344 A JACOBITE EXILE

it was light, and had the evening before been to a posting-
inn and engaged a carriage with four horses for the journey
down to Lancashire.

“There is no starting to-day, gentlemen,” the landlord
said, as they went down to breakfast by candle-light. “TI
have looked out, and the street is strewn with chimney-pots
and tiles. Never do I remember such a gale, and hour by
hour it seems to get worse. Why, it is dangerous to go
across the street.”

“Well, we must try,” Charlie said, “whatever the weather;
it is a matter of almost life and death.”

“Well, gentlemen, you must please yourselves, but I am
mistaken if any horse-keeper will let his animals out on
such a day as this.”

As soon as they had eaten their breakfasts they wrapped
themselves up in their cloaks, pressed their hats over their
heads, and sallied out. It was not until they were in the
Streets that they realized how great was the force of the
gale. Not only were the streets strewn with tiles and frag-
ments of chimney-pots, but there was light enough for them
to see that many of the upper windows of the houses had
been blown in by the force of the wind. ‘Tiles flew about
like leaves in autumn, and occasionally gutters and sheets
of lead, stripped from the roofs, flew along with prodigious
swiftness.

“This is as bad as a pitched battle, Charlie. I would as
lief be struck by a cannon-ball as by one of those strips of
lead.”

“Well, we must risk it, Harry; we must make the attempt
anyhow.”

It was with the greatest difficulty that they made their
way along. Although powerful young fellows, they were
frequently obliged to cling to the railings to prevent them-
selves from being swept away by the gusts, and they had
more than one narrow escape from falling chimneys. Al-