While the prince was flying, his foes were pursuing. The fact that the
royal army was scattered was not enough for the politic mind of
Cromwell. Its leader was still at large, somewhere in England; while he
remained free all was at risk. Those turbulent Scotch might be again
raised. A new Dunbar or Worcester might be fought, with different
fortune. The flying Charles Stuart must be held captive within the
country, and made prisoner within a fortress