s gates
allowed themselves to breathe more freely, and to congratulate
themselves upon the dangers they had escaped. Such is the story of the
famous, or infamous, "Cantor of Coltbrigg," one of the most disgraceful
records of the abject collapse of regular troops before the terror of
an almost unseen foe that are to found in history. Well might loyal
Edinburgh despair if such were its best defenders. The town was all
tumult, the Loyalists were in utter gloom, the secretly exulting
Jacobites were urging the impossibility of resistance, and the
necessity for yielding while yielding was still an open question.

[Sidenote: 1745--Edinburgh parleys]

On the top of all this came a summons from the prince demanding the
immediate surrender of the city. A deputation was at once despatched
to Gray's Mill, where the prince had halted, to confer with him.
Scarcely had the deputation gone when rumor spread abroad in the town
that Cope, Cope the long expected, the almost given up, was actually
close at hand, and the weathercock emotions of the town veered to a new
quarter. Perhaps they might be able to hold out after all. The great
thing was to gain time. The deputation came back to say that Prince
Charles must have a distinct answer to his summons before two o'clock
in the morning, and it was now ten at night. Still spurred by the hope
of gaining time, and allowing Cope to arrive, if, indeed, he were
arriving, the deputation was sent back again. But the prince refused
to see them, and the deputation returned to the city, and all
unconsciously decided the fate of Edinburgh. Lochiel and Murray, with
some five hundred Camerons, had crept close to the walls under the
cover of the darkness of the night, in the hope of finding some means
of surprising the city. Hidden close by the Netherbow Port, they saw
the coach which had carried the deputation home drive up and demand
admittance. The admittance, which was readily granted to the coach,
could not well be refused to the {214}

Highlanders, who leaped up the moment the doors were opened,
overpowered the guard, and entered the town. Edinburgh awoke in the
morning to find its doubts at an end. It was in the hands of the
Highlanders.

Jacobite Edinburgh went wild with delight over its hero prince. He
entered Holyrood with the white rose in his bonnet and the star of
Saint Andrew on his breast, through enthusiastic crowds that fought
eagerly for a nearer sight of his face or