I did not know what I was saying. 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. Her mind went on generalizing. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. ’ Too late he saw his error. She got hysterical. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. He followed.
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