He then narrates how, in the course of a tour which he had made in Italy, in 1773, a lingering fascination compelled him to remain for some days in the vicinity of St. Rosalie, on the road from Parma to Florence; how he had often walked for hours in the deep quiet shades of the convent, ruminating on his distant country, on past events, and on coming fortunes yet unknown; and how, while thus engaged one evening, his reverie was disturbed by the rapid approach of a carriage with scarlet outriders.  He gained a momentary glimpse, of its occupants—­a lady and gentleman—­and recognised the prince at once, “for though changed with years and care, he was still himself; and though no longer the ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ of our faithful beau-ideal, still the same eagle-featured royal bird which I had seen on his own mountains, when he spread his wings towards the south; and once more I felt the thrilling talismanic influence of his appearance, the sight so dear, so deeply-rooted in the hearts of the Highlanders—­Charlie, King of the Gael.”

On the same evening, while the doctor was pacing the aisles of St. Rosalie, he was disturbed from his meditation by a heavy military tread and the jingling of spurs, and a man of superior appearance, but equivocal demeanour, strode towards him, and demanded to know if he were Dr. Beaton, the Scotch physician.  On receiving an affirmative answer, he was requested to render assistance to some one in need of immediate attendance, and all hesitation and inquiry was attempted to be cut short by the announcement—­“The relief of the malady, and not the circumstances, of the patient is the province of the physician, and for the present occasion you will best learn by an inspection of the individual.”

A carriage was in waiting, but, in true romantic style, it was necessary that the doctor should consent to be blindfolded; an indignity to which he refused to submit, until the stranger, with effusive expressions of respect for his doubts, said the secret would be embarrassing to its possessor, as it concerned the interest and safety of the most illustrious of the Scottish Jacobites.  The doctor’s reluctance now changed into eagerness; he readily agreed to follow his guide, and was conveyed, partly by land and partly by water, to a mansion, which they entered through a garden.  After passing through a long range of apartments, his mask was removed, and he looked round upon a splendid saloon, hung with crimson velvet, and blazing with mirrors which reached from floor to ceiling, while the dim perspective of a long conservatory was revealed at the farther end.  His conductor rang a silver bell, which was immediately answered by a little page, richly dressed in scarlet.  This boy entered into conversation in German with the cavalier, and gave very pleasing information to him, which he, in turn, communicated to the doctor.  “Signor Dottore,” said he, “the most important part of your occasion is past.  The lady whom you have been unhappily called to attend met with an alarming accident in her carriage not half an hour before I found you in the church, and the unlucky absence of her physician leaves her entirely in your charge.  Her accouchement is over, apparently without more than exhaustion; but of that you will be the judge.”