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. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. ” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. “No!” she exclaimed. . Take a room!” “I say!” said Constance. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes.

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