a crown,
or a judge without robes, or a bishop without lawn sleeves, would never
do for them. Why, they would begin to think they were just men like
themselves! They do think so, a great deal too much."

And Grandmamma took two pinches in rapid succession, which proceeding
with her always betrays uneasiness of mind.

"Dear, dear!" she muttered, as she snapped her box again, and dropped it
into her pocket. "It must be that lamentable mixture in your blood.
Whatever a Courtenay could be thinking of, to marry a Dissenter,--a
Puritan minister's daughter, too,--he must have been mad! Yet she was
of good blood on the mother's side."

I believe Grandmamma knows the pedigree of every creature in this mortal
world, up to the seventh generation.

"Was that Deborah Hunter, Grandmamma?"

"What do you know about Deborah Hunter?" returned Grandmamma pulling out
her snuff-box, and taking a third pinch in a hurry, as if the mere
mention of a Dissenter made her feel faint. "Who has been talking to
you about such a creature? The less you hear of her the better."

"Oh, we always knew her name, Madam," said Hatty, "and that she was a
presbyter's daughter."

"Well, that is as much as you will know of her with my leave!" said
Grandmamma.

I do not know what more she might have said, if my Uncle Charles had not
come in: but he brought news that the Prince's army had been victorious
at Falkirk, and the Cause is looking up again.

"They say the folks at Saint James's are very uneasy," said my Uncle
Charles, "and the Elector's son is to be sent against the Prince with a
larger army. I hear he set forth for Edinburgh last night."

"What, Fred?" said Grandmamma.

"Fred? No,--Will," [Note 1.] answered my Uncle Charles.

"That is the lad who was wounded at Dettingen?" replied she.

"The same," he made answer. "Oh, they are not without pluck, this
family, foreigners though they be. The old blood is in them, though
there's not much of it."

"They are a pack of rascals!" said Grandmamma, with another pinch. I
thought the box would soon be empty if she were much more provoked.

"Nay, Madam, under your pleasure: the lad is great-grandson to the Queen
of Bohemia, and she was without reproach. I would rather have Fred or
Will than Oliver."

Grandmamma sat extreme upright, and spoke in those measured tones, and
with that nice politeness, which showed that she was excessively put
out.

"May I trouble you, Charles, if you ple