The Virginia Gazette

Extract of a Letter from a Lady at Preston, to her Friend in Town, dated December 14.

Yesterday the whole Rebel Army re-entered our Town, all sufficiently wearied, and out of Humour enough. There are with them four Ladies, who seem to be of some Distinction; Lady Ogilvy, Mrs. Murray, Jenny Cameron, and another, whose Name I could not learn; but they say she is the Mistress of one M'Sheridan, a Popish Priest. The two first were in a Chariot by themselves; the other two in a Coach and Six, with the young Pretender and M'Sheridan; who it seems is call'd the Archbishop of Canterbury.

This young Pretender seem'd very faint and sick, and is very assiduously ministered unto by Jenny Cameron.

O'Sullivan, one of the young Pretender's Council, and a very likely Fellow, made free with our House; and we were under a Necessity to treat him civilly. He returned it obligingly enough; from him we learnt some little Anecdotes relating to Jenny Cameron.

She is, it seems, the Niece of a Person of some Fashion in the Highlands; and was sent by her Uncle to pay his Complements to the young Pretender, on his March from Lochabar to Perth. She brought with her a considerable Quantity of Cattle, some Uquebaugh, and other little Presents.

When she appear'd before the young Pretender's Tent, who received her very gallantly, she jump'd off her Horse, and told him with great Frankness, That she came like the Queen of Sheba, to partake of the Wisdom of Solomon: He answered, And thou shalt, my Dear, partake of all that Solomon is Master of.— He took her in his Arms, and retir'd with her into his Tent, and were there some Time alone; the rest, Mr. Sullivan says, we are to guess.

This wild Rabble made no long Stay here, nor, I dare say, will ever come back again. They look all like hunted Hares, and had rather hear the Name of the Devil than of the Duke; but seem not to mind any body else in particular, except General Oglethorpe, whose Vivacity they are no Strangers to; but seem to hope his Forwardness may out-run his Judgment, in which, I don't doubt, they will be fatally mistaken.

They are marching, or rather gone off in a very unaccountable Manner, galloping, trotting, and running, and, as we may say, bidding the Devil take the hindmost.