it fell, an old woman on crutches picked it up, and retreated quickly, having left, in place of Dymoke's gauntlet, a lady's glove. The office of champion was ancient in origin. When, in ancient times, champions were chosen to fight for or defend some good cause, they generally fought on foot; their weapons a club and a shield; and always made an offering to the Church, 'that God might assist them in battle.' If, therefore, it is true that, the day after William's coronation, a tall man was ready at the appointed place to answer Dymoke's challenge, the champion must have failed in his word, for no combat took place. When pitied by her sister Anne for the fatigue she went through at her coronation, Queen Mary is said to have replied, 'A crown, sister, is not so heavy as it seems;' but we can scarcely imagine that it could not but have pressed heavily on the brow of one who wore it in her own father's stead. Heavy or light as the burden might be, Queen Mary paid dearly for the privilege of wearing it. The plots of her father's adherents embittered her reign, and lasted long after her and her husband's death. For a century, the Jacobites, as King James's partisans were called, to distinguish them from those who were attached to the other side, plotted and struggled in the cause of those who they deemed had been unjustly deposed from the English throne. The struggle was hopeless, for it was against a nation's will. But vain as it proved to be, the story is romantic, thrilling, and instructive; and to enlighten my young readers upon it, I have written the following pages, which, I hope, may interest them in the true history of those who, in 1715 and 1745, wore and fought for the White Cockade. October 1869. B. H. TALES OF THE WHITE COCKADE. CHAPTER I. JAMES THE SECOND IN EXILE, AND THE ELDER PRETENDER, JAMES EDWARD STUART. 'An' somebody were come again, Carle, an' the king come.' OLD CAVALIER SONG. OME miles to the west of Paris, surrounded by a moat and massive walls, with four towers at its angles, an old chateau is still in existence. It is used now as a military prison; but once upon a time it was a royal palace, the residence of kings, from 1143, when Louis le Jeune held his court there, down to the days of Francis I. Louis XIV. was very fond of it, for it was his birthplace, and lavished his magnificence on the decora A tions of its interior, although now all the rooms are stripped and bare, and resound but to the tread of weary prisoners. Yet even in that gay reign, when St. Germains was still a splendid palace, those walls might have heard sighing and sorrow, when Louis (weary of her sad face) gave it to Madame de la Vallière, who retreated to it, to efface by her penitence her sinful love for him. The old chateau and quiet little town of St. Germains-en-Laye is situated high on the top of a hill, in the midst of forest scenery. The views from the public walks are very fine; and when the stately trees on the terrace are green in summer time, they attract many visitors from Paris. But very unlike such modern visitors looked a group of French courtiers assembled there one cold December's afternoon, as long ago as 1688. The trees were bare, the wind bleak, as it moaned amid the empty boughs, or rustled the leaves lying on the ground; and the group, who seemed expecting an arrival, kept casting eager glances on the road below the walk. They turned to pace the terrace, discussing, as they walked along, events of more than ordinary interest. One of them related to his companions a scene that had taken place the day before. 'The Duke of Lauzun,' he said, 'replied to the |