he had married and remained ever since he was taken prisoner at Blenheim.  His story was perfectly pat; there were none there to doubt it save honest Frank, and he was charmed with his kinsman’s scheme, when he became acquainted with it; and, in truth, always admired Colonel Esmond with an affectionate fidelity, and thought his cousin the wisest and best of all cousins and men.  Frank entered heart and soul into the plan, and liked it the better as it was to take him to Paris, out of reach of his brothers, his father, and his mother-in-law, whose attentions rather fatigued him.

Castlewood, I have said, was born in the same year as the Prince of Wales; had not a little of the Prince’s air, height, and figure; and, especially since he had seen the Chevalier de St. George on the occasion before-named, took no small pride in his resemblance to a person so illustrious; which likeness he increased by all means in his power, wearing fair brown periwigs, such as the Prince wore, and ribbons, and so forth, of the Chevalier’s color.

This resemblance was, in truth, the circumstance on which Mr. Esmond’s scheme was founded; and having secured Frank’s secrecy and enthusiasm, he left him to continue his journey, and see the other personages on whom its success depended.  The place whither Mr. Simon next travelled was Bar, in Lorraine, where that merchant arrived with a consignment of broadcloths, valuable laces from Malines, and letters for his correspondent there.

Would you know how a prince, heroic from misfortunes, and descended from a line of kings, whose race seemed to be doomed like the Atridae of old—­would you know how he was employed, when the envoy who came to him through danger and difficulty beheld him for the first time?  The young king, in a flannel jacket, was at tennis with the gentlemen of his suite, crying out after the balls, and swearing like the meanest of his subjects.  The next time Mr. Esmond saw him, ’twas when Monsieur Simon took a packet of laces to Miss Oglethorpe:  the Prince’s ante-chamber in those days, at which ignoble door men were forced to knock for admission to his Majesty.  The admission was given, the envoy found the King and the mistress together; the pair were at cards and his Majesty was in liquor.  He cared more for three honors than three kingdoms; and a half-dozen glasses of ratafia made him forget all his woes and his losses, his father’s crown, and his grandfather’s head.

Mr. Esmond did not open himself to the Prince then.  His Majesty was scarce in a condition to hear him; and he doubted whether a King who drank so much could keep a secret in his fuddled head; or whether a hand that shook so, was strong enough to grasp at a crown.  However, at last, and after taking counsel with the Prince’s advisers, amongst whom were many gentlemen, honest and faithful, Esmond’s plan was laid before the King, and her actual Majesty Queen Oglethorpe, in council.  The Prince liked the scheme well