brandy."

Having thus devolved his whole cares on Jenny as prime minister, Niel
Blane and the ci-devant laird, once his patron, but now glad to be his
trencher-companion, sate down to enjoy themselves for the remainder of
the evening, remote from the bustle of the public room.

All in Jenny's department was in full activity. The knights of the
popinjay received and requited the hospitable entertainment of their
captain, who, though he spared the cup himself, took care it should go
round with due celerity among the rest, who might not have otherwise
deemed themselves handsomely treated. Their numbers melted away by
degrees, and were at length diminished to four or five, who began to talk
of breaking up their party. At another table, at some distance, sat two
of the dragoons, whom Niel Blane had mentioned, a sergeant and a private
in the celebrated John Grahame of Claverhouse's regiment of Life-Guards.
Even the non-commissioned officers and privates in these corps were not
considered as ordinary mercenaries, but rather approached to the rank of
the French mousquetaires, being regarded in the light of cadets, who
performed the duties of rank-and-file with the prospect of obtaining
commissions in case of distinguishing themselves.

Many young men of good families were to be found in the ranks, a
circumstance which added to the pride and self-consequence of these
troops. A remarkable instance of this occurred in the person of the
non-commissioned officer in question. His real name was Francis Stewart,
but he was universally known by the appellation of Bothwell, being
lineally descended from the last earl of that name; not the infamous
lover of the unfortunate Queen Mary, but Francis Stewart, Earl of
Bothwell, whose turbulence and repeated conspiracies embarrassed the