Be this as it may, though a Catholic, he died a friend to the Protestant succession. Ennison with my sister last night. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. 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. He shuddered. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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