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A Jacobite Exile Being the Adventures of a Young Englishman in the Service of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden By: George Alfred Henty (1832-1902) |
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A JACOBITE EXILE: Being the Adventures of a Young Englishman
in the Service of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden by G. A. Henty. Contents Preface.
Chapter 1: A Spy in the Household.
Chapter 2: Denounced.
Chapter 3: A Rescue.
Chapter 4: In Sweden.
Chapter 5: Narva.
Chapter 6: A Prisoner.
Chapter 7: Exchanged.
Chapter 8: The Passage of the Dwina.
Chapter 9: In Warsaw.
Chapter 10: In Evil Plight.
Chapter 11: With Brigands.
Chapter 12: Treed By Wolves.
Chapter 13: A Rescued Party.
Chapter 14: The Battle Of Clissow.
Chapter 15: An Old Acquaintance.
Chapter 16: In England Again.
Chapter 17: The North Coach.
Chapter 18: A Confession.
Preface.
My Dear Lads, Had I attempted to write you an account of the whole of the
adventurous career of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, it would, in
itself, have filled a bulky volume, to the exclusion of all other
matter; and a youth, who fought at Narva, would have been a
middle aged man at the death of that warlike monarch, before the
walls of Frederickshall. I have, therefore, been obliged to confine
myself to the first three years of his reign, in which he crushed
the army of Russia at Narva, and laid the then powerful republic of
Poland prostrate at his feet. In this way, only, could I obtain
space for the private adventures and doings of Charlie Carstairs,
the hero of the story. The details of the wars of Charles the
Twelfth were taken from the military history, written at his
command by his chamberlain, Adlerfeld; from a similar narrative by
a Scotch gentleman in his service; and from Voltaire's history. The
latter is responsible for the statement that the trade of Poland
was almost entirely in the hands of Scotch, French, and Jewish
merchants, the Poles themselves being sharply divided into the two
categories of nobles and peasants. Yours sincerely, G. A. Henty. Chapter 1: A Spy in the Household.
On the borders of Lancashire and Westmoreland, two centuries since,
stood Lynnwood, a picturesque mansion, still retaining something of
the character of a fortified house. It was ever a matter of regret
to its owner, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, that his grandfather had so
modified its construction, by levelling one side of the quadrangle,
and inserting large mullion windows in that portion inhabited by
the family, that it was in no condition to stand a siege, in the
time of the Civil War. Sir Marmaduke was, at that time, only a child, but he still
remembered how the Roundhead soldiers had lorded it there, when his
father was away fighting with the army of the king; how they had
seated themselves at the board, and had ordered his mother about as
if she had been a scullion, jeering her with cruel words as to what
would have been the fate of her husband, if they had caught him
there, until, though but eight years old, he had smitten one of the
troopers, as he sat, with all his force. What had happened after
that, he did not recollect, for it was not until a week after the
Roundheads had ridden away that he found himself in his bed, with
his mother sitting beside him, and his head bandaged with cloths
dipped in water. He always maintained that, had the house been
fortified, it could have held out until help arrived, although, in
later years, his father assured him that it was well it was not in
a position to offer a defence. "We were away down south, Marmaduke, and the Roundheads were
masters of this district, at the time. They would have battered the
place around your mother's ears, and, likely as not, have burnt it
to the ground. As it was, I came back here to find it whole and
safe, except that the crop eared scoundrels had, from pure
wantonness, destroyed the pictures and hacked most of the furniture
to pieces. I took no part in the later risings, seeing that they
were hopeless, and therefore preserved my property, when many
others were ruined. "No, Marmaduke, it is just as well that the house was not
fortified... Continue reading book >>
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