ee to tree he made his way to a paddock where
he found a horse, without a saddle but with a halter. He mounted, and
the animal galloped off. In this fashion he reached the house of a
friend, where he lay hid till the time he joined the Prince.

[Illustration: Escape of the Duke of Perth]

No Jacobite family had a nobler record of services rendered to the
Stuarts than the Oliphants of Gask. The laird had been 'out in the '15,'
and had suffered accordingly, but he did not hesitate a moment to run
the same risks in the '45. He brought with him to Blair his
high-spirited boy, young Lawrence, who records his loyal enthusiasm in a
journal full of fine feeling and bad spelling! Indeed, one may say that
bad spelling was, like the 'white rose,' a badge of the Jacobite party.
Mistress Margaret Oliphant, who with her mother and sisters donned the
white cockade and waited on their beloved Prince at her aunt's, Lady
Nairne's, house, also kept a journal wherein she regrets in ill-spelt,
fervent words that being 'only a woman' she cannot carry the Prince's
banner. This amiable and honourable family were much loved among their
own people. 'Oliphant is king to us' was a by-word among retainers who
had lived on their land for generations. But at this crisis the shrewd,
prosperous Perthshire farmers refused to follow their landlord on such a
desperate expedition. Deeply mortified and indignant, the generous,
hot-tempered old laird forbade his tenants to gather in the harvest
which that year was early and abundant. As Charles rode through the Gask
fields he noticed the corn hanging over-ripe and asked the cause. As
soon as he was told, he jumped from his horse, cut a few blades with
his sword and, in his gracious princely way, exclaimed 'There, _I_ have
broken the inhibition! Now every man may gather in his own.' It was acts
like this that gained the hearts of gentle and simple alike, and explain
that passionate affection for Charles that remained with many to the end
of their days as part of their religion. The strength of this feeling
still touches our hearts in many a Jacobite song. 'I pu'ed my bonnet
ower my eyne, For weel I loued Prince Charlie,' and the yearning
refrain, 'Better loued ye canna be, Wull ye no come back again?' On the
3rd Charles entered Perth, at the head of a body of troops, in a
handsome suit of tartan, but with his last guinea in his pocket!
However, requisitions levied on Perth and the neighbouring towns did
much