at the entrance to the palace, Fergus
wandered about the town for some hours, and then went to the
tailor's and had his uniform tried on. Merely run together though
it was, the coat fitted admirably.

"You are an easy figure to fit, Herr Drummond," the tailor said.
"There is no credit in putting together a coat for you. Your
breeches are a little too tight--you have a much more powerful leg
than is common--but that, however, is easily altered.

"Here are a dozen pairs of high boots. I noticed the size of your
foot, and have no doubt that you will find some of these to fit
you."

This was indeed the case, and among a similar collection of
helmets, Fergus also had no difficulty in suiting himself.

"I think that you will find everything ready for you by half-past
eight," the tailor said, "and I trust that no further alteration
will be required. Six of my best journeymen will work all night at
the clothes; and even should his majesty send for you by ten, I
trust that you will be able to make a proper appearance before him,
though at present I cannot guarantee that some trifling alteration
will not be found necessary, when you try the uniforms on."

Fergus supped with the marshal, who had now time to ask him many
more questions about his home life, and the state of things in
Scotland.

"'Tis a sore pity," he said, "that we Scotchmen and Irishmen, who
are to be found in such numbers in every European army, are not all
arrayed under the flag of our country. Methinks that the time is
not far distant when it will be so. I am, as you know, a Jacobite;
but there is no shutting one's eyes to the fact that the cause is a
lost one. The expedition of James the Third, and still more that of
Charles Edward, have caused such widespread misery among the
Stuarts' friends that I cannot conceive that any further attempt of
the same kind will be made.

"In fact, there is no one to make it. The prince has lost almost
all his friends, by his drunken habits and his quarrelsome and
overbearing disposition. He has gone from court to court as a
suppliant, but has everywhere alienated the sympathies of those
most willing to befriend him. I may say that as a King of England
and Scotland he is now impossible, and his own habits have done
more to ruin his cause than even the defeat of Culloden. There are
doubtless many, in both countries, who consider themselves
Jacobites, but it is a matter of sentiment and not of passion.

"At any rate,