a kingdom by the
sword. He had married a Polish princess, of the gallant House of
Sobieski, and at Gaeta his eldest son, though only a boy, showed that he
had the courage of the Sobieskis and the charm of the Stuarts. The spies
of the English Government confessed that the boy was more dangerous than
the man, Prince Charles than King James.

[Illustration: 'IN THE BORGHESE GARDENS PRACTISED THAT ROYAL GAME OF
GOLF']

While Charles, at Gaeta, was learning the art of war, and causing his
cousin, the Duke of Liria, to pass some of the uneasiest moments of his
life, at home in Rome his younger brother Henry, Duke of York, aged
nine, was so indignant with his parents for not allowing him to go to
the war with his brother, that he flung away his little sword in a
temper. From their cradle these boys had thought and heard of little
else but the past glories of their race; it was the dream of their lives
to be restored to their own country. In all he did, the thought was
always uppermost with Charles. On the way from Gaeta to Naples, leaning
over the ship's side, the young Prince lost his hat; immediately a boat
was lowered in the hope of saving it, but Charles stopped the sailors,
saying with a peculiar smile, 'I shall be obliged before long to go and
fetch myself a hat in England.'

Every thought, every study, every sport that occupied the next few years
of Charles' life in Rome, had the same end, namely, preparing himself in
every way for the task of regaining his kingdom. Long days of rowing on
the lake of Albano, and boar-hunting at Cisterna, made him strong and
active. He would often make marches in shoes without stockings,
hardening his feet for the part he played afterwards on many a long
tramp in the Highlands. Instead of enjoying the ordinary effeminate
pleasures of the Roman nobility, he shot and hunted; and in the Borghese
Gardens practised that royal game of golf, which his ancestors had
played long before on the links at St. Andrews and the North Inch of
Perth. His more serious studies were, perhaps, less ardently pursued.
Though no prince ever used a sword more gallantly and to more purpose,
it cannot be denied that he habitually spelled it 'sord,' and though no
son ever wrote more dutiful and affectionate letters to a father, he
seldom got nearer the correct spelling of his parent's name than 'Gems.
In lonely parts of Rome the handsome lad and his melancholy father might
often have been seen talking eagerly an