The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

306 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Booth and Middleton in the west, and with great difficulty escaped from
the fatal consequences of that ill-timed attempt. After this, although the
estate of the kingdom was trebly unsettled, yet no card seemed to turn up
favourable to the royal cause, until the movement of General Monk from
Scotland. Even then, it was when at the point of complete success, that
the fortunes of Charles seemed at a lower ebb than ever, especially when
intelligence had arrived at the little Court which he then kept in Brussels,
that Monk, on arriving in London, had put himself under the orders of the
Parliament.
It was at this time, and in the evening, while the King, Buckingham,
Wilmot, and some other gallants of his wandering Court, were engaged in
a convivial party, that the Chancellor (Clarendon) suddenly craved audience, and, entering with less ceremony than he would have done at another
time, announced extraordinary news. For the messenger, he said, he could
say nothing, saving that he appeared to have drunk much, and slept little;
but that he had brought a sure token of credence from a man for whose faith
he would venture his life. The King demanded to see the messenger himself.
A man entered, with something the manners of a gentleman, and more
those of a rakehelly debauchee - his eyes swelled and inflamed - his gait
disordered and stumbling, partly through lack of sleep, partly through the
means he had taken to support his fatigue. He staggered without ceremony to the head of the table, seized the King's hand, which he mumbled
like a piece of gingerbread; while Charles, who began to recollect him
from his mode of salutation, was not very much pleased that their meeting
should have taken place before so many witnesses.
"I bring good news," said the uncouth messenger, "glorious news!the King shall enjoy his own again! -My, feet are beautiful on the mountains. Gad, I have lived with Presbyterians till I have caught their language- but we are all one man's children now - all your Majesty's poor
babes. The Rump is all ruined in London - Bonfires flaming, music playing, rumps roasting, healths drinking, London in a blaze of light from the
Strand to Rotherhithe - tankards clattering"
"We can guess at that," said the Duke of Buckingham.
"My old friend, Mark Everard, sent me off with the news; I'm a villain
if I've slept since. Your Majesty recollects me, I am sure. Your Majesty
remembers, sa - sa - at the King's Oak, at Woodstock?-'O. we'll dance, and sing, and play,
For'twill be a joyous day
When the King shall enjoy his own again.'"
"Master Wildrake, I remember you well," said the King. " I trust the
good news is certain?"
"Certain! your Majesty; did I not hear the bells? -did I not see the
bonfires? - did I not drink your Majesty's health so often, that my legs
would scarce carry me to the wharf? It is as certain as that I am poor
Roger Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincoln."
The Duke of Buckingham here whispered to the King, "I have always
suspected your Majesty kept odd company during the escape from Worcester, but this seems a rare sample."
"Why, pretty much like yourself, and other company I have kept here
so many years -as stout a heart, as empty a head," said Charles -" as
much lace, though somewhat tarnished, as much brass on the brow, and
iearly as much copper in the pocket."
" I would your Majesty would intrust this messenger of good news with
me, to get the truth out of him," said Buckingham.
" Thank your Grace," replied the King; " but he has a will as well as
yourself, and such seldom agree. My Lord Chancellor hath wisdom, and
to that we must trust ourselves. - Master Wildrake, you will go with my
Lord Chancellor, who will bring us a report of your tidings; meantime, I