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This edition, on Large Paper, consisting 
 of 1 10 copies, was printed in the month 
 of March,, 1892. 
 
 This Copy is No.. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE 
 
 BY 
 
 S. BAYARD DOD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "STUBBLE OR WHEAT : 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
Copyright, 1892, 
 
 BY 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IN one of those spare hours which the great-hearted 
 Edinburgh doctor snatched from his sacred 
 duties as healer of men, to give us glimpses of the 
 breadth and depth of his own nature, and show us 
 some lessons to be had from men and books, he gives 
 the outline of this tale; and suggests that here is 
 material for a wholesome and pleasant story. 
 
 If he who drew the outline could have filled in the 
 details, we all know how the story would have dis- 
 tilled strong and sweet. 
 
 It would be pleasant to think that the readers of 
 this book would concur in the good doctor's senti- 
 ment, that "we are the better of stirring ourselves 
 about these the unknown and long time dead." 
 
 Crow Hill, 
 
 East Orange, N. J., 1891. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. "A Douce Bairn Maunna Forget his 
 
 Forbears," . . . . . . i 
 
 II. "A Fair Swap has a Sonsie Lave," . 22 
 
 III. "Far frae Court, far frae Care," . 38 
 
 IV. " A Horn Spoon Hauds nae Poison," 56 
 V. " Remember, Man, and Keep in Mind, A 
 
 Faitkfu' Friend is Hard to Find," 79 
 VI. "The Reek o' my ain House *6 Better 
 
 than the Fire o' my Neebor's," . 102 
 VII. " There is nae Sport where there is 
 
 neither Auld Folk nor Bairns," . 116 
 VIII. " Ye hae Tied a Knot wi' your Tongue 
 that ye canna undo wi' your 
 
 Teeth," 139 
 
 IX. " There's a Time to Gley, and a Time 
 
 to Look Straight," . . . .153 
 X. " Ye Live on Love, as Laverocks do on 
 
 Leeks," 190 
 
 XI. " Kings and Bears aft Worry their 
 
 Keepers," 218 
 
 XII. " All O'ers are III, Except O'er the 
 
 Water and O'er the Hill," . . 250 
 XIII. "Every Man Bows to the Bush he 
 
 Gets Bield Frae," . . . .271 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "a douce bairn maunna forget his forbears." 
 
 JAMES MUIR, third Laird of Stoneywold in the 
 shire of Aberdeen, was born September 29, 17 10. 
 
 With this averment our story begins. And is it not 
 a fair prologue to a tale? In the first place, it is the 
 plain, honest truth ; with which it is well to begin and 
 to end. Secondly, Nature points to it as a suitable 
 beginning, inasmuch as for us the world begins on 
 the day of our birth, and ceases to be when we leave 
 it behind us. After this manner the artists who have 
 portrayed life are wont to open their story, as witness 
 the ancient nursery rhyme of the seven-day life of the 
 man "born on Monday," and the "Seven Ages" of 
 the great bard which takes a like starting point. 
 
 Yet back of this beginning lies a story ; at least for 
 all men except that paradoxical old Eastern king, 
 Melchizedek, who looms unborn out of the primeval 
 mist, without beginning of days, without father or 
 mother, without descent; but he was an orphan siri 
 generis. For the rest of us there is the unlooked-for 
 accident of birth, which, if it does not befall us, there 
 
2 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 is nothing more to be said; but if we meet with this 
 adventure, we are bound to account for it; as it will 
 not submit to be classed among those facts of science 
 which are, but how or why they are we cannot tell. 
 
 James Muir knew who his grandfather was, and had 
 the benefit of a personal acquaintance with this sturdy 
 progenitor. An introduction to this old laird will tell 
 us how his grandson came to be the Laird of Stoney- 
 wold, a fair estate of some three thousand acres on 
 the north bank of the River Don, in the shire of Aber- 
 deen. 
 
 Robert Muir, the grandfather of James, owned a fine 
 estate, on the Ythan, near Ellon, called Heatherside, 
 with rich pasture fields well drained and cultured and 
 a house, which, for three generations, the family had 
 been fashioning to suit their taste and comfort. Hav- 
 ing grown up with the family, the Hall was a part of 
 their life, and none of the Muirs seemed, in true fash- 
 ion, to have wedded unless they went from the home- 
 stead to the village kirk near by, and returned to the 
 wedding feast under the old roof tree. 
 
 The Laird of Ellon, though at all times a strict 
 adherent of the Kirk and firm in the orthodox belief, 
 which he had inherited along with his estate, was nev- 
 ertheless so far amenable to the manners of his time 
 that he did not disdain to drink a bout with gentlemen 
 of his own estate, nor was he loath to crack more than 
 one bottle when occasion served; and while he was 
 no drunken reveler he was merry in his cups, and 
 esteemed that his orthodoxy was not impugned 
 thereby. When his blood was once warm with wine 
 he was free with his tongue and free with his money ; 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 3 
 
 and, though he counted this no harm, he paid dear 
 for his whistle, as often happens with those who, hav- 
 ing let their brains be stolen, as the poet puts it, have 
 to depend only on their luck. 
 
 The Laird of Ellon had been attending a country 
 fair at Old Meldrum ; his cattle having fetched a good 
 price, he, being well to the fore with his silver, had 
 joined a party of gentlemen at the Leslie Arms, the 
 old inn that stands by the road to Inverurie; and, 
 when they fell to twitting the Laird, after dinner, he 
 stood his ground to his cost. 
 
 "Ye canna snowk a fairer beastie in a' Aberdeen- 
 shire than yon red bullock frae the haughs o' Ellon," 
 said Muir. 
 
 To which Leslie of Keith Hall made answer, "Aye, 
 the bullock is fine and weel-faured, but the herd is 
 bonnie sraa'. The beasties hae eaten their fill o' 
 fodder, for there is scarce ane bullock to the acre." 
 
 "Perhaps my Laird of Ellon is loath to put his cat- 
 tle on sale lest he find himself in the case of a man 
 who, having aince said a guid thing, hauds his mouth, 
 for fear that further speech may bewray him for a 
 fool," said William Gordon, a wealthy merchant of 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 This Gordon had grown rich over the counter of 
 his Edinburgh shop, and had the instincts of the 
 tradesman. He had, too, a sense of degradation in 
 regard to his calling in life, born, perchance, of the 
 way that he had practiced it. It was his ambition to 
 become a landed proprietor, on such a scale as would 
 entitle his holding to be called a barony and himself 
 to be saluted as ' 'My Laird. ' ' He was shrewd enough 
 
4 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 to seek the realization of this ambition far away from 
 the circle of his reputation, where a better bargain 
 might be made, and the limitations which a man often 
 puts upon himself would not hamper him. With this 
 view he had come to Aberdeen, and made his visit 
 yield him both pleasure and profit by some trifling 
 barter with the merchants of that good old town, and 
 spent the intervals between these little transactions in 
 searching through the shire for an estate suited to the 
 measure of himself as a man and a gentleman. 
 
 The Ellon estate pleased him well; but he never 
 hinted his appreciation of its loveliness nor his thought 
 of becoming a landed proprietor; but walked over the 
 broad acres listening to the Laird as he proudly re- 
 counted their value in words that sank into Gordon's 
 heart. He talked fences and drains, crops and cattle, 
 with the Laird, who came to esteem this Edinburgh 
 merchant a most companionable man, and even sug- 
 gested to Gordon that his nature and tastes fitted him 
 for the life of a country gentleman ; and at his time 
 of life it was well to withdraw from the turmoil of 
 trade and take up the life at which God first set men, 
 which had all the charm and dignity befitting the riper 
 years of a man. He advised Gordon to buy land and 
 settle down to this noble calling and grow mellow in 
 the quiet, pure atmosphere of the life of a country 
 gentleman. 
 
 Gordon deprecated his fitness to fill the measure of 
 the Laird's generous description of the just and happy 
 landlord, honored by his tenantry, at peace with him- 
 self and with his God. Now, however, he saw an op- 
 portunity, which, if rightly used, might be the for- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 5 
 
 tunate turn of the tide. His entering wedge was to 
 twit the Laird of Ellon as a timid greenhorn, who 
 could raise cattle by letting them browse over his 
 broad acres, but feared to bring them to market lest 
 the shrewd traders should play him for a gudgeon. 
 
 It was a quiet taunt, but it stung the Laird, who 
 prided himself on being a judge of horses and cattle, 
 safe to buy or sell on the hoof with any man in Scot- 
 land, be he from Highland or Lowland; and the 
 bonds of his tongue and temper were relaxed by the 
 wine. 
 
 "How now, Maister Gordon," he said, and the ac- 
 cent on the "Maister" stung the broadcloth man; "ye 
 think that I ken nae mair how to sell my cattle than 
 do ye to spin the claith that ye sell ower yer ain coun- 
 ter. But I tell ye, man, there is nane in Scotland, far 
 or near, that can warst me at a bargain on the hoof, 
 forbye the deil himsel', and wi' him I am canty enow 
 to eschew all dealin'. I can tell ye to a pound the 
 weight of neat-cattle on the hoof; I'll tell to a hair 
 what the hide will fetch ; and to a penny the price of 
 the carcass; and to a ha'penny what neat land will 
 rent for." 
 
 There was a clink of glasses and a call for more 
 wine to toast the brave Laird of Ellon. This was a 
 very gratifying exhibition of the sympathy of the 
 merry gentlemen, but it did not serve to help the 
 Laird's wits to encounter the crafty merchant. None 
 drank his health more cheerily than Gordon ; none 
 applauded more heartily the Laird's swaggering boast. 
 
 Never again might there come such an opportunity 
 to catch the Laird in this mood, and before gentlemen 
 
6 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 too. So he took the applause (aimed in part at him- 
 self he knew) in good part and plied the gentlemen 
 with liquor, while he drank sparingly. He took care 
 to keep the talk in the same channel, where the price 
 of cattle, woodland, pastures, houses, and estates 
 were the theme, and bantering jests, stories of horse 
 trades and shrewd bargains went the round of the 
 table; while he sat silent in the attitude of one being 
 initiated. Having bided his time, he threw out the 
 bait. 
 
 "My Laird of Ellon, perchance, would hardly daur 
 to name a price for his whole herd, granted that he 
 knows how many his herd contains." 
 
 "Faith, man, do ye tak' me for a bairn or a green 
 gillie at a maister's biddin'. I am Laird o' my land 
 and ken every foot o' it, and every hoof o' my herd, 
 every hoof for a ten mile round. I daur name ye a 
 price for my herd and house and lands and a 1 my 
 gear, were ye man enow to tak' them at the price I 
 wad name." 
 
 "Aye, my Laird," answered the cunning tradesman, 
 "a man daurs use bonnie free speech to mak' a bar- 
 gain that he can break wi' a word. But the glint of 
 the arle-penny that holds him to his bargain is like to 
 •sober his speech somewhat." 
 
 "Show me your gowd or siller," said Muir, goaded 
 to extremity, in order to show his mettle, and rout 
 this four and twenty tailors all in one, this broadcloth 
 peddler. "Cross my hand wi' your siller, or haud 
 your tongue." 
 
 Gordon bit his lips and turned pal,e, but did not 
 lose his self-command. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 7 
 
 "Nay, my Laird," he said, in a soft, insinuating, 
 maddening tone, "God forbid that I should tak' ad- 
 vantage o' a gentleman wha is in no state to barter 
 lands or onything, and wha couldna name a price for 
 a brace o' moorfowl and bide by it on the morrow." 
 
 "By what token," replied Ellon hotly, "do ye learn 
 to measure a gentleman as ye mete out yourclaith? 
 I can match ye at quarter-staff, and I can buy or sell, 
 as your humor suits. So down wi' your siller." 
 
 "But, my Laird," said the smooth, imperturbable 
 Gordon. "Ye havena laid a price on your land." 
 
 Before Muir could answer, some of the gentlemen, 
 alarmed at his reckless mood, interfered to stop the 
 play, which, as a farce, it amused them to foster, but 
 which would turn out a sorry tragedy if the Gordons 
 supplanted the Muirs on the Ellon estate. It had 
 gone so far now that it must be played to the end, and 
 they must explain, as best they could, their share in it, 
 when it was known through all the countryside who 
 they were whose presence gave binding sanction to 
 this uncanny bargain. 
 
 Gordon made no objection to their interference; 
 with a cold, sneering smile he looked at Ellon, across 
 the table, while the gentlemen gathered about him 
 and tried to silence or lead him from the room. 
 
 Muir stretched out his hand across the table; Les- 
 lie beat it down and Montross caught it and held it 
 firmly in his two hands. Gordon looked on with his 
 set, sneering smile, which seemed to glitter also in his 
 steel-gray eye, and stroked his beard with an easy, 
 meditative motion, his elbow resting on the table. 
 
 The Laird of Ellon grew furious. "Unhand me," 
 
8 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 he cried, in a voice husky with anger. "Am I your 
 gillie to do your biddin' wi' what is my ain? I hold 
 my lands by the same title as you hold yours, wi' the 
 right to keep it or sell. I hae cut the leadin' strings, 
 lang syne, and winna wear them noo. Gie me your 
 siller if ye ken the glint o' it. If ye cam' here to 
 play the tune o' a piper, wha can blaw his bags but is 
 naught but a beggar, then gang awa' as ye cam'. 
 For price ye can name it yer'sel, and I'll tak' your 
 siller and bind the bargain." 
 
 Gordon had bided his time, and the fortune that 
 befalls the cool and crafty beast, or reptile, or man 
 that waits was within his grasp. Yet he showed no 
 haste in word or action. He did not intend to com- 
 promise himself before these men who were to be his 
 neighbors, into whose houses he would enter, whose 
 respect and consideration were to be part of his prize, 
 without which the bare possession of the land would 
 mean merely exile. The same influences governed 
 him in naming the price for the land, which, though 
 far below its value, was not so shamefully low as to 
 introduce him among his future neighbors, the gentry 
 of the shire, as little better than a thief; he took care 
 that the transaction should be respectable. As he 
 named the price some of the gentlemen were still 
 sober enough to beg Ellon to wait till the morrow, 
 and protested against the sale, though they could not 
 cry shame or point the finger of scorn at the trades- 
 man. Through it all Gordon kept his cold, glittering 
 eye fixed on Ellon, and as the Laird, for the third time, 
 thrust his hand across the table, Gordon calmly and 
 deliberately dropped a guinea in the outstretched 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 9 
 
 palm ; and he knew that the Ellon estate was securely 
 his; yet even then did not permit himself the luxury 
 of a visible smile. 
 
 The afternoon was waning when the party of merry 
 gentlemen dispersed; and there was no further refer- 
 ence to the transaction which would make that a black- 
 listed day in the annals of the country side, when the 
 Ellon estate passed from the family of Muir into the 
 hands of the Gordons. 
 
 While ordering his horses and bustling about the 
 inn the Laird of Ellon sustained his courage with 
 much swagger and bluster, hectoring the grooms and 
 stable boys; but, once on the road homeward, his 
 spirits drooped perceptibly. He was wont to return 
 in high feather from a country fair; for he was a man 
 of consequence, and it pleased him to take the lead- 
 ing position which was accorded him. Whether the 
 talk was of beeves and wool, or of land and the state 
 of the crops, or of politics and the turnpike rebellion, 
 or of the traditional theology of the Kirk; on all these 
 points my Laird was ready with his opinion and was 
 listened to with respect. Therefore, irrespective of 
 his trading well or ill, a country fair was a sort of 
 social triumph for Muir, and he was glad to carry 
 home an account of his success to his bonnie Leddy, 
 who entered into all her husband's concerns with a 
 lively, but not too prying interest. She kept pace, in 
 a wifely way, with all his doings; rode or walked over 
 the estate with him, discussing improvements; knew 
 what an acre should produce, and what the Ellon acres 
 yielded. Over the dairy, hen-coop, and sheep-fold 
 she maintained thorough personal supervision; the 
 
io A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 lambs and the calves and the wee, fluffy chicks owed 
 more to my Leddy's watchful eye than to the care of 
 their own natural mothers. She was foster-mother to 
 them all, and many of them remembered the hand 
 that had fed them in the early days of their struggle 
 with life, and, in later years, recognized their bene- 
 factress and gave her their mute benison. For it is 
 thus that these dumb animals preach a silent sermon 
 on the gratitude which forgets not a favor when the 
 need of it is past; while men so often resent the rec- 
 ollection, as a debt which they would fain ignore. 
 
 Among the Ellon tenantry there were many who 
 did not forget; children, mothers, and fathers who 
 ran to the cottage doors, as Mrs. Muir rode by, to 
 answer her bonnie smile with outspoken blessings. 
 Many a puny bairn which she had nursed into life, 
 while the mother could not care for the perishing little 
 one, with its earliest speech was taught to lisp the 
 prayer that the "Guid God wad bless my Leddy and 
 the Laird of Ellon, and a' the bairns o' that house to 
 (the third and fourth generation." 
 
 When the cottages were passed, if she were minded 
 to dismount at some pasture field, there was sure to 
 be some shock-haired lad who had run all the way 
 beside the horse to hold my Leddy's pony, and elated 
 beyond measure if it were granted him to hold her 
 wee foot in his hand and give her a mount. It was a 
 sort of badge of promotion on the estate when a lad 
 could say, "I've lifted my Leddy." 
 
 The account books of the estate, which it did not 
 comport with the Laird's dignity to handle (for he 
 had an old-fashioned notion that it scarce became a 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 1 
 
 country gentleman to show an undue familiarity with 
 the tame learning of a clerk) — these books my Ledcly 
 kept with a scrupulous care and exactness which 
 sometimes vexed the Laird; for here must be set 
 down at least the gross amount (if not the particular 
 items) of his own expenditures; and these gross 
 amounts had an unpleasant look. 
 
 With pen in hand and paper before her, his lady 
 had often seemed to float dimly before his vision as a 
 recording angel; and he was not ready to be sum- 
 moned beforehand unto judgment. 
 
 On his ride home, as the darkness settled down, 
 and the cool evening air drove the fumes of the liquor 
 from his head, leaving only its depressing influences 
 on his nerves, the swash -buckler tone died out of the 
 Laird's speech ; and, though he had gotten a fine price 
 for his cattle and his dinner and carouse had cost him 
 nothing (for Gordon had paid the reckoning at the 
 inn for the whole party; and well he might), yet, for 
 all his gains, Muir was in no merry mood, foreseeing a 
 rueful meeting at the end of his journey. 
 
 He soundly rated Donald McKay his steward, who 
 handled the reins, being in better trim than the Laird 
 for driving in a darksome night; but at every jolt 
 from rut or stone, he sneered at Donald as a gillie fit 
 only to drive an ox-cart or stagger at the tail of a plow. 
 
 Donald was wholly at a loss how to meet this out- 
 burst. The bullocks were all sold and at a fine price, 
 which was paid because they were of the famous Ellon 
 stock, and he could not guess what had given his 
 master the megrims. 
 
 Their drive home had always been beguiled with 
 
12 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 talk over the events of the fair, as gathered from their 
 different points of view, comparisons of bargains and 
 sales of horses and cattle; all in the familiar tone of 
 those, who, in this sphere, were on a common footing. 
 
 Donald had grown up on the estate along with the 
 Laird, being about three years his senior. They had 
 been friends from their youth, had fished, hunted, 
 rode, and broke their colts to the saddle together ; and 
 neither fish nor colt nor bird saw any difference 
 between the cotter's son and the young Laird. 
 
 There could arise no question of Donald's loyalty 
 to the Ellon estate; for he was part of the estate; it 
 was his by a fee of which none could ever rob him, 
 his until death did them part; and even then he would 
 lie under its sod. 
 
 He was inclined to resent the Laird's mood, not 
 bitterly, but with proud indignation born of his true- 
 hearted sense of fellowship in all that concerned the 
 Ellon interests, to which, did even the Laird prove 
 faithless, he would bide true. 
 
 "Did ye hear Ross of Keith Hall say he wad hae 
 gi'en twa guineas mair for the red bullock, gin he had 
 had a chance to spier him weel, afore Montross snap- 
 pit him up?" said Donald, when they were well on 
 the way. 
 
 Under normal conditions this would have been the 
 entering wedge to open up a long interchange of ex- 
 periences that would have beguiled the hours of the 
 lonely ride. Unluckily just then the wagon dropped 
 into a rut; they were driving at a furious pace, by 
 orders of the Laird, who seemed intent on leaving 
 Old Meldrum behind, little as he had reason to wish 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 13 
 
 himself at home; and the violent lurch slung Muir 
 almost off his seat. He was in a state of unstable 
 equilibrium, barely sufficient for his safety on a 
 smooth road, and this jolt came near making him bite 
 the dust in literal fashion. 
 
 "Donald, ye gillie," he shouted, "baud your clack 
 and mind your ponies. I'm nae sae anxious for a 
 pocket fu' o' gold, as I am to keep my head in the 
 place where God put it. Ye can keep the twa 
 guineas, if ye'U keep the 'twa corbies' in the straight 
 road." 
 
 This was the name by which the two coal-black 
 ponies were known on the Ellon estate, and through 
 all the country side. They were a pair of tough little 
 Highland ponies, fleet of foot and long of wind, and 
 were the favorites of the Laird when he was off for a 
 long, hard drive. They were good for all weathers, 
 cared not a straw for shelter, were not fastidious as to 
 fodder, eating anything from the sweetest corn to the 
 wiry moor grass, or even the tough heather broom, 
 when nothing better was forthcoming. Donald hav- 
 ing broken them, loved and trusted them, as they did 
 him. 
 
 "The twa corbies r " he retorted gruffly, "ken the 
 road by nicht far better than you or I, my Laird. 
 And a wise man trusts a canty pony in the dark, and 
 leaves the guidin' to Providence. If the road doesna 
 please ye, we can gae back to Old Meldrum, and if the 
 gait doesna suit ye, it lacks only your word to slacken 
 a bit; I'm nae fond of boltin' head foremost into a 
 pitch o' mirk like this. But ye gied me the word, 
 and I ^ied it to the corbies." 
 
14 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Well, the deil's in the road and in the corbies 
 too," snapped out Muir. "I wasna sae sair beat 
 about in a' my life." 
 
 They drove on for a while in silence, until Donald, 
 whose pride had been stirred by the triumphs of the 
 Ellon herd, witnessed by the eagerness, on all hands, 
 to secure at least enough of the stock to put a strain 
 of the choice blood in other herds, could no longer 
 restrain speech. Had he been alone, he would have 
 talked to the "twa corbies," who (so he fancied) 
 would have understood him, and pricking up their 
 ears, arching their necks and swishing their tails (as 
 they do when the corn is sweet) would have stepped 
 higher and more lightly, in recognition of the honor 
 done to the estate with which they were identified. 
 It would not have done, however, to ignore the Laird 
 and talk to the "corbies"; so his loyalty wrestled with 
 his resentment and, the nobler feeling gaining sway, 
 he ventured again: 
 
 "Did ye hear Mclan o' Glenburnie barter wi' me 
 for a next year's heifer or bullock frae the Ellon herd ? 
 And when Montross heard him, he said, 'I'll pay ye 
 twa guineas now for the first choice o' the Ellon herd 
 next year, and, besides the bonus, I to pay the best 
 price that ony yearlin' fetches at the fair.' And he 
 was out wi' his twa gold guineas before I could say 
 him yea or nay." 
 
 The luckless Donald could have hit upon no more 
 unhappy theme than the price which the Ellon herd 
 would fetch at the next year's fairing. It was gall 
 and wormwood to Muir, who ground his teeth and 
 cursed the day that brought Gordon to the north 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 15 
 
 country. That Edinburgh tradesman, with speech 
 as smooth as the bite of a leather-mouthed chub, had 
 filched (yes, it was no more nor less than filching) his 
 ancestral estate, his fair Ellon acres, away from him, 
 and left him nothing but a dirty heap of tradesman's 
 ill-gotten gold. It was small comfort to him that 
 belike he had fared no worse, when the gold was paid 
 him as purchase money, than the purchasers who 
 made bad bargains over the counter, paying for them 
 the gold that now was his. It was ill-gotten from the 
 start, and had a warlock gift to beguile men, leading 
 them astray and stealing their brains, worse than wine. 
 It was elfin in its origin and in its power; it was not 
 the fruit of honest toil, of sowing, reaping, and tilling 
 the soil; but men found it by luck, where the gnomes 
 had hid it, and it bewitched men to look on it. He 
 cursed the guinea which lay heavy in the bottom of 
 his pocket. What did it matter to him who bought 
 the pick of the Ellon herd next year; or the price 
 that they would bring. To his credit be it said, that 
 he bemoaned not the loss of money, but that Gordon 
 should wear the glory of owning the Ellon herd, 
 whose fame was his fame, whose honor was that of his 
 family. Again let us score another point to the credit 
 of this wretched and down-hearted laird. He was 
 repentant over the sorrow which his folly would entail 
 in hall and hovel, but and ben, in byre and fauld. 
 
 He was afraid (in a manly sense) to look his wife in 
 the face; afraid to meet the reproachful looks and 
 perchance words of his tenantry; afraid of the dumb 
 accusation which would stare at him from the faces of 
 the sheep in the fauld and the kine in the byre, if they 
 
1 6 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 knew that the hand of the woman they loved was ex- 
 tended to them for the last time. 
 
 The broad fields themselves, as they lay under the 
 summer sunshine, would smile a quiet, pathetic 
 remonstrance, and the breeze that swept through the 
 leaves of the woodland would whisper "Esau." 
 
 He dreaded, beyond anything that he could have 
 described, to face these reproaches, even those voice- 
 less ones which pierced to the marrow, finding an 
 echo in the inner chambers of his heart. But he felt 
 that the ice must be broken, and Donald was a good 
 one to begin upon, and the cover of the darkness a 
 seasonable time to tell such a piece of news. 
 
 "It matters naught to me," he blurted out, as 
 though resenting an affront from his faithful servitor, 
 "what price the kine o' next year may fetch, for the 
 price winna gae to me or mine, but to a deil's bairn 
 frae Edinboro' toun." 
 
 Donald was struck dumb; but after some minutes 
 silence, which put my Laird on the rack, he found a 
 reasonable solution. 
 
 "Ye'll no' hae been playin' so high, my Laird, that 
 we canna pay the piper wi' the price o' the crops, 
 and so ye'll handle the price o' next year's cattle, as 
 ye and your forbears hae done for mony a year; and 
 they'll do it sae lang as Donald McKay is aboon the 
 gowans." 
 
 This was leal and true, but it was far from being a 
 balm to the spirit of the Laird, now wild with the 
 anger of shame. 
 
 "Donald," he cried, "ye hae left your wits to wan- 
 der awa' in the dark, till ye are clean daft and rightly 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 17 
 
 ken naething that I tell ye. I hae played for nae 
 more nor less than the Ellon estate, and William Gor- 
 don's arle-penny lies in my pocket, which binds me 
 to tak' his price and gie him the land, and my word is 
 gane forth before the gentry o' the shire; and I maun 
 bide by it noo, for better or waur," and the Laird 
 groaned in spirit, quailing before the unseen face of 
 his tenant, hearkening for his answer as one awaits the 
 sentence of the judge. There was a dead silence 
 longer than before, in which the darkness seemed to 
 deepen, and the rattle of the wagon, the clink of the 
 harness, and the thud of the hoofs of the "twa cor- 
 bies" on the road rang out with sharp distinctness on 
 the night air, keeping a sort of doleful rhyme to the 
 Laird's unhappy ruminations. 
 
 When the pause had become well-nigh unendurable, 
 Donald answered, with a resonant sigh, "The Lord 
 help us a' !" 
 
 After this they rode on in silence until the inn was 
 reached, where they halted for the night, and, setting 
 out early on the morrow, reached Heatherside Hall 
 about noon. 
 
 After the first greetings were over, and Mrs. Muir 
 began to question the Laird as to how he had fared at 
 Old Meldrum, what was said of the Ellon cattle, what 
 price they fetched, and he had told of his success, of 
 the fine prices realized and the fair words that had 
 been spoken of the herd, he handed her the gold 
 which was the price of the nine head, and there was 
 one guinea over. 
 
 "And what is this guinea," she asked. "Shall I 
 enter it among the cattle sales?" It lay there on the 
 
1 8 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 table between them, its treacherous, yellow face writ- 
 ten all over with his accusation. 
 
 "No," said my Laird, with all the bravery he could 
 muster in look and tone. "Ye may credit that as the 
 first payment on the Ellon estate, frae William Gor- 
 don o' Edinburgh." Then he put his hands on his 
 hips, walked to the window, and looked out over the 
 park, whistling the air of a Highland fling. 
 
 "What?" that was all her answer, brief but full of 
 meaning. There was a stormy whistle to the "wh," 
 followed by the broad vowel with the tempestuous 
 roll of a mighty wind, cut off suddenly by the final 
 consonant; like one of those quick silences in the 
 tempest, boding more than the roar of the storm. 
 Ellon felt like a reed shaken with the wind. 
 
 After this came an ominous pause suggesting that 
 the end was not yet; but what more could he say; he 
 had told her the truth, the whole truth, and there was 
 the golden token before her eyes. Mrs. Muir, how- 
 ever, was not ready to make such an entry in her 
 books without further information. 
 
 "Ellon," she said at last, when his breath would 
 no longer sustain the feeblest cheep of a whistle, "are 
 ye sober, or how cam' a' this about." 
 
 "If ye canna tell whan I am sober, ye had better 
 spier o' Donald McKay; but sober or fou', I hae 
 sold the Ellon estate, and ye can enter the price and 
 that guinea as the arle-penny; and we'll settle our 
 minds to mak' the best o' it. Better be blithe wi' 
 little than sad wi' muckle." 
 
 "Ellon," she said, "I care naught for your saws. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 19 
 
 It's nae question o' little or muckle. Ye tell me that 
 I hae nae mair house nor hame, and for comfort you 
 gie me an old saw, a bone wi'out meat. Wha will tell 
 the tenants that the Laird is nae mair Laird? It is a 
 sorry trade that ye hae made at this fair, Ellon. Far 
 better had your bullocks been drowned in Don water, 
 and your'sel wet to the skin in the bargain; for you 
 could win to the shore wi' the help o' the 'corbies,' 
 or Donald would hae fishit ye oot; but frae this ditch, 
 into which the Gordon has dumpit ye, neither man 
 nor beast will serve to lift ye. Ah ! ye are a braw 
 Laird to go a-fairin' wi' his bullocks and lose house 
 and lands, and the fair name o' the Muirs into the 
 bargain. Let us call the tenants and tell them how 
 Robert Muir, Laird o' Ellon, met the Gordon and was 
 pluckit clean as a green goose for the roast." 
 
 The Laird was in no mood to resent this attack 
 nor had he weapons to make defense or counter- 
 thrust. 
 
 "Perchance I was a wee bit in my cups," he said. 
 "I had quenched the drouth o' a hard day's fairin' 
 in an honest stoup o' wine, and when, later on, they 
 brought a sup o' the mountain dew, I was fain to bear 
 my part, as a gentleman, among my friends and neigh- 
 bors. The carl frae Edinboro' ate little and drank 
 less. I stood my ground before the tradin' cur, 
 wha was fain to mak' a gowk o' me afore the hale 
 shire, as one who dared not set a value on herds or 
 lands. When he put me on my mettle, I gave him my 
 mind and let the gentry ken that I was not to be 
 brow-beaten by a beggarly tradesman. So I took his 
 
20 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 guinea, when I had already passed the word o' a gen- 
 tleman and couldna retract." 
 
 "A' this comes o' your roysterin' at the fair, Ellon. 
 Ye are a bonnie Laird, wha canna rule his ain gullet, 
 and kens not when he is weel and to haud himsel' 
 sae. But I tell ye, Ellon, I winna hear o' ony sic 
 bargain. Ye can tak' the 'twa corbies' when they are 
 foddered and ride straight to Aberdeen and present 
 the compliments o' Mrs. Muir to your bonnie Gor- 
 don, together wi' his yellow-faced guinea, and tell 
 him she will hae nane o' it. He can keep his gowd, 
 and we will haud our lands," and she flung the guinea 
 across the table. 
 
 "I canna do it," answered Muir firmly, beginning 
 to feel solid ground under his feet. "We wad buy 
 back the land at a sair price, if we paid for it wi' the 
 broken faith o' a Muir. I hae passed my word and 
 ta'en his arle-penny, in the presence o' honest gentle- 
 men. Guid faith and the law o' the land forbid me 
 to gae back on my word; we maun put the best face 
 we can on it, and do as honor bids." 
 
 To this the poor lady had no answer to make ; for 
 she prized the family name and honor above house or 
 lands. She could face beggary, but the thought of 
 disgrace cowed her — to see her husband looked upon 
 askance by the gentry of the shire, as one who held 
 tenure of his lands by virtue of his broken faith. 
 
 The misery of it all came over her and, bursting 
 into tears, she cried, "O Ellon, Ellon, whatever did 
 ye say so for? Why could ye not haud your tongue 
 against yon crafty chiel?" 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 21 
 
 To this my Laird, having no sufficient answer, with 
 wisdom all too late to do him service in this sad busi- 
 ness, held his tongue ; and the cruel fact remained for 
 them to meet, in the best spirit they could muster, 
 that Heatherside Hall had passed away from the fam- 
 ily of Muir. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 "a fair swap has a sonsie lave." 
 
 MR. ROBERT MUIR, quondam Laird of Ellon, 
 being estreped of one estate, in order to main- 
 tain the position which his family had held for three 
 generations, as freeholders of Scottish soil, forthwith 
 set himself to the obtaining of another. His late 
 experience led him to profit by the lesson learned 
 from the Edinburgh tradesman, little as he liked the 
 schooling. 
 
 In scouring the country in search of a suitable 
 estate, he accepted the invitation of my Lord Frazer 
 to join a hunting party at Castle Frazer. 
 
 It was a fine old place in the southwest corner of 
 the shire, with fertile fields bordering the north bank 
 of the Don. For this gentle stream, with its broad 
 rolling valleys famed for their fertility, Mr. Muir had 
 far more liking than for the banks of the brawling 
 Dee, with its woods full of the red deer and the 
 grouse, and its waters flashing to the leap of the stal- 
 wart salmon. The old rhyme has it: 
 
 Ae rood o' Don's worth twa o' Dee 
 Except it be for fish, stane, or tree. 
 
 Muir believed in old rhymes, and held that it was 
 pleasant to hunt over another man's land, where the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 23 
 
 red deer are plenty, but better to be the owner of an 
 estate that bred tamer cattle. 
 
 My Lord Frazer was more at home in the forest 
 than in the field, and had let his estate fall into the 
 hands of hirelings to manage; and the old proverb 
 worked itself out, "like master like man." Frazer 
 was hail-fellow-well-met with those of his tenants who 
 loved, as he did, the bay of the pack in full chase, or 
 the whirr of the grouse in the early morn ; and, where 
 the hunter's horn is music to the ear of the laird and 
 the hind, the fields lie fallow; the neat-cattle fare but 
 ill while the wild deer are chased, and the neat-herd 
 is lightly esteemed in comparison with the game- 
 keeper. 
 
 So my Lord Frazer had brought things to a sorry 
 pass with his love of merry feasting and hunting 
 parties, and was in a poor way to meet the debts which 
 encumbered his estate, and which grew apace, like ill 
 weeds. 
 
 This hunting party gave Mr. Muir a fine chance to 
 see the estate, as they scoured it in the chase, over 
 grainfield and fallow ground, and, having an eye well 
 trained to recognize a stretch of arable land, he fell 
 into talk with my Lord Frazer regarding his lands, 
 and found him well informed in regard to the game 
 in his covers, but knowing little about the culture of 
 the rich lands which he had inherited. 
 
 "Ye'll be drainin' yon meadow in time for next 
 season's crop," said Muir, overlooking a bit of land, 
 which his practiced eye told him needed but a little 
 ditching to make a harvest field that would return a 
 heavy crop to the acre. 
 
24 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Well, no," answered Frazer carelessly; "to tell ye 
 the honest truth, I haena muckle faith in this new- 
 fangled notion o' drainin' the earth. Gin the Al- 
 mighty put the water there, it is as weel to leave it lie, 
 and not spoil a fine moist feedin' ground, which the 
 red deer loves o' a summer night, whan the hill-tops 
 are dry and the buds o' the birch hae lost sap and 
 sweetness. It fattens them fine for the autumn hunt; 
 and I am fain to hae my friends feel that a Frazer red 
 deer is aye worth a hale day's huntin'." 
 
 "The red deer winna pay a man's debts; and the 
 land that is full o' them will aye bide the poorest 
 land in the shire," answered Muir. 
 
 "I hae yet to learn that it is the part o' a gentle- 
 man to borrow the whine o' the tradesman and fash 
 his soul ower the payin* o' his debts," retorted Frazer. 
 
 "He rieedna fash his soul; but he maun pay his 
 debts, be he gentleman or tradesman," replied Muir, 
 "and, to my thinkin', he maun win them frae his 
 land wi' ither cattle than red deer." 
 
 "Aweel, to my thinkin'," said Frazer, "a Scots 
 laird can do naught bonnier than live the life o' a 
 laird on his land, and follow the wind o' the hunter's 
 horn and blithely chase the roebuck or hunt the grouse 
 in his covers, and feast his friends on the game, wi' 
 plenty o' good cheer; and, when the game is up and 
 he can nae mair do it, then let him die, or sell his 
 lands and hunt in the covers o' the next man wha can 
 baud acres eneuch to ride ower." 
 
 "But, my Laird Frazer, gin a man plays this game, 
 it is short work to reckon the days whan the hunter maun 
 wind his horn ower anither man's land," said Muir. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 25 
 
 "Aweel, to say truth, Muir," answered Frazer, "ye 
 are right, and ye're tellin' me only what I ken but too 
 well. I'm haudin' my last season's hunt ower the 
 Frazer acres; anither season will see them in the grip 
 o' a man that has been lendin' and waitin', and they 
 say the deil is ne'er in haste, but aye bides his time. 
 I reckon this man learned his lesson frae the deil, and 
 he hasna muckle langer to bide. But it irks me sair 
 to see him win to the day when he can tell me that 
 my ain is nae mair mine, but his." 
 
 Muir was touched ; having been in like case, he felt 
 for the Laird Frazer. 
 
 "These money-lendin' carls are aye the same 
 breed," he said, with bitter recollection of his disas- 
 trous encounter with Gordon. "I wad buy Castle 
 Frazer mysel', were it ony less bitter for ye to see me 
 on the estate, than to hae yon maister money-bags 
 lordin* it ower the tenantry, aping the manners o' a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Aye, that it wad be," answered Frazer heartily. 
 "I will gladly name ye the bare debt for price, and if 
 ye are minded to tak' the bargain, ye can gie me forty 
 guineas, and wi' that I will quench the usury o' the 
 debt, and will gie notice to Shylock that he can write 
 me a discharge, and I'll pay the debt in full as soon 
 as ye can fetch me the gold." 
 
 So these merry gentlemen made their bargain with a 
 fine disdain of the crafty methods of the tradesman, 
 and were ready for a jovial celebration of its easy con- 
 clusion, so satisfactory to both; for by it Muir was 
 reinstated in the caste to which he belonged, and 
 Frazer was delivered from the clutches of a man 
 
26 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 whose greed was that of Shylock, without the excuse 
 that Shylock might plead. 
 
 Their bargain was sealed by a payment on the spot, 
 and my Lord Frazer, after paying his usury, went 
 back to Frazer Castle in no such sorry mood as Muir's 
 when he rode home after the sale of the Ellon estate. 
 
 On the contrary he was highly elated, having other 
 estates left ; and, being a free man now, he could 
 browbeat the cringing money-lender, call him Shylock, 
 and offer to spit upon his beard. 
 
 When he reached home he greeted his lady cheer- 
 ily, and recounted with pride the fine transaction. 
 But he had reckoned without his host, for the shrewd 
 and canty wife refused to sanction my Lord's hasty 
 bargain. 
 
 In vain Frazer protested stoutly, "The thing is 
 done, I tell ye. I hae the Laird o' Ellon's gold; I 
 can nae mair gae back o' my word. Will ye hae the 
 hale shire point at me as the laird wha passed his word 
 and forfeited his faith to a gentleman?" 
 
 "The hale shire may point, as it suits them," 
 ^replied the lady. "And for that matter ye may do as 
 .it pleases ye. I speak for mysel' only ; and I tell ye, 
 Frazer, I wasna in at the bargain and I'm not bound 
 by its terms. If the Laird o' Ellon tak's the house, 
 he tak's me wi' it; for here I was born and here will 
 I bide until the Lord ca's me to the better hame." 
 
 "Aweel, ye maun bide, but when Ellon comes to 
 claim the house and land which he has bought, then I 
 and the bairns gae to Brawburn House," answered 
 Frazer firmly. 
 
 Since her lord was not to be moved to recede from 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 27 
 
 the terms of his barter, my Lady Frazer posted off to 
 Mrs. Muir to plead her cause before that tribunal ; 
 and found that she had to deal with no stern judge; 
 women understand so well the finer principles in- 
 volved in such a case. She reminded Mrs. Muir of 
 the loss of her own estate, and drew the picture so to 
 the life, that it brought tears to the lady's eyes; and 
 then Lady Frazer knew that her cause was won. The 
 two ladies were soon weeping in each other's arms, 
 and she who had come to stir the waters of grief now 
 strove to comfort, and as she strove made more cer- 
 tain the winning of her case. 
 
 What could two men avail against such a tender 
 league as these two women had avowed? Like good 
 men and true they followed the counsel of their wives. 
 
 Muir accepted as an equivalent of the Gordon's 
 gold (which he was glad to be well rid of) the estates 
 of Stoneywold, Clintney, and Brawburn on Donside; 
 which being afterward joined under the name of the 
 Barony of Stoneywold, the former Laird of Ellon was 
 himself again as the Laird of Stoneywold. 
 
 Along with the title deeds Lady Frazer, in recog- 
 nition of the mercy that had spared her home, sent to 
 Mrs. Muir a green silk purse, which her own hand 
 had netted, with a golden guinea in it for a "bonnie 
 token" ; and to Mr. Muir, who was a stanch Jacobite, 
 she gave a portrait of Charles I. painted by Van Dyke, 
 which hung in the Stoneywold house; and the Bible 
 which the hapless monarch had used in prison, with 
 the initials C. R. written with his own hand on the fly 
 leaf; and the insignia of the Star and Garter which 
 the king had worn; all which had come to her family 
 
28 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 from Bishop Juxon, who attended the king upon the 
 scaffold. These relics were in a large stone sarcoph- 
 agus which stood in the hall of the Stoneywold house, 
 bound with heavy iron bands and the hasps secured 
 by padlocks. And thus, with happy auguries, the 
 Muirs took possession of the house that was to be a 
 home for them and their children for many genera- 
 tions. 
 
 Stoneywold had been the ancient family seat of the 
 Frazers of Muchals, now of Castle Frazer. It was 
 situated about twelve miles up the Don from the old 
 town of Aberdeen, and ten miles, in a direct line, 
 from the sea. 
 
 The old house was a massive granite structure built 
 around three sides, and in part along the fourth side, 
 of a quadrangle. The front was flanked on either 
 corner by high towers pierced with port-holes for 
 musketry, and with battlements which commanded the 
 strong, oaken entrance doors banded with iron, and 
 also the courtyards and the wings. Anciently there 
 had been a moat around the walls, with drawbridge 
 and portcullis; but now the moat was filled, and of 
 the drawbridge there remained only the heavy eyebolts 
 through which the chains of the portcullis ran. Across 
 the rear and connecting the wings ran a stone wall, four 
 feet thick, pierced with a low-arched postern gate; and 
 along the outer edge of this wall ran a battlement, 
 affording a point of vantage to resist an attack in the 
 rear. The old house had been built in the days when 
 a man held his own until a better than he took it from 
 him; and it therefore behooved him to make his 
 house his fortress. The large quadrangle had more 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 29 
 
 than once been stocked to withstand a siege, and the 
 deep well, in the center of the courtyard, had been 
 put there with an eye to defense rather than con- 
 venience. 
 
 As one enters the arched portal, a broad flight of 
 steps leads into a hall to the left, which is floored and 
 wainscotted to the ceiling with oak, dark with age. 
 The ancient armor hanging on the walls harmonized 
 well with the dark old oak. The guns, arquebusses, 
 bows, and spears, together with the antlers and trophies 
 of the chase, gave it the aspect of the arsenal of some 
 old fortress, and made one feel that a sturdy race had 
 flourished there, men of war and mighty hunters in 
 their day. 
 
 A richly carved cabinet stood on one side of the 
 hall, and, on the other, the stone sarcophagus in which 
 were enshrined the relies of that luckless family, who 
 had the fatal power to charm men to their own undo- 
 ing, for whom Scotland has poured out her best blood 
 like water spilled on the ground. 
 
 Beyond this hall, which terminated in the left-hand 
 tower, was the reception-room and dining hall, and 
 beyond these, in later days, there had been added a 
 conservatory or winter garden. 
 
 On the other side of the main entrance a similar 
 flight of granite steps led into the counterpart of the 
 great oaken hall, which was hung about with family 
 portraits, for the most part very crude from an artistic 
 point of view, and for the credit of the family it may 
 be hoped not strictly true to life as portraits; but they 
 were the presentment of veritable people, each with 
 the name attached, a genuine family tree. 
 
30 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Beyond this family gallery, past the round tower, in 
 which was the staircase leading to the sleeping apart- 
 ments, were the parlors, with high vaulted ceilings and 
 smooth waxed floors, which had been the scene of 
 many a gallant gathering where flying feet chased the 
 hours "ayont the twal." 
 
 Back of these parlors was the Laird's office, where 
 he received his tenants and transacted the business of 
 the estate ; and, from this, the postern wall stretched 
 over to the other wing. 
 
 In front of the house a lawn, about thirty acres in 
 extent, slopes gently down to the River Don, which 
 here took a turn in its course and thus encompassed a 
 patch of about one mile of fertile ground, which, 
 broken here and there by clumps of fir and beeches, 
 was a resting place for the long thwart shadows at 
 noon, and again at evening they fell across the rolling 
 sward. 
 
 There were resting places for the song-birds in the 
 clumps of trees, and flowers in the meadow to lure 
 the humming bees. It was a spot full of quiet beauty, 
 with an easy grace, like the slow movements of a 
 stately woman; it charmed the eye and held the 
 thought in reverie. With nothing impressive in the 
 scene, its gentleness beguiled the eye to look and lin- 
 ger on it. It was such a bit of landscape as the win- 
 dows of a happy home should overlook; and so 
 thought Mrs. Muir as she watched her children play, 
 while she drank in the beauty of the scene, letting its 
 gentleness speak peace to her spirit. Homelike and 
 Scottish it was; and that filled the measure of her 
 desires. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 3 1 
 
 So my Laird and Lady of Stoneywold entered upon 
 their life in this section of the shire, the Laird bustling 
 about the place, building up and tearing down, fenc- 
 ing and ditching his lands and turning many a fallow 
 into a grain field. Mrs. Muir once more took over- 
 sight of the accounts and of the young creatures that 
 came to increase the flocks and herds of Stoneywold. 
 She and my Lady Frazer were firm friends, and their 
 children after them, and were leaders of society in 
 this section. 
 
 Here there were born to this devoted couple four 
 children, in addition to three which they had brought 
 with them, to gladden the old house and make the 
 lawn merry with their sports. 
 
 With only one of these has our family history to do, 
 James, the eldest son, who fell heir to the estate and, 
 in due time, took to himself a wife in the person of 
 Miss Helen Mackay of Aspen Hall, of an ancient 
 family whose several generations were known as hon- 
 orable men and gentle women. She had many suitors 
 from far and near, for she was dowered richly with 
 wealth and beauty; but James Muir won the prize at 
 last, after many an encounter which drove his impa- 
 tient spirit to the verge of distraction. 
 
 When he brought home in triumph his bonnie bride, 
 there was a famous festival. The tenants assembled 
 in holiday attire and greeted the young couple as they 
 rode under the arch of evergreen with its suspended 
 horseshoe. The entrance steps were well strewn with 
 sandy loam, and, on either side, a maiden stood, 
 broom in hand, to sweep the steps for the passage of 
 the bride, halting her on the threshold until her hus- 
 
32 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 band had crossed it, thus making sure of his place as 
 master of the house. 
 
 The blessing of the bride whom the sun shines on 
 was hers, and the children of the cotters, for many a 
 mile round, strewed wild flowers in her path; for all 
 of whom she had a smile and a light in her bonnie 
 blue eyes, which won her a way to their hearts. 
 
 There was a feast on the lawn for the tenantry, 
 with good cheer for all, and afterward they played at 
 golf, quintain, wrestling, and putting the stone; and 
 the prizes from the hand of the young bride seemed 
 well worth striving for. 
 
 And all this merry-making was done to the strains 
 of the bagpipe, that monotonous melody so dear to 
 the heart of Scotia's sons, suited to rouse them to val- 
 orous deeds or to warm the cockles of the heart. 
 
 Roy Lachlan, the leader of the band of pipers, had 
 a rude gift of extempore rhyming, and when the games 
 were ended, with a proud humility he stepped for- 
 ward and doffed his bonnet, letting his long, scant, 
 white locks fall around his face, which gave him the 
 weird look of a veritable bard. The inspiration of 
 the occasion lifted him above the piper at a country 
 fair or a cotter's wedding, as, with his eyes fixed on 
 the battlements of the old tower, he began a recitative 
 ballad, adjuring the old pile to shed its storied honor 
 over this family who had come to make this their 
 home, to shelter them and make them know the honor 
 and peace which had ever dwelt within those walls. 
 
 " Ancient towers of granite strong and gray 
 I bid ye listen to my wedding-welcome lay ; 
 Haud up your heads in night time or the day, 
 And gie your shelter to my Laird and Leddy gay ; 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 33 
 
 Ye've been the beacon frae the days o' old 
 That told men where to look for Stoneywold ; 
 And when they came and sought a shelter here, 
 They found a plenty, welcome and good cheer." 
 
 Then, turning to the woods and fields, he adjured 
 them to yield a good return, and then, in gentler 
 strains, welcomed her who had come from other braes 
 and burns to bloom, like the lily and the rose, on the 
 banks of the Don, praying that Heaven might bless 
 her and the Laird and make them know how bonnie 
 was the lot of those to whom love and gentleness were 
 more than house and lands and worldly gear; closing 
 with this strain : 
 
 " Fauld her, oh sunshine, in your gentle rays, 
 
 Play round her, winds, your soft and pleasant lays, 
 Frae every airt bring dews and gentle showers 
 To bless her life and strew her path wi' flowers." 
 
 It was very homely, but the tenants reckoned old 
 Lachlan among Scotia's immortal bards; and, if this 
 may not be his mead, yet none could gainsay him the 
 honor of having done what he could to honor the fair 
 young bride. 
 
 Helen thought it no small honor to be the heroine 
 of this bardic lay, for it voiced the loyal devotion of 
 the tenantry, who listened, awe-struck, to one with 
 whom they mingled in everyday life exercising the 
 mystic power of the poet. 
 
 A short speech from the young Laird, thanking 
 them for the homecoming given to him and his bride, 
 endorsed by a smile and bow of thanks from the bride 
 herself, closed the festivities, after which the tenants 
 dispersed to gather in little groups and discuss, in 
 
34 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 every detail, the young Leddy, for not a look or word 
 or smile had passed unnoted by some one of the 
 searching pairs of eyes that had scanned her all that 
 afternoon. 
 
 Together with her own sweet self she brought a 
 dower of four thousand pounds, and ten golden 
 guineas for the green silk purse, with her mother's 
 counsel never to borrow from it save in times of 
 urgent need, and always to put into it some portion of 
 each year's proceeds from the sale of crops and herds. 
 The pith of her counsel lay in the wish with which 
 she ended it: "May its sides never meet." 
 
 The young mistress of Stoneywold brought to her 
 new home much of the spirit and training of so 
 wise a mother, and was a fendy wife to young 
 Muir. 
 
 It happened not long after the birth of her first- 
 born, young James II., that the Laird was going to 
 the neighboring fair at Woodburn to buy cattle, and 
 was constrained to borrow from the funds on hand, 
 and so the green silk purse was filled with golden 
 guineas and carried along to the fair. 
 
 While her husband mingled with the drovers and 
 traders, inspecting their cattle and driving his bar- 
 gains, the young wife, wandering listlessly on the out- 
 skirts of the fair, striving to forget the slow flight of 
 time, and thinking more of her baby boy, ten miles 
 away, than of all the bustle and stir about her, came 
 upon a tidy young woman, sitting on a grassy bank 
 by the roadside, nursing her child. This was a tie 
 between them, stronger than the difference in rank, 
 and so they quickly made acquaintance, and down sat 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 35 
 
 Mrs. Muir by her side, hungry for her child, as 
 doubtless he was for her. 
 
 " 'Tis a bonnie bairn that ye cuddle to your 
 breast," said the young Lady of Stoneywold, looking 
 kindly on the mother. "It minds me o' my ain 
 Jamie, and my heart grows weary for my bairn." 
 
 "Aye, my Leddy, " answered the woman, rising 
 and courtesying and holding up the wee Scot, with 
 motherly pride. "Wi' your Leddysip's leave, I am 
 Ailie Duncan frae Moneymusk, and I bide here for 
 my gudeman wha is tradin' at the fair." 
 
 The young Scot set small score by the courtesies, 
 which broke in upon his placid enjoyment, which was 
 his way of making merry at the fair. He entered 
 such a lusty protest as made him heard above the 
 bleating of the sheep and lowing of the kine, and put 
 all further talk out of the question until his demands 
 were met. 
 
 Then Mrs. Muir reached out to take him, and once 
 having him in her arms, the mother instinct grew 
 strong. 
 
 "Will ye lend me your bairn, that I may think 
 I fauld my ain Jamie to my breast," she said to 
 Ailie. 
 
 "Surely, my Leddy," answered Ailie, handing the 
 child over. "And I'll tell my bairn, when he is grown 
 to be a braw lad, to be mindfu' that aince he was fos- 
 tered by a leddy o' high degree, and he maun aye 
 remember to keep himsel' frae disgrace." 
 
 So Mrs. Muir sat down in Ailie's place, happy to 
 have the child in her arms, as he was content to be 
 there. For her better protection Ailie threw her own 
 
36 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 cloak over Mrs. Muir's head, which answered the 
 purpose of a disguise. Thus she sat while the young 
 mother wandered off into the bustle of the fair to dis- 
 cover what had become of her gudeman. 
 
 While sitting thus hooded and alone by the road- 
 side, with the nursling in her arms, to her great con- 
 sternation there was a quick step behind her, the 
 corner of the plaid was hastily lifted and into her lap 
 was thrown the green silk purse, with the shining gold 
 within. The whispered utterance, "Tak' tent o' 
 that," was the only message that accompanied this 
 strange adventure. The man was off before she could 
 throw aside the hood, encumbered as she was with the 
 child; and there in her lap lay the purse with which 
 her husband, scarce an hour ago, had gone into the 
 fair to purchase his cattle. She hastily counted the 
 gold; not a guinea was missing. 
 
 She was frightened and unnerved by the adventure; 
 evidently she was known to someone, even under her 
 disguise; and what had befallen her husband, he had 
 been robbed, perhaps murdered ; her impulse was to 
 fly, but whither should she go encumbered as she was 
 with the child and her disguise. There was nothing 
 for her to do but to summon what patience and cour- 
 age she could muster and watch for Ailie Duncan's 
 return. When Ailie came, she flew to meet her, 
 handed her over the child and hurried toward the 
 fair; and her fears were soon allayed by the sight of 
 her husband's stalwart form, among a group of traders. 
 
 He had just concluded a bargain for some cattle 
 and was standing, with a horror-struck face, searching 
 his pockets in vain for the green silk purse. As the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 37 
 
 look of blank despair settled on his features and he 
 gazed with vain inquiry into the faces of those around 
 him for a solution of this enigma, there, on the out- 
 skirts of the crowd, stands his smiling wife ready to 
 extricate him from this predicament, as she had from 
 others less serious. 
 
 Pressing her way through the crowd she counted 
 out the price of the cattle, and, taking her husband 
 by the arm, led him away dumb with amazement at 
 the loss of his money and its mysterious restoration. 
 As they rode home she told him the story of her 
 strange adventure. And home with them we must go, 
 in order to solve the mystery of the green silk purse. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 "far frae court, far frae care." 
 
 THERE was in the employ of the Laird of Stoney- 
 wold a servitor named John Gunn, a man of no 
 mean family, although its fallen fortunes had forced 
 him into a somewhat lowly position. 
 
 There was no gentler blood in Ross-shire than that 
 of the old family of the Gunns, and in adversity, they 
 were still true of heart, brave and honorable in mis- 
 fortune, and proud of their ancient lineage. 
 
 With this same John Gunn our story will have much 
 to do, and it may be well, at the outset, to get some 
 notion of that manner of man he was. Physically he 
 was a fine type of his sturdy race, standing over six 
 feet in his brogues, somewhat spare in person, large- 
 boned and sinewy, with great power to endure toil 
 and sustain it long; his clear blue eyes were honest 
 and searching and his auburn hair was thick and 
 curly, like a young bullock's between the horns. 
 
 There was a shrewd twinkle to his eye and a catch- 
 ing smile about his mouth that accorded well with his 
 speech; for he was a man of few words, but they 
 were well chosen. His arms were long, with an easy 
 and mighty swing to them, as though made to handle 
 the hammer of the smith, or the scythe of the mower, 
 or the quarter-staff of the gypsy. His long swinging 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 39 
 
 stride and unflagging trot gave one the impression that 
 it was as easy for him to go as to stand still. He had 
 trod the moors when he was young, and made forced 
 marches in his time, and there was a moorland reach 
 in his stride mingled with a military precision, sug- 
 gesting that it would be no trifle to arrest his steps, 
 or, for that matter, to make him keep step with you. 
 
 He bore the sobriquet of "Long Jock" ; some called 
 him "Lang Louper," behind his back. Men shrank 
 from encountering him in any kind of contest, for his 
 wit was searching, and his knowledge of human nature 
 such as comes from intimate acquaintance with men 
 in circumstances that stripped them of conventional 
 disguise and let the bare man show through. He was 
 familiar with scenes that try the fiber and tell what 
 strain it will endure — border skirmishes, bold dashes 
 in the face of death where each man works out his 
 own salvation or is lost, long marches evading hot 
 pursuit; scenes where faith and honesty must be 
 relied on without question, and a man's passing word 
 must be a pledge as sacred as a covenant sealed with 
 blood. 
 
 Hence he knew men well; knew the moral forces 
 that go to the making up of character and what the 
 resultant of certain forces was like to be; knew how 
 to touch men so as to sound the keynote of their nat- 
 ure, when to put an implicit child-like reliance on 
 them, and when to deal with crafty caution and not 
 commit himself to them. 
 
 He was a good judge of men at sight ; for there was 
 a certain quality to his look, right into the eyes of a 
 man, and a meditative manner of speech (or rather 
 
40 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 of letting himself be spoken to) which gave men the 
 impression that he was sifting them by a process from 
 which there was no escape; and they were wary of 
 trying to make game of him. When once his word 
 was passed, you could depend upon him as on the 
 coming of the tide up Solway Firth. 
 
 He knew not what men call fear. Whether he felt 
 the motions of it in his breast and subdued them 
 before they reached the eye or cheek or any outlet that 
 revealed them to men, or whether it never passed his 
 mind to be afraid of man or beast or spirit, none could 
 say; but he had faced death so often and in such diverse 
 forms, that the familiar thought had lost its terror. 
 
 He had been reared among the stirring echoes of 
 the rising of 17 15, and his sturdy spirit responded to 
 them, and, following the traditions of his family and 
 the motions of his own nature, he had enlisted in a 
 Highland regiment. With the strong instinct of his 
 people, recognizing the patriarchal authority of the 
 chiefs of the clans and the feudal manner in which 
 that authority was maintained, he was ready to yield 
 devoted adherence to the despotic sway of the head of 
 the clan ; and, if the prominence of his family had 
 entitled him to the place of a petty chieftain amenable 
 directly to the head of his clan, nothing could have 
 swerved him from his loyalty; but the fallen fortunes 
 of his family entitled him to no higher place than that 
 of a common soldier; and the place was too small for 
 the man. 
 
 He enlisted with the hope that he should thus be 
 made ready for the day when the Highland spirit 
 would assert itself against the Saxons, who were fast 
 
. A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 4 1 
 
 converting the Lowlanders into a nation of traders 
 and cowards. Already their sacrilegious hands had 
 been laid on the ancient Highland privileges; they 
 had practically disarmed the clans, had built their 
 forts and square towers through t the Highlands to 
 overawe them, were making roads and spanning the 
 glens and burns with their bridges, in order to subject 
 the Highlanders to English sway. 
 
 John Gunn had enlisted in the "Black Watch," as 
 the English called the Highland regiment, believing 
 that, under a Highland chief, he was to serve on 
 Highland soil in keeping down the armed vagrancy of 
 "the broken men" (Highlanders who, owning no chief, 
 wandered in marauding bands), and against such, who 
 repudiated the legitimate patriarchal authority, he 
 was willing enough to serve. 
 
 But, after his enlistment, he found that the "Black 
 Watch" was a mere name with which to ensnare them ; 
 for they were officered by Englishmen and Lowland- 
 ers, and the terms of their enlistment bound them to 
 serve the king on any soil, and it was soon whispered 
 that they Avere destined for foreign service. 
 
 Against this they protested that they had been kept 
 in ignorance of any such obligation ; and they com- 
 plained of broken faith, and muttered rebellion. 
 
 "We are gentlemen," they said, "accustomed to be 
 attended by a gillie from the humble commoners of 
 the clan, and our blood is more ancient than that of 
 many of England's proudest families." 
 
 In their own country all this would be accorded 
 them, but, in other lands, they would be on a level 
 with the refuse of the Saxon peddlers. 
 
42 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Their suspicions were confirmed when they were 
 ordered to take the route to England ; and it was a 
 moot question whether the regiment would silently 
 melt away, or stoutly refuse to move a step. 
 
 The discontent was allayed by the flattering assur- 
 ance that the king was anxious to review his loyal 
 Highlanders in their unique garb; and so they took 
 up their march, still murmuring discontent, but 
 cajoled by the king's desire to see them. 
 
 Their march southward was an ovation, if the 
 crowds of rustics who gathered to stare, half in wonder, 
 half in fear, at these wild mountaineers in their strange 
 attire, could be accounted a tribute of admiration. 
 
 When they reached Finchley Common there was no 
 king, for George II. was conducting a campaign on 
 the Continent. Instead of the king there was a gaping 
 crowd, who received them with abundant evidence of 
 interest, but in a manner that was galling to their 
 pride. They found themselves objects of wonder and 
 derision to a motley rabble, which they held in proud 
 contempt. Jeers and jibes at their strange attire were 
 followed by all manner of practical jokes, which cul- 
 minated in the parade of a regiment of half grown 
 lads in pantalets and striped petticoats, flaunting ban- 
 ners with caricatures of the clan emblems, and singing 
 ribald doggerel at their expense, to the strains of a 
 bagpipe extemporized from a blade of grass, which 
 from time immemorial has been an instrument dear to 
 the heart of a boy. This crowning indignity to their 
 national costume and music was in such form that 
 they could not resent it ; but it drove them to a des- 
 perate remedy. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 43 
 
 It was John Gunn who was the leader in planning 
 and executing the bold maneuver. 
 
 "Do ye see yon hirsel o' scabbit gawkies?" said 
 John, to two of his fellow-clansmen. "Do ye mind 
 their toggery and how they fiyte us for aliens? Are 
 they ony kin to us; and what hae we to do fightin' 
 the battles o' the kine that breed sic calves?" 
 
 "Aye, we are bound on a fine errand," said Angus 
 McLean; "to be flouted by sic a pack o' gomerils. 
 They'll send the Highland men to the fore, and shel- 
 ter their thin hides frae the bullets behind a bield o' 
 stout men and true." 
 
 "And, gin this be our greetin' frae the children, on 
 the king's ain ground, what welcome will the fathers 
 gie us on foreign soil?" growled another. 
 
 "They say that the Scots are aye food for the 
 Frenchman's powder, and that ane o' them mak's a 
 breastwork for twa Saxon curs to cower behind," 
 threw in a third bystander. 
 
 "Hoot man," said Angus, "do ye speir yon blacka- 
 moor, wi' the banner o' the Black Watch? An' I had 
 my way wi' a good quarter-staff I wad blacken his 
 hide that it wad last him mony a day, and to the hour 
 o' his death he wad remember how he played at bein' 
 ane o' the Black Watch." 
 
 As the boys pranced around the outskirts of the 
 camp, with a mincing gait and holding out their skirts, 
 singing a ribald snatch ending with the refrain: 
 
 " Black Watch, Black Watch, 
 See the Highland beggars scratch," 
 
 there was barely discipline enough to keep the more 
 
44 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 restive spirits from breaking through all military 
 restraint and giving their tormentors a taste of High- 
 land sinew. Those who scorned to lay hands on the 
 rabble were full of bitter indignation, which was not 
 allayed by the evident sympathy of the masses with 
 these idle jesters. 
 
 "Will the morrow fetch another flock to mock us 
 wi' new devices?" said Angus. "For my part, I am 
 ready, gin I hang for it, to show them how a Highland 
 man can shoot. Is there naught for us to do, but 
 stand like sheep faulded in a slaughter-bught?" 
 
 "The king will sell us to the Germans or put us in 
 the French shambles," said another. 
 
 "For my part," said a third, "I wad as lief be 
 shot for garrin' yon gillies ken that a Highland man 
 kens the honor due his land and can defend it, as to 
 be shot down defendin' the tradesman's buntin'." 
 
 "And I gie my consent," chimed in another, "for 
 a loaded gun in every man's hand on the morrow, and 
 we'll gie them a Highland salute on the next parade. 
 Faith that wad make a 'black watch' in earnest for the 
 beggar crew." 
 
 One after another gave in his adhesion to this plan 
 with a tone that indicated the settled purpose of men 
 who were not debating, but announcing their decision. 
 
 John Gunn stood silent, after the first few words 
 with which he had directed their attention to the out- 
 rage, gathering his impressions of the temper of the 
 men, now nodding assent to one, again, with a look of 
 inquiry, eliciting the sentiments of the more reticent 
 of the group. The expression of his face was calm 
 but dangerous. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 45 
 
 "Lang Jock," said Angus, turning to him, "hae ye 
 naught to say? Can ye speir ony better way than to 
 gie yon snaggerels a taste o' guid powder and shot." 
 
 "I think so," answered John. 
 
 "And is that a' the speech ye can spare to your 
 comrades?" replied Angus as he stood gazing on the 
 retreating urchins. "Gin ye wot o' a better way, let 
 us hear it anon. What wad ye bid us do? Bide a 
 wee and girn and bear it?" 
 
 "I wad leave," said John. 
 
 "And by whose leave, when we are here under the 
 king's orders?" retorted Angus testily. 
 
 "Honor bids us leave," answered John. 
 
 "And wha will guide us the way and tak' command 
 o' the troop?" queried Angus. 
 
 "I will do it," said John; "and, gin ye swear to 
 follow, I will swear to lead ye." 
 
 The men gathered close about him, as he lowered 
 his tone and detailed his plan, appointing his lieu- 
 tenants and assigning them to go among the regiment 
 and inform the men of the arrangements. He fixed 
 the time of the departure at a half hour after mid- 
 night, the regiment to move in four detachments, each 
 leaving by a different route, and to rendezvous a mile 
 away from camp. They were not to encumber them- 
 selves with anything save their meal-pocks and their 
 claymores, were to turn in quietly for the night, and 
 were forbidden to gather, even in small groups, to 
 discuss the plan. 
 
 All this John detailed in a matter-of-fact way, as 
 though the desertion of a whole regiment were an 
 everyday occurrence. There was no discussion, he 
 
46 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 simply announced it as the one thing to do, under the 
 circumstances, and it was accepted in the same spirit 
 by all who heard him, and, in fact, by almost the 
 entire regiment. 
 
 So it came to pass that, one bright May morning, 
 all London was astounded by the news that the rank 
 and file of the Highland regiment, from which the gay 
 citizens of the metropolis had been deriving so much 
 amusement, had mysteriously disappeared in the night. 
 The wildest rumors were afloat, and, with no small 
 consternation, it was suggested that this was the initial 
 step of another rebellion; and ere many days, this 
 semi-savage horde might return with reinforcements 
 to avenge the insults heaped upon them ; for thus did 
 conscience invent for the wrong doers an impossible 
 retribution, and afford the Highlanders a temporary 
 revenge on their tormentors. 
 
 Under the guidance of their crafty leader they were 
 hastening northward, making their way from one 
 waste common to another, by forced marches at night, 
 lying hidden by day, and shunning the highroads and 
 the towns. 
 
 They were past Northampton before any definite 
 news of them was had by the military authorities. 
 Here and there some rustic was impressed as a guide, 
 or an outlying farm was levied on for rations, and 
 wherever men fell in with them, on lonely roads or 
 barren wastes, they inspired a terror which went far to 
 repay, with compound interest, the jeers of the Saxons 
 which had driven them to this escapade. 
 
 From Northampton, where their necessities had 
 compelled them to let their presence be known in 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 47 
 
 forays for subsistence, they marched down the river 
 toward Peterborough. 
 
 "Lang Jock," though barely a man in years, had 
 shown himself a skillful leader, keeping his men from 
 marauding (willingly as he would have granted them 
 leave to plunder the foe), because he knew that they 
 would not be left to go their own way in peace, and 
 foraging would at once delay the march and adver- 
 tise the route. With this argument he restrained his 
 men, and kept them busy with the thought and oc- 
 cupation of reaching their own Highland fastnesses. 
 On the third day they were encamped on the north 
 bank of the Nen about half-way between Oundle and 
 Peterborough, where a sharp bend of the river pro- 
 tected them in flank and rear. It was John's purpose 
 to lead them up through Lincoln to the West Riding 
 of York, and so reach the Pennine Hills, where they 
 would be more at home and safer than on the flat 
 lands; thence along the borders of Westmoreland and 
 Cumberland to the Cheviot Hills; and, when once 
 they were on Scottish soil, to let them disperse, and, 
 singly or in small bands, make their way to the High- 
 lands. The way seemed plain enough, but John had 
 reckoned without his host; for His Majesty's troops 
 had not lain idly waiting the pleasure of his liege 
 Highlanders to go or come at their whim. 
 
 They heard, here and there, rumors of pursuit, and, 
 on the evening of the third day, the troopers came in 
 sight and their captain summoned the band to surren- 
 der, which summons gained emphasis from the car- 
 bines shining at their saddle bows, while the Black 
 Watch carried nothing but their stout claymores. 
 
48 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 The night was falling; John had his men well 
 posted in a copse on a bit of rising ground, with the 
 river in his rear. Nothing daunted by the disparity 
 which their lack of arms created, John answered the 
 summons to surrender by an offer to capitulate on 
 honorable terms; to wit, that free pardon be granted 
 them one and all ; that they be permitted to retain 
 their arms; that such as were inclined would take 
 service in the king's army and be drafted into Eng- 
 lish regiments; that such as preferred service on Scot- 
 tish soil be enlisted, with the proviso that they should 
 be called on to undertake no foreign service. 
 
 To this demand, made with the calm assurance of 
 the commander of a fortress which can be taken only 
 at the cost of time and men, the English captain's 
 answer was an imperative summons to unconditional 
 surrender. He granted them the night to ponder on 
 their situation and prospects, warning them that by 
 noon of the morrow their day of grace was past ; then 
 he posted his sentinels and retired for the night to 
 Oundle. 
 
 Then was the spirit of John Gunn tried as by fire. 
 He held a council ; but the darkness of the stormy 
 night seemed to brood over their deliberations. 
 Opinions were divided; some were for immediate sur- 
 render, others for accepting the issue, sword in hand, 
 and fighting their way through the Saxon horde and 
 laying waste farms and villages on their march to 
 Scotland, leaving behind them a trail blackened with 
 the smoke of the fires they had kindled, making the 
 Saxons remember, for all time, the march of the Black 
 Watch for freedom and Scotland. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 49 
 
 But John Gunn had not forgotten the tales he had 
 heard of the rising of 1715, with the disastrous out- 
 come of brave, but raw, levies pitted against the dis- 
 ciplined soldiers of England. 
 
 They were more than two hundred miles from Scot- 
 tish soil, and another one hundred and fifty from the 
 Grampians, as the eagle flies. Burning farms and 
 pillaged towns would not make their march more 
 rapid or unobstructed. But he let the ferment of 
 feeling bubble, sure that the scum would rise to 
 the top, and, after all was said and done, he would 
 know the frothy braggart from the sound and solid 
 men. 
 
 When near an hour was passed in this turbulent 
 sort of council of war, Angus McLean appealed to 
 him for his advice. 
 
 "Ye can bide wi' the king's army and find plunder 
 and plenty in the foreign wars, or ye can tak' your 
 life in your hands and gae to Scotland. These are 
 the only twa ways; and ilka man maun choose for 
 himsel'." 
 
 There was a dead silence after these few words, 
 broken only by the melancholy croak of two ravens, 
 which had lit on the tree above his head, whose apt 
 response was an Amen to the collect recited over the 
 grave of their hopes. 
 
 "Aye," said John grimly, looking up at the ill- 
 omened birds, ' 'the corbies ken where the carcass is 
 like to be." 
 
 To the murmur which rose from some who, prefer- 
 ring the heroic issue of the adventure, began to prate 
 of cowardice, John made answer: "Ye canna win 
 
5o A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 your way nigh four hundred miles to the Highlands, 
 wi' naught but claymores agen carbines. If ye maun 
 fight, here is the place and now is the hour, and I'm 
 ready to lead ye." 
 
 But the thing was so hopeless, on the face of it, 
 that there was no response to his invitation. 
 
 The majority determined to surrender on the un- 
 conditional terms which were all that were accorded 
 them. As for those who discarded this prudent solu- 
 tion, it was understood that each man should adopt 
 such means^of escape as seemed best to him, without 
 reproach of having forsaken his comrades. 
 
 And so the darkness settled upon them, and each 
 man that chose to do so passed the sentinels unchal- 
 lenged and unknown. They bid one another farewell 
 as those who would never see each other's faces again, 
 and, without malice or bitterness, yielded to the ne- 
 cessities of an evil hour ; they kept inviolable the secret 
 of the names of their comrades, when the morning 
 light told them which of their number wandered, pro- 
 scribed as deserters. 
 
 Six of them were chosen and put to death as exam- 
 ples of military discipline; a part were sent to the 
 West Indies and the remnant to Flanders, where they 
 began that career of military glory for which the Scot- 
 tish regiments have ever since been famous in the 
 history of English wars. 
 
 The lowering day which had shrouded in gloom the 
 last hours of the march of this little band of brave 
 men, grew into a tempest as the night wore on. The 
 wind rocked the tree tops and went whistling on over 
 the fields. It was Whitsuntide, when strange sights 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. S l 
 
 and sounds are abroad, and this night was one famous 
 in the annals of the north of England. 
 
 The night was pitch dark, save for transient glimpses 
 of the moon through the cloud rack, and from sea 
 and land came tales of terror. 
 
 One old chronicler repeats the story of a skipper 
 driven up the Sol way Firth before the furious blast, 
 when, by the dim moonlight through a broken rift, the 
 lookout reported a sail moving as though to cross their 
 bow. As they peered into the darkness there loomed, 
 between them and the horizon, a great stage-coach 
 with a retinue of coachmen, footmen, and outriders 
 bearing torches lit with a pale blue flame. 
 
 With strange clamor of shouts and cracking of 
 whips, heard above the rattle of the cordage and the 
 roar of the storm, the coachman drove his horses at a 
 furious speed over the crests of the waves, in the 
 teeth of the tempest. Not till they were well away 
 did the skipper gain presence of mind to hail the 
 uncanny craft. "Where from?" he shouted. 
 
 The answer came down the wind: "From to 
 
 Collyn." The port of departure was heard clearly 
 enough by every man of the crew; but none was bold 
 enough to repeat it above his breath. 
 
 It was a fearful night, when warlocks and witches 
 held high carnival and there was a revelry of ' 'bogle- 
 wark." 
 
 The hag is astride 
 This night for to ride 
 Though ne'er so foul be the weather ; 
 In a dirty hair lace 
 She leads on a brace 
 Of black boar-cats together. 
 
52 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Frightful personages and nameless things, says the 
 old chronicler, came trooping from every quarter, 
 below and aloft; the trough of the sea was full of 
 them. 
 
 Headless horsemen furiously galloping came from 
 the clouds. At noon of night the Specter Dog of 
 Man, the dread Mauthe Hounde, came forth, whose 
 bark bodes ill to passing ships. All then hasted to 
 the spot where the haunted ships of the Solway — which 
 float only at such times — had risen with all sails set 
 and each one tenanted with a ghastly crew; the 
 streaming lights of their cabins shone through the 
 darkness, and the sound of wild mirth, the clamor of 
 tongues, the unearthly whoop, halloo, and song rang 
 far and wide across the sea. 
 
 From the specter ships there were shriekings cast 
 That were heard above the stormy blast. 
 
 It was on this night that the brief life of the 
 "Black Watch" came to an end, when the powers of 
 earth and the demons of air were leagued to disperse 
 them. 
 
 As for John Gunn, he let each man choose his way 
 without further hindrance, and made his own choice 
 without asking counsel of any. He thirsted not for 
 glory in foreign wars and would rather die in Scot- 
 land than live in any other land; so, amid the tem- 
 pest, in the darkness just before the dawn, he rose 
 silently and left the camp, made his way to the river 
 and started northward down the stream. He put a 
 good five miles between himself and the camp before 
 venturing to leave the water; and lay hidden all the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 53 
 
 next day in a copse on the further side of the 
 river. 
 
 By long and weary night marches, he pursued, alone, 
 the route which he had laid out for the band. On 
 the sixth day, even his powers of endurance were 
 being tasked to the utmost, having covered the stretch 
 of the West Riding of York to the north side of the 
 Pennine Hills, near the Westmoreland borders. Here 
 and there he had ventured to spend the night in a 
 cow-shed or stable and help himself to the fodder 
 from the bins ; but it was dry, hard fare, and his lusty 
 stomach craved a more savory diet, and his ears 
 thirsted for human speech. 
 
 On the border of the North Riding he fell in with a 
 band of gypsies encamped on the edge of a waste com- 
 mon. The savory smell of roasting fowl was wafted 
 across the hollow to where John lay asleep among 
 some hayricks, and it mingled with his dreams and 
 set his mouth to watering after a most uncomfortable 
 fashion. 
 
 The penetrating odor had filled his brain with vis- 
 ions of feasting, until the pangs of hunger broke the 
 bands of his heavy sleep, and he woke to the con- 
 sciousness that he must have meat to eat, cost what it 
 might. 
 
 Following the scent as true as a hound on the trail 
 of a deer, he reached the brow of the little eminence 
 behind which the gypsies were encamped, and lying 
 flat down, he snaked his way through the furze until 
 he could see who they were that had baited the even- 
 ing air with such a captivating odor. 
 
 When he saw that they were gypsies his heart leaped 
 
54 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 up, and rising to his feet he went boldly to the 
 camp. 
 
 Though they were an outcast race, by Scottish law, 
 yet there was a glamour about the gypsy life, there 
 was a pride of race and loyalty to the band, near akin 
 to the Highlander's notions on these points. As a 
 boy, John had wandered among their bands at the 
 market fairs, ridden their ponies, admired their feats 
 of skill and strength, and had not disdained to take a 
 lesson from them, now and again. 
 
 He had picked up a few words of their strange 
 jargon and was familiar with their boasted descent 
 from old Scottish families, and knew the old proverb 
 "Ye may gang through a' Egypt wi'out a pass"; 
 which means generosity to the distressed who throw 
 themselves on their kindness ; faith kept at any cost 
 with him who trusts them; and the passport to their 
 friendship need only be a trinket given by a gypsy, or 
 a few words of their wild lingo, or lacking these, a 
 simple appeal to their protection. 
 
 If they were a proscribed race, he was a proscribed 
 man. What better fate was in store for him than to 
 cast in his lot with them, discard his tartan plaid, and 
 don the leather apron of the tinkler. 
 
 As he came upon them, spent and weary with his 
 wanderings, their camp looked homelike; so he went 
 forward and won their good-will with his opening 
 words: 
 
 "Ye are men o' Little Egypt. I hae kenned them 
 in my ain land, and I ken 'The Tinklers are a' sib.' 
 I am far frae my hame and am hunted by the king's 
 men as a deserter, and I wad fain forego their near 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 55 
 
 acquaintance and enter the service o' the Lord and 
 Earl o' Little Egypt." 
 
 His honest speech and evident necessities made 
 instant appeal to the gypsy spirit; he had quoted one 
 of their favorite proverbs, and called them by an hon- 
 orable name; he was a recruit from King George's 
 army to the service of the Lord and Earl of Little 
 Egypt — all this opened their hearts to him instantly. 
 
 At that moment, had a detail of troopers come over 
 the brow of the hill, armed with the king's warrant to 
 take the body of John Gunn, they would have had to 
 fight every man, woman, and boy of the Lochgellie 
 band. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 "a horn spoon hauds nae poison." 
 
 AS fate would have it, John had fallen in with a 
 section of the famous Lochgellie band. They 
 prided themselves on their historic distinction and 
 noble Egyptian ancestry, and denounced the great 
 rival clan of the Baillies as "nothing better than 
 thieves and vagabonds." They owned a farm of forty 
 acres of waste land, not far from the village of Loch- 
 gellie, on which they had built a cluster of huts, which 
 were the winter quarters of the band, and a small 
 foundry for casting plowshares and iron utensils; 
 hence the settlement had received the name of "Little 
 Carron." The bleak heathy morasses and wide rushy 
 wastes made this winter camp well-nigh inaccessible 
 for the six months of the year during which they in- 
 habited it. 
 
 The roving section of the band had been, during 
 the winter, on a visit to their brethren at Yetholm, 
 where, in a sequestered vale of the Cheviot Hills, was 
 another very old settlement of Egyptians. Having 
 made an excursion thence in the early spring, still 
 farther southward in England, they were now on the 
 return march to the north whenjohn came upon them. 
 
 The chief of the band was old Andrew Faw, or Faa 
 (as they preferred to have it spelled), who claimed 
 
 56 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 57 
 
 lineal descent from that famous John Faa, the "Lord 
 and Earle of Little Egypt" with whom James V. in 
 1540 made a league, under writ of Privy Seal, grant- 
 ing unto this "Prince or Rajah" certain rights and 
 powers of discipline and government over his own 
 subjects. In view of the later proscriptive legislation 
 of Scotland, the tribe had found it prudent to ex- 
 change their ancient family names for less distinctive 
 patronymics; but, with true gypsy pride, they chose 
 some of the best names of Scotland, and the Doneas, 
 Fingos, Neyens, Fincos, and Beigies became Gra- 
 hams, Stewarts, Robinsons, Jamiesons, Browns, and 
 Ruthvens. 
 
 Andrew Faa ruled, with all the simplicity and 
 effectiveness of the patriarchal system, over this rest- 
 less band; while Elspeth, his wife, exercised a sway 
 no less potent, by virtue of her gifts as a spaewife. 
 Indeed, had it come to an issue between them, there is 
 little question that the unseen powers at her command 
 would have enforced her authority, even in the face 
 of the more substantial weapons of retribution in her 
 husband's hands. The old chief himself was more in 
 dread of Elspeth's vague and undetermined powers, 
 than she was of the weight of her husband's cudgel. 
 
 This traveling section of the band was known as the 
 "Scrapies, " a name suggestive of the nature of their 
 calling. Andrew always personally superintended 
 their roving expeditions; they were the most impor- 
 tant and delicate part of their calling, and it needed 
 all the prudence and authority of the chief to direct 
 and control them with judgment. To him the booty 
 was brought, with an exact report of when and how 
 
58 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 and from whom it was taken; upon his decision, from 
 which there was no appeal, rested the division of the 
 spoil among the plunderers and the reservation for 
 their brethren in the winter camp. 
 
 Andrew and Elspeth had one daughter, Helen Faa, 
 a wild, swarthy, black-haired girl of eighteen, with 
 great, liquid eyes, like the waters of a mountain tarn, 
 dark and deep, but full of flashing light when they are 
 stirred. She was mobile and restless as a wandering 
 breeze, and, like a deer, alert when seemingly at rest. 
 There was a vein of quick and refined sensibility in 
 her nature, the outcrop, perchance, of the gentle 
 blood which the Faas boasted was mingled in their 
 race from the famous "Gaberlunzie Man," as they 
 called Scotland's eccentric king who played mad 
 pranks disguised in a beggar's garb. 
 
 Helen was not their only child; her brother had 
 been looked upon by all the tribe as the natural suc- 
 cessor to the present chief. He was four years older 
 than Helen, a type of the manly beauty for which 
 their tribe was noted; tall, slim, of wiry and athletic 
 build, with small hands and long tapering fingers, well 
 shaped feet, with fine, delicate features and a rest- 
 less, telling eye, he was certainly a handsome young 
 fellow, with a high-bred air; and, whether it came 
 from the Stuart blood or no, he had the gift of that 
 ill-starred family to make men his devoted followers. 
 
 About two years before this, in a wayward spirit of 
 rebellion at his father's strict rule, he had slipped 
 away, in the night, to try his hand at a country fair. 
 There was the usual accompaniment of such gather- 
 ings, a recruiting officer, and Willie Faa fell in with 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 59 
 
 him and listened to his tales of war and the splendors 
 of army life, and, when drunk with the sergeant's 
 liquor, took the "king's shilling" and enlisted. A 
 short acquaintance with the drill of the raw recruits 
 and the rigors of barrack life sufficed for this wild 
 bird, and he started to leave the king's service as he 
 had left his father's camp; but His Majesty had pro- 
 vided for such emergencies, and when at the sentry's 
 call Willie declined to halt, he was shot and killed on 
 the spot. They gave over the poor boy's body to the 
 band from whose protection he had fled, and, with 
 wild lamentations from old Elspeth and muttered 
 curses from the rest of the band, they mourned for the 
 darling of their tribe, and, besides their own strange 
 funeral rites, secured Christian burial for the lad in 
 the kirkyard of Lochgellie. 
 
 When the question arose as to John's admission to 
 the band, old Andrew, while he knew that the power 
 lay with him as patriarch, exercising both regal and 
 priestly functions, to decide it ; yet, lacking the pro- 
 phetic gift, he retired with Elspeth to seek counsel of 
 the fates; while the women gave John his supper in 
 the camp. 
 
 Old Elspeth had been touched by John's appeal as 
 no one else in the camp had felt it. He was the age 
 of her own and only boy when he was taken from 
 her, aod it was, in some sort, a restitution when this 
 fine young man was cast upon their mercy, a waif 
 from that army which had ruined her hopes. The 
 lack of gypsy blood did not lessen her interest in him ; 
 for she herself boasted of the Stuart blood in her veins 
 and ascribed the grace and beauty of her wild fawn, 
 
60 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Helen, to the outcropping of this strain of gentle 
 blood. Her mind was fairly made up when Andrew, 
 stepping inside her tent, said: 
 
 "Aweel, spaewife, what hae ye to say anent yon 
 stripling? Shall he bide?" 
 
 The cautious prophetess replied, "Ye ken him bet- 
 ter than I; for ye hae seen him nigh hand, and I only 
 frae afar." 
 
 "Aye," said Andrew, paying court to her Sybilline 
 fame, "but ye can see frae afar, and ken what was 
 and what is and what shall be." 
 
 "What was," answered Elspeth, in the low mono- 
 tone which she assumed when the prophetic mood 
 came over her, "is already come to pass, and none 
 can mak' it ither; what is, every man kens wha has 
 his e'en open; what is to be, the Lord and Earl o' 
 Little Egypt has power to say ; and we wha own his 
 rule maun aye submit." 
 
 This portentous tone always overawed Andrew. 
 Her face became set, her eyes, dull and lusterless, 
 seemed to retire within their sockets, and her voice 
 had a deep, uncanny resonance. 
 
 "But ye ken weel eneuch, spaewife, that the Lord 
 o' Little Egypt winna set his face agen the powers wha 
 rule the affairs o' men, and wad fain ask frae them 
 whether the comin' o' this man will be for the weal or 
 woe o' the band," said Andrew, sure that he had 
 cornered the prophetess. 
 
 "It is aye well for a band when the chief can trust 
 everyone, and woe for a band when there is ane in it 
 wha he doubts," answered the fendy Elspeth, deter- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 6 1 
 
 mined to discover Andrew's wish, and to make it the 
 father of her thought. 
 
 "The chief o' a band can aye trust the man wham 
 the higher powers hae sent," said the wary old chief. 
 
 Elspeth paused and with the lean forefinger of her 
 right hand, in mysterious silence, traced the lines of 
 her left palm; then, rocking herself to and fro, in a 
 crooning tone, as to an unseen presence, she began, 
 while Andrew, awed into silence, listened to the pro- 
 phetic utterance. 
 
 "The wild bird had bigged her nest on the edge 
 o' the moor and brooded owre her nestlin's till they 
 were fine grown, and the young bird was a hawk on 
 the wing; but the hunter trappit it, and he was shot 
 as he fled frae the snare, and the wee ane was left 
 alone. 
 
 "There cam' to the nest, 'twixt mirk and gloamin', 
 a braw eaglet wha had broken the snare, weary and 
 spent he cam' and askit, Is there place for me? He 
 cam' frae the south where the saft winds blaw and 
 melt the ice and snaw and gar the waters rin again." 
 
 There were great teardrops in her eyes; Andrew 
 began to understand the parable, and gave a sigh, 
 half of compassion, half of defiance. 
 
 "Elspeth," he said; she was now the mother of his 
 boy, "I ken; but what say the fates?" 
 
 She recked not of the fates; the mother had gotten 
 the victory over the prophetess. 
 
 "I ken naught what the fates say," she cried, in a 
 frenzied voice. "They say to me, Spaewife, follow 
 thy heart! They say to me, as 1 say to you, Andrew 
 
62 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Faa, when was it e'er a token o' guid luck for a band 
 of Egyptians (wha are naught but wanderers on the 
 face o* the earth) to turn the homeless frae their tents? 
 When was there e'er guid luck in the gold, or guid 
 cheer in the food, ta'en frae the puir or the widow or 
 the faitherless? And, gin ye let this chiei gae to be 
 ta'en and shot as my laddie was shot, then the blude 
 o' baith will be on your hands. I can spae that — it is 
 comin' — I see it noo — there is blude, there is blude — 
 it rins down frae your hands — it is risin' — aye, it 
 rises fast — ye are standin' knee-deep in the red flood 
 — it will soon rin owre your head — speak, man, speak 
 quick, I tell ye, and say, I tak' this wanderer to be 
 my son and brother — speak it; and see if the red tide 
 falls." 
 
 She rose in an ecstasy and pointed, through the 
 tent-flap, to the sunset sky suffused with a blood-red 
 color ; and old Andrew, under the spell of her wild 
 invocation, gave the required pledge. After he had 
 spoken, she stood watching the sky intently, while the 
 evening wind made the leaves sigh softly. 
 
 "The tide falls," at last she said, with solemn ex- 
 ultation. "The blude is fadin', and I see gold in 
 plenty." Sure enough the crimson had turned to 
 gold. The prophetess sank on the floor; and the 
 mother's tears fell soft as the summer rain. Andrew 
 stood for a few moments looking at her, in awe- 
 stricken silence, and then tiptoed out of the tent. 
 
 He saw John Gunn, the center of a group of gypsy 
 men who were drinking in his story of the short life of 
 the Black Watch ; and it pleased Andrew to see that 
 he stood taller, by a head, than any of the men about 
 

 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 63 
 
 him ; and his heart went out toward this youth, with 
 the yearnings of a strong nature giving vent to a feel- 
 ing long repressed. 
 
 He came near the group, and, with a tone of 
 authority, none the less emphatic because of the slight 
 tremor, said: 
 
 "I hae spiered o' the fates what their will is; and 
 Queen Elspeth has had a vision anent this lad; and 
 gin we let him gae, I maun wade to my chin in blude, 
 and gin he bides wi' us, there is a sight o' gold. He 
 has ta'en our salt and told us his story, puttin* his life 
 in our hands; and, for the honor o' Little Egypt, let 
 us see that he loses it only when there is nane o* us to 
 stand by him. 
 
 "John Faa," he said, turning to John ; "for by 
 this name we will call thee, I gie thee the hilt o' a 
 dagger which was worn by John Faa o' great fame; 
 and this night we will tak' thee, wi' feastin' and danc- 
 in', into the service o' the Lord and Earl o' Little 
 Egypt." 
 
 John dropped on one knee before the old chief, 
 kissed the blade of the dagger, and, as he rose, thrust 
 it into his belt. 
 
 Outside the group stood Helen Faa, and John caught 
 a flash of light from her dark eyes, full of wonder at 
 the strange scene, and they thrilled him. 
 
 The band were no ways loath to accept this conclu- 
 sion of the adventure, for when will a gypsy forego the 
 chance of feasting and good cheer. So one after an- 
 other came forward with some token for John ; it 
 mattered not if it were only a button cut from their 
 jacket, it bound them as companions in arms for life, 
 
64 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 or until the return of the gift annulled the compact. 
 He was assigned a tent with three other men of the 
 band, and the more effectually to identify him with 
 his new-found friends, old Elspeth came out of her 
 tent, and, with great ceremony and muttered incanta- 
 tions, anointed his hands, neck, and face with a dark 
 brown stain, which, with his previous weather bronz- 
 ing, gave him a true gypsy tinge; but she could not 
 change the tint of his clear blue eyes. 
 
 They provided him with the ordinary ragged outfit 
 of the gypsy, the long leathern apron and the tools of 
 the horner's and tinkler's trade, and also furnished 
 him, from their stores, with three complete outfits of 
 gentleman's attire, in any one of which it would be 
 hard to recognize the man whom you had met but a 
 half hour before. 
 
 The costume for state occasions, like the present, 
 was gorgeous with all the splendor of color and rich 
 adornment which the gypsy loves. There was a white 
 wig, a soft broad-brimmed hat with a white plume, a 
 shirt ruffed at the front and trimmed on the cuffs with 
 fine lace, a scarlet waistcoat and breeches, white 
 stockings, shoes with silver buckles, and a long green 
 velvet coat trimmed with white fur, with a single row 
 of large pearl buttons down the front. 
 
 In costume of similar magnificence all the gypsy 
 men were arrayed; but Andrew and John alone wore 
 the white cockade. The women wore short red, 
 green, or blue petticoats reaching a little below the 
 knee, with a fine show of gold and silver bangles, 
 earrings, necklaces, and brooches, with white ker- 
 chiefs, and silk or satin bodices. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 65 
 
 The children, in their scarlet or green dresses and 
 with bangles and earrings, looked like brownies come 
 to disport themselves on the surface and display some 
 of their hoarded wealth. 
 
 The camp was lit with four fires, placed north, 
 south, east, and west, to "purify the wind from every 
 airt" and shed radiance on the festivities, which were 
 opened with a stoup of strong home-brewed ale, a 
 contribution from the last farmhouse honored by their 
 visitation; after the ale a judicious portion of some 
 smuggled Holland gin was administered, under An- 
 drew's strict supervision; enough to quicken, not 
 retard, their activity as dancers. 
 
 Andrew and Elspeth, with John between them, took 
 their seat in the middle of the large ring inclosed by 
 the four fires; the rest of the band flung themselves 
 on the ground, in small groups, on the outer edge of 
 the circle. 
 
 Tom Ruthven brought out his fiddle and struck up 
 the old tune of "The Hunts of Cheviot." Out from 
 the surrounding darkness came Jamie Stewart, wield- 
 ing his stout oak cudgel, and, taking his stand in the 
 center, with a deep, guttural "Hoogh! Hoogh!" 
 summoned four of the gypsy girls, Posie Nansie, 
 Racer Jess, Bouncer Jean, and Helen, who had no 
 nickname. 
 
 They stood in front of the four fires, poised lightly, 
 with their bare ankles, bedecked with gold anklets, 
 showing beneath their short silk and velvet skirts. 
 With their arms akimbo on their hips, the firelight 
 glittering in their dark eyes, they swayed softly to and 
 fro, as if rocked by the wind in rhythm with the music. 
 
66 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Jamie Stewart, with his cudgel now whirling in his 
 hands, now flying twenty feet in the air, but never 
 once touching the ground, went through the wild 
 measures of the gypsy national dance, the counterpart 
 of the Highland fling and the fisher's hornpipe; but 
 never did Highlander or fisher so leap, and bound, 
 and writhe, and twist, and flash like a beam of 
 swarthy light, as did the lithe and tireless son of this 
 strange race. 
 
 When this first movement was ended, at a sign from 
 Jamie, the dark statues, which had swayed to the 
 rhythm of his dance, were drawn toward him, as he 
 faced each one and plied his cudgel with blows so 
 swift and strong that they seemed unavoidable. 
 
 Lightly the girls tripped toward him, as though 
 drawn by magnetism in among the whirling strokes, 
 until they seemed to be enveloped in a maze of flying 
 oaken sticks — they came as the tide comes, steady 
 and swift, then ebbed away from him with an easy 
 motion, and stood swaying to the music as though 
 they had not stirred. 
 
 John looked on in amazement. He thought that 
 he knew the gypsies; but he had never seen anything 
 like this. The swift whirl stirred his blood, until it 
 was Helen Faa's turn to be drawn into the whirlwind 
 of blows, any one of which, as the wind of it stirred 
 her dark tresses, if it fell a hair's breadth closer, would 
 lay her a corpse at his feet — then John did not like 
 the sport and wished it would end. 
 
 The dance ended in a whirl of swift and intricate 
 figures; and, in the indistinguishable throng, ever 
 and anon, John saw the firelight glisten in the eyes of 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 67 
 
 Helen Fan. Into this closing dance the whole band 
 was gradually drawn ; while the three sat in the cen- 
 ter with Jamie's cudgel flying now over their heads, 
 and again over the heads and among the dancers. 
 If any flagged the cudgel was the baton with 
 which Jamie gave the laggard stout encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 As the night wore on Elspeth sat watching the 
 stars; for, when Sirius was in the ascendant, the 
 waters of the Nile rose in Eygpt and, in the home 
 of their fathers, divine honors were paid to him ; 
 and therefore under this star Elspeth always prophe- 
 sied. 
 
 At a sign from her they ceased dancing, and gath- 
 ered in a group near the center. Elspeth took a silver 
 cup full of a decoction of her own brewing, stale sea- 
 water in which bitter herbs were steeped, and a drop 
 of blood from Andrew's little finger to give it the 
 greater virtue. She muttered, in the gypsy tongue, 
 while she sprinkled John on the right arm, breast, and 
 forehead, and gave him the rest of the decoction to 
 drink. It was unpalatable stuff; but John drank it 
 bravely. 
 
 Then Elspeth kissed him on the eyes, hung a silver 
 sixpence of a lucky date around his neck, and gravely 
 saluted him as "Been Rajah." One by one the band 
 came forward, shook him by the hand, and welcomed 
 him into their fellowship with the salute "Beenship 
 davies Nawken" (Good-day to you, gypsy). 
 
 Helen Faa came last of all, and John felt the thrill 
 of her warm, strong hand as it lingered in his for a 
 moment. John knew, after this ceremony, that he 
 
68 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 was a gypsy, but did not know that the queen of the 
 gypsies had put him in the direct line of succession, 
 as a Rajah eligible to the chieftainship of the band. 
 
 To crown the festival a stoup of the "mountain 
 dew" was called for; and, after this, the revel ran 
 high in honor of their adopted brother. 
 
 The cudgel was now in old Andrew's hands, who 
 drank sparingly, and used his wand of power without 
 stint to check the brawls of the women as well as the 
 men, and gave them reason to remember his reproofs 
 after they were well over the effects of their potations. 
 
 John received his first lesson in the rude but 
 effective discipline of the Lords of Little Egypt, 
 which went on the old time principle of sparing not 
 the rod. 
 
 John noted that Andrew, Elspeth, and Helen kept 
 aloof from the revel, and thought to himself, "Aye, 
 even among these Lords o' the Fens and Moors, guid 
 blude will haud its ain place. The lass Avill aye bide a 
 princess, gin she live in ha' or hovel," and it was a 
 pleasant thought. 
 
 The progress of the band was now northward, 
 through Westmoreland and Cumberland, over the Sol- 
 way, through Dumfries and Lanark to Linlithgow, and 
 so, across the Forth, to Lochgellie. 
 
 There they were to tarry, for a week or so, to make 
 ready their outfit for the summer tour, northward 
 through Fife and Forfar to the romantic region of 
 Braemar in Aberdeenshire. Here at the foot of old 
 Cairngorm, in the forest of Glen Avon, was a favorite 
 summer camping ground, from which they sent out 
 small parties to attend the summer fairs. Beside the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 69 
 
 camp ran the clear flowing Avon, of which the old 
 proverb says: 
 
 The water of A'an it rins sae clear 
 'Twould beguile a man o' a hunder year. 
 
 And of the glen a queen writes: "It is a solitude 
 at once so wild, so solemn, so serene, so sweet." 
 
 On this northward march John was doomed to an 
 inactive life, for it was deemed best for him to remain 
 in camp, and even retire to a tent on the approach of 
 any stranger. For prudence is the gypsy's strong- 
 hold, and his cue is to shun all conflict with the 
 powers that be. 
 
 There remained for the active spirit of John no 
 more exciting occupation than to become an adept in 
 the tinkler's art of mending and the horner's trade of 
 fashioning and polishing the spoons and other utensils 
 of this handicraft. 
 
 The monotony of this life was relieved by the 
 sports, which, in the evening, were inaugurated by 
 the young men for their own practice and for the 
 amusement of the women. In these John acquitted 
 himself to the satisfaction of his friends. At wrest- 
 ling, putting the stone, throwing the hammer, and golf, 
 none could count on winning when John was among 
 the contestants, and he slung the gypsy men in a way 
 to make them wary how they grappled with him. 
 Where mere strength was concerned John had not his 
 peer in the band, but many of them were more quick 
 of hand and foot than he. He soon won a place of 
 honor among this band of athletic young men; but 
 it was Helen's smile of applause for which John 
 
70 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 watched ; and, as he laid one after another of the 
 stalwart young gypsies on the sward, they were 
 trophies cast at Helen's feet. 
 
 She was often his tutor at the homer's trade, which 
 is the women's work; and as she taught him to polish 
 the rough horn spoons a careless touch of her hand 
 would thrill him, or leaning over his shoulder with 
 merry chiding of his awkwardness, her warm breath 
 against his cheek, or the touch of a wandering tress, 
 would set his pulse beating such a tattoo as made him 
 clumsier than ever. Her merriment increased his 
 confusion and the spell of her beauty grew more en- 
 chanting, as her dark eyes glowed and her white teeth 
 shone between her parted lips; and John found the 
 apprenticeship to the homer's trade the bonniest 
 thing a man could be put at. 
 
 No wonder that, with plenty of spare time on his 
 hands, and thrown upon his own resources, John 
 should fill up some measure of that time sitting, in 
 the spring days, under the hedgerows, well apart from 
 the camp, and pour into the willing ears of Helen Faa 
 the tale of his adventurous life; nor was it strange 
 that she loved to listen and that John became a hero 
 in her eyes. 
 
 They were sitting thus one evening, on the edge of 
 a meadow, a mile away from camp; the even-song of 
 the birds and the murmur of the brook attuned John's 
 heart to thoughts of love. The sun had dropped 
 behind the Ochil Hills, and they swam in a purple 
 haze, outlined against a daffodil sky. John had been 
 repeating the story of his boyhood, his enlistment, and 
 his short but stirring military life, Helen, with unflag- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 7 1 
 
 ging interest, following the adventures of her hero, 
 when John, turning to her, said : 
 
 "But I mind me aye o' my Highland hame, o' its 
 hills that were braw, and the bonnie burn that wimpled 
 down the glen; where I ken ilka path and stane. I 
 can see it noo, the wee hut wi' the byre beside it, my 
 ain sma' cot under the leaves where the mornin' sun 
 keekit in and wauked me to look out owre the glen 
 asleep under the early mist. Ah ! it was bonnie. 
 And ye hae nae hame to remember, Helen?" he said 
 in a tone of gentle pity. 
 
 "I was born on the edge o' a meadow like this, 
 under a hawthorn hedge, wi' the broad blue sky for a 
 roof, where I needed nae window to see the sun, and 
 the hame o' the bird is mine — the free, open air," 
 answered Helen. 
 
 "Aye! but a man's heart clings to his birthplace, 
 and the wide world is an unco' big house for siccan 
 sma' creatures as we," replied John. 
 
 "I was born as the fallow deer are born, where the 
 hawthorn blossoms are sweet and the crimson tips of 
 the daisies are scattered in the meadow; my cradle 
 was the sweet fern, and I was bathed in the clear, 
 cold burn ; and I know and love my birthplace as the 
 deer love theirs; and it is not a bit of ground shut in 
 by hard stone walls, but the broad Scots land; and 
 every hillside is my hame," answered Helen proudly. 
 
 John marveled at the wayward spirit of this un- 
 tamed creature, that resisted the thought of a pent-up 
 house even as a shelter for her babyhood. 
 
 "Do you ken what it is for the heart to rest on ane 
 place or thing?" said John, with a sort of despair of 
 
72 A HIGHLAND CIIROXICLE. 
 
 finding any common ground between this wild fawn 
 and himself. 
 
 "I ken what it is to love the trees and the gow- 
 ans, the rocks and the hills, and the wild deer as they 
 leap," said Helen, in an exultant tone. 
 
 "Aye! but they are a kittle lot. We catch a glint 
 o' them as they skit by ; but they arena a thing to 
 set ane's heart on," and John thought, as he said 
 it, that his words belied the motions of his own 
 heart. 
 
 "Helen," he continued, "ye hae listened aftwhiles 
 to my story, and I hae been connin' anither tale in 
 the glint o' your sun-bright e'en. I ken what it is to 
 love summat besides rocks and trees and fallow deer," 
 and he reached out his hand and took hers, while she 
 sat, in uncertain wonder, neither resisting nor re- 
 sponding to his overtures. Her soft, dark hand, with 
 its taper fingers, lay clasped in his; she did not seem 
 to mind it, but waited for what he would say next. 
 John did not know what to say, and hence, as often 
 happens, said the honest truth, in the most direct way. 
 
 "Helen, I love ye, as man can only love a woman. 
 With my whole heart I love ye." He paused for an 
 answer but none came. Her face was full of gladness 
 as she looked him in the eye without blushing, her 
 hand resting in his, but she uttered not a word. 
 "Helen," he said, releasing her hand that he might 
 clasp her waist, "Helen, will ye be my ain wife?" 
 She opened her eyes wide, leaped to her feet, burst 
 through the hedge and bounded away like a deer. It 
 was all so sudden that John was left with outstretched 
 arm and his lips ready for a kiss, and nought but the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 73 
 
 evening air to receive his embraces. Had she given 
 him a stout blow on the head with a cudgel, it would 
 not have left him so completely dazed. 
 
 He sat for a few moments thinking it all over; he 
 knew the ways of many a wild creature, but this one 
 was past finding out; then he rose, sadder but no 
 wiser, and walked slowly home. 
 
 As he drew near the camp, he caught a glimpse of 
 Helen, behind a tent, looking for his return and fur- 
 tively watching his every movement; and he was 
 sorely puzzled. 
 
 That evening, at the wrestling match, there was a 
 brawl growing out of a dispute between two of the 
 young fellows as to whether the fall was a fair one; 
 and quick as thought the quarrel spread until a free 
 fight was in progress, the women meanwhile scream- 
 ing encouragement to one party or the other and the 
 whole camp in a pother of wild excitement. Into the 
 melee strode John Gunn, and with a stout oak cudgel 
 was cooling the ardor of one and another of the com- 
 batants by well-directed blows, when one, more fran- 
 tic than the rest, struck John a blow with his poniard, 
 which, glancing from his cheek, drove the point of 
 the blade into his shoulder and laid open a wound 
 from which the blood flowed freely, and, at the same 
 moment, a swinging blow from a cudgel on the other 
 side laid him senseless on the grass. 
 
 Helen, who was watching, with glowing eyes and 
 parted lips, the noisy fracas, gave one piercing scream 
 as she saw John fall, and, rushing into the midst of 
 the combat, threw herself upon him, spreading out 
 her arms to shield him. This stopped the fight, and 
 
74 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 the rioters drew off to one side, leaving Helen cower- 
 ing over John. 
 
 Then was love born in the heart of this gypsy 
 maiden, and while she moaned over him as lost, he 
 won her, without word or look, to a love that was 
 fierce and wild, but strong as death. 
 
 John was severely wounded and lost blood enough 
 to weaken him for several days. Old Elspeth minis- 
 tered to him with her rough leechcraft, stanching the 
 flow of blood with a poultice of vinegar and salt, the 
 sting of which had the virtue of a quick restorative. 
 
 During these days of weakness, when John sat list- 
 lessly about the camp, or lay stretched on the sward, 
 feeling giddy and helpless, Helen hung about him 
 like a faithful collie, watched him with wistful looks, 
 ran to fetch him fresh water from the spring, shaded 
 his eyes from the sun or fanned him with a branch of 
 leafy birch when he slept, and, in every way in which 
 she could mutely testify her love, made John glad. 
 
 It was too delightful to have her thus ministering to 
 every want for John to dare risk this happiness by 
 any word of love, but his eyes were brimful of the 
 tender passion. 
 
 One evening, as he lay stretched on the grass with 
 Helen sitting by his side, he spoke of the riot, how 
 his head swam and his eyes grew dim, "And in the 
 midst o' it, I woke half-way and had a blink o' joy sae 
 sweet that I thocht I was in heaven, and an angel was 
 hangin' owre me wi' outstretchit arms to shield me 
 frae demons fightin' around me. And I wadna ken 
 to choose, Helen, whether it isna bonnier to dee wi' sic 
 a vision o' ane you love cowerin' o'er ye, than to live 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 75 
 
 and see her rin frae ye like a frichtened deer." He 
 closed his eyes and lay there ashen pale, in the fading 
 light of the gloaming, as if about to realize his wish, 
 and take his last look on life in the eyes of the woman 
 he loved. 
 
 It was no stroke of art on honest John's part; but 
 he could not have played to his audience better. 
 Helen threw her arms about his neck, pressed her 
 warm lips to his, and made passionate appeal to him 
 to come back and bide with her. "I will be your 
 wife, John. I will love you better than the wild deer 
 loves the forest, or the laverock the morning air. I 
 will follow you, John, as the bee follows the scent o' 
 the wild thyme. I will live for ye, die for ye, and 
 when they mak' your grave will be buried at your 
 feet. O John! ye winna gang awa', but bide wi' 
 your ain Helen." 
 
 Never was cordial distilled by human art, pressed to 
 the lips of the dying, that wrought with such quick 
 potency as did the kisses of the lovely Egyptian on 
 the prostrate form of John Gunn. He rose up with 
 the color mounting to his face, his heart beat high, he 
 clasped her in his arms and gave back her life-giving 
 kisses, with a power which had no suggestion of the 
 fainting creature of a few moments before. 
 
 Helen was proud of the strength with which he held 
 her. It was masterful, making her feel that she was 
 his, and she gloried in being bound in such bonds, 
 and was glad to feel that the fetters were stringent. 
 After this she gave herself up to making John realize 
 that she was his, and that no service was too constant 
 or exacting to testify her devotion to him. 
 
76 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Camp life was no longer irksome, for Helen was 
 full of pretty devices to pass the time and make John 
 feel that life with her was not a weariness. She sang 
 in a sweet, wild way, strumming a guitar in a simple 
 accompaniment. She taught the children dances for 
 John's amusement; she could recite many a Border 
 ballad and had a fund of gypsy tales picked up in 
 their wanderings, and was well versed in the lore of 
 their tribes. But above all there was herself, quick 
 and variable as the light of a summer's day on the 
 ocean, now blue as the skies above it, now green with 
 its own emerald tint, anon purple with the flitting of 
 the cloud shadows over it, then white with the fresh- 
 ening breeze — changeful but constant, and, in all 
 moods, still lovely to the eye. 
 
 They went, on the next day, to old Andrew Faa 
 and told him that they had plighted their troth ; he 
 blessed them, with the air of a patriarch, and sent 
 them to Elspeth that she might "dower them wi' guid 
 luck"; and she, nothing loath, loaded them with 
 prophetic riches. 
 
 The marriage, so far as the gypsy rite was con- 
 cerned, was the simple announcement to the assem- 
 bled band by old Andrew that John and Helen Faa, 
 who stood in sight of them all, had chosen one another 
 as husband and wife, and, in order that the law of the 
 land might recognize them as such, they would be 
 wedded by a minister of the Scottish Kirk. This was 
 done at the county town of Cupar; after which a levy 
 was made on Andrew's store of strong liquors. Thus 
 was forged another link in the chain that bound 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 77 
 
 together the fortunes of John Gunn and the Lochgel- 
 lie band. 
 
 During their further journey northward their life 
 was varied with few adventures, for they were press- 
 ing steadily on, to be in season for the summer fairs, 
 where the gypsy's harvest is reaped. 
 
 John watched with lively interest the training of 
 the children to be quick of eye and deft of hand. He 
 soon learned that, according to the gypsy code, the 
 great crime was, being found out. Nor was this so 
 far away from the old law of the Border, where dis- 
 grace attached, not to the laird who had fitted out a 
 predatory excursion, but to him who failed in carrying 
 it to a successful issue. 
 
 He watched the brown youngsters as they were put 
 upon their mettle to acquire a light and easy touch. 
 A pair of breeches were suspended on a cord stretched 
 between two poles; on these a bell was hung and in 
 one of the pockets a small coin was hidden. If, with- 
 out ringing the bell, the deft youngster could search 
 the pockets and extract the coin, the sixpence was his 
 reward; but if the bell were rung the reward was 
 meted out to him with a birch rod. 
 
 This exercise was varied by laying a coin in open 
 sight of all the family, to be taken without detection, 
 under the same system of reward and punishment. 
 
 By the time they reached Braemar, John had a 
 pretty fair insight into gypsy life, and the training, 
 government, and discipline of the band. He found 
 them true to their word; just and generous where 
 friends were concerned; implacable in avenging an 
 
78 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 injury; ready to help the friendless and often lavish 
 to the poor, but always prepared to levy on the rich ; 
 believing that the world owed them a living and that 
 they must not be too scrupulous in collecting the 
 tribute. 
 
 As for their religion — it was like that of some other 
 people, hard to find. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " REMEMBER, MAN. AND KEEP IN MIND, 
 A FAITHFU' FRIEND IS HARD TO FIND." 
 
 SHORTLY after they were settled in their camp at 
 Braemar, old Andrew died, and, under Elspeth's 
 potent influence, John was chosen as his successor; 
 not without strong opposition, however, and the kind- 
 ling of bitter jealousies. 
 
 Jamie Stewart, the master of the revels, aspired to 
 rule more than the dances of the band, and, as some 
 surmised, bore John no good-will for carrying off 
 Helen Faa before his eyes. Whether this infused 
 venom into his spite or no, certain it was that he bore 
 John a grudge, and took every opportunity to show 
 the cloven foot, and to fan any smoldering discon- 
 tent among the others. 
 
 John saw and felt this very quickly, and watched 
 his chance to force an issue where he could assert and 
 maintain, or forfeit, his place as chief of the tribe. 
 
 They had buried old Andrew in the quiet kirkyard 
 of Invergowan, where he would be in goodly company 
 with many an old family name. 
 
 At the request of John, the Rev. Gordon McDon- 
 ald had come to the dying chief. It was with some 
 difficulty that John had persuaded Elspeth that it 
 could do Andrew no harm to see the minister. 
 
 "He can tell him summat o' the world where he 
 
So A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 must gang when he quits this. There is a river to 
 cross; and he kens the ford o' the stream," said John, 
 suggesting such practical features as would give Els- 
 peth a notion of the value of Christian counsel in view 
 of a journey to the other world. 
 
 "Has he been in Egypt; and does he ken when 
 the Nile rises and fa's?" queried Elspeth, dubious 
 still of his merits as a guide to the unknown land of 
 her forefathers. 
 
 "He has traveled far and wide, I ken; and his 
 Bible tells o' the land o' Egypt in ancient days," said 
 John. 
 
 "Weel, aweel, gang ye and fetch him, while I tie a 
 witch-knot in Andrew's hair and brew some broth 
 that will be a spell agen any cantrips o' the parson;" 
 and she went into the tent and prepared the old man 
 to meet the minister's bogies scatheless. 
 
 John found Mr. McDonald in the study of his 
 manse, near the gray old church. His study win- 
 dows looked on the churchyard, and beyond to the 
 quiet meadow bordered with birches, over the tops of 
 which peeped, here and there, the roofs of the long, 
 straggling village. The peace and quiet of the scene 
 were often woven into the minister's sermons, who read 
 his Master's teachings not only in his word, but in 
 his works, and in the lives of his fellow-men. 
 
 John had his misgivings, as he entered the garden 
 gate, as he recalled the description which old Sandy 
 Brown, the sexton and minister's man, had given him 
 of what a grand man the minister was at the doctrines. 
 
 "He is aye keen to scent a heretic as a hound at a 
 hare, and uncommon zeelyous for the five cardinal 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. Si 
 
 points. It wad do ye guid, man, to hear him flay a 
 heretic ; ye couldna pyke your teeth wi* the bits that 
 are left. And he doesna merely splinter him to 
 pieces, he fairly grinds him to powder and wi' ane 
 mighty breath blaws the dust o' him to every airt. 
 Oh! it is grand, man." 
 
 John bethought him of these glowing descriptions 
 of the minister's disintegrating power on heretics, and 
 his heart misgave him as to the fate of a gypsy chief 
 at the hands of such a stanch defender of the Pres- 
 byterian faith and order. 
 
 But he was never afraid to face a man on an honest 
 errand, and so he went up to the study door and 
 knocked. 
 
 "Come ben," said a hearty voice, whose tone was 
 a welcome. 
 
 He found the minister with his eyes a-twinkle over 
 a letter he was writing, whose margin was enlivened 
 with comic pictures from his facile pen, taking the 
 place of pages of description. 
 
 "Weel, my guid friend, how can I serve ye the 
 day?" and his broad face, fringed round with whisk- 
 ers, but clean shaven on the cheeks and upper lip, 
 beamed kindly on John ; and the smile on his full 
 round lips endorsed his tone of welcome. John felt 
 at home immediately. 
 
 "I hae come on an errand which, mayhap, it winna 
 please ye to undertake," said John. 
 
 "I am bidden by my Master to serve a' men as I 
 hae opportunity," said the minister. "But what 
 may this uncanny errand be?" 
 
 "Aye, I fear me ye may ca' it uncanny, when I tell 
 
82 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 ye that it is to minister religion to a dying gypsy 
 chief," said John. 
 
 "Na, freend, I ca' that guid wark ; and I will gae 
 to it right willingly," was the minister's hearty 
 response. 
 
 "But ye'll not find the man sicker on the doctrines 
 o' grace," said John, feeling his way. "I doubt 
 whether ye'll find him sure that there be ony God at 
 all, to whom we can pray." 
 
 "Then, freend, let us hurry to him before it is too 
 late to tell him o' these things. We ministers maun 
 aye bide firm in the path o' truth, or we maun lead 
 the hale hirsel astray; but our hearts arena shut 
 against the strayin' ones wha canna see as we see. I 
 carena whether a man kens God or no; if so be that 
 he wad find him, then I am wi* him. I wad fain 
 mak' him see as I do, but if he canna, then I will gae 
 wi' him as far as we can gae thegither, and trust that 
 our paths will meet beyond. Let us gae to your gypsy 
 freend, and I'll tell him about the Saviour wha didna 
 require that men should ken God, but that they 
 should want to ken him. I will tell him the story o' 
 the thief on the cross, and hoo the Lord said: 'They 
 that are weel need nae doctor, but only the sick 
 folk.'" 
 
 So John led him to the gypsy tents, and the gentle- 
 hearted minister offered the dying chief such consola- 
 tion and instruction as his dim notions of religion 
 enabled him to receive. 
 
 Perhaps his ardent wish made him so sure that his 
 message of peace did find its way to the murky re- 
 cesses of old Andrew's fading consciousness. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 83 
 
 But there was no question that he gave the old 
 chief Christian burial ; and the tribe held a lyke-wake 
 for him, after their own wild fashion. 
 
 When the seven days' mourning was ended an elec- 
 tion was held, and John was chosen chief, under old 
 Elspeth's dominant influence, which some of the 
 men were inclined to resent, yet not to the point of 
 braving her power and putting the tribe under the 
 spaewife's ban. 
 
 Jamie Stewart, who voiced the discontent by which 
 he hoped to profit, took occasion, a few days later, to 
 impugn the allotment of the spoil from one of their 
 forays. 
 
 Turning to John his swarthy face dark with sup- 
 pressed rage, "Ye ken weel to feather your ain nest 
 wi' a double portion, pickin' frae the rest and makin* 
 ready for the time when ye'll grab a' the meat and 
 gar us lick the banes." 
 
 "Jamie Stewart," said John quietly, "no man is 
 free to say that I'm not fair in dealin' wi' ye a'. Ye 
 can mak' guid your words, or ye can tak' them back 
 into your fause mouth." John spoke in a tone that 
 would not brook evasion. 
 
 Jamie, nothing loath, took up the wager of battle. 
 "I'll mak' them guid, and the band shall see which is 
 fause, you or me. Haena ye waled ane portion for 
 yoursel' and anither for auld Elspeth, and doesna 
 every man ken that ye are ane family, and ane portion 
 is your due, as to a' the rest; and ye tak' twa?" 
 
 "For this ye tell me I'm not fair in partin' the 
 spoil? Hae ye clean forgot the years when Andrew 
 Faa was leader o' this band? Do ye mind the time 
 
84 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 when ane, Jamie Stewart, wasna sae deft o' hand but 
 that he was caught in the act o' thievin' and caged in 
 Linlithgow tolbooth, wi' a short shrift before him; 
 and Elspeth Faa went into the prison, wi' a rope 
 braided in her hair, and a man named Andrew Faa 
 waited under the wall wi' a horse, on which he set 
 this carle Jamie, and himsel' trusted to his ain stout 
 legs? Gin ye arena leal to a fallen chief, ye maun 
 remember hoo these twa saved your thankless neck 
 frae the tether, or ye hae nae right to be ca'd an 
 Egyptian, but only a thief and a vagabond." 
 
 A smile went round the band as John laid bare the 
 mean spirit of his adversary, while the scowl grew 
 blacker on Jamie's face. 
 
 "I winna let sic words pass the lips o' a foundlin* 
 that cam* as a beggar amang us, not lang syne," said 
 Jamie furiously. 
 
 "Such words will aye pass my lips when ony man 
 plays the part o' a coward and forgets what belongs 
 to the dead," answered John, looking the furious 
 gypsy calmly in the eye. 
 
 As Jamie sprang forward a step, John went to meet 
 him. The rest of the band stood breathless, while 
 Elspeth and Helen, drawn from their tents by Jamie's 
 loud voice, watched like tigresses the outcome of the 
 affair. 
 
 "Jamie Stewart, ye may gang to your tent," said 
 John sternly. 
 
 "I winna stir a step for a Hieland beggar!" 
 screamed Jamie. 
 
 Quick as a flash fell John's blow, with the cudgel 
 he had seized; but not quick enough to catch the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 85 
 
 wary young fellow, who swerved aside; and, as John 
 lunged forward with the impetus of his aimless stroke, 
 Jamie's ringing blow came down athwart his shoul- 
 ders, almost felling him to the ground. 
 
 Then the play of quarter-staff began in real earnest. 
 
 Jamie's blows were swift and sure, but John was 
 stanch to meet them, and kept the vantage of a cool 
 head. He wasted no more strength in cudgeling at 
 Jamie, but gave himself wholly to parrying the gyp- 
 sy's furious onset. At last, maddened beyond all 
 caution, Jamie rushed in, hurling a storm of blows at 
 close quarter, and, becoming more unwary as his foe 
 seemed inclined to retreat, pressed closer, when sud- 
 denly John flung down his cudgel, and rushing in on 
 Jamie, clasped him round the waist and raising him 
 high in the air dashed him heavily to the ground, 
 where he lay limp and unconscious at John's feet. 
 
 As John turned from his fallen foe, how Helen's 
 eyes glowed on him. Without another look at Jamie's 
 prostrate form, John went on with the distribution of 
 the spoil, allotting to Jamie his full share, and bid- 
 ding them take it to his tent, whither they had car- 
 ried him. 
 
 There was no further question of the justness of the 
 distribution. 
 
 When John went to his own tent Helen flung her 
 arms about his neck, and, with glowing kisses, bore 
 her testimony to his prowess. 
 
 But, though John had shown his ability to assert 
 and defend the prerogatives of his place against all 
 gainsayers, yet Helen warned him that he had not 
 heard the last of this, and begged him to be on his 
 
36 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 guard; which John set down to a woman's horror at 
 the sight of a little blood. 
 
 But Helen knew the temper of the men with whom 
 she was allied by birth and lineage better than John 
 did; she knew that Jamie's sullen looks betokened 
 not the spirit of an honest man who, being fairly 
 beaten, respects the prowess of the victor. And so, 
 while John slept, she was alert, and her quick ear 
 caught the sound of stealthy steps creeping upon their 
 tent, but two nights after this affair. 
 
 It was just past midnight, and the moon was drop- 
 ping out of sight behind the crest of Cairngorm, when 
 her wakeful ear caught the sound, outside their tent. 
 She had barely time to throw aside her sleeping babe 
 and step forward, when the tent flap was pushed aside 
 and Jamie Stewart crept in, like a slow reptile, worm- 
 ing his way toward the cot where John lay sleeping. 
 Helen, who stood beside the opening, saw, by the dim 
 moonlight, the gleam of a poniard in his hand, and, 
 quick as thought, she raised the dagger, which she 
 kept under her pillow, and plunged it, with strength 
 begotten of fear and love, into the back of the writh- 
 ing serpent. With a muttered groan and curse he fell 
 ! to the ground, while a warm stream ran down on 
 Helen's feet, making her shiver. 
 
 The groan of the wounded gypsy half wakened 
 John, and roused the child, who cried lustily. John 
 muttered drowsily, "Helen, what ails the bairn?" 
 
 "It greets for the bield o' its faither's arm frae the 
 night wind," said Helen quickly. "Tak' it and hap 
 it warm, John." 
 
 "It aye lo'es better to cuddle in your saft bosom, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 87 
 
 than on my brawny arm. Canna ye stop the lam- 
 mie's bleatin'?" 
 
 "I maun gang to the burn and scour my feet," said 
 Helen evasively. 
 
 "But why maun ye souse your feet in the burn at 
 this hour o' night. It isna a canny time; ye maun 
 fa' foul o' the kelpie, and I winna leave ye to gang 
 alane. What ails your feet that ye maun scour 
 them?" said John, now thoroughly roused. 
 
 "I hae killed a viper in the tent door and his blude 
 rins owre my feet." 
 
 "But a viper hasna blude eneuch to rin owre the 
 ground like that. It will be some ither beastie. We 
 will look to it," and John stirred himself to rise. 
 
 "Na! na! John, bide ye still," said Helen, who 
 was fain to bear all the responsibility of this deed her- 
 self, nor let it be said that John had come among them 
 to shed gypsy blood. "Do ye mind the bairnie, and 
 I'll look to this beastie," and she caught Jamie by 
 the heels and drew him forth from the tent. 
 
 By this time old Elspeth, in the next tent, was 
 roused and came creeping forth, with the hood of her 
 long cloak over her head, looking, in the darkness, 
 the ideal witch. 
 
 Between them they dragged Jamie into her tent, 
 and Helen, hastily wiping the blood from her feet, 
 and sprinkling some loose earth on the floor of their 
 tent as she went in, took the baby from John, bidding 
 him talk no more for fear of waking the child, and lay 
 down ; but not to sleep. 
 
 Old Elspeth, in her rude fashion, stanched the blood 
 from Jamie's wound and gave him a dram of whisky 
 
88 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 which revived the fainting man. Then, pale and 
 weak, as he was from the shock and loss of blood, old 
 Elspeth hung over him and muttered in a gruesome 
 whisper: "I wad gie ye to ken, Jamie Stewart, that 
 the life o' John Faa is a charmed life. When he was 
 taen into the band and gien that name I cast a spell 
 about him, and wha plots to do him harm canna do it 
 in secret. So lang as there is ane wha loves him, to 
 her it will be gien to see the thoughts o' him wha 
 plots, and to ken the hour and way that he will try to 
 do him ill. Ye hae been struck, to-night, by nae 
 human hand, but by a blow frae old Andrew Faa him- 
 sel'. I was ware o' his wraith sittin' in my tent door, 
 and he sadly shook his head when I spiered o' him 
 wherefore he couldna rest. When ye crawled past 
 my tent, old Andrew's wraith rose up, wi' his dagger 
 in his hand, and passed before ye into John's tent. I 
 saw it a' by the elfin light, which only the spaewife 
 can see. Now is your last chance. Twice may a 
 man lift hand agen John Faa and be spared; but the 
 third time, it will be death to him. For I hae tied 
 nine witch-knots in his hair that the deil himsel' canna 
 untie, and, gin ye raise your hand on him again, the 
 wan-weird witch o* Cawdor will bide wi' ye in the 
 mirk o' midnight and suck the breath o' your saul frae 
 your mouth, and when ye hae gasped out your life and 
 are come, through the glen o' the demons, to the land 
 o' our forbears, the wraith o' old Andrew will meet 
 ye glowerin', and will set ye a tale o' wark that'll 
 ne'er be done, wi' the demons for your task-maisters, 
 and will mak' a' the days o' your ither life waukrife 
 and weary, and ye'll never hae rest." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 89 
 
 Poor Jamie, just roused from his fainting stupor, 
 not knowing where he was, hearing the eldritch voice, 
 unfamiliar in the darkness, reading out to him such a 
 doom, got a lesson more impressive than the point of 
 Helen's dagger to make him realize the folly of trying 
 to harm him whom the fates were shielding. 
 
 During the next week they attended the fair at 
 Kintore. There was the usual array of cattle, horses, 
 sheep, and country produce, with peddlers from the 
 towns. The noisy bustle of the fair was at its height, 
 a mingled chorus of lowing kine and bleating sheep, 
 with, here and there, an unusual stir made by the 
 charge of an angry bull who had broken from the 
 herd, with a dozen or more farmers and their gillies at 
 his heels adding their shouts to the din; the flocks of 
 sheep [shifting hither and thither like snowdrifts, with 
 the serious collies on their flanks; the noisy tents 
 where the bargains were sealed with a drop of the 
 "mountain dew" ; and through all these the gypsy 
 men were roving, like the collies, watching their 
 opportunity, and finding it, from time to time, as was 
 attested by the loud outcry of some farmer when he 
 found that his money was gone, and he must forego 
 his purchase or make shift to borrow from his neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 On the outskirts of the fair sat the farmers' wives 
 or daughters beside a tethered cow and calf or mind- 
 ing a hirsel of sheep, while the gudeman drove his 
 bargains and visited the tents. Among these the 
 gypsy women passed to and fro, telling fortunes for 
 the maidens, and picking up a trifle for minding the 
 cattle, and selling their horn spoons. 
 
9© A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 The Laird of Stoneywold had come over to the fair 
 to buy a stock of cattle and ponies for his new estate, 
 and, as fate would have it, fell in with John Gunn. 
 With a party of gay gentlemen he had been making 
 merry at the inn, when John came up leading a pair 
 of shaggy-coated, stout-limbed ponies, which he had 
 been commissioned to sell. 
 
 "Ha! blue-eyed tinkler," said the jovial Laird, 
 "I'll wager ye hae twa beasties for sale at a ready 
 price, so that ye be rid o' them e'er the owner finds 
 them on your hands." 
 
 "Aye! my Laird, ye hae spoken truth, whether it 
 be that your cups brought it out o' ye, or your fine 
 judgment o' a man, at sight," answered John readily. 
 
 "Ye hae a bonnie keen wit, but gin ye wad mend 
 your manners ye wadna hurt your trade," said Muir, 
 not relishing that a gypsy should put himself on com- 
 mon ground with a laird. 
 
 "For the maist part I tak' the cue o' my manners 
 frae the company I'm in," said John quietly. 
 
 "Ye maun keep rather low company then," re- 
 torted Muir hotly. 
 
 "I'll leave that for you to say, my Laird, sin' I 
 never saw your face till this hour," replied John, 
 more amused than angry. 
 
 "You're a gash caird, and unco fou' o' gumption; 
 but ye hae summat to learn anent your standin' before 
 gentlemen," said Muir. "It ill becomes a man o' 
 your station to tell a gentleman that he speaks the 
 truth because he is in his cups." 
 
 "And it wasna a fine pattern o' speech that ye set 
 me yoursel', my Laird, when ye told me the ponies 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 91 
 
 were stolen gear in my hands," answered John stoutly. 
 "Gin ye had met me like a man, I wad hae kenned ye 
 for a gentleman ; but, when ye misca'd me for a thief, 
 I was fain to mak' the best excuse I could for ye, and 
 allow that ye were fou'." 
 
 "Ye are an honest man wi' your tongue, that I 
 maun grant," said Muir, amused at the quiet self- 
 assertion with which John refused to be browbeaten. 
 "And sin' we've settled that business, that you arena a 
 thief and I am na fou', shall we mak' a barter for the 
 twa pawky cuddies that ye hold by the tether?" 
 
 "They arena cuddies, my Laird," said John firmly; 
 "and they arena to sell at the price o' a cuddie. 
 They are true-bred Highland ponies, rough frae their 
 heather beds, but guid for a' weathers, easy to keep 
 and ready for wark." 
 
 "Will ye name me a price for the pair o' them?" 
 said Muir, "and show me their gait in the bargain?" 
 
 "Aye, my Laird," answered John, "ye can buy 
 them for twal pounds a piece or twenty pounds the 
 pair; and I'll ride them at nine Scots miles the hour." 
 
 "And will ye fetch them to my place, Castlewood 
 on the Don water; which is twelve miles as the cor- 
 bie flies, and seventeen by the niest road?" said Muir. 
 
 "I will do it, on the morrow, my Laird," answered 
 John blithely ; "but, as I am sellin' these cattle for 
 anither man, ye maun mak' your bargain wi' him as 
 to where the money shall be paid down." 
 
 "I'll pay down the money to ye, and tak' the bond 
 o' your honest eye that ye'll play me fair," answered 
 Muir. "But now to the speedin' o' the beasties; let 
 us see how they show their heels to the dust." 
 
92 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 John called one of the gypsy lads and, handing him 
 the halter of one of the ponies, bid him mount, while 
 he himself vaulted on the other. 
 
 Then up and down the green in front of the inn 
 went the riders at full speed. A crowd quickly gath- 
 ered, gentlemen, grooms, stable boys, farmers, and 
 gypsies; and there was fine sport and free betting on 
 each course, as it was run. A starter and judge were 
 appointed, and, for a half hour, there was a stirring 
 scene, with an excited crowd shouting encouragement 
 or applause. John knew these Highland ponies well, 
 for was he not their brother; and he managed his so 
 well as to bring him in the winner every time. 
 
 Muir was delighted, and when the race was over, 
 paid down the twenty pounds and had John in to 
 drink some stout ale with the gentlemen. 
 
 "Ye hae guid luck wi' the ponies," said Muir to 
 John, after they had drunk a stoup or two to the 
 victor. "Ye ken a guid horse and how to guide him." 
 
 "Aye," answered John, "if it be a Highland pony, 
 I ken him weel. We grew up thegither. And it's 
 weel the same in dealin' wi' the beasties as wi' men, 
 gin ye hae a fellow-feelin' ye winna gang far wrang 
 wi' ane anither." 
 
 "Ye hae seen a bit o' the world, to pick up your 
 nuggets o' wisdom anent man and beast," said Muir, 
 feeling a desire to draw John out. 
 
 "It's a sma' matter how muckle o' the world we 
 see, gin a man doesna keep his e'en open, wi' a wit 
 to ken the light when it shines on him. Gin ye watch 
 and hearken ye maun learn a bit here and there, and 
 mony a mickle mak's a muckle; but, gin ye be aye 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 93 
 
 claverin* wi' your ain tongue, ye winna hear muckle 
 wisdom. My word for it the same is true wi' the 
 beasties; wi' your mouth shut and your e'en open, 
 it is wonderfu' what a power o' instruction ye will 
 get." 
 
 John's tongue was loosed by the stout ale; and it 
 was not often that he had the chance of a crack with 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Mr. Muir was delighted with his bargain, and 
 John's shrewd and honest talk attracted him mightily; 
 and his manly bearing won the Laird's respect. He 
 wanted just such a man on the estate, and, if further 
 acquaintance should confirm his first estimate of this 
 man, he had never made a luckier purchase than these 
 two ponies. So he bargained with John to remain for 
 a week or two, and break some colts for him. 
 
 When the fair broke up John dismissed his forces, 
 sending word to the camp that, in his absence, Jamie 
 Stewart should act as his deputy, and that Helen, 
 Elspeth, and three other women, with six of the men, 
 should meet him at the next county fair at Woodburn. 
 
 On the following morning, having laid aside his 
 gypsy costume and donned the dress of a country 
 farmer, John betook himself with the ponies to Castle- 
 wood Hall, where he arrived on the following even- 
 ing. 
 
 By the time the colts were broken John and the 
 Laird were well acquainted, and he had proved him- 
 self of such service in organizing and directing im- 
 provements, so fertile in expedients and keen in his 
 appreciation of Mr. Muir's plans, reliable in what he 
 undertook and able to command men, that his stay of 
 
94 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 one week was prolonged indefinitely; and he had 
 become, virtually, the Laird's factor. 
 
 It was nearing the time of the Woodburn fair and 
 Mr. Muir was making ready to go down, and was de- 
 bating with John over the fencing and draining of 
 some low lands and repairing of the tenants' houses, 
 and the renewal or cancellation of some leases; on 
 all which points John had shown a shrewd good 
 sense, and made suggestions of practical value; when 
 Mr. Muir, turning to him, said: "Ye haena always 
 been a tinkler, or I ken naething o' what gaes to the 
 breedin' o' men." 
 
 "Nay, my Laird, I hae not. Ye are nigher right 
 than ye were when ye took me for a thief." 
 
 "But, John, man, ye maun forget that noo," said 
 Mr. Muir; "for I ken ye for as true a man as ane 
 meets in the langest day's tramp, ane to wham I wad 
 trust a' my gear." 
 
 "Ye can do it, my Laird," said John proudly, "and 
 ye'll ne'er hae cause to change your mind. But noo 
 we will look to yon bit fencin'. Shall we rin it down 
 to the burn, or turn it over the hillside to meet the 
 ither fence?" and so he parried the opening up of 
 confidences regarding his past history. 
 
 But John was not proof against the gentler method 
 by which Mrs. Muir stirred the deeper waters and 
 brought to the surface the things that were hid from 
 her husband's eyes. She too felt a special interest in 
 this singular gypsy, who was so strong with the labor- 
 ers and so gentle with her baby. And as he fondled 
 her child, her heart went out to him, and she wanted 
 to know something of his inner life. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 95 
 
 As she sat, one evening, on the bench under the 
 spreading beech in front of the Hall, while John was 
 riding the wee Laird on his shoulders, the youngster 
 crowing with excess of joy, in one of the pauses of 
 the sport she said to John : 
 
 "Ye maun hae a bairn o' your ain, for ye ken so 
 weel to fondle them." 
 
 "Aye, my Leddy, " said John, as he thought of his 
 own wild birdie in the camp among the Braemar hills; 
 "I hae a bairnie o' my ain, a wee bit lassie; but she 
 is far frae here." 
 
 "Ye'll be longin' for a glint o' her e'en; and ye 
 shall tak' a gift frae me to the lassie. Has she a pair 
 o' blue e'en frae her faither?" said Mrs. Muir, smil- 
 ing into John's honest eyes. 
 
 "Nay, my Leddy, answered John, returning the 
 smile, "her e'en are dark as a fallow deer's; but they 
 are winsome and bonnie, though they arena blue." 
 
 "Ye haena clean forgat whan ye were a bairn yer- 
 sel\ It aye brings back the bonnie days o' youth 
 when these toddlers tak' us by the hand and lead us 
 into the wee folks' land, and gar us forget our carkin' 
 cares," said Mrs. Muir gently. 
 
 "Aye, my Leddy, I ken it weel; and I winna for- 
 get it. It was blithe in my hame on the glenside, wi' 
 the burn at the foot o' the haugh, where I fished for 
 the trouts and paiddled wi' the lads and lassies." 
 
 "But my Laird tellit me that ye were ane o' a band 
 o' tinklers wha were at the fair, and I ne'er kenned 
 a tinkler that cam' frae a Highland hame," said 
 Mrs. Muir. 
 
 "It wasna my lineage that made me a tinkler, my 
 
96 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Leddy, " said John with a tang of pride in his tone; 
 "but the turn o' the tide o' fortune that put me on 
 the wrang side o' the king's service." 
 
 "I dinna ken what ye mean," said Mrs. Muir, "nor 
 what king ye hae misprized. There are some wha ca' 
 themselves kings that werena born to rule, and some 
 wha hae been driven frae their birthright. But we 
 maun bide and hope for better days. 'The king will 
 aye come to his ain,' says my Laird; but tome it 
 seems aftwhiles that he is lang a-comin'." 
 
 Then John felt that he could tell his story without 
 fear of shocking his hearer's loyalty; and, without 
 further parley, began: 
 
 "My Leddy, I was born and reared in the High- 
 lands o' Ross, wi' as guid blude in my veins as rins in 
 mony a well-known house o' Scotland and better than 
 fills the carcass o' mony a Saxon lord. We were 
 scant o' this world's gear, but a lean purse is not the 
 worse misfortune, and I hae yet to learn that lack o' 
 meat ever thinned guid ancient blude. My hame was 
 in a moorland glen; and while I live I will love the 
 scent o' heather and the peat-reek that flavors the 
 'mountain dew.' There was a wiraplin' burn at the 
 foot o' the glen where I caught the trouts in the early 
 morn. We had twa dogs, for my faither was a shep- 
 herd; and I was friendly wi' a' aboot me, my douce 
 faither, my gentle mither, our twa collies, and the old 
 gray cat; nor did I quarrel wi' the wooden trencher 
 and spoon wi' which I ate my parritch. I kenned 
 ilka fin that shot acrass the dark pools in the windin' 
 burnie; and the bleat o' the sheep on the braes, and 
 the glen itsel', wi' the mist hung owre it in the early 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 97 
 
 morn — I loved them a', as a boy loves siccan things. 
 There may be bonnier lands for a farmer, and richer 
 lands for a trader, but oh! for a land to love and 
 remember for aye, gie me the Highlands o' Ross. 
 It is a stiff soil for wheat and corn, but it will raise 
 the cockles o' the heart as long as ye bide aboon the 
 gowans. " John spoke with that eloquence whose 
 periods are rounded by affection. 
 
 "But what led ye awa', when it is sae dear to your 
 heart, John; and winna ye gae back to it again?" 
 said Mrs. Muir, touched by the loyal affection with 
 which John lingered over the simple joys of his early 
 days. 
 
 "I winna gae back, my Leddy, for it canna be the 
 same. My faither and mither are deid, and mayhap 
 anither laddie is in the shepherd's hut; and the glen 
 will be ither than it was to the care-free lad wha took 
 the trout frae its burn. Aye the glens and burns bide 
 the same, and we it is wha change. Whan my faither 
 and mither were gane and I left alane, I was fain to 
 be a soldier in a gay uniform, wi' plenty to eat and a 
 sword at my side, and I listed in the Black Watch ; 
 and ye ken, my Leddy, what was the end o' that affair. 
 We turned our backs on the disgrace we couldna for- 
 fend ; for it was aye our Scots land that the Saxon 
 traders flyted; and amang them a' there was none 
 braver than a tailor. Ye winna ca' me a coward and 
 deserter, my Leddy, when ye ken that I led the men 
 awa' frae what we couldna help nor hinder?" and 
 John looked at Mrs. Muir appealingly; for she had 
 started when he named the Black Watch. 
 
 But he need not fear the judgment of one reared in 
 
98 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 a school of politics which taught that the reigning 
 king regarded England as a mere conquest, and that 
 he lived chiefly in Hanover, spending in his dear 
 Electorate the plunder gotten from India and the new 
 world ; and to whom Scotland was a conquest of a 
 conquest. To her these were man-made kings, 
 Dutch puppets managed by politicians, and were 
 worthy of scant respect ; for Scotchmen owed al- 
 legiance to another house. 
 
 "Nae man is traitor," said Mrs. Muir warmly, 
 "wha leaves a hireling service when he finds the pay 
 is not worth the toil. Ye made a noble stand, and 
 we were proud to hae the Saxons ken how a true Scot 
 loves his native land. I will hae ye tell me the tale, 
 some time, and meanwhile ye will bide wi' us, John. 
 Stoneywold was already minded to mak' ye baillie o' 
 the estate, and now I will lift baith hands for it. I 
 was minded to tak' tent, and hae ye bide wi' us a bit, 
 till we could ken how ye wad bear yoursel' ; but I 
 hae nae doubt o' the man that led the Black Watch. 
 Winna ye bide wi' us now, John?" 
 
 "But I am not alane, my Leddy," replied John, 
 touched to the quick now, and ready to make a clean 
 breast of it. "Whan I fled frae the Saxon horde I 
 went by night frae muir to muir and, whan weel-nigh 
 spent, I fell in wi' a band o' cairds, wha gave me 
 meat and drink and shelter. And the daughter o' the 
 chief, o' the ancient family o' Faa, won the heart out 
 o' me, wi' her bonnie black e'en; and Helen Faa is 
 my ain true wife married in the kirk, and I canna for- 
 sake her, for she loves me weel ; and I canna gae where 
 my wife wadna be welcome, for I love her dearly." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 99 
 
 He lost nothing in Mrs. Muir's esteem by this open 
 confession, and she answered him warmly: "I prom- 
 ise your dark-eyed gypsy bride a warm welcome, 
 honest John; for gin she has won you to love her, I 
 warrant she is a true woman." 
 
 But John declined to commit himself further than 
 the promise to do his best to win the consent of his 
 gypsy wife to forsake their tents and dwell among 
 men. He left them with the promise that, in any 
 event, they should see him again, and made his way to 
 the fair at Woodburn. 
 
 Here he met the detail of his band, led by Jamie 
 Stewart, and Helen with old Elspeth and the other 
 women. 
 
 Jamie had seen stormy times while striving to hoM 
 the reins of government, and brought a long list of 
 grievances for John to right. He had neither the 
 character nor courage to rule this turbulent band ; his 
 fierce, fighting bravery did not atone for the lack of 
 cool nerve to face and master the spirit of rebel- 
 lion which had been rife under his brief sway; and 
 Jamie was ready enough to hand them over to one 
 whom he recognized as able to control their fiery 
 spirits. 
 
 There was plenty of work for the band at the fair, 
 and they were reaping the harvest and bringing the 
 fruit of their labor to John, who was again a brown- 
 skinned gypsy in the tinkler's picturesque garb, in 
 which Mrs. Muir would never have known him, when 
 one of his young men brought him the well-laden 
 green silk purse, whose history Mr. Muir had told 
 him when, from time to time, recourse was had to 
 
IOO A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 it to supply the means for some of their improve- 
 ments. 
 
 John knew it as soon as he saw it in the hands of 
 the gypsy lad, who had lightly relieved the Laird of 
 Stoneywold, as he was deep in discussion with a 
 farmer, among a crowd at a tent door. 
 
 No sooner was the purse in John's hands than he 
 saw in what a dilemma it put him with his new-found 
 friends. He had not intended to show himself to Mr. 
 Muir in his present guise. It was an awkward pre- 
 dicament. He might invent a story of the finding of 
 the purse by one of his young men, only to discover 
 that Mrs. Muir had it in charge and had just handed 
 it to the Laird, at the fair. 
 
 He did not entertain a thought of its retention; but 
 its restitution was beset with difficulties. Never did 
 man feel gold weigh heavier on heart and pocket, and 
 he cursed the hour when the deft fingers of Will Rob- 
 ertson found their way into Stoneywold's unguarded 
 pouch. 
 
 But here it was and something must be done with it, 
 and that without delay, before the loss was discovered 
 and an outcry raised. After much weary conning, 
 John formed this plan: "I'll gae to yon field and bury 
 the mischancie bawbie, then I'll gar old Elspeth seek 
 out the Laird and bid him hearken to the spaewife, 
 wha can show him a mischance that has befallen him 
 and how he can mend his luck, if he will crass her 
 loof wi' siller; and so a saxpence will, mayhap, mend 
 matters again." 
 
 He set off forthwith to the meadow where Helen 
 and Elspeth had their tents, apart from the rest of 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. IOI 
 
 the band; for John did not permit Helen to mingle 
 in the crowd at the fair as a gypsy fortune-teller, sub- 
 ject to the rude jests of the hucksters. 
 
 While on his way, he saw a woman sitting under a 
 hedgerow by the roadside, a country Jean with a 
 homespun kirtle wrapped about her, the hood drawn 
 over her head, holding a baby in her arms. 
 
 John was used to disguises of all sorts and, under 
 the homespun cloak, he recognized a pose of the head 
 and shoulders and a posture that does not belong to 
 the back that is bent under burdens. 
 
 He had passed to the other side of the hedge and 
 drawing nearer recognized, in the soft lullaby that she 
 was crooning, the voice of the Lady of Stoneywold. 
 John saw in this a golden opportunity, and, stepping 
 up lightly and quickly behind the lady, reached 
 through the hedge, lifted a corner of the kirtle, 
 dropped the purse into her lap, and, before she could 
 turn her head, was gone, with a conscience and 
 pocket both mightily eased. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "the reek o' my ain house is better than 
 
 THE FIRE O' MY NEEBOR's." 
 
 AFTER handing over the green silk purse to such 
 safe keeping, John addressed himself to the set- 
 ting in order of his own affairs. He found his way 
 quickly to the tent where wife and wean awaited him, 
 watched over by old Elspeth. Helen's ear caught the 
 sound of his step while he was yet a great way off, and 
 she was ready, with their baby in her arms, to meet 
 him. 
 
 How beautiful she looked, to John, as she stood in 
 the shadow of the birch tree, her black hair lustrous, 
 as the sifted sunlight fell upon it, her dark eyes lit 
 with glowing love, her teeth between her parted lips 
 like pearls set in rubies, her whole poise alert to greet 
 his coming. John paused for a moment to inhale the 
 exceeding beauty of her face and loveliness of form, 
 e'er it should be hidden in his close embrace. For a 
 moment, he stood gloating over his treasure and then 
 hurried forward to take her in his arms. 
 
 He took the weanie from her and tossing it high in 
 the air caught the crowing fairy as it came down from 
 its flight, like a callow nestling that has spread its 
 wings too soon, while Helen watched intently, with a 
 still delight, like that which is shown by animals, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 03 
 
 eager yet repressed. When he handed back the child, 
 he caught her too in his arms, as though she were but 
 a larger child, and, after he had thus expended some 
 of the exuberance of his spirits, sat himself down 
 beside her and opened up the grave subject of the 
 proposed change in their manner of life. 
 
 "My ain wild cushat," he said, as she sat, with her 
 hands clasped, looking him in the eye with a gaze that 
 held him. "Are ye glad to see me back again, my 
 bonnie mirk-eyed lassie?" 
 
 "Aye, John," she said simply; and how true her 
 voice rang. 
 
 "I hae been leadin' a braw life, in the house o' a 
 laird and leddy," said John. And Helen's face fell, 
 as it always did when John made reference to the 
 other side of his life ; for she feared he might feel 
 that his fortunes were fallen. 
 
 "Was it bonnie, John; and did ye long to bide wi' 
 them?" and the tone was one of suspense. 
 
 "I cannabide awa' frae the lassie that I love," said 
 John, answering the latter half of the query first; and 
 Helen smiled. "But it is a bonnie life whan a man 
 can feel that he is put to a man's wark and can win 
 honor frae his fellow-men." 
 
 Helen was silent. All this meant nothing to her, 
 who felt that the honor of being chief of a band was 
 enough to fill the measure of a man's ambition. John 
 watched the shadow steal over her face, as when one 
 walking in pleasant company looks up suddenly to 
 find one's self alone. 
 
 "Aye, Helen, it is weel for a man whan he can win 
 not only the rule o' a band o' outlaws but also the 
 
104 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 trust o* men that haud a place in the land," he said, 
 with that positive tone which so often passes for argu- 
 ment, especially in the dealings of men with their 
 women. 
 
 Helen listened, but she knew nothing of the motions 
 of such an ambition, her horizon being limited by the 
 point from which she had always looked on life. 
 
 "Aye, John," she answered, after a little, "it may 
 be, for them wha ken o' sic matters ; but I ken 
 naught o' lairds and leddies." 
 
 "Lairds and leddies," answered John senten- 
 tiously, "are a' the same as ither folk, only just wi' 
 anither name." 
 
 "Weel, John," said Helen plaintively, "then why 
 not bide wi' the ither folk, and not fash yoursel' 
 whether the lairds and leddies love ye or leave ye?" 
 
 "Ye winna understand, Helen. I carena whethei 
 they love me or no; but a man wins his place in the 
 warld by the one wham he serves. If he serve the 
 king, he is a courtier; if a laird, he is a baillie, and 
 through a' the kintra side he is respectit, and can 
 haud up his head amang his fellows," said John, puz- 
 zled to make his gypsy wife see that the tame dignity 
 of the steward of a Scotch laird was to be compared 
 with the royal honors of one who was a lord and earl 
 of Little Egypt. 
 
 "Haena I heard ye say, John, 'far frae court, far 
 frae care'; and winna the same rule haud by your 
 lairds and their leddies?" 
 
 "I am minded, Helen, to tak' service wi' the Laird 
 o* Stoneywold. He is a douce gentleman and his 
 wife is a canty leddy. I will aye bide true to the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 105 
 
 Lochgellie band, and can aftwhiles help them out o' 
 a strait. But I wad see ye, as my wife, Helen, haud 
 anither place than as ane o' a band o' tinklers; and 
 wad fain see our wee lassie, in whose veins rins the 
 blude o' the Faas, wi' a mixture o' Highland blude o' 
 guid and ancient strain, bred in a better way o' life 
 than as a tinkler's bairn, wi' the fate to wed siccan 
 as Jamie Stewart or Tarn Ruthven," said John, bring- 
 ing to bear such influences as might win Helen to 
 appreciate the blessings of a gentler mode of life. 
 
 "Aweel, John, gin ye maun gae, I will gae wi' ye," 
 said Helen sadly. "Are there braes there, John, and 
 a meadow by the roadside, and can we bide in tents 
 in the pleasant simmer days?" 
 
 "It is a bonnie place, Helen ; the braes are fine and 
 the braid haughs fu' o' gowans, and the copses fu' o' 
 red deer, and the braw salmon leap in the Don water. 
 We shall hae a cot o' our am, finer than ony hut in 
 Little Carron, and your ain chicks and a wee cow in 
 the byre. And whan I come hame frae my day's 
 work, there will my Helen sit by the cottage door 
 croonin' to the weanie : 
 
 " Balow, my wean, lie still and sleep, 
 It grieves me sair to see thee weep." 
 
 And John drew the picture with all those touches 
 which might appeal to Helen. There was one thing 
 that did appeal to her, namely, John's evident desire 
 to go ; and she would surely go with him. But Ish- 
 mael never loved the tents of his brethren. 
 
 "Shall we see the road nae mair, John, and aye live 
 in ane lone spot?" asked Helen sadly. 
 
ic6 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "The spot winna be lanely, my wee wifie, and ye 
 shall visit your friends whenever ye will," was John's 
 compliant answer. 
 
 "How will old Elspeth fare wi'out me?" said 
 Helen ; for, though the old woman stood to her more 
 in the light of a spaewife than a mother, yet she could 
 not forget all that they owed to her. 
 
 "She maun come and bide wi' us," answered 
 John ; though his heart misgave him as to how this new, 
 and not altogether attractive, appendage would im- 
 press his new-found friends. But, after all, she would 
 be only a figure in the background, and would not 
 come in contact with the community in which their 
 lot was to be cast, and he would risk her acceptance 
 as part of his retinue; in any event he would not 
 forsake her. 
 
 "I am ready to gae wi' ye, John," was Helen's 
 final answer. But it was not a choice between the 
 two modes of life; she gave up all to follow him. 
 
 Old Elspeth made the other choice; but she bade 
 John go, and Helen go with him. "I am aye proud 
 to see ane wha has led a tinkler's life gae amang men 
 and show them that we are as gnid as the best. It 
 pleases me unco' weel to see an Egyptian maid marry 
 a man o' high degree and gar them ken that the 
 women o' Little Egypt are equal to ony leddy in the 
 land. I hae seen them in high places, and they mak' 
 bonnie brides for the best o' men ; an' the jewels look 
 fine in the braids o' their dark hair. I bid ye gae, 
 John, and mak' Helen a leddy, and let her be buskit 
 as fine as the best o' them, and send the weanie to 
 their schules; and foul fare the gomeril wha points 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 07 
 
 the finger o' scorn at her as a tinkler's bairn. Gae 
 to their Kirk, John, and foregather wi' them in the 
 kirkyard, and tak' Helen wi' ye in her silks and jew- 
 els, and show them a' that there is nae bonnier wife in 
 Scotland than Helen Faa, sae proud and fit to sit wi' 
 them in kirk or ha'. But let me bide wi' the band. 
 I hae danced, in my time, wi' mony a gallant, whan 
 my step was light and my eye was bright; and they 
 hae whispered saft words in my ear; but my hand was 
 keepit for a better and braver man, and I never had 
 cause to greet that I chose Andrew Faa aboon them 
 a'. But that was lang syne, and I am unco strange 
 to their ways, and far gane in years to leave my people 
 and lodge amang strangers. But ye are nae mair than 
 bairns to me; so gae to the place that is open to ye 
 and ye needna fear for me; there is nane daur crass 
 my will or tempt my displeasure." 
 
 Helen was amazed at this hearty endorsement of 
 John's plan by old Elspeth, and disposed to think 
 better of this other life, which was only a vague dream- 
 land to her, when she heard that its realms had been 
 open to others of her race, and that even old Elspeth 
 had trodden a measure in its stately halls. 
 
 Little more was said upon the subject, except that 
 John gave them a glowing picture of the splendors of 
 Castlewood and a life-like portrait of the Laird and 
 Leddy, not forgetting the wee Laird also. Helen was 
 glad that there was a child there, and her heart was 
 further won by the trinket which Mrs. Muir had sent 
 to her baby; and, on the whole, it was with a good 
 heart that she came to look on her new life. 
 
 There was a pathetic tremor in old Elspeth's voice 
 
108 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 as she said, later, "Can the wean bide wi' me to-night, 
 Helen?" and she drew it close to her, when Helen 
 laid the sleeping infant in her arms. 
 
 Long after John and Helen were sound asleep, in 
 the still summer night, as her favorite stars rose in the 
 sky, the old spaewife sat and cast spells of riches, 
 honor, health, long life, and a happy marriage about 
 the innocent, sleeping babe. And, ever and anon, 
 while she waited for the stars to rise, there rose within 
 her own heart the kindlings of a human affection, and 
 great, silent tears fell on the face of the child and made 
 it stir in its sleep; and she cast over the bairn of her 
 bairn the charm of a mother's love descending from 
 one generation to another; and this is better than the 
 spells that come from the cold light of stars. And 
 so she spent the night alternately blessing and weep- 
 ing over the child that was to learn the lesson of for- 
 getting that she was born of an Egyptian mother. 
 
 When the morning came John made ready for his 
 departure by summoning his young men and announc- 
 ing the change to them. 
 
 "I am going to tak' service wi' the Laird o' Stoney- 
 wold, and am ready to lay down the office o' chief o' the 
 Lochgellie band, gin ye are minded to put anither man 
 in my place; or I will haud the place, and frae time 
 to time come amang ye and tak' tent o' your doin's, 
 and stand ye in stead when ye are in ony strait, as ye 
 did by me." 
 
 This announcement was met with a blank dismay 
 which pleased John mightily. They looked from one 
 to the other, aghast, with never a word. Ready as 
 they were to struggle against the strong hand of an 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 09 
 
 arbitrary rule, yet at heart they felt its necessity, each 
 for the other; and, like all blessings, John's virtues 
 shone in view of their loss. John watched them with 
 a grim satisfaction, and above all, was tickled at 
 Jamie Stewart's uneasy demeanor. 
 
 "Ye hae tasted the sweets o' power," he said, turn- 
 ing to Jamie. "Shall we cast a vote for ye, Jamie?" 
 An audible titter went round the circle. 
 
 "I hae a' that I can dae to keep my ain business in 
 hand," replied Jamie, "and I winna fash mysel' wi' 
 ither folk's affairs;" and he drew back from the 
 group, cowering under old Elspeth's eye, who sat in 
 her tent door, looking ready, Jamie thought, to launch 
 the thunderbolt of her direful secret at his head. 
 
 After some parley it was agreed that Charlie Gra- 
 ham should act as deputy, with John as chief, to whom 
 all graver questions should be referred when, once a 
 month, he visited the band. 
 
 After this it remained only to say good-by ; and, 
 with a parting blessing from old Elspeth, they turned 
 their backs upon the life which had been full of many 
 a wild adventure and many a wayside pleasure, and 
 betook themselves, down the winding Don as it wan- 
 ders toward the sea, to enter upon a new life; and 
 Elspeth watched them till they were out of sight. 
 
 John felt elated on his return to a settled mode of 
 life, where he would become known in the commu- 
 nity, and identified with a man of standing. 
 
 Helen felt a vague unrest, a fear that the freedom 
 of her life would be curtailed ; that she was to be as a 
 caged bird; and she became constrained and silent. 
 
 John, at first, preoccupied with his own thoughts, 
 
no A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 did not notice this; but at length her unwonted 
 silence, who was always full of prattle as a song-bird 
 in the spring, roused him from his reverie and drew 
 his attention to her wistful face. 
 
 "Isna it bonnie by the Don side, my dearie?" said 
 John cheerily. "And ye hae naething to say; and I 
 miss the music o' your voice." 
 
 "Aye, it is bonnie by the Don side," replied Helen. 
 
 "But why are ye sae still, Helen?" persisted John. 
 
 "I hae naught to say, John." 
 
 "But ye are fu' o' mony thoughts, Helen; I ken 
 that by your wide e'en." 
 
 "It is a* sae new and strange to me, John," said 
 Helen tearfully; "and I maun spier what it is like." 
 
 "Do ye mean the Don water, Helen? We hae 
 ridden mony a mile adown it, before to-day, my wifie," 
 said John gayly. 
 
 "Na, na, John, the glens and the burns arena 
 strange to me; whichever way they rin, my heart rins 
 up or doun wi' them. But I am leavin' them noo, " 
 said Helen, with the tone of a prisoner, on the way to 
 his cell, taking a last look at the free hills and valleys. 
 
 "But, my birdie, ye will bide in a glen by a burn- 
 side, free as the wind to come or go as ye list," re- 
 plied John, in a soothing tone. "If ye arena happy, 
 my Helen, we winna bide wi' the Laird." 
 
 "I am happy to bide where ye are, John. I gae 
 wi' ye willin', and I'll bide wi' ye true." This was 
 the conclusion of the whole matter with Helen. With 
 but one tie to bind her, it held her with the intensity 
 of an untamed affection; for she knew no higher law 
 than that which bade her love and obey the chief of 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. Ill 
 
 her clan and the lord of her heart. Soon, like a 
 child, she responded to John's effort to win her inter- 
 est in their new surroundings, and entered into his 
 hopes and ambitions, as she, sooner or later, entered 
 into all that concerned him. 
 
 On their arrival at Stoneywold they were given a 
 cottage down by the borders of the stream, apart from 
 the other tenants. It was small and rustic enough to 
 fulfill Helen's ambition that it should be like a tent. 
 There was a little byre beside the cottage where John 
 soon installed a cow, and started Helen in business 
 with a small stock of poultry; and after this fashion 
 she began her new life. 
 
 Mrs. Muir took a lively interest in John's gypsy 
 bride. The romance of the whole affair invested it 
 with the interest of a story, and Helen's dark beauty 
 and gentle manners attracted Mrs. Muir strongly. 
 
 She had her up to the house, with her baby, to 
 amuse the little Laird; and Helen played with the 
 two in a wild, free way that was pretty to look at, and 
 very entertaining to the youngsters; and soon Mrs. 
 Muir grew fond of her, seeing the depth and tender- 
 ness of her nature, her devoted love of John, and her 
 winsome ways with the little ones. She presided over 
 Helen's toilet and moderated her native love for 
 gaudy color and adornment so far that Helen could 
 go to the kirk without riveting every eye on her; 
 though under such gaze Helen was perfectly com- 
 posed, accepting it as the proper tribute to her brave 
 array. 
 
 John's hands were full of the affairs of the estate; 
 and the stir of this new life, with its real work, was 
 
112 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 wholly to his taste. It was a time when most men 
 looked askance on progress in farming methods, as of 
 doubtful value; while Mr. Muir was fully persuaded 
 that he would be repaid for any outlay in this direc- 
 tion. It was his ambition not merely to own land, 
 but to make it the best land in the shire, and win 
 renown for his herd, and be ahead of his neighbors. 
 John's interest and ambition were aroused, and he 
 was so intelligent and active that he became not 
 merely a trusted dependant, but an essential factor in 
 putting Mr. Muir's plans in execution. 
 
 "Three days in each month," he told the Laird, 
 "I maun hae to mysel' to set in order the affairs o' a 
 sma' estate o' my ain, that fell to me as my wife's 
 tocher, before I took service wi' ye, my Laird." 
 
 "Aye, John," answered Mr. Muir, with a twinkle 
 in his eye, "there are kittle herds on that estate, and 
 ye maun hae an eye to them, John. It is canty to 
 hae baith ends o' the burrow open, as the hare said to 
 the hound." 
 
 Then John knew that the Laird was aware in what 
 country his estate lay; but they did not speak of it in 
 plainer terms. Stoneywold estate was singularly ex- 
 empt from depredation, nor was the green silk purse 
 ever in danger again, for it was intrusted to John's 
 keeping when they carried it to the fairs. 
 
 Among the gentry it came to be understood that 
 John could set many a thing right that was gone 
 astray, and his services were often in requisition. 
 When a merry lord was eased of his purse, at a fair, 
 entailing a loss too heavy to be endured in silence, if 
 he were prudent and a friend of Stoney wold's, instead 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 113 
 
 of raising a fruitless disturbance and handing a half 
 dozen of the lads over to the constables, he would 
 quietly relate his loss to the Laird of Stoneywold, 
 who, calling John aside, would say: 
 
 "John, my Laird of so and so tells me that he canna 
 well thole so heavy a loss as he has met with, at the 
 hands o' some feckless lads, wha forgot that he was a 
 friend o' ours. He was minded to send you a year- 
 lin' bullock, but, now, can ill afford it. It seems a 
 pity, but I wanted ye to know o' the Laird's guid-will 
 to ye." 
 
 "Aweel, I must look to it," John would say. "It 
 may be that some o' my lads will ken mair o' this 
 matter than I wot" ; and, without more ado, the purse 
 would find its way back to the owner, and a stoup of 
 ale consoled the young fellows for the loss of the pelf, 
 and the yearling bullock found its way to the camp of 
 the Lochgellies. 
 
 Thus did a little well-timed forbearance spare 
 both parties the vexation and expense of a suit at 
 law. 
 
 The monthly visit to the band was, at first, an event 
 to which Helen looked forward with longing. But, 
 as she became wonted to her new surroundings, the 
 terror of restraint fading, as she saw how free she was, 
 and the honor in which John was held becoming ap- 
 parent to her, she was not only content but proud of 
 their position ; and she saw clearly that the life of her 
 child, growing in health and beauty, the playmate of 
 the children at the Hall, was happier and better than 
 a life by the roadside. 
 
 Then, too, the pleasure of their visits to the band 
 
IH A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 was marred by the vexatious brawls brought to John 
 for adjudication. 
 
 The stories of their exploits did not sound so brave, 
 in the recounting, as they seemed when, living in their 
 midst, she felt the excitement of the action while the 
 drama was being played. These things took on an- 
 other aspect now and seemed unworthy of John's 
 notice, to whom so much graver interests were 
 intrusted, and whose advice was listened to by gentle- 
 men of consequence. As for John, he was willing 
 enough to slacken the ties that bound him to his past 
 life, and yet was determined that none should have 
 just cause to say that he had forgotten the debt he 
 owed them, or that he dishonored the obligation when 
 the drafts were heavy on him. 
 
 As the months and years rolled on, John grew more 
 important to Mr. Muir, and his duties and responsi- 
 bilities made him a graver man, with the weight of 
 character that belongs to an established position in the 
 community. 
 
 He used his position as gypsy chief to restore plun- 
 der, when the circumstances appealed to his sympa- 
 thy, or there was danger of an outcry which would 
 threaten the safety of the band; and this was the 
 easier for him to do, because his knowledge of their 
 secrets gave him almost a power of life or death over 
 them. 
 
 He discovered thefts and secured restitution after 
 so wonderful a fashion that the country people be- 
 lieved that he had the gift of second sight, and feared 
 and respected him, as they are apt to do those of 
 uncanny reputation. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 15 
 
 John grew in favor with the Laird of Stoneywold, 
 who respected him for his true manliness, and threw 
 himself without reserve upon his fealty, and nothing 
 could have won it better. His allegiance could not 
 be bought with uataied gold, but trust in his truth 
 held him with hooks of steel. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "there is nae sport where there is neither 
 auld folk nor bairns." 
 
 AS the seasons came and went there were added to 
 the family at Stoneywold another laddie, Thomas, 
 and then, in regular succession, Janet, Margaret, and 
 Helen, and, after these, Willie and Robert, a merry 
 troup which kept the halls resounding with the tinkle 
 of children's footsteps, and echoing with the laughter 
 of the bonnie bairns. Helen Gunn was the playmate 
 of them all, with a touch of the wild, free nature of 
 her race that made her fawn-like and lissome in heart 
 and action, akin to little children. 
 
 John, besides his duties as baillie of the estate, was 
 the preceptor of the boys in all that related to out- 
 door life, the teaching not to be had from the books 
 which their tutor set them to study. They were as 
 well taught in folk and fairy lore as children of a later 
 day, for they needed no picture books to endow with 
 life the vivid scenes which Helen would portray to 
 the gaping circle, tales of the wild gypsy life, of the 
 "Gaberlunzie Man," of old John Faa the Earl, of 
 "Rattlin* Roarin' Willie," and of her own life by the 
 roadside. With old Elspeth the children became as 
 familiar as other children are with the fairy god- 
 mother; and she ranked beside this potent actor in 
 
 116 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. "7 
 
 the drama, which, in diverse form, is pictured for the 
 children of every age, where good and evil contend, 
 and, at the last, the good is on the winning side, as it 
 ought to be for children. John told them the High- 
 land tales of the cantrips of wraith and sprite, kelpie 
 and bogie, until their hearts would beat high at the 
 roar of the Don water in the spring floods, as they lis- 
 tened for the kelpies' cry. 
 
 But John did better work with the boys than this 
 course in Highland folk-lore; he taught them the 
 manly arts of which it becomes a lad, whether High- 
 land or Lowland, to be master. From him they 
 learned to hunt and fish, to make a fly and cast it well, 
 to know the haunts and habits of trout and salmon, 
 where they feed, how to watch for them, strike them, 
 and land them deftly. He taught them to swim and 
 row a boat, to follow the red deer and find the grouse, 
 to ride a horse and break him to saddle or harness, 
 to wrestle and ply the quarter-staff, to put the stone, 
 to jump, and to play at golf. The boys worshiped 
 him as possessing all the most desirable accomplish- 
 ments; and the gaunt, learned stripling, who was their 
 tutor, suffered sadly by comparison of his tamer parts 
 with John's more manly gifts. In all these matters 
 James took the lead; Thomas was ill fitted to control 
 a horse and was slow with his gun, though somewhat 
 more skillful at the oars, and a good fisherman. 
 
 As the lads grew and their characters developed, 
 James showed, more and more, an open nature, 
 strong and full of resources, quick to make friends 
 and apt to command ; while Thomas was secretive 
 and often sullen, always ready to temporize, trusting 
 
n8 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 to gain his end by artifice rather than to meet and 
 conquer a difficulty by downright force. James took 
 defeat in good part and laughed off his disappoint- 
 ment; Thomas was out of sorts for a day when any 
 got the better of him. As a consequence James was 
 a favorite with all the tenants and the children; 
 Thomas was a favorite with no one but himself. 
 
 Among the constant visitors to the Hall was Janet 
 McKenzie, a Highland cousin from Ardross, a bonnie 
 lass, full of life and freshness, who, like the heroine 
 of the fairy tale, "had skin as white as snow and 
 cheeks as red as a rose," and a heart as sweet as 
 heather in bloom; and was known as the "Lily and 
 rose of Ross." Her favor was sought by both the 
 lads, and, while yet too young to be thinking of such 
 things, they were making hot love to their cousin. 
 
 Whatever a boy could bring to his sweetheart they 
 vied in offering to her, the skin of an otter, the plume 
 of a bird, or the first wild flowers; and in this contest 
 James had always the advantage. 
 
 The pony that she was to ride had been broken by 
 James to a gentle gait and easy control; and, while he 
 taught her to manage the horse and jump ditch or 
 hurdle, Thomas was full of sulky discontent, seeing 
 how many a chance was open to James, by his better 
 knowledge of such things, to win a gracious smile 
 of thanks. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Mr. Muir, who saw that Thomas 
 was not apt to learn nor skilled in managing affairs, 
 concluded that he was best fitted for a seafaring life, 
 and so, when he was about fourteen, sent him to sea. 
 From time to time he came back, in his sailor uni- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. HO 
 
 form, and, with the air of one who has seen the 
 great world, essayed to patronize his stay-at-home 
 brother. 
 
 But, whatever he was in the great world, at Stoney- 
 wold he must play a second part. James grew to be 
 thorough master of the estate, and, as his father ad- 
 vanced in years, took more upon himself, having John 
 Gunn at his elbow to tell him how things had always 
 been managed; and, outside the estate, he was a 
 leader of the hunting parties, a man of mark in the 
 shire, of whom men spoke with respect as a rising 
 man. 
 
 From time to time, as Janet made her annual visit 
 to Stoneywold, she grew into a companionship with 
 James that was natural and very pleasant, full of 
 mutual confidences, cousinly, but dangerous; unless 
 indeed they were fearless of such danger, as they 
 seemed to be. 
 
 The first sign of a change in their relation as 
 cousins, girl and boy together, was when Janet, now 
 grown to be eighteen and a young woman, shrank 
 gently back from James's warm kiss of greeting. 
 
 "Why, Janet," said the astonished James, "will ye 
 hae me forget that we are nigh o' kin?" 
 
 "I winna forget, Jamie," she said, blushing red, 
 "that I am nae mair a child, and my mither says that 
 I maun always remember that a woman's lips are for 
 her lover." 
 
 To himself James said: "A plague on the saws o' a 
 crabbit auld woman," but to Janet he replied, with a 
 light laugh: "Then I maun be your lover, Janet, and 
 claim my right for aye." 
 
I20 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 But no such off-hand declaration as this sufficed to 
 install him in the place. 
 
 "That may be, Jamie; wha can tell?" she said, as 
 lightly as he had spoken. Though, if the truth must 
 be told, this was not the first time that the thought 
 had flitted through her head. "But until ye are my 
 lover, ye maun welcome me as ye do ither lassies, wi' 
 a hearty hand-shake and your bonnie smile. And 
 perchance before ye are minded to court me, my lips 
 will be pale and the roses faded frae my cheeks, so 
 that ye winna care to kiss them." 
 
 All this was said so lightly that James began to have 
 an uneasy suspicion that there was some Ross-shire 
 carle in the way, and that he had been left behind by 
 not seizing the lead at the start. He had often lost a 
 race by this blunder, and perhaps it was true in this 
 sort of race that a good lead is half the victory. But 
 the grapes that hang high are ever the sweetest, and 
 Janet's lips never looked so tempting. 
 
 "I am half minded to snatch a kiss, willy-nilly; for 
 he that winna whan he may, canna whan he wad," 
 he said, with an uneasy laugh and a saucy light in his 
 eye. 
 
 "Ye can do that, right easily, Jamie," she said, 
 without moving a step; as he thought, half daring 
 him to do it. "But I dinna think the after-taste o' 
 such stolen fruit is sweet. I canna say nay to your 
 strong arms, Jamie; but I can say to your heart, I 
 wouldna do it if I were you." 
 
 Jamie began hastily to make excuse: "But I hae aft 
 kissed ye, Janet. I hae always kissed ye whan ye first 
 cam'; and I hae no kind o' likin' for this new-fangled 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 12 1 
 
 notion that ane mair year can mak' a bar between 
 those wha are so nigh o' kin." Then he took on an 
 injured air, and sought out a shaft to touch a tender 
 spot in her heart. ' 'Perchance the sweet things which 
 some Highland lad has told ye turn ye awa' frae me; 
 but I'm as guid as ony lad o' the Highlands, and it 
 needna hurt your pride when ye gae back, and the 
 gomeril spiers, did I kiss ye, to tell him I did. It 
 wouldna spoil your lips entirely for his poutin* 
 snout." 
 
 "We maun quit this talk, Jamie," Janet said quietly, 
 though her lips quivered and her eye glistened. "I 
 will gae to your mither, for her welcome," and she 
 turned and left him thoroughly crestfallen and ready 
 to bite off the end of his disgraceful, unruly tongue. 
 Not knowing how to mend the matter he made it worse, 
 by keeping aloof from Janet all day, making himself 
 thoroughly miserable, and her unhappy. Leaving her 
 to ride with Thomas that afternoon, he wandered 
 about the estate, bent on forgetting her; and, as the 
 thought of her would intrude, he began to resent this 
 as of her doing and to conjure up, from her words or 
 looks, some good, solid grievance, some heartless con- 
 duct which would let him accuse her, or retort so that 
 her eyes would not only glisten but be flooded with 
 tears — something that would rankle in her heart, 
 making her as thoroughly miserable as he was. 
 
 Then his mood would change; she was all loveli- 
 ness, and he would plan to minister to her pleasure 
 and move her heart to tenderness. 
 
 He spent the next week in training his own pony, 
 which no one but himself had ever ridden, to a gentle 
 
122 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 gait, and brought it to the door, himself, for her to 
 mount. 
 
 "Why, Jamie, this is your ain Charlie; I canna ride 
 him," said Janet, with glowing eyes, for she had often 
 wished to try the spirited fellow. 
 
 "I hae been trainin' him a' the week, while you 
 and Thomas were ridin'. He is gentle noo, and will 
 gang an easy pace, gin ye slacken the rein a bit and 
 say 'easy, boy.' I kenned ye wished to ride him," 
 said Jamie, with a dejected air. 
 
 "But what will ye rideyoursel', Jamie," said Janet, 
 winningly; telling him, in word and manner both, 
 whom she expected for her cavalier. 
 
 "I winna ride ony ither o' the cattle, and ye are 
 sae weel fixed wi' Thomas for companion that it wad 
 seem strange wi' me alang; but I kenned ye wad be 
 pleased wi' Charlie." 
 
 -> She smiled her thanks and told him how much she 
 would enjoy a ride on Charlie, and would liked to have 
 told him how much nicer it would be with Charlie's 
 master along; but did not. 
 
 How often lips are sealed and opened too late for 
 those whose happiness in life hangs on a simple word. 
 
 As Janet rode off, smiling her thanks and shouting 
 "back that Charlie's gait was perfect, James ground his 
 teeth and denounced her as heartless, caring only to 
 have her own way, at the cost of another's suffering. 
 Yet all the while he did not believe his own words, 
 and would have resented them from other lips ; but he 
 wondered whether Thomas made love to her, on their 
 long rides; and whether she were so chary of her 
 favors to him. Altogether the tender passion, having 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 123 
 
 gotten a twist awry in this young man's heart, was 
 anything but tender — in fact, was very savage; show- 
 ing what our better traits become when they are per- 
 verted. 
 
 Mrs. Muir looked on well-pleased at the turn of 
 affairs; for it suited her plans that Thomas should 
 wed his fair cousin of Ardross, who had a small dowry 
 and came of an excellent family. For her eldest son 
 she had formed more ambitious projects; and it was 
 high time to set things in train to realize them. 
 
 James was now twenty-five ; her husband was show- 
 ing signs of age, even she herself was no longer young; 
 the estate was in James's hands and he was its repre- 
 sentative in all county matters; it was fitting that he 
 should become the nominal, as well as the actual, 
 head of the house, and a wife to preside at his table 
 was indispensable. 
 
 This very afternoon, when James, in desperate 
 humor, was ready to berate Janet as heartless and 
 faithless to unspoken vows, when his mind was 
 thoroughly alienated from her, did Mrs. Muir, un- 
 happily for all concerned, select as the fittest time to 
 broach this subject. 
 
 James was standing on the lawn, under the window, 
 savagely switching off every flower or blade of grass 
 that lifted its head above its fellows, when his mother 
 called him. He came and sat at her feet, on the 
 window-sill. 
 
 "Jamie, I am minded that ye shall hae charge o' 
 the estate," began Mrs. Muir. 
 
 "Aweel, I hae a* the charge o' it that I ken how to 
 tak'," replied James, not very graciously. 
 
124 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I ken that weel, my laddie; but we are minded 
 to hand the hale matter owre to ye and let a' the 
 kintra-side see that ye are the Laird o' Stoneywold," 
 said Mrs. Muir, with a touch of pride in her tone. 
 
 "That is unco kind, mither; but I wadna hae my 
 faither think that I am waitin' for deid men's shoon. 
 For a son that does that should gae lang barefoot. 
 There is room for us a' under the roof; I winna spier 
 for the day that will mak' me an orphan," said James, 
 with hearty feeling. 
 
 "Aye, Jamie, we ken that surely. Ye are a guid 
 son, and we wad fain see ye where it is your Tight to 
 be, the Laird o' Stoneywold ; and then ye winna wait 
 for deid men's shoon," said Mrs. Muir. "But your 
 faither will settle a' that. I hae summat o' anither 
 kind to say to ye. The Laird o' Stoneywold maun 
 tak' his place amang the gentry o' the shire, and, for 
 this, he needs a wife to bid his guests welcome. I am 
 no longer fit to haud the place o' Leddy of Stoney- 
 wold, for I am weary o' their junketin's, and therefore 
 ye maun choose a wife, James, wi'out further loss o' 
 time." 
 
 "It is ill choosin' a wife till a man kens what he 
 will do wi' her," replied James, taking refuge in an 
 old proverb. 
 
 "But the Laird o' Stoneywold has a place for a 
 wife, fit for ony leddy in the land," said Mrs. Muir, 
 determined to push matters. 
 
 "Aye, that may be; but will the place fit the wife 
 or will the wife fit the place?" said James, fencing. 
 
 "I ken ane wha wad fit the place, and wad mak' 
 the place fit her — the Leddy Helen, daughter o' the 
 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 25 
 
 Earl o' Morven, o' gentle blude and wi' a fine, large 
 dower. I was told by Leddy Mary Douglas, wha is 
 seekin' a bride for her ain lad, that the Leddy Helen 
 will fetch to her husband's house a tocher naething 
 less than thirty thousand pound," and Mrs. Muir held 
 her breath after giving utterance to the astounding 
 sum. 
 
 "Then, as for the Leddy Helen, it is no what she is, 
 but, what has she?" said James with a cynical smile. 
 "Here we maun needs harry oursel's wi' lookin' for 
 deid men's shoon. It aye suits me better to deal wi' 
 the livin' and hae done wi' it." 
 
 "Aweel then," said Mrs. Muir, showing that she 
 was prepared for a siege, "gin ye winna tak' tent o' 
 Leddy Helen's dowry, what say ye to Margaret 
 Erskine o' Pittoderie. She is your cousin, and ye 
 canna quarrel wi' the blude o' the Erskines nor wi' 
 Margaret's beauty. She hasna the tocher, it is true, 
 to compare wi' Leddy Helen's noble portion, but is 
 fairly dowered," and Mrs. Muir watched James 
 keenly, as she presented the points of these available 
 matches. 
 
 James, at first inclining to be vexed, now fell to 
 being amused at this evidence of his mother's fendy 
 care of his matrimonial interests. 
 
 "Margaret is sae tall and proud, my mither dear," 
 he said smiling. "She wad freeze the marrow in my 
 banes, if I didna keep wi' her haughty step as she 
 swept acrass the wide hall ; she was born to be queen 
 or, at the least, a first lady of honor. Let us hear o' 
 the next o' your bonnie damsels that are waitin' to be 
 made mistress o' Stoneywold." 
 
126 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I didna say ony sic a thing, Jamie; and I weary 
 o' your idle clishmaclaver, when I am sair in earnest. 
 I hae kept my e'en open, and a mither can tell a man 
 what he canna well spier for himsel', and can let a lad 
 ken the tocher and temper o' some wha wad mak' him 
 a suitable wife. Ye maun do your ain courtin', as ye 
 see your brother Thomas do his," said Mrs. Muir, in 
 a tone of reproof. Had her eyes been on James, she 
 would have seen him wince at this; as it was, his 
 mood changed. 
 
 "Aweel, what say ye to Lord Elsmere's daughter, 
 wi' a tocher o' forty thousand marks, to be paid down 
 on her weddin' day? She is a bright, bonnie lass, wi' 
 wham ye hae danced and had mony a pleasant crack 
 at young Eildon's weddin*. If it wad please ye to 
 ken her better, we can easily mend the trouble o' 
 scant acquaintance; I will gi'e a house party, wi' her 
 for the odd guest wham ye will be bound to look 
 after;" and Mrs. Muir felt as if she were getting 
 "warm," as the children call it in their play. 
 
 "He that canna do as he wad, maun do as he can," 
 muttered James; which was an enigma to his mother. 
 "I will first gae to Kenmuir Hall and begin my 
 acquaintance under her father's roof; and later on ye 
 may bring her here as a guest, if things move on 
 according to our wish." 
 
 This suited Mrs. Muir and she leaned over and 
 kissed her son, calling him the pride of the house; 
 and James was glad that somebody was pleased, and 
 thought that after all Annie Elsmere, with her pink 
 cheeks, flaxen hair, and soft blue eyes, would not make 
 a man miserable, and would be a dutiful wife. To- 
 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 27 
 
 morrow he would ride over to Kenmuir; therefore 
 Janet could not have Charlie. 
 
 And, all this while, as Janet rode through the 
 wooded glen, she was so silent that Thomas had his 
 thoughts for his company, and her eyes looked dark 
 and deep, as she thought how much time James must 
 have spent to train his pony, and all to please her. 
 This thought kept her company for many a mile, so 
 that she did not care to talk, but rode along in happy 
 contentment with this one sweet morsel, turning it 
 over and over, and always with some new sweetness 
 in it. 
 
 When they reached home James was ready to lift 
 her from the pony, and, without waiting for him to 
 ask, she told him how charming her ride had been ; 
 all which he set down as another step in the progress 
 of Thomas's wooing and another argument in favor of 
 Annie Elsmere. 
 
 "I am sorry that I canna promise ye the same pleas- 
 ure to-morrow," said James moodily; "but I hae 
 need o' the horse mysel'." 
 
 "Oh! I didna count on that, Jamie," said Janet 
 sweetly. "One canna expect twa sic rides. We 
 taste sic pleasures only once." Then Jamie was 
 sure that Thomas had given the girl the taste of a 
 lover's first utterance of his passion, hot and eager in 
 its uncertainty, the thrill of which can never be re- 
 peated ; and as he looked on Janet she seemed homely 
 as compared with Annie; she was certainly wanting 
 in womanly reserve, thus to flaunt his brother's pro- 
 posal in his face, when the matter was scarce con- 
 cluded. He was glad that it was not his love affair 
 
128 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 that was being thus hastily paraded, and the delicate 
 aroma of its secrecy thrown away before it was an 
 hour old. 
 
 "I hae business o' moment that ca's me to Ken- 
 muir Hall to-morrow, or I wad gie ye anither ride on 
 Charlie," said James, with a mingled emotion of love 
 and hatred toward this splendid girl whom he was to 
 call sister. 
 
 "Aweel," thought he, "she maun greet owre it yet; 
 wi'out ony muckle tocher, on Thomas's pay as a sailor, 
 they may fare hard." Then he pictured how he 
 would come to their aid, and she would thank him and 
 love him with the grateful affection of a sister; and it 
 made him heartsick to think of it. 
 
 "Can I ride wi' ye to Kenmuir, Jamie? I wad fain 
 see Annie; she and I hae had mony a pleasant time 
 togither, " said Janet, with a little pleading tone; for 
 she saw that something was amiss. 
 
 "I think not," answered James brusquely. "An- 
 nie will be busy; and twa is aye sonsie; ye can bide 
 wi' Thomas." He looked her full in the face, over 
 which a shadow passed at his brusque denial; but 
 there was not a trace of change at the latter part of 
 his speech. 
 
 When the morrow came, true to his perverse 
 humor, off went James to Kenmuir Hall, and Janet 
 was nowhere to be seen. He did not ride off like a 
 gay cavalier bound on a gallant errand. Perhaps it 
 would have cheered him had he known that, behind 
 the blinds of her casement, Janet watched him while 
 the tears ran down her cheeks at the thought of how 
 all was changed between them — and why? 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 129 
 
 This she could not ask him ; and, when she asked 
 her own heart, she could find no answer. But she 
 watched him out of sight, and then sank down on the 
 floor, with her head on the casement sill, and let the 
 tears flow unchecked, while the soft summer air blew 
 over her face, and seemed to make her more desolate. 
 
 She started, like a guilty thing, when the latch of 
 her chamber door was lifted and Mrs. Muir came in. 
 Janet was always, more or less, afraid of her stately 
 cousin ; for as the years had flown Mrs. Muir had 
 grown more formal in manner, with the air of a woman 
 of the world, and imperative as one used to having 
 her way in her own domain and not ready to tolerate 
 insubordination. 
 
 Janet thought her hard and unfeeling, which was not 
 true ; but she was certainly determined to have her 
 way. 
 
 She came over to where Janet was seated on the 
 floor, and, either not seeing or not choosing to notice 
 the traces of tears, said, in that decisive tone which 
 always frightened Janet : 
 
 "I hae been minded to talk wi' ye, Janet, before ye 
 left us. Ye are grown to be a woman noo, my lassie, 
 and it is time for ye to think o' bein* a wife." Tak- 
 ing no note of Janet's deprecatory gesture and excla- 
 mation, she went on: "Oh! I ken a' that folly, that 
 young lassies shouldna think on sic matters till the lad 
 has come and spoken to them ; but that is neither here 
 nor there, the hizzies hae their heads fu' o' it; and, 
 gin they wad be douce and honest, let them show it 
 by the way they hearken to the counsel o' women wha 
 ken o* sic matters and can tell them what they winna 
 
13° A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 hear frae the love-sick lads. I wad see ye mak' a 
 wise choice, and I think ye winna be wholly averse to 
 my counsel, when I tell ye that ye maun gae farther 
 and fare worse than to come into this house as a 
 daughter, where ye will hae a bonnie welcome," said 
 the old lady kindly; for she was fond of Janet, who 
 had never crossed her; whereas her own daughter, 
 Margaret (the only surviving one of the four), being 
 cast in the same mold, had often come into conflict 
 with her, and the issue of such contests had not been 
 decisive victory for Mrs. Muir. 
 
 In answer to this discreet counsel, Janet hid her 
 face on the window-sill and the crimson blushes suf- 
 fused her face and neck. 
 
 "I thought as much, my dear," said the merciless 
 old lady. "Nay, I was sure of it, or I would not 
 have spoken. And now, my dear, my mind is weel 
 at rest. I had a long talk wi' Jamie yesterday, and 
 all is clear before me; I shall see my sons in honor 
 and happy, and, as for Margaret and me, we will do 
 verra weel togither. I misdoubt me that Margaret 
 was designed by Providence for ony man that I hae 
 met, up to this moment." She patted Janet on the 
 head, and, as she rose to go, added, "We shall hear 
 frae Jamie, when he returns to-night," and then left 
 the room. 
 
 She found Thomas in the hall below and bid him 
 set his mind at rest, for his cousin Janet had confessed 
 her love for him. "But ye maun say naething to her 
 while she bides wi' us. It is aye fittin' that a maid 
 be wooed in her ain hame. Gin ye arena man eneuch 
 to gae and seek her, she hauds hersel' too cheap if she 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 131 
 
 doesna say ye nay." Moreover the crafty old lady 
 proposed to have a word with Lady Ardross, whose 
 pride, and ambition for her daughter, might require 
 some persuasion, and who would surely want to know 
 just what Mr. Thomas Muir's prospects were, before 
 she would smile on this trysting. 
 
 Janet was left in a turmoil of feeling. She did not 
 doubt, for a moment, who was her lover, but she 
 would rather have had him speak for himself. Never- 
 theless she gave herself over to the sweet illusion, and 
 explained away Jamie's wayward conduct, and, 
 reviewing the history of the past three or four weeks, 
 understood the training of the pony; but there were 
 other things not so easy to understand. Mrs. Muir's 
 vague allusion to her sons. What had Thomas to do 
 with this? Why did not Jamie let her go to Kenmuir 
 and tell her this as they rode along, instead of leaving 
 her alone all day, to be told it by his mother. He 
 must make amends to her for this, unless he had a 
 better explanation than she could devise. 
 
 Ah well! this evening would bring the sweet assur- 
 ance from his own lips; and what were lovers' misun- 
 derstandings, but the little artifices by which more 
 tenderness was won and warmer kisses given than 
 where all goes smooth and fair. 
 
 Then she blushed with the thought of how all this 
 would sound in words, but justified herself by the 
 thought that she had been sought and won, and to-night 
 she was to hear it from Jamie himself. 
 
 That evening she gave more thought and care to her 
 toilet than she had ever done in all her life, combing 
 and brushing her soft hair until its golden threads 
 
132 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 looked burnished, pondering over the dress she should 
 wear, and the ribbon she should twine in her hair; 
 and, in the end, choosing her simplest white muslin 
 gown, with a pale blue ribbon in her hair, this being 
 Jamie's favorite color. Her sole ornament was a 
 brooch which Jamie had given her one Christmas long 
 ago, a band of silver twisted into a true lover's knot; 
 and, the while, she said softly to herself: "I ken that 
 Jamie loves me weel; and to-night I will hear it frae 
 his ain lips; and I needna dress mysel' in aught but 
 simple white, for he loves me for mysel' alane. When 
 will he tell me? and what, I wonder, are the words he 
 will say? and oh! what will I say to him? I shall be 
 sair frighted when he tak's me by the hand and says, 
 'Janet, I hae summat to say to ye.' Then I'll toss 
 my arms about his neck and hide my face on his 
 breast, and say, 'Aye, Jamie, I ken and I lo'e ye wi' 
 my heart's blude.' I canna bear to hear it frae his 
 ain lips; my heart would burst wi' joy, and I should 
 die in his arms. It was kind o' him to send me the 
 message by anither; he knew I couldna thole such joy 
 and live." 
 
 And thus her loving fancy wrought out such an 
 explanation of the strange manner of her wooing as 
 would do credit to the tenderness of her lover. 
 
 How long the summer day seemed, and yet the 
 quick-coming fancies kept pace with the flying mo- 
 ments ; or the old ones served, over and over again, to 
 pass the time. 
 
 But at last, as the twilight was falling, she heard 
 the clatter of his horse's hoofs. How faint it made 
 her feel; with what a rush the blood surged through 
 
 J 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 133 
 
 her veins, while her breath came thick and hard. She 
 sat down, closed her eyes, and, amid the tumult, tried 
 to think. What should she do, go on to meet him, or 
 wait until they called her? Either too great haste 
 or too long delay would be conspicuous; and, while 
 she hesitated, the chance of meeting him at his com- 
 ing was gone. She heard the retreating steps of his 
 horse, as the groom led him away. 
 
 Why did they have such a leaden sound, dreary 
 enough, almost, to bring tears to her eyes? 
 
 "Because Jamie is not on him," she thought, and 
 laughed softly to herself; "the very pony feels proud 
 to be his. What winna it be to be his wife? It will 
 gar me step proud and light;" then she blushed 
 again. 
 
 When sufficient time had passed for his mother to 
 have a chance to tell him how she was waiting for him 
 to claim her, she came slowly down the stairs and 
 into the reception room next the dining hall, where 
 all the family were assembled listening to the news 
 and messages which Jamie had brought from Ken- 
 muir Hall. 
 
 Jamie stood by the mantel, facing the door, booted 
 and spurred from his ride, twirling his riding cap in 
 his hand, with his short velvet riding jacket open on 
 his chest, his cheeks flushed with exercise; one elbow 
 rested on the mantel shelf, and he was looking down 
 on the floor, when Janet caught sight of him. 
 
 At the sound of her light step, he lifted his eyes and 
 saw her framed in the doorway ; all the rest of the 
 group were sitting with their backs to the door, and 
 so, for a moment, as their eyes met, they were alone. 
 
134 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Janet paused on the threshold — how could she greet 
 him before them all. Her eyes drooped to the floor, 
 her face flushed, her breast heaved — how beautiful 
 she looked, "standing where the brook and river 
 meet," waiting for her lover. 
 
 He'started as his eye fell on her, and, at a glance, 
 took in the exceeding beauty of her face and form and 
 the stately grace of her movement; and he thought 
 how many miles he had ridden to-day, and might ride 
 far and wide for many a day, and not find such grace 
 and gentleness, such dignity and sweetness, as met him 
 in the doorway of his own home. There too was his 
 favorite color, and the brooch he had given her at her 
 throat; it was maddening to think how he had let this 
 prize slip through his fingers. 
 
 Then he went forward to meet her, and, as she 
 clasped his hand for a moment, she looked up shyly 
 in his face and whispered : "I ken it a', Jamie; and 
 am very happy, and am waitin' to hear it frae your 
 ain lips." 
 
 At first he was dumfounded, and then furious. Of 
 what stuff was this girl made? Was there no spark of 
 maiden modesty in her nature, that she prattled, first 
 of her own love affairs, and then assumed to know of 
 his? And who, forsooth, had told of his errand to 
 Kenmuir; or had she chosen to infer it from his few 
 words and, on that slight suggestion, made free to 
 greet him thus. The girl was gone daft on this sub- 
 ject, and assumed that all the world was as crazy as 
 herself. 
 
 Poor Janet! how could she guess what a storm her 
 tender little speech had roused. Nor was it any easier 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 135 
 
 to guess why, when supper was ended, Jamie abruptly 
 rose and left the table, where he had sat silent and 
 moody, and went his way out over the fields and was 
 not seen again that evening. 
 
 She went early to her room, under cover of the 
 feminine plea of a headache (which in her case was 
 true enough, with heartache into the bargain), and 
 there wept out the sorrow which could find no other 
 voice than solitary tears. 
 
 What did it all mean? He had come forward to 
 meet her, with glowing face, and as she told him that 
 his message was received and gave him the answer to 
 it, with her eyes and the clasp of her hand, his face 
 darkened and he had turned from her, as though 
 spurning her love. 
 
 How different the night was from the day. 
 
 Then she had recourse to the stronghold of women, 
 "she would wait" — the patience of the saints. 
 
 But how hard to be a woman and have to wait, 
 when the soft breath of a word would dispel this cloud 
 of misery. 
 
 And as she waited, with her head on the casement 
 sill, for the cool night air to fan it, his step sounded 
 on the walk below, uneasy and restless it seemed to 
 her; every now and then, his heel would come down 
 with a heavy crunch on the hard road, and she knew 
 that he was ill at ease. 
 
 Then, in the dim moonlight, she saw him stand, 
 looking toward her window, and raise his hand with a 
 gesture of despair and grind his heel on the road. 
 What did it all mean? 
 
 Having borne it for what seemed hours — the clock 
 
136 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 would have said fifteen minutes, but, in the darkness, 
 she measured time by the beating of her heart — when 
 the limit of endurance had been reached, she rose 
 and slipped softly down the stairs, and through the 
 great dark hall, with its grim suits of armor looking 
 ghostly in the moonlight and the great boar's tusks 
 grinning at her out of the darkness; but if the hall 
 had been full of demons, she would have made her 
 way, as they do in the fairy tales, by the virtue of the 
 true love that conquers demons. Out through the 
 wide oaken doors she went lightly and swiftly, and, as 
 Jamie turned in one of his restless courses, there in 
 the shadow of the beech tree Janet was standing, just 
 as she stood in the doorway, like a beautiful wraith 
 come to mock his despair. He was startled into the 
 momentary belief that it was a cantrip o' th^ deil, or 
 that his despair had driven him mad, as he knew that 
 it would. 
 
 But gliding swiftly up to him, Janet threw her arms 
 about his neck: "I ken that ye love me, Jamie, and, 
 gin ye are in trouble, my place is at your side." 
 
 "What was coming to pass and from whom had this 
 girl the gift of second sight?" This was his first 
 thought; then, quick on the heels of this, his sense of 
 honor reminded him that the kisses of his brother's 
 betrothed were not for his lips. 
 
 "Ay, Janet," he groaned, "ye say true; I love ye 
 better than life; better, I sometimes fear, than honor. 
 I love ye to my ain undoin', for I canna live and see 
 ye the bride o' anither." 
 
 "And that can never be, my ain Jamie. How 
 could I be yours and yet anither's. I hae been yours, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 137 
 
 Jamie, syne ye pinned this brooch on my neck, lang 
 ago. I hae laid it awa' and keepit the bawbie to look 
 on, and vowed that I wad never wear it until you 
 claimed my love, Jamie." And she added archly, 
 "I hae brought it wi' me every time I came to Stoney- 
 wold, and never had a chance to wear it until I got 
 your message to-day." 
 
 Some light was glimmering in his darkened mind; 
 this was Janet in the flesh, and she loved him and not 
 Thomas; but there were depths still beyond his reach. 
 
 "But how did ye ken o' my love for ye, Janet?" he 
 asked, clasping her close to him. 
 
 "Your mither gied me the message ye left for me, 
 Jamie," she said, wondering that he should ask her 
 such a question. 
 
 "Oh! Aye. I didna ken that she had told you," 
 said Jamie, at a loss to know how his mother could 
 have been the bearer of any such message, after her 
 talk with him; but determined that no cloud should 
 dim Janet's happiness. 
 
 "I was sad, at first, to think that I didna hear it 
 frae your ain lips, Jamie," she said, with her hands 
 clasped over his shoulder and looking up in his face. 
 "But ye kenned that my heart wad overflow, and I 
 might faint, or perchance die, in your arms; but I 
 can bear to hear ye tell it noo, Jamie; and ye maun 
 say it aince mair, and leave off that about the undoin' 
 o" it." 
 
 So he told it to her over and over, while she drank 
 it in as living water. There were no explanations 
 asked or offered on either side ; it was enough that 
 they were all in all to each other. 
 
138 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 The moon has looked on countless lovers exchang- 
 ing vows, but never on a happier pair than this Low- 
 land laddie and his Highland lassie, who exchanged 
 no vows, but simply loved and trusted one another. 
 
 After one short hour she left him, and, returning to 
 her casement, looked out on the night — the night so 
 still and cheerful, now — and wondered that the stars 
 did not sing together for joy. She watched him walk- 
 ing up and down, under the shade of the trees, with 
 elastic steps ringing with triumphant joy, and it ex- 
 cited her, made her laugh low and sweet, to think how 
 she had changed his step. His quick ear caught the 
 rippling laugh as it floated out on the night air, and 
 stepping under her window he made her toss him 
 down a kiss, and was only driven away when she 
 threw him the ribbon from her hair to put under his 
 pillow and dream over. 
 
 Alas! for the power of the love charm; he dreamed 
 of a vicious colt that he was breaking, who gave him 
 a tumble that hurt his pride and bruised his back; 
 and woke to find that his restless heart had tumbled 
 him out of bed on the floor. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "ye hae tied a knot wi' your tongue that 
 ye canna undo wi* your teeth." 
 
 THE night has its dreams and the day its rude 
 awakenings; and on the next morning these lov- 
 ers saw their dream of the night fade into the light of 
 common day. James took an early opportunity to tell 
 his mother, while Thomas, despising his mother's 
 counsel, went to tell Janet of his love, and, when she 
 firmly repulsed him, persisted until he forced her, in 
 self-defense, to tell him that she was pledged to James, 
 which she did with mingled pride and modesty, being 
 only half sure that it was indeed true. 
 
 Thomas was furious and hurried to take counsel 
 with his mother as to how they might interrupt the 
 course of this love story. 
 
 Here, too, he was forestalled, for as he drew near the 
 house he overheard his mother in heated discussion 
 with James. 
 
 Thomas thought it prudent to linger and hear the 
 drift of this conversation, as it was well to be posted 
 on all sides of an affair whose turn one could never 
 foretell. 
 
 And this is what he heard. James had just an- 
 nounced to his mother that Janet had accepted his 
 proffered love, to which she made answer: 
 139 
 
14° A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I winna hear o' it at all, Jamie, and I canna be- 
 lieve that ye are in earnest. I think better o' ye; 
 better o 'your head and your heart too, for that mat- 
 ter. Where is your bonnie Annie? Your lips werena 
 cold frae your partin' wi' her and here ye are wi' your 
 cousin in your arms. Do ye court twa lassies at 
 aince, and which wi' your left hand? Ye needna 
 speak; I haena said the half o' what I wish to tell ye. 
 Hae ye no thought for a' that I hae spent in time and 
 patience to win ye a lass wha has a tocher to befit your 
 bride and a place in the society o' the shire that will 
 gie ye a lift. Janet is weel eneuch in her namely 
 way; but she is frae a rough shire and has a smack o' 
 it in her manners, which doesna befit the bride o' the 
 young Laird o' Stoneywold; and ye canna win our 
 consent to ony sic sorry business." Mrs. Muir's 
 breath was spent, and, as she paused, James answered 
 quietly : 
 
 "It is unco late in the day to bring these matters to 
 the fore, whan I hae already plighted my troth to 
 Janet, mither. " 
 
 "It will be late in a lang day e'er ye hae anither 
 chance to mak' a gomeril o* yoursel', Jamie," an- 
 swered his mother. "Ye hae nae business plightin' 
 your troth wi'out consultin' your faither or me. 
 And didna ye plight your troth to Annie Elsmere 
 first; and ye maun bide by your promise to 
 her." 
 
 "Nay, mither," said James firmly. "I spoke nae 
 word o' love to Annie. I saw her at dinner only, for 
 I rode to the hunt a' the day." 
 
 "Ye promised me to court her, when ye left in the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 14 1 
 
 mornin'; and which word am I to believe?" said 
 Mrs. Muir, in a taunting tone. 
 
 "Whichever ye choose to believe, mither; but I 
 gave no promise to court her, but only to seek further 
 acquaintance wi' her," said James stoutly. 
 
 "And ye sought her acquaintance in the brush, 
 did ye?" retorted Mrs. Muir. "Do ye think that ye 
 ken women and their wiles, laddie? How weel are ye 
 acquaint wi' Janet? I can gie ye a bit o' news anent 
 her. She told me o' her love for Thomas yester 
 morn, when ye rode awa' to your Annie, and by night 
 she has anither tale for your lugs. She'll mak' ye a 
 braw wife wi'out dower or truth," and Mrs. Muir 
 waited for this shot to tell, while, out on the lawn, 
 Thomas grinned. 
 
 There was a mystery here; but James would not 
 make any inquiry of his mother. The explanation 
 must come from Janet's lips, and he would accept it 
 against any array of testimony; for, now that he knew 
 of her love, he was ready to trust her without reserve. 
 But it worried him. 
 
 "She did not tell ye that she loved Thomas," he 
 said, groping for some solid ground. "Ye wished it 
 to be, and chose to believe that it was so." 
 
 "I winna bear such contradiction," said Mrs. 
 Muir sternly. "I went to her room and found her 
 spierin' out at the window for Thomas, and I taxed 
 her wi' it and she confessed it to me ; and I will force 
 the confession frae the fause hizzie." 
 
 James rose: "I winna hear ye ca' Janet by sic a 
 name, mither. She is to be my wife, and I maun 
 haud her in honor and will listen to nane, no. not my 
 
142 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 ain mither, misca' a lassie sae guid and true," and 
 he turned to go. 
 
 Mrs. Muir's anger burst all bounds, as she rose to 
 her feet. "If ye ca' a woman guid wha can steal into 
 a family and teach the son o' an ancient and honor- 
 able house to forget the duty that God and man haud 
 sacred, the honor o' a son to faither and mither ; and 
 if ye ca' her true wha can plight hersel' to ane in the 
 morn and to anither at night, then hae ye learned o' 
 guidness and truth frae ither lips than your ancestors 
 o' Stoneywold ; and the lassie sae guid and true is o' 
 ither blude and breedin' frae the leddies o' this house. 
 And I tell ye she shall not enter it as your wife, James 
 Muir, and ye will hear the same frae your faither's 
 lips." 
 
 And so they parted, each more firmly set, Mrs. 
 Muir to find her husband and James to seek Janet. 
 
 What her husband would say, Mrs. Muir could 
 promise without reservation ; for she made him say 
 it. In such affairs as this he did not lay claim to any 
 gifts at disposing of them comparable with hers. 
 Their interview was therefore brief but satisfactory. 
 
 "I hae just heard a bit o' astoundin' news frae 
 James," said Mrs. Muir, in a tone that set the old 
 Laird on edge at once. "He has been makin' love 
 to Janet; or she to him, wha kens; and they hae 
 settled their affairs wi'out a by-your-leave to faither 
 or mither." 
 
 "Aweel, Helen, I misdoubt ye are pleased wi* the 
 match, to judge by your tone," said Mr. Muir un- 
 easily. "But bairns will be bairns, and we maun let 
 them play at sic matters, as we did in our time." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. M3 
 
 "I winna let them play at ony sic mixtie-maxtie," 
 said Mrs. Muir, with added emphasis. "It isna play 
 whan they are sae far grown as these twa coofs ; for 
 they arena bairns but man and woman. I hae secured 
 anither match for James, and this lass is for Thomas. 
 I winna hear o' it." 
 
 "Aweel, Helen, ye ken o' sic matters, and I ken 
 naething at a'," said the Laird wearily. 
 
 "But ye ken that James needs money to improve 
 the estate, and a wife that can tak' a lead in the 
 shire," in a tone that left the old Laird no excuse 
 that he did not know it now. ' 'And I winna bide in 
 the house wi' the hizzie; and ye will tell James that 
 ye withhold your consent." 
 
 "Aye, Helen, if ye canna bide together, ye surely 
 hae the first right to be considered," said Mr. Muir 
 soothingly. 
 
 "And ye will tell him," said Mrs. Muir decidedly, 
 "that it isna on my account, but because ye canna 
 approve o' this matter. Mind ye are firm, James, and 
 let the lad understand it rightly." 
 
 "Aye, Helen, I will," said the old man wearily; for 
 he had a sore twinge of the gout, and, being worn 
 with pain, was in haste to be through with the discus- 
 sion. So she had her way, as had happened before. 
 
 Her next business was to settle matters with Janet; 
 but here James had been beforehand with her. He 
 had sought Janet immediately after the interview with 
 his mother. 
 
 "I hae talked wi' my mither, Janet, and there are 
 some things I canna understand. She tells me ye 
 were minded to gie your heart to Thomas, and that I 
 
144 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 hae interfered to bar your choice; that ye spoke wi' 
 her yester morn owre your love for Thomas when she 
 found ye spierin' for him frae your window." 
 
 "And what did ye answer to a' this tale o' the loves 
 o' Janet and Thomas?" she asked, with a mischiev- 
 ous smile; feeling the full assurance of new-born 
 love, reinforced by her lover's plain speech, which 
 showed that his query was, how his mother could have 
 gotten such a notion. 
 
 "I couldna answer her," he replied. "She said 
 you confessed your love for Thomas. What does she 
 mean, Janet?" 
 
 Then Janet told him the simple truth. 
 
 "I sat by the window and wept, as I watched ye 
 ride awa', Jamie, and ye wadna let me gae wi' ye. 
 As I thought o' that and how the bonnie days when 
 we were togither had fled, it garred me weep. Then 
 your mither cam' and said she kenned the story o' my 
 sorrow and bid me dry my tears, for she was fain to 
 welcome me as her daughter. I thought she could 
 mean only you, Jamie, and as I leaned my head on 
 the sill, she guessed my answer frae the color o' my 
 face and neck. Then she said 'We shall hear frae 
 Jamie, to-night'; so I thought to hear the words o' 
 love frae your ain lips, that night — and, after all, I 
 did hear it, Jamie," she said, smiling archly. 
 
 Then he saw it all ; how she suffered and possessed 
 her soul in patience, and she grew very dear to him. 
 
 "Why wadna ye let me ride wi' you, Jamie; and 
 why were ye so changed, sin I came here this time?" 
 said Janet, thinking to have a solution of her riddles. 
 
 For a moment Jamie hesitated, for the folly of it 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 145 
 
 all ; then, thinking that this was a time when follies 
 passed current, he said bluntly: 
 
 "Because ye wadna kiss me, Janet; and I thought 
 perchance ye were keepin* your lips for a lover." 
 
 "And so I was, Jamie; and here is the lover and 
 here are my lips," she said, putting them up for a 
 kiss. "We will break down that bar to the course o' 
 true love," she said laughing, as Jamie kissed her 
 with a zest that showed that the prize had not "lost 
 its charm by being caught." 
 
 But here they were interrupted by Lady Stoney- 
 wold, who swept in upon them remorselessly, deter- 
 mined to nip this folly in the bud, before it could 
 ripen into mischief. 
 
 "James," she said, in her stateliest manner, "I wad 
 speak wi' Janet, and winna keep ye langer frae your 
 duties. We can bear each other company for the rest 
 of the afternoon, whiles ye are mindin' mony things 
 that hae fallen into neglect in the past few weeks. " 
 
 There was no resisting this tone without forcing a 
 quarrel in Janet's presence, which could do no good 
 and would only cause her pain and distress. 
 
 So the old lady froze him out of the room, leaving 
 Janet waiting, in terror, the lingering torture. 
 
 "Janet," said Mrs. Muir, in icy tones, "I am 
 bound to set matters right in behalf o' my twa sons, 
 wha are baith deceived by you. In the mornin' ye 
 bid me carry your plighted word to my son Thomas, 
 which I did, and in the evening ye pledge your troth 
 to my eldest son. I can tell ye that I winna hae a 
 double-faced daughter, and claim the right to ken 
 what a' this miserable pother means." 
 
146 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Janet waited a moment and then answered calmly: 
 
 "Ye hae right, my Leddy, to ask, and I am unco 
 glad to hae the chance to tell ye the simple truth. I 
 hae plighted my troth to Jamie and to none ither; 
 for I didna gie ye my promise for Thomas in the 
 ntornin'." 
 
 Mrs. Muir looked her fiercely in the face while she 
 said, in a tone of forced restraint: "Wi' me a lie 
 winna serve ony purpose, however willin' Jamie may 
 be to tak' them aff your rosy lips. It is aye better for 
 women to deal plainly wi' ane anither." 
 
 "I hae told ye the truth, and it is my purpose to 
 hae patience to tell it fully, for this is due to mysel' ; 
 but when I hae told ye a', I winna bide, my Leddy, 
 to hear my word put in question," said Janet firmly. 
 
 "Ye'll hear me speak my mind so lang as ye bide 
 under this roof; and, gin ye canna thole my speech, 
 ye maun gae where I amna free to utter it," said Mrs. 
 Muir, with growing heat. 
 
 "I didna tell ye that I loved Thomas," said Janet, 
 looking the furious lady full in the eye. "I told you 
 in the morn what I told Jamie at night, that I loved 
 only him." Mrs. Muir grew hot and restless. "Bide 
 wi' patience, my Leddy," said Janet, in a tone so quiet 
 that it controlled Mrs. Muir, "and I will tell ye a'. 
 I hae loved Jamie for years. When I cam' here, this 
 time, and he wasna the same and rode awa' to Ken- 
 muir and wadna let me gae wi' him, I watched him 
 out o' sight, wi' tears. Then you cam' and said ye 
 kenned my heart and wad welcome me as a daughter; 
 I thought only on Jamie, and whan ye said that we 
 should hear frae him to-night, I was verra willin'. I 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 147 
 
 winna weary you, my Leddy, hut I wad hae ye ken 
 that the women o' our house are as true as the men 
 are brave. I wadna lie, even to win Jamie." 
 
 All this, spoken in a suppressed, earnest tone and 
 with simple dignity, did not soothe Mrs. Muir. In 
 proportion as she was forced to believe it, she was 
 maddened by it; and, as it exalted Janet, it made her 
 the more dangerous. 
 
 "This may answer for you, as an afterthought, 
 whan ye hae plunged us into a bog frae which there 
 isna escape, for a', unscatched. I hae accepted 
 Thomas for ye and ye hae had some idle love clavers 
 wi' James. Now I maun settle the matter for the 
 guid o* a' three. James is already provided for, and 
 he has a pretty way wi' the lasses, and this is not his 
 first affair o' the kind ; so we needna fash oursel's 
 owre him. But puir Thomas hasna sic guid luck 
 wi' the damsels, and therefore ye had, by a' means, 
 better tell James to continue his suit wi' Annie Els- 
 mere, and just let Thomas ken that he can follow ye 
 to Ross." 
 
 So the mother plead for the rejected son, taking the 
 worldly-wise tone, assuming that a sensible girl would 
 not let this romantic folly enter into the discussion of 
 a serious question. 
 
 "But, my Leddy, I canna so dispose o' my heart, 
 which wouldna do my biddin' and is nae mair my ain ; 
 for I hae gien it to Jamie," said Janet, as though her 
 love, once given, was no more a part of herself. Such 
 downright simplicity was terribly baffling. 
 
 "I am afraid ye hae been readin' foolish love dit- 
 ties, written to mislead silly lassies. It is weel 
 
148 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 eneuch to turn a rhyme wi' sic nonsense, but when a 
 lassie comes to choose her place in life, she maun hae 
 respect to the wishes and counsels o' her elders, and 
 use her ain wits in the bargain. I'll see to it that 
 James returns ye the gift o' your heart, along wi' the 
 tress o' hair and ither trinkets which he, doubtless, 
 has; and we'll settle this matter for the guid o' all 
 concerned," said Mrs. Muir, implying the acceptance 
 of her sound common sense, as a matter of course. 
 
 "Jamie has naething but my heart, my Leddy. I 
 hae naught else to gie; but that gift I canna recall if I 
 wad, and I wadna if I could," said Janet, with rising 
 tears in her voice. 
 
 This was too much for Mrs. Muir. 
 
 "Janet, lass, I hae told ye how the door is open to 
 welcome ye as a daughter o' this house, but ony ither 
 way the door is shut," and she stamped her foot. 
 "Aye, and my Laird has barred the door; and the 
 ban o' a mither's righteous indignation is on ye, gin 
 ye turn awa' the heart o' my first born son frae his 
 faither and mither, teachin' him to despise the first o' 
 God's commandments wi' a blessin' on it. If ye 
 haena the heart to stop your uncanny cantrips, then 
 let the fears o' conscience keep ye in the path o' right- 
 eousness. In the name o' the Laird o' Stoneywold and 
 o' the Lord our God, I forbid ony thought o' mar- 
 riage between you, a puir Highland lass, and the heir 
 o' this house." 
 
 "Ye can speak for the Laird o' Stoneywold, my 
 Leddy," said Janet haughtily, "but as to the Lord 
 our God, forgie me if I doubt that ye are empowered 
 to declare His will. I owe you, my Leddy, no obe- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 49 
 
 dience in this matter, and winna abide by your word 
 alane. " 
 
 "Ye'll abide by my word or ye canna bide in this 
 house," said Mrs. Muir hotly. 
 
 "I am your guest only at your pleasure, my 
 Leddy," answered Janet. 
 
 "Aweel, ye hae earned my sair displeasure, and ye 
 maun choose your ain time to gae hame, " and Mrs. 
 Muir swept from the room. 
 
 Janet's brief love dream was ruthlessly dispelled, 
 and though loyalty to James had sustained her 
 through the stormy interview, when it was over she 
 sank down pale and panting and gave herself up to a 
 passion of tears. 
 
 A father's and mother's keen displeasure was no 
 portent of blessing to their union, and was in fact an 
 impassable barrier. There was that in Mrs. Muir's 
 tone which betokened not a hasty ebullition of anger, 
 but a settled purpose to stamp out this foolish fancy ; 
 and so, for them, this was the end. 
 
 She therefore set herself to go back to her Highland 
 home, take up her simple duties, forget the thrilling 
 happiness of the past two days, and lay away the 
 brooch forever out of sight. Knowing that John 
 Gunn was going to Braemar on the morrow, and, per- 
 haps, could take her all the way, she set about her 
 preparations for the journey, and, when she was all 
 ready, felt a comfortable independence of Mrs. Muir's 
 wrath; but none the less dreaded the pain of parting 
 with her lover. 
 
 Was it not better, however, to drain the dregs of 
 this cup in one sweet bitter draught and then go home 
 
150 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 to let her life ebb out by inches, to die at heart while 
 the body lived on. 
 
 She found Jamie pacing under the trees in front of 
 the house, waiting for her, and he sprang to greet her. 
 
 "I hae waited for yea sair lang while," he said 
 lightly; and then, as he saw her pale face, "I am 
 afraid ye hae spent the time to poor purpose, gin it 
 has made ye look sae wan a maiden, wha has lost her 
 lover." 
 
 For Janet's full heart there was no delay possible; 
 "I haena lost my lover, Jamie; but he is taen frae 
 my arms. Your mither has told me that we canna 
 wed ; and your faither, too, she says, will forbid the 
 banns;" and she laid her head on Jamie's shoulder 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 "Janet, my mither has taen some foolish notion 
 anent my marriage wi' ane and anither o' the damsels, 
 wha are nae mair minded to wed me than am I to seek 
 them. And whan these cobwebs are brushed out o' 
 her brain, she will heed what I hae to say about my 
 ain wife," said James, in a positive tone, as much to 
 fortify himself as to reassure Janet. 
 
 "Na, na, Jamie, I ken it is mair than a whim that 
 moves her. She will have you marry anither, and will 
 have me marry Thomas, and she winna listen to me 
 or to you," said Janet, looking things squarely in the 
 face. 
 
 "Aweel then, Janet, she may close her ears, till she 
 opens them to hear the minister declare us man and 
 wife, for that we are to be; and the mair dinsome 
 clamor she mak's owre it, the quicker it shall come to 
 pass," said James, in a lordly way. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 15 1 
 
 "That cannabe, Jamie," said Janet wearily. "Nae 
 wife can bring a blessin' to a man, wha bids him break 
 the Lord's command to honor faither and mither. " 
 
 "She has been preachin' to ye, has she?" said 
 James, now furious. "Ye ken the proverb, 'When an 
 auld wife preaches the deil gies out the text.' " 
 
 "Hush, Jamie," said Janet, laying her hand on his 
 lips; which reproof he met with a kiss. "I hae done 
 ye nae guid, gin I hae taught ye to speak thus o' your 
 ain mither. We must bide a wee and not fash our- 
 sel's. Whan ye hae waited for blessin 's they are aye 
 sweeter than those which come wi'out the seekin' 
 and longin' for them." 
 
 "Women may wait and long, but it is for men to 
 strive and win," said James stoutly. "I winna bide 
 by a woman's word in matters in which they hae nae 
 concern. I will see my faither, and gin he winna lis- 
 ten to me, I'll turn my back on this place and win a 
 hame for oursel's in Ross." 
 
 "That canna be, Jamie; your faither is old and 
 ailin* and your mither needs your arm to lean on; 
 your oughtlin's bind you here, and I canna ask you 
 to forsake a' that God has set you to do, and the place 
 where he has put ye, to gang wi' me. We arena 
 happy, Jamie, when we try to rob our blessin's frae 
 our duties." And the brave girl fought her lover and 
 her own heart, at the same time. 
 
 "But, Janet, ye are my promised wife; and the 
 Guid Book bids a man forsake faither and mither and 
 gae wi' his wife," said James, prepared to see this 
 duty and to do it with his might. 
 
 "Ah! no, Jamie," she said, smiling sadly, "I am 
 
15 2 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 not your wife, and the story o' our love which we hae 
 told ane anither canna be set against the rights o* 
 faither and the mither that bore ye. Their consent 
 is needed to sanction your promise to me." 
 
 Then the hot young lover began to chafe under the 
 quiet, irresistible temper of this woman, who could 
 see one side of this question so clearly as to close her 
 heart to his pleading. Her policy of waiting was 
 maddening to his strong, ardent nature. He wanted 
 things settled on the instant, and, not unlike his mother, 
 settled to suit his way of thinking. So he turned on 
 this patient Griselda, with the accusation that her love 
 had not the sterling quality to stand the test of trial, 
 and that she lacked the nerve to meet his imperious 
 mother. 
 
 "Ye are easily driven to forego your troth, Janet, 
 when my mither doesna speak ye fair. I thought 
 there was a higher power o' love in ye than that." 
 
 She looked at him steadily, while the tears rose 
 slowly from the depths of her sorrow, her cheek grew 
 a shade paler, and she seemed to tower in height, as 
 she said, in a calm, searching tone, "I didna expect to 
 hear that frae your lips, Jamie." 
 
 It pierced him to the marrow, and he yielded, 
 without another word; and, being conquered, sub- 
 mitted to be led by her, whose heart he saw was 
 greater than his, and her counsel, therefore, in such a 
 case was wiser. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "there's a time to gley, and a time to look 
 straight." 
 
 THE passing years bound John Gunn more firmly 
 to the interests of the Stoneywold estate. James 
 having grown up under his eye, put implicit trust in 
 this preceptor of his youth. 
 
 As the old Laird failed, the management of the 
 estate fell to John, and James, as he grew older, took 
 a share in it, and thus saw more of John and Helen 
 than he did of his own family; and little "Nell" (as 
 the younger Helen was called) retained her childish 
 admiration for James. 
 
 Outside the estate John became a man of conse- 
 quence. His charge of improvements at Stoneywold 
 gave him an experience that made him an authority 
 on such matters, and a deference to his opinion was 
 shown by the gentry, which gave him a most honora- 
 ble position. 
 
 The recollection of his past life was sometimes 
 uncomfortable, and it became almost a necessity 
 to slacken the ties that bound him to his gypsy 
 friends. 
 
 Helen fully appreciated the honor of John's posi- 
 tion, and saw that better things were in store for 
 "Nell" than if they had continued in the tents of her 
 
154 A HIGHLAND CHROXICLE. 
 
 forefathers, and she dreaded to hear that the band was 
 in the neighborhood. 
 
 Gordon McDonald was settled in the neighboring 
 village of Kintore, and with him had come old Sandy 
 Brown, the minister's man, who was a weaver by trade, 
 and, as he plied the shuttle, a great philosopher, 
 political reformer, and theologian, as these Scottish 
 "websters" are apt to be. 
 
 With him John and Helen had formed a firm friend- 
 ship, founded perhaps on the law of contrast, or due 
 to some subtle tie which did not appear on the sur- 
 face; for Sandy was a sturdy adherent of the House 
 of Hanover, and John a stanch Jacobite; Sandy was a 
 sound, uncompromising Calvinist; John was of a very 
 uncertain creed, accepting general principles, but 
 resisting any definite form of belief — a very easy-going 
 Christian, even if he would submit to be classed under 
 so broad a category as this. 
 
 These two had abundant opportunity for "cracks" 
 with one another, and an unfailing supply of subjects. 
 
 Many an evening the old webster passed enlighten- 
 ing John on the great doctrines which have been the 
 bone and sinew of Scottish theology for generations; 
 and when he and John got at it, the sparks flew. The 
 battles were hot but not bitter, for they respected one 
 another, and they were true friends. 
 
 Sandy loved Nell with a great, rugged tenderness, 
 for he was a lonely old man bereft of wife and weanie, 
 and his heart went out to this winsome, dark lassie, 
 with her gentle ways. His grim, wrinkled face, with 
 scant frosty locks hanging elf-like beside it, was lit 
 with smiles of welcome as she bounded to meet him, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 155 
 
 and the gift of a trinket or a bit that he had woven for 
 her bodice always marked his visits. 
 
 On Sabbath afternoons he trudged over to the cot- 
 tage and sat with Nell by the Don side, telling her 
 Bible stories with his own quaint homilies upon them. 
 After supper he had worship, reading the chapter and 
 giving out the psalm in the old Scotch fashion, line by 
 line, and, with lusty voice, raising the tune with great 
 unction and to his own satisfaction ; his hearers mean- 
 while looking on in wonder. Then, kneeling with 
 them, he poured forth such strong and simple thanks- 
 giving, confession, and petition, as won their way to 
 his hearers' hearts, by their undoubted genuineness. 
 
 They loved this old Covenanter, with his firm belief, 
 his consistent character, and breadth of feeling. 
 
 The evenings were passed in having cracks with 
 John. 
 
 "A man's belief is sma' matter gin his life is right," 
 was a favorite maxim of John's. To which Sandy's 
 answer was: "Aye, but there is the root o' the mat- 
 ter, John. We maun ken the truth gin we wad bide 
 by it. Gin ye are settled on the fundamentals, ye hae 
 a solid footin' ; but, gin ye are in a bog o' uncer- 
 tainty yoursel' it is nae kindness to drag your neebor 
 in, until ye are baith flounderin' up to your necks in 
 the quagmire;" and this was always the wager for a 
 stout battle. 
 
 Through Sandy they came to know Gordon Mc- 
 Donald, and his visits were very welcome, for his 
 humor and broad humanity put him as near to the 
 cotters as he was to the gentry, and he became their 
 firm friend. 
 
156 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 While such associations were being formed by John 
 and Helen, Charlie Graham was giving the Lochgellie 
 band an unsavory reputation. He ruled them rigor- 
 ously, and in the main justly, and none felt the weight 
 of his cudgel oftener than his six wives, whose brawls 
 were famous through all the country. 
 
 The eldest and, by right of priority, the head of 
 this seraglio was Snippy Brown, whose real name, 
 Lizzie, was supplanted by the 110m de guerre which she 
 had won in her heroic struggle with her associates in 
 the home and heart of Charlie. In his absence she 
 had assumed the place of director of the household, 
 as being the bell-wether of the flock, which was re- 
 sented by the others, and, in enforcing her claims, 
 one of those internal feuds was set going, for which 
 the band had of late become famous. 
 
 The rest of the band stood impartially by while old 
 Lizzie undertook, with Charlie's cudgel, to set in 
 order the rest of Charlie's wives, after the fashion in 
 which he himself kept house. Of these others who 
 had thus banded themselves feloniously to resist her 
 authority, some trusted to nature's weapons, but one 
 more savage than the others, being armed with a knife, 
 cut the end of old Lizzie's nose clean off. 
 
 Nothing daunted by the trifling loss nor by the flow 
 of blood, she clapped her left hand on the wounded 
 member, and, shouting "In the middle o' the mean- 
 time where is my nose," stayed not the cudgel till she 
 had routed her foes, being generous in the share 
 which she bestowed on her of the carving knife. 
 
 She showed herself with pride to Charlie, on his 
 return, as a wife worthy of his name, and bore hence- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 157 
 
 forth the sobriquet of "Auld Snippy," as a badge of 
 honor. The honors of victory made full amends for 
 the trifling loss to her appearance; for, after this, no 
 one questioned her right to rule "when Charlie was 
 awa'." 
 
 But more than once John was seriously compro- 
 mised by his quondam associates, who insisted on 
 their right to appeal to him, because he could enforce 
 his authority over the most turbulent spirits, or 
 remand them to jail. But while he could thus control 
 them in special crises, yet his moral influence was no 
 longer a factor in the tribe. Charlie Graham was far 
 more to their liking, for he had the true gypsy instinct 
 of plunder, in season and out of season, which John 
 had always striven to moderate. 
 
 The band was a terror through the southern coun- 
 ties, where they carried on a systematic robbery in 
 connection with the Border bands. The horses in 
 Scotland were driven to the Border, where the Yetholm 
 band received them for sale in England, exchanging 
 horses stolen in England to be sold in Scotland by 
 the Lochgellies. 
 
 Charlie lived like a prince, paying his way at the 
 inns with such generous fees to the servants and noble 
 reckoning for the landlord that he was under their 
 protection. 
 
 The traveler's only warning, when Charlie was on 
 the road, was that he had better bide at the inn to- 
 night as "the road was foul." 
 
 The country people were so used to his doings that 
 when the canty traveler, having heard that "the road 
 was foul," came to a convenient spot where the woods 
 
158 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 on either side of the road afforded a fine ambush, he 
 would put spurs to his nag and gallop through the 
 hollow, and, if he was aware of a stir in the bushes, 
 would laugh and shout back : "Ah! Charlie boy, ye 
 hae missed your chance this time." 
 
 But this was only among the farmer lads, whom 
 Charlie had treated at the fair, or done some generous 
 deed of which they had heard, or themselves been the 
 recipients. 
 
 His hand was bold to take, but free to give, and 
 while prosperity always stirred his desire to relieve its 
 plethora, so distress moved him to alleviate its straits. 
 So he robbed the rich and gave to the poor. This 
 naturally created two prevalent types of popular senti- 
 ment regarding this bold gypsy chief; and John often 
 warned him that he was laying up a store of trouble 
 for himself and the band ; and, when Charlie told of 
 his friends at the inns and by the wayside, John would 
 reply : 
 
 "These will do nought for ye, Charlie, when ye are 
 before the baillies, wi' the lairds and their factors to 
 bear witness against ye." 
 
 "They can witness nae evil against me," said 
 Charlie stoutly. "I hae taen naething frae the puir 
 and hae always spared them wha couldna afford to 
 lose; and, when Davie Brown cam' to me and told 
 me how the ten pound which the lads had taen frae 
 him at the fair was needit to keep his farm, and he 
 wad lose house and hame gin he hadna the pelf; then 
 I gave it a' back again and added to it five pound that 
 I had taen frae his laird; and surely, John, ye may 
 ca' that just and fair dealin'." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 159 
 
 It was in vain that John tried to show him that the 
 lairds and their factors had as good right to their 
 money as the poor man to his few pounds. 
 
 Charlie could not or would not see this. "It has 
 aye been the law o' the land," said the bold gypsy; 
 "and your ain forbears did the same by their neebors. 
 When Scotland was a free land, ruled by her ain 
 kings and brave chieftains, then a man aye took what 
 he needed and held it by his ain braid claymore till 
 a better man than he could tak' it frae aff him. But 
 those were the guid auld days." 
 
 Whatever may have been the source of Charlie's 
 information as to ancient Scottish usage, his ideas of 
 the rights of property no longer held in the land, and 
 were mightily unpopular with the class that suffered 
 from the application of his peculiar theories of tneum 
 et tuum. 
 
 The Laird of Glenshiels, when visiting Stoneywold, 
 was loud in denunciation of the "thieving vaga- 
 bonds." 
 
 He had purchased a bullock of a choice breed at a 
 bargain because, by some accident, the animal had 
 lost nearly half of its tail. On this fat bullock Charlie 
 had cast his eye, as in good condition to grace a revel 
 which he proposed to hold. So one morning early he 
 hied him to the pasture, having provided himself with 
 the tip of the tail of another animal of the same color, 
 and, neatly making fast the necessary completion to 
 the bullock, drove off his booty. Scarce had he 
 reached the ford of the Don when the baillie o* the 
 Laird of Glenshiels overtook the bold robber and 
 charged him with the theft. 
 
 . 
 
160 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Look at him well," said the cunning gypsy, "and 
 tell me, can ye swear it is your bullock?" and he ap- 
 pealed to a passing farmer and his gillie to be judges 
 at this wayside assize. 
 
 The baillie scanned the bullock with a puzzled air; 
 "I could swear to him as our bullock by his hoofs, his 
 horns, and a' his points, werena his tail sae lang; but 
 our beastie had lost nigh one-half o' his tail." 
 
 He was dismounting to take a closer look when 
 Charlie whipped out his knife, cut off the tail just 
 above the joint, thus drawing blood, flung the end of 
 the tail far out into the water, and facing the baillie 
 cried out, indignantly : "Noo he has a. short tail; 
 swear to him, man, and be hanged to ye." 
 
 Then he rode down the bank and led the bullock 
 over the ford, without deigning further parley, save, 
 as he went up the farther bank, to call to the discom- 
 fited baillie: "Bid the Laird o' Glenshiels, wi' my 
 compliments, to send a man after his rovin' cattle 
 wha kens them by some ither mark than the length o' 
 their tails, which is as kittle a way as to ken a man 
 by the length o' his coat," and he laughed merrily; 
 but, none the less, he had made two powerful ene- 
 mies, and the Laird was sure that the Lochgellie band 
 had feasted on his red bullock. 
 
 Charlie gave this same baillie cause to remember 
 him once again. There was a certain poor widow, 
 Kirstin, in whose humble cot Charlie found refuge 
 when he had need to keep out of harm's way for a 
 while. As he lay in hiding there, he heard this 
 baillie in the kitchen threatening that if the rent were 
 not ready by the next evening, when he would pass 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. l6l 
 
 that way, he would put her out of the cot. When he 
 was gone, Kirstin came to Charlie in tears. 
 
 "Ye maun find anither place to stop," she said, 
 "for I am to be sent awa' for lack o' the rent. Alack, 
 it is not blithe for you, and for me it is a sair bitter 
 dool." 
 
 "If that be a' your trouble," said Charlie, "it is 
 easier mended than mony are," and he drew out his 
 purse and counted her out the two pounds. 
 
 "But I canna pay ye back," said Kirstin, "and 
 hae nae pledge to gie ye." 
 
 "I want nae pledge but your promise to pay me 
 when ye can;" and Charlie stayed the old woman's 
 tearful blessing by leaving the room. 
 
 He lay in hiding till the next afternoon and then 
 bid the widow good-by, and, secreting himself in a 
 copse by the roadside, awaited the return of the 
 baillie, with the rent in his pouch. 
 
 Along he came at an easy jog, and out sprang 
 Charlie; but he did not find his man so easy to man- 
 age in a tussle as he was to deal with on the points of 
 a bullock, for the baillie made a stout resistance and 
 shouted lustily for help. It was a hand to hand 
 struggle, for Charlie had not brought his cudgel and 
 would not use the knife on an unarmed man, and for 
 such a paltry sum. So the wrestle was a long one; 
 the baillie was a powerful man, but at last Charlie had 
 the purse safe in hand. The sound of approaching 
 footsteps warned him that discretion had better keep 
 pace with valor, so he beat a hasty retreat through the 
 woods to old Kirstin's cot. He released her from the 
 promise she had given, telling her that a friend of 
 
1 62 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 hers, who did not wish his name to be known, had 
 met him on the road and paid the debt. 
 
 Off went the baillie and reported his loss to the 
 Laird, who set out with him at once down the road to 
 find trace of the robber. 
 
 A little way this side of the copse they met a 
 farmer, who in passing had picked up the bonnet 
 which Charlie had lost in the tussle and had put it on 
 his head. 
 
 The baillie, in the uncertain light of the gloaming, 
 promptly fixed on the farmer as the guilty party and 
 swore that he knew him surely. 
 
 On the morrow it was noised abroad that Farmer 
 Haddon, well-known through all the shire as an hon- 
 est man, come of honest folk, and an elder of the 
 Kirk, was to be tried for robbing the baillie of Glen- 
 shiels. 
 
 It made a great stir, and old Kirstin was full of the 
 news when Charlie came out of his room next morn- 
 ing, in a new attire which completely changed his 
 aspect. 
 
 "They do say," said the old widow, "that he is 
 owin' a sum to the Laird; and, perchance, the deil 
 hae temptit him to pay it after this fashion, and it 
 wasna in his power to say 'Gang ahint me, Satan.' 
 But I am wae for the gudeman, for he was aye kind 
 to me, and remembers the widow and the faitherless ; 
 and that is a bonnie token o' a Christian." 
 
 So off set Charlie to see what would come of this, 
 and whether he could do anything for this friend of 
 the friendless. 
 
 He sat in court and listened to the trial, which was 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 163 
 
 brief, and the drift of it all against the poor man, who 
 was too much dazed to say anything in his own de- 
 fense, and could only wring his hands and cry, "Wae 
 is me, my Lairds. I come o' God-fearin' folk, and I 
 hae robbit nae man; " but there was nothing to be 
 gotten from him as to how he came by the cap, save 
 only: "I pickit the bonnet frae the dust. Oh! wae 
 is me that my gray hairs shall lie in a dishonored 
 grave." 
 
 On the other hand, the Laird was there to testify 
 that Farmer Haddon owed him a sum of money, and 
 had asked for indulgence as to time, and that he might 
 pay it in instalments, one of which was due to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Then came the baillie's turn to testify. He told of 
 his collection of the rent from the widow, "Wham," 
 he added, in a significant tone, "I am gien to under- 
 stand, your Lairdship, is a verra speecial freend o* 
 this man ; and wham he has helpit, frae time to time, 
 to pay her rent, the meanwhile asking for time on his 
 ain behalf." 
 
 By old John Haddon's side, with her hand in his, 
 sat his silver-haired wife. They "had clomb the hill 
 thegither, " and she was ready to go with him to prison 
 and to death; for she knew why he had to ask for 
 time to pay his debt, while he saved the widow's home 
 from desolation. Her tears fell softly as she thought 
 how the very good that he had done was being reck- 
 oned up against him, in this hour of trial, and she 
 prayed silently, "Lord, let not this thing be." 
 
 But the judge cut short the flow of the baillie's 
 eloquence, and bid John Haddon stand up and put 
 
164 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 the unlucky bonnet on his head, and asked the baillie 
 to declare upon his solemn oath whether this were the 
 man who robbed him, and whether- he were sure that 
 he knew him, reminding him that it was a solemn 
 thing to swear away, in one brief sentence, the char- 
 acter which a man had won by sixty years of a blame- 
 less life, in all of which there had been not a whisper 
 against him. There was silence in the court while 
 the baillie looked John fiercely in the eye, and he 
 returned the gaze with that steady clearness which 
 cannot be simulated; and the sweet, sad face of his 
 good wife was bent down in prayer. 
 
 '*Aye, my Lairds," answered the baillie, "I can 
 swear to him. I wrastled lang wi' him and wad ken 
 him surely amang a thousand." 
 
 Amid the stifled hush of the crowded courtroom, 
 Charlie Graham strode forward, snatched the bonnet 
 from the old man's head, and, putting it on, stepped 
 up close to the baillie and said: "Now tak' a guid 
 lang look at me, sir, another honest man, and tell me, 
 on the oath ye hae just sworn, am not I the man wha 
 robbit ye?" 
 
 The baillie looked aghast. "By Heaven, ye are 
 the verra man, and I " 
 
 "Haud your tongue, leein' carle!" said Charlie; 
 then, turning to the judge : "Ye see, my Laird, what 
 a ready memory this gentleman has; he swears by the 
 bonnet, whatever face is under it. He has sworn 
 awa' the character o' twa honest men, and, gin your 
 Lairdship will put the bonnet on your ain head, he 
 wad be quick to sw r ear that your Lairdship had 
 robbit him. And, my Laird, is there ony evidence 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 65 
 
 at all that the man was robbit, save his ain leein* 
 lips?" 
 
 So the chief witness being confounded, the accusa- 
 tion fell through. 
 
 John Haddon and his wife went, hand in hand, 
 from court amid the congratulations of their neigh- 
 bors, and the honest old man said : "There was sic a 
 byke o' hornets in that bonnet that I will aye leave sic 
 gear in the dust, for them to lift wha haena gray hairs 
 or ony character to lose." 
 
 His gentle wife said naught to man, but thanked 
 God unceasingly in her heart. 
 
 The crestfallen baillie retired, amid the scowls of 
 his neighbors, thinking to himself (why, he could not 
 tell) that he had lost this man just as he lost that red 
 bullock; while Charlie, waiting for neither thanks nor 
 congratulations, slipped quietly through the crowd 
 and left the neighborhood for a while. 
 
 But such victories were bad for Charlie, making 
 him confident that he could defy detection; and as 
 he grew bolder his depredations were on a larger 
 scale. He played the gentleman at the inns, and the 
 revels at the camp were on a grander scale, his young 
 men being only too eager to ape the fashion set by 
 their leader. The heavier drafts on his exchequer 
 necessitated more frequent levies on those who were 
 the custodians of his funds. 
 
 It came to pass that no man's pocket was secure at 
 a country fair, and no road safe after nightfall, and 
 a man had much ado to keep his horses in his own 
 barn. 
 
 Two or three times John Gunn had been sum- 
 
1 66 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 moned to court, by members of the band, to find 
 Charlie up for horse-stealing, with his neck very near 
 the noose. He bore himself with such reckless ease 
 and grace, that he often won a smile from the judges; 
 and the country people regarded it as a show not to 
 be missed, when Charlie was up for trial. 
 
 "Well, Charlie," the judge would say, looking 
 sternly at the handsome scapegrace. "You before 
 the court so soon again! What is it this time?" 
 
 "The auld thing again, my Laird, but nae proof." 
 And sure enough so it would turn out; for though 
 the man could swear his horse was stolen, yet his de- 
 scription of the thief in no way tallied with the hand- 
 some gentleman with small hands and feet, gallant 
 bearing and gay attire, who stood before the court. 
 
 Or, if the description tallied too closely, then some 
 innkeeper from a far corner of the shire, or some 
 poor widow or farmer of undoubted respectability, was 
 on hand to swear that the said Graham (or Anderson, 
 as he was known to him) had passed the night in 
 question under his roof, and had not ridden away until 
 noon of the next day ; and that innkeeper or farmer 
 so testifying had never to complain of the loss of even 
 a bit of poultry, no matter how long the Lochgellie 
 band lingered near his place. 
 
 Charlie often boasted that the kind of hemp that 
 would hang him did not grow on Scottish soil; and 
 so he laughed at John. 
 
 But the longest lease runs out; and at last Charlie 
 found a net spread for his feet whose meshes were too 
 strong for him. 
 
 Thrice he had escaped from the hands of the con- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 167 
 
 stables, rather than risk a tilt with the judges, who 
 were growing less complaisant. Once he slipped out 
 of the manacles, leaving them securely locked, just 
 where his hands and feet had rested on the bed, and 
 letting himself down from the window by a small 
 cord, which he wore underneath his sash, quietly 
 slipped off in the night, while the sentry paced before 
 the door of his room at the inn. And when they 
 came in the morning to take him on to the tolbooth, 
 there lay the manacles where his hands and feet had 
 been — and all agreed that it must have been a bogie 
 which they had in chains the night before. 
 
 The second time, he besought his captors not to put 
 him in the tolbooth, when they had him at the very 
 door, but to come and pass the night with him in an 
 upper room at the inn, where they could help him 
 drink up the little money that he had about him, 
 which would do no one any good in the jail. 
 
 To this reasonable proposal he won their assent, and 
 they all repaired to a second-story room at the inn, 
 and, with the door locked and bolted, the four con- 
 stables and Charlie prepared to spend the night. He 
 plied them well with liquor, and as the room grew hot 
 asked one of the constables to raise a window, he 
 remaining quietly on the other side of the room. 
 As they drank far into the night Charlie told them 
 stirring tales of his adventures, and, walking back and 
 forth in the excitement of the narration, took a sud- 
 den turn and leaped through the window, fifteen feet 
 to the ground, and was off in the darkness before the 
 fuddled constables could find the key, which they had 
 hidden, and, with fumbling fingers, unlock the door. 
 
1 68 a HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 These adventures were charming fireside tales, but 
 they made Charlie's standing in court that of a fugi- 
 tive from justice. 
 
 He had lately received a heavy consignment of 
 English horses to sell, and felt himself in honor bound 
 to return a fair equivalent, which compelled him to 
 make a larger levy than usual ; too large, as it proved, 
 for the state of the market. 
 
 A hue and cry was raised, headed by Charlie's old 
 acquaintance, the baillie of Glenshiels, and warmly 
 seconded by the Laird. 
 
 This time they made thorough work of it, and 
 Charlie with four other of the men and four of the 
 women of the band were taken, and, without more ado, 
 clapped into the tolbooth at Middenmuir and brought 
 to speedy trial. 
 
 The indictment set forth several charges: 
 
 "First: That of being Egyptians, which is, sepera- 
 tum, revelant to infer the pain of death or banish- 
 ment from Scotland. 
 
 "Second: Several acts of thieving and picking, 
 herein set forth ; with the witnesses thereto. 
 
 "Third: Beating and striking with an invasive 
 weapon." 
 
 Against the particulars of this bill of indictment, 
 with the witnesses of the several counts, Charlie's 
 old plea of "nae proof" did not avail. There was 
 plenty of proof as to the thefts of the horses, and the 
 heads of the constables bore witness to the stout 
 resistance made to the officers of the law; nor were 
 Charlie's brave deeds any recommendation to the 
 mercy of the court. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 69 
 
 They were found guilty, and, as the finding of the 
 court quaintly put it, "Whereas it is both incon- 
 venient and troublesome to hold them longer in the 
 toll-booth, therefore it is declared that, with all con- 
 venient dispatch, they be taken to Aberdeen; and 
 that Charles Graham, John Kerr, William Shaw, and 
 John Keith be hanged by the neck; and that Helen 
 Yorkton, Lucretia Ogilvie, Eppie Lundie, and Lizzie 
 Brown be drowned in the sea ; and that thus the good 
 repute of our shire be holpen, by the deliverance from 
 the marauding of thieves and the cantrips of witches." 
 
 Such was the report brought to John Gunn by 
 Helen, who came from the trial wild with horror at 
 the result. 
 
 John, though loath to meddle with that which had 
 come about in spite of his remonstrance, at once set 
 about devising means to avert the fate hanging over 
 his friends. 
 
 He sent at once to Braemar and ordered all the 
 women and children out of the shire; then he quar- 
 tered the most trusty young men, by twos and threes, 
 on friends in the neighborhood, bringing two of them 
 to his own cot, and disposing some of them in the 
 woods; he had altogether about fifteen men at his 
 command. 
 
 He had no trouble in finding out the plans of the 
 magistrates; for one of the constables did not hesitate 
 to speak freely with a man of John Gunn's standing in 
 the community. John took care that the report of the 
 flight of the band should be well circulated, and thus 
 lull to rest all fears of an attempt at rescue. 
 
 To his friend the constable John suggested that, as 
 
17° A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 the removal of the prisoners would make some stir, it 
 might be as well to do it quietly by night, and avoid 
 the gathering of a crowd of the country people, among 
 whom there would surely be some friends of Charlie. 
 "For Charlie is a weel-spoken lad, wi' a glib tongue; 
 and, sin it isna a question o' merely housin' the carle 
 out o' harm's way for a while, but gleys to the 
 stretchin' o' his neck, there be some, wha arena gyp- 
 sies, wha wad help him to escape ; for it is a sair waefu' 
 thing to see a bonnie carle strung up like a dog." 
 
 So the night was fixed on for the transfer, and 
 John helped in the preparations, as well as counseled 
 with the constables. 
 
 They started just after nightfall, with the women in 
 one cart ahead, and the men following in another 
 cart; there were eight constables, all armed and hold- 
 ing fast the ropes that bound the gypsies in pairs, with 
 manacles on their wrists and ankles. 
 
 Little was said as they rode along; the constables 
 were uneasy and the gypsies downcast, for they had 
 held no intercourse with the outside world, and knew 
 nothing of any plan for their relief. 
 
 The early hours of the night were past and the 
 moon, which had dimly lighted their way, was set; it 
 was nearing midnight, and Auld Snippy, who had been 
 dozing, was roused by the roar of the Don water, as 
 the road wound nearer to the stream. 
 
 "Did ye hear the kelpie ca', Eppie Lundie? We 
 will see a sight this nicht which will mak' the hair o' 
 your head creep!" 
 
 "Haud your clavers, ye auld witch wife, or I'll send 
 the tip o' your tongue to keep company wi' the end o' 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. I7 1 
 
 your neb!" said one of the constables, who already 
 had an uncomfortable feeling about the roots of his 
 hair. 
 
 "It is ill to chide a spaewife whan ye are wi'in grip 
 o' the kelpie," retorted Snippy, apt to play the part 
 which the gypsies knew was their strong one. 
 
 "Haud your eldritch tongue, ye auld deil's wife!" 
 shouted the constable, beginning to hear strange 
 noises in the water, and the tread of elfin feet in the 
 woods. 
 
 Auld Snippy, wild with rage, screamed: "If I be 
 a deil's wife, they say the deil is aye guid to his ain ; 
 and ye'll rue the day that ye started to tak' the deil's 
 wife to the toll-booth o' Aberdeen!" Then she 
 shrieked, at the top of her voice, "Oh! bonnie black 
 bridegroom, come to me noo, and break aff my bonds, 
 and bind them wha hae bound me! Help! Help!" 
 she screamed. 
 
 Out from the woods, as if in answer to her sum- 
 mons, there swarmed dark forms that seemed to rise 
 from the ground ; their name was legion, their leader 
 a tall, swart figure, with two great horns and a long, 
 writhing tail — so swore the constables, when they told 
 the story of the rescue of the gypsies at the Don ford. 
 
 The guard fled, leaving the women in the hands of 
 these imps of darkness; but there was a slight recov- 
 ery of courage among those in charge of the men, and 
 these were not rescued without a desperate struggle, 
 in which one constable was severely wounded, and, of 
 the attacking party, poor Tarn Ruthven was shot and 
 killed outright, which stopped the bow of one of the 
 best fiddlers in all that region ; but it was a better 
 
172 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 death than twanging a hempen cord, which seemed 
 sadly inappropriate to one who had played so many a 
 merry air on the catgut. At all events, so it came to 
 pass, without Tarn's choice, which would probably 
 have been in favor of escaping both these kinds of 
 untimely taking off and dying "the death of the 
 righteous," which was a favorite quotation with poor 
 Tarn. He had read it on a headstone, in a quiet 
 country kirkyard, and the tuneful sentence was the 
 only bit of Scripture that stuck by him. Why this 
 had found lodgment among the vagaries of his queer 
 cranium, he could not have told, but he was fond of 
 repeating, at odd moments: "Let me die the death of 
 the righteous and let my last end be like his." 
 
 In the darkness and scuffle, John came off not 
 wholly unscathed, for a blow from a constable's cudgel 
 fell on his outstretched forearm and broke it, about 
 half-way between the elbow and the wrist. But they 
 cheated the gallows of its prey and the sea of some 
 of its dead. 
 
 John started them off at once southward, warning 
 them to travel by night only, to lodge with none but 
 Egyptians, and to remain in close hiding with their 
 friends in Yetholm until they went into winter quar- 
 ters at Little Carron. 
 
 They were very grateful and very docile, now; for 
 they had seen death face to face, and had even gone 
 so far as to discuss what lay in store for them after 
 death, during which discussion Charlie Graham faced 
 the future calmly, avowing his belief that it could not 
 go hard with a man who had done all the good which 
 he could reckon to his credit; and, when this was 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 173 
 
 called in question, cited as examples of his meritorious 
 deeds, his robbing of the baillie to pay the rent of the 
 poor widow, and his bewildering the baillie so that he 
 could not identify the robber, thus delivering John 
 Haddon, who must otherwise have gone to prison; 
 and it was generally agreed among them that a man 
 who could point to such a shining record had little 
 cause for fear. 
 
 John Gunn made his way home wearily; for his arm 
 was very painful and made him feel faint and spent, 
 after the hard battle. He reached his cottage just as 
 the day broke, and found Helen watching for him, 
 and aghast at his pale, weary face, which boded ill 
 tidings. 
 
 But the tidings were not so ill as feared; though it 
 was sad to think of poor Tarn, who, as master of the 
 revels, had made them all so merry, shot down with- 
 out warning, and buried in the dark forest by night. 
 
 John solaced her with a rough and ready philos- 
 ophy: "It mak's sma' difference how we die, Helen. 
 The great question is how hae we lived ; and Tarn 
 died as a brave man may ever be glad to die, in the 
 heat o' battle for his friends." 
 
 Then Helen saw how limp John's arm hung by his 
 side. 
 
 "Ye arena well, John. What ails ye?" she said, 
 for his face grew paler, now that the excitement was 
 over. 
 
 "It is naething o' ony moment," said John. "Ane 
 o' those gillies whacked me a bit on the arm." 
 
 But as he tried to raise it, he grew paler still ; 
 Helen felt it and found that it was broken; and a 
 
174 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 look of pain came on her face, as if she and not John 
 were wounded. 
 
 With fingers skilled by experience, she set herself 
 to bind up the broken arm, so deftly and gently that 
 John was to be congratulated on having such a sur- 
 geon. Her touch was light and firm, not flinching 
 when she saw his pain, knowing that the sooner it was 
 over the better for him, and for her too. Then she 
 gave him some hot gruel, put him to bed and hovered 
 about him, thankful that it was Tarn Ruthven's turn 
 and not her John's to be laid under the greenwood 
 tree. 
 
 There was a grand stir the next day when the news 
 of the escape of the gypsy felons was noised abroad. 
 It was a fine tale to recount, by the cotter's peat fire, 
 how the beldame "Auld Snippy had called up the 
 kelpie and bogies and the deil himsel', and he cam' 
 wi' flamin' eyes, wi' twa great horns and a lang 
 writhin' tail, spittin' tongues o' flame frae his mouth;" 
 but, with the magistrates and gentry of the shire, the 
 cracked crowns and bruises of some of the constables 
 were credited to more carnal weapons than are wielded 
 by the spirits of the water and the air; the flames had 
 not singed a hair of their heads, but they bore the 
 countersign of oak cudgels, and an unquestionably 
 earthly bullet was found in the thigh of one of the 
 constables. 
 
 They were brought before the magistrates and ex- 
 amined separately, having been kept in the meanwhile 
 in close confinement. A grand history of the meth- 
 ods of spiritual warfare, with details of "bogle-wark, " 
 could have been framed from their testimony if that 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 175 
 
 had been the object of the magistrates' inquiry; but, 
 as one shrewd old laird, who had a wide experience 
 upon the bench for thirty years, said, "There is nae 
 doot, my Lairds, that the deil was at the bottom o' it, 
 but we maun ken what scum was on the top o' the 
 pot; and, by my life, I propose to skim the froth till 
 I find it oot, and then we will het it up for them." 
 
 It needed much sifting, with patience and sound 
 judgment, to know the difference between the honest 
 truth and the honest falsehood which these witnesses 
 told. For some did honestly believe that they had 
 fulfilled the Scripture: "We wrestle not against flesh 
 and blood; but against principalities and powers and 
 against the rulers of the darkness of this world;" and 
 wondered that they bore no "mark o' the deil's tap." 
 
 After patient investigation the magistrates made 
 sure of three facts ; first, that one of the rescuers was 
 killed; second, that the leader, the Mephistopheles of 
 the play, had fallen under a blow from one of the con- 
 stables; third, that no one knew of the hour of their 
 departure from Middenmuir except the steward of the 
 Laird of Stoneywold. 
 
 The constable who confessed to telling him was 
 severely reprimanded and ordered to jail for thirty 
 days, after which he was to be paraded through the 
 town with a placard on his back, bearing the inscrip- 
 tion, "Trust him not; he babbleth!" Then the mag- 
 istrates ordered that John Gunn be brought before 
 them to be examined touching the escape of certain 
 prisoners. 
 
 When the sheriff came to Stoneywold, on such an 
 errand, it raised a mighty clamor. The old Laird 
 
176 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 fumed, and stormed at him as a minion of the House 
 of Hanover. It was never known in the time of Scot- 
 land's own kings that such dishonor was done a Laird 
 on his own estate as to hale his chief, trusty retainer 
 before the court to answer an infamous charge. If 
 the good old times were here, and his retainers armed, 
 he would hang the sheriff and send his head to the 
 hireling judges. He bid the young Laird make ready 
 and go with John, if it must needs be. 
 
 The sheriff bore it patiently, for he had known the 
 old Laird when he was more amenable than now, after 
 years of gout had made his temper testy and his 
 speech somewhat crisp. 
 
 But oh! what terror fell on Helen when the young 
 Laird and the sheriff came down to their cot with this 
 message. At first she declared that John was not at 
 home and had been gone near a week; and, when the 
 sheriff said that he had seen him within that time, she 
 protested that she had said this because John was sick 
 in bed and could not see anyone; and she stood like 
 a tigress barring the way, and ready to tear the eyes 
 out of anyone who offered to lay hands on her John. 
 
 The young Laird urged Helen to let them see John, 
 merely to speak with him, pledging his honor that no 
 trick should be played upon her. Finally she com- 
 promised by letting the Laird into John's room; but 
 barred the way against the sheriff. Muir found John 
 lying on the bed, a trifle pale and with his arm bound 
 up. 
 
 The Laird's face grew grave at sight of this. 
 "Why, John," he said, "what ails ye, man? Helen 
 says ye arena quite well?" 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 177 
 
 "Na, my Laird, I amna rightly mysel'," replied 
 John. 
 
 "But what ails ye?" persisted James. 
 
 "I hae met \vi' an accident. I fell frae a wagon," 
 said John, truthfully enough ; for he had gone down 
 like a shot, under the sudden blow. 
 
 "But this isna a canny matter, John. The magis- 
 rates will inquire o' ye regardin' the fracas in which 
 the gypsy lads were set free; and ye will gae before 
 them a wounded man, and they will hae a right to 
 ken how ye cam* by your fa'." 
 
 "I just let go whan I should hae held on, and so I 
 fell to the ground; that is a'," answered John. 
 
 "That will do for you and me, John, wha ken ane 
 anither; but it winna satisfy the magistrates," said 
 Muir, sorely troubled and perplexed. 
 
 Leaving John, he went out to the sheriff, and bid 
 him return to Middenmuir and tell the magistrates 
 that the Laird of Stoneywold sends to their Worships 
 his respectful greeting, and that his steward, John 
 Gunn, is sick and not fit for any journey nor to 
 undergo an examination ; and that he will become 
 surety for the bringing of John Gunn before their 
 Worships, at any time they may appoint; and, in the 
 meantime, he promised the sheriff to await the answer 
 at John's cottage. 
 
 To this the sheriff agreed and took his departure, 
 to Helen's great relief, and the Laird paced up and 
 down before the cottage, sorely puzzled what to make 
 of it. Hitherto John's dealings with the gypsies had 
 been, by tacit consent, a kind of restraining supervi- 
 sion used by him to adjust grievous wrongs ; but now 
 
178 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 it had taken a different complexion when he was 
 involved with those who had undertaken to set aside 
 the decision of the bench of magistrates vi et armis. 
 
 This was compromising to himself also, for he was 
 known as an active Jacobite, which was perhaps 
 enough for one pair of shoulders to carry, without 
 having to share the odium of countenancing and pro- 
 tecting Egyptians. 
 
 The sheriff returned, before long, with the message 
 that it was the pleasure of the magistrates that the 
 Laird of Stoneywold should secure the appearance of 
 John Gunn before their Worships, an hour before 
 noon on Monday; this being Saturday, there were 
 nearly two days in which to devise some way out of 
 the awkward position; for the Laird had no more 
 notion of letting the law deprive him of his steward 
 than John had of letting his companions go to the 
 gallows ; but the Laird did not propose so summary a 
 process as John had chosen. 
 
 Muir was without counselors, for his father would 
 do nothing but rave at the tyranny of the Saxon 
 courts, and his mother was out of sympathy with him, 
 and suspected John and Helen of abetting James in 
 his love affair. 
 
 Helen counseled resistance or flight, and could not 
 understand why the Laird felt any obligation to 
 redeem his word and bring John to court. In her 
 gypsy creed, honor ceased to bind as between a man 
 and an officer of the law. 
 
 James doubted how much it was wise for him to 
 know before he went to court with John ; and when 
 he had come to his wit's end, determined to go in and 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 179 
 
 let John say what he chose. He went in and told 
 John what he had done; Helen sitting by, and thank- 
 ing him with her eyes. When he had ended, John, 
 frank and open as he always was with those whom he 
 trusted, and loyally feeling that his Laird and chief 
 should know the whole truth, made a clean breast 
 of it. 
 
 He told him how he had come among the gypsies, 
 and, turning to Helen, said: "I wad owe them a' 
 that I could gie, were it life itsel', for the bonnie wife 
 that I won frae the tribe;" and Helen's eyes glowed, 
 for to love and be loved was the whole of this wom- 
 an's life. "And, my Laird," said John, raising him- 
 self on his elbow, "I may be far wrang; but, that a 
 man should be hangit for stealin' a beast isna right to 
 my way o' thinkin' ; and, as lang as I hae voice or 
 hand to raise agen it, I winna thole to see the thing 
 done. And, for a' their clavers anent witches, I ken 
 there is nae sic a thing, save where the silly women, 
 or far mair silly men, are ready to think them witches 
 wha hae nae mair power to wark their ain will than 
 hae you or I, my Laird. I led the band that set the 
 puir lads and their women free. I am frank to say it 
 to ye, my Laird, and to the court, too, if need be. It 
 was a fair fight; they were armed and sae were we; 
 they were free to shoot, and they did it, and killed 
 their man and brak' my arm for me, and they went 
 scot free wi' a few bruises; and, to my thinkin', they 
 maun be weel content and let the matter bide as it is." 
 
 This was well plead, according to John's code, but 
 would hardly answer to bring the magistrates to 
 reason. 
 
180 a HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 The Laird therefore bade John keep a close mouth 
 and leave his case to him, and, as the Sabbath would 
 intervene, he could counsel with Gordon McDonald, 
 and John would have a chance for an unusual 
 "crack" with old Sandy Brown. 
 
 The calm of the day of rest came on the heels of 
 this turbulent week, and along with it came old 
 Sandy, as sure as the afternoon sun, and as warm. 
 John made up his mind that he would lay the whole 
 matter before the old Covenanter, whom he relied on 
 with a perfect trust that cast out fear; and John knew 
 that he would get an honest, thorough-going opinion 
 from his friend, and withal one rooted in kindness. 
 
 When the evening meal was ended and the Sabbath 
 devotions concluded to Sandy's satisfaction, and little 
 Nell was tucked away in bed, John told his friend of 
 all that he owed to the gypsies, and how he had tried 
 to pay the debt by delivering those condemned, for 
 a slight offense, to an undue penalty. 
 
 "It isna a sma' offense to break the law o' God, 
 which says, 'Thou shalt not steal,' " said old Sandy. 
 
 "Aye, but doesna God's law, as ye ca' it, say also, 
 'Thou shalt not kill'?" replied John. 
 
 "Aye," answered Sandy, "but that doesna forbid 
 the magistrate, wha beareth the sword frae God, tak- 
 in' a man's life at the biddin' o' God." 
 
 "But has God bid the magistrate tak' the life o' a 
 man for stealin' a horse, or a woman because she was 
 born an Egyptian?" said John. 
 
 This brought Sandy to matters beyond his reach. 
 He knew that a man must follow his Bible as the word 
 of God; that it enjoined obedience to the powers that 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. I»I 
 
 be as ordained of God ; but when the edicts of the 
 powers did not find their sanction in the Bible, then 
 what was to be done he was at a loss to say. His 
 usual refuge was, "Just spier o' the minister anent 
 that and he will set ye right." 
 
 When John insisted on his giving him some kind of 
 counsel, he refused: "I canna advise ye, man. May 
 the Lord guide ye. I ken that open confession is 
 guid for the speerit, and, gin ye hae done wrang to 
 ony man, that ye ask his forgiveness; and what is 
 guid as between man and man, maun also profit 
 between a man and those set to rule owre him. But 
 I hae sma' experience in sic matters, and wadna bring 
 ye to harm. Ye hae meddled in matters too lairge 
 for ye and are in a sore strait, and hae need o' better 
 guidance than an untutored webster can gie ye. I 
 will mak' it a subject o' prayer, the nicht, and hae 
 nae doot this will serve ye better than my puir coun- 
 sel." 
 
 Of this John had his doubts, but Helen was greatly 
 comforted, feeling that Sandy's prayers were very 
 potent in influencing the fate of his friends. 
 
 The old weaver's matter-of-fact way of speaking of 
 the power of prayer had so impressed Helen that, 
 from her point of view, she shared his living faith; 
 but John wanted counsel that would avail before the 
 powers seen and temporal, rather than appeals to the 
 unseen and eternal. 
 
 While John and Sandy were having their "crack" 
 in the cottage, the young Laird and Gordon McDon- 
 ald were closeted together at the Hall. The minister 
 entered heartily into the matter, partly from his inter- 
 
1 82 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 est in the gypsies as a class, and more from a personal 
 interest in John's history; for he himself was a High- 
 land man, born and bred among the hills and heather, 
 and could appreciate, if he could not approve of, 
 John's conduct. 
 
 "We must judge the man," he said, "not by the 
 rules we lay down for ourselves. His resistance to 
 the constables doesna mean what it would had you and 
 I been at it. To him they do not represent law and 
 order, but a force organized to maintain an authority. 
 He defended them from a sentence which he regarded 
 as gross injustice. There lingers among our Highland 
 people a trace of this spirit which inclines to appeal to 
 this same court of last resort. I believe John Gunn 
 to be a good and true man, and you have no cause to 
 lose your trust in him. But the man should be made 
 to see that this law of the sword is lawlessness." 
 
 "I am glad to hear ye say so, Mr. McDonald," 
 said James, relieved that the minister took this view 
 of his trusty steward. "But my chief concern now is 
 how to obtain such a generous view of the matter by 
 the magistrates." 
 
 "Aye, that is more troublesome, but we will look 
 into the question. Has John anything to suggest?" 
 
 "He has no other idea," said James, "than, that 
 having done his duty by those who needed his help, 
 no harm can befall him if strict justice be done. He 
 quarrels with the penalty for horse-stealing, and feels 
 that he did a righteous thing to save the lives of men 
 who were to be hung for this, and of women whose 
 chief crime was being Egyptians." 
 
 "Aweel," answered the minister warmly, "I canna 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 183 
 
 say John is far wrang. I wadna deem it prudent to 
 say it to him; but, do ye ken, man, I think he was 
 sair richt in his principles, though he went aboot 
 practicin' them after a rough fashion; but, upon my 
 word, had I been there, I fear I wad hae taen a hand 
 to let the puir feckless creatures loose. But we winna 
 advance these opinions, as they may not be for the 
 public weal ; but we hae a richt to our ideas on sic 
 matters." 
 
 "But on what can we rest our defense of John 
 before the magistrates?" queried Muir, reverting to 
 the pressing question. 
 
 Then the minister, after conning over it for a while, 
 proposed this plan: they should all go together to 
 court, he and the Laird and John Gunn ; against the 
 vague testimony, which would probably be conflicting 
 also, and which did not identify John as one of the 
 assailants, they should set John's high character and 
 standing for years in the community. 
 
 If his association with the gypsies was advanced 
 against him, they would offset this by the fact that his 
 wife was a gypsy, and that his influence had always 
 been restraining, often causing restitution to be made, 
 as many would gladly testify. 
 
 As to his being the sole recipient of the news of the 
 time of their departure, the same man had told Mr. 
 McDonald, and very likely others also. There was 
 no evidence that the rescuers were gypsies; they 
 might have been Charlie's friends the innkeepers or 
 farmer lads; for, as far as common rumor went, the 
 band had left the shire some days before. 
 
 For the rest, as there was naught proven, nor 
 
1 84 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 indeed definitely charged against him, let the Laird 
 and the minister give bond that he would keep the 
 peace and appear, at any time, upon summons of the 
 court, to answer any charge laid against him. This 
 seemed plain enough; but the magistrates might ask 
 awkward questions ; but for an answer to these they 
 must trust to the spur of the moment. 
 
 The next morning James rode down to fetch John 
 to court, and along with him went the minister, his 
 broad face blithe and strong, putting heart and cour- 
 age into the party. James dreaded to see John with 
 his bandaged arm, but, when he came out, there was 
 no sign of a bandage, his arm hanging down straight 
 and fair within his sleeve; and Helen laughed when 
 she saw the Laird's look of surprise. 
 
 This was her contribution to the cause; she had 
 spent the night fashioning splints so thin and elastic 
 that they scarcely thickened the arm, and wrapped 
 them securely and evenly with strips of soft silk; and 
 when she slipped on his coat, apart from a somewhat 
 awkward carriage of the arm, there was no sign of 
 anything amiss. Her instinct and skill lay in the 
 direction of secrecy, like hunted animals who hide 
 their tracks, or cover their trail by taking to the burn. 
 
 John was mightily heartened when he saw the min- 
 ister, and thanked Mr. McDonald with undoubted 
 sincerity. 
 
 "Ye hae been at a verra bad business, John, my 
 man," said McDonald. "It is the duty o' a guid 
 citizen to abide by the laws and keep his hand frae 
 rebellion agen his rulers. We are here to do what 
 we can for ye, but ye are in a bad fix, my friend, and 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 185 
 
 I trust this will prove a lesson to ye not to meddle wi' 
 the action o' the magistrates." 
 
 "I ken a' that is true, Mr. McDonald," said John 
 quietly; "but I couldna see the lads hang for the 
 shift in' o* a few ponies, and the women drowned for 
 nae ither crime than my ain wife is guilty of." 
 
 "Na, na, John, I ken that; but the lads arena 
 right to meddle wi' ither folks' gear; and the women 
 are far different frae your bonnie Helen," replied the 
 minister; and John thanked him for seeing his wife 
 as he saw her, a true, sweet woman. 
 
 When they came to the courtroom it was crowded, 
 and among the people, high and low, was a host of 
 John's friends, ready to speak for him, if need be. 
 He passed through the crowd with a firm step and 
 confronted the judges, with the Laird of Stoneywold 
 and Rev. Gordon McDonald by his side, and, in the 
 rear of the room, the dark eyes of Helen looking 
 fiercely out from the sea of faces. 
 
 John stood tall and erect before his judges, and his 
 eye met theirs with the steadiness of one conscious of 
 right, and ready to answer to any for his conduct. 
 
 "Ye are summoned, John Gunn," said the old 
 judge, frowning over his spectacles, "to give answer 
 anent the assault on His Majesty's constables and the 
 rescue of certain prisoners condemned to death;" the 
 judge paused, and John stood waiting. 
 
 "What have ye to say, John Gunn?" said the judge 
 sternly. 
 
 "What is the chairge agen me, my Laird?" said 
 John quietly. 
 
 "The chairge — the chairge?" stammered the judge. 
 
1 86 a HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Aye, my Laird," said the imperturbable John. 
 
 "Ye have heard the chairge, that o' freein' prison- 
 ers frae the hands o' the constables," thundered the 
 judge. 
 
 "I didna hear the chairge, my Laird," said John. 
 "But whachairges me wi' that, my Laird, and is there 
 ony proof?" 
 
 "Ye are well known to be the only man aware of 
 the day and hour when the prisoners were to leave the 
 toll-booth for Aberdeen ; and that is both chairge and 
 proof enough to require you to clear your skirts of 
 this matter, if ye can," replied the judge, beginning 
 to see his way to assail this imperturbable man. 
 
 Then the Laird of Stoneywold spoke : 
 
 "My Lord, this Worshipful Court has fallen on some 
 suspicion which is not well founded. My friend, the 
 Rev. Gordon McDonald, is open to the same accusa- 
 tion, on the same grounds, as this which is brought 
 against my valued steward and trusty friend of my 
 father and myself; for he had these same facts some 
 twelve hours sooner than my steward, and from the 
 same man. If his memory did not serve him to let 
 you know of his telling it to Mr. McDonald, it may 
 have slipped his mind how many others beside shared 
 the secret. It would not become this honorable court 
 to let the babbling of so loose a tongue cast a slur 
 upon the character of a man who has lived so long 
 and run such an honorable career in this community. 
 And now to show your Worships how earnestly I feel 
 it to be my duty to protect one who has done me and 
 my father such faithful and honorable service, and also 
 to testify my desire to honor the law as administered 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 87 
 
 by your Worships, I am ready to give bonds for John 
 Gunn that he shall keep the peace of the realm, and 
 shall appear before this Worshipful Court at any time 
 to answer any charge that may be brought against 
 him ; and to this bond my friend, the Rev. Gordon 
 McDonald will set his hand and seal, if it be so 
 required." 
 
 A murmur of applause ran through the room, and, 
 if Stoneywold could have seen Helen's eyes resting on 
 him as he spoke thus of her John, he would have 
 guessed, what in after years he knew right well, that 
 he had won her unchangeable devotion. 
 
 The keen old judge saw the situation at a glance; 
 the one strong point rested on the testimony of an idle 
 babbler, and even if the witness were trustworthy it 
 would go but a short way toward connecting John 
 with the affair; and so, seeing the drift of public 
 opinion, and deeming it best to recognize this quickly 
 and gracefully, he said: "John Gunn, ye are honor- 
 ably discharged ; and this court congratulates ye on 
 having won such friends to stand by ye in an hour of 
 need." 
 
 This was greeted with loud applause, and after a 
 feast at the inn where the Laird treated John and his 
 friends to some stout-brewed ale, they rode off home- 
 ward amid the cheers of the crowd. 
 
 On their way home John thanked the Laird, in a 
 homely, hearty way. 
 
 "Ye hae done me and Helen a service, my Laird, 
 that we canna forget; and sae lang as there rins a 
 drap o' blude in our veins it is yours." 
 
 Muir was touched by the tone of deep affection. 
 
1 88 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I hae done mysel' a service, John; for ye are well 
 worth savin*. But ye hae had a narrow escape, and 
 ye maun think on Helen and the lassie, e'er ye mix 
 yoursel' in ony sic matter again. Bide fast by the 
 counsel o' those wha ken and esteem ye, and cut loose 
 frae the Lochgellie band. Ye hae paid your debt to 
 them; and it cam' near costin' ye mair than it ever 
 cost them to serve you." 
 
 John made up his mind to profit by this counsel. 
 The Lochgellies were back from the south before long, 
 and Charlie Graham's escape made him bolder than 
 ever, and though John had them by the nape of the 
 neck, yet their hold on him was very uncomfortable, 
 and they were exacting, and a constant menace to his 
 peace, who had more at stake than they; their quasi 
 recognition of him in public places haunted him like 
 a ghost that he was fain to lay at rest. 
 
 One day the chance came for him to get rid of this 
 rubbish of the past. Young Ruthven of Ballingarry 
 was dining with Stoneywold on his way from the south, 
 where he had been recruiting men for his Dutch 
 Brigade. He asked the Laird whether this shire 
 could not furnish him the needed contingent. 
 
 "There are men enow here wha eke out but a scant 
 livin'," said Muir, "but whether they will care to tak' 
 service in foreign ditches, I amna so sure." 
 
 "How can I get at some o' them and gie them the 
 choice?" said the captain. 
 
 "Aweel," answered Muir, "we will call John 
 Gunn; gin he canna help ye, the deil kens wha can." 
 
 When John heard what was wanted, he saw, in this, 
 his opportunity; and his eyes twinkled as he thought 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 1 89 
 
 of Charlie and his lads at sea, and among the Dutch- 
 men. 
 
 "And when will ye be ready for them, Captain 
 Ruthven?" he said. 
 
 "Straight away," replied Ruthven. 
 
 "Aweel, Ballingarry," said John, "do ye tak' your 
 road at aince for Aberdeen, and tak' oot a passage 
 for the twal ye hae ca'd for, and ten mair to boot, 
 and send word whan your ship sails; and, gin ye say 
 naught o' it to ony, your braw soldiers will be ready 
 for ye, at the day and hour." 
 
 On the appointed day John appeared with twenty- 
 two swarthy men ; but when they found what lay 
 between them and the promised gold, they had no 
 stomach for the adventure. By a judicious combina- 
 tion of threats and promises, and a liberal crossing of 
 their palms with silver, and the assurance that their 
 families should follow them, John managed to get 
 them on board, and so rid himself of the shadows of 
 his past life. 
 
 It was a strong testimony to the honor that prevails 
 among these ruder types of men, and the power of 
 their unwritten code, that these men went, never 
 doubting that John would be as good as his word, and, 
 in due time, would send them their women and chil- 
 dren. And apart from other motives which kept the 
 obligation in John's heart, his word was a bond which 
 he would face death rather than forfeit. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 "ye live on love, as laverocks do on leeks." 
 
 THE result of James's wooing had been to make 
 them all feel that Janet had better go back to 
 Ross, and as her longer stay did not conduce to her 
 own peace of mind, nor to the comfort of any of the 
 family at Stoneywold, she started on the next day 
 for home, accompanied by John Gunn and the two 
 Helens, whose hearts were all alive to the woes of 
 James and Janet. 
 
 The parting with Mrs. Muir and Margaret was such 
 as made Janet feel that this was her last visit to Castle- 
 wood Hall. There was no sign of relenting, no 
 kindly word or look, but only formal messages of 
 courtesy to her mother and a courtly leave-taking to 
 herself. 
 
 James, without taking counsel of any, saddled his 
 horse and rode away with Janet, to his mother's dis- 
 may; for perhaps he had made his choice between 
 house and lands and his lady love, and had forsaken 
 all to follow her. 
 
 This would have sadly disconcerted Mrs. Muir, 
 for, after all said and done, James, with his masterful 
 ways, was her favorite son. 
 
 John and Helen gave the lovers ample opportunity 
 to take sweet counsel together, and James rode all day 
 
 190 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 19 1 
 
 long beside her, using the time to let Janet see the 
 depth and fervor of his manly love; and this was a 
 store on which her heart fed in bitter days to come, 
 when, sundered by more than time or space, she had 
 need of something to keep her faith and patience from 
 failing. 
 
 When they halted for the night at the Leslie Arms, 
 in the little village of Strathmuir, James bid her good- 
 by, with mutual promises to write every month as 
 long as their exile lasted ; and, with the vows which 
 love always offers to love, they separated, little dream- 
 ing how deep a chasm would yawn between them. 
 
 James rode home in the gloaming, and through the 
 deepening night, not like a disconsolate lover; but 
 buoyant in the assurance that circumstances would 
 bend to his will, and his mother's opposition would 
 cease when he let her see that, for him, it was Janet 
 or no one. 
 
 Janet lay down to weep, overmastered by the feeling 
 that the parting with her lover was final, that nothing 
 could win the consent of his stern mother, without 
 which she could never be his bride. 
 
 It was fitting that the burden should be thus 
 divided, for James had none to speak him fair and bid 
 him hope for better days; Avhile Janet had Helen, 
 who came and soothed her and bid her hope, telling 
 her tales of Jamie's boyhood, how he was so strong, 
 brave, and trusty that they all leaned on him; and 
 soon he would be the Laird and master of his fortune. 
 
 When they reached Braemar, Helen had old Elspeth 
 trace the lines of Janet's fortune, and they were so 
 clear and correct regarding the past, that Janet could 
 
I9 2 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 not but give a listening ear to the fair future predicted 
 for her by the old spaewife; but all these consola- 
 tions could not wholly still her sad forebodings. 
 
 James set himself to work at once in regard to a 
 settlement of the estate; but met strenuous opposition 
 from his mother, who now felt that her eldest son 
 should not be set wholly free from her control. But 
 James pushed the matter until the old Laird was 
 driven to yield, agreeing to settle the estate on his 
 son, subject to an annuity to the father during his life, 
 and, after his death, two-thirds of the amount to his 
 mother and sister; while Thomas was to receive, a 
 sum paid down. 
 
 The old Laird was fairly worn out with this discus- 
 sion ; for he was under a cross fire all the while, Mar- 
 garet taking active sides with her mother, and Thomas 
 slyly inflaming his mother and sister with such stories 
 as he could gather, or invent, of disaffection among the 
 tenantry. 
 
 One result of all this toil and trouble was the thor- 
 ough alienation of James from his mother and sister, 
 who were so arrayed against his every interest that 
 there was no tie between them save duty; and this 
 without love is but an iron chain. 
 
 Thomas, in the meanwhile, was gone to Ardross "to 
 bid them good-by against his next long voyage," he 
 said; but in truth to make another effort to win 
 Janet, with the field all to himself; gauging Janet's 
 constancy by his own truth ; and meanly estimating 
 that until James came into his title their chances were 
 equal. 
 
 At first he was encouraged by Janet's readiness to 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 193 
 
 sit and talk with him of Stoneywold, and by her 
 silence with regard to James. But he was angered at 
 her watchfulness for the mail-carrier; and, when the 
 bulky letter with James's bold superscription came, she 
 fled with it to her room, and there was no ride or walk 
 for him that day. 
 
 In order to break down this barrier, he took care, 
 on post days, to meet the carrier on the highroad and 
 on the way back destroy these hateful missives. He 
 watched Janet's weary look of disappointment as the 
 weeks passed into months and no letter came from 
 James. 
 
 At first this made no difference in the missives that 
 went back, which Thomas had proposed to destroy, 
 but afterward thought better of it, deeming that their 
 reproaches would exasperate James and turn his heart 
 from Janet, making him amenable to his mother's 
 counsel. 
 
 The weary look of waiting in Janet's eyes he took 
 for a sign of the waning of her love for James. His 
 next assurance of success came when Janet wrote at 
 longer intervals, and then ceased sending the letters 
 which brought no reply. 
 
 To a casual question from Lady McKenzie, when 
 Thomas gave her his mother's message of remem- 
 brance, his ready answer was: "They are all well but 
 in a great bustle; for James will celebrate his comin' 
 to the estate and his betrothal wi' Annie Elsmere at 
 the same time. I hae a letter frae Jamie, Janet, in 
 which he sends his kind remembrance and says that 
 baith he and Annie will write to ye. Annie will hae 
 ye to Kenmuir for auld acquaintance sake wi' Jamie 
 
194 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 and hersel'," and he watched her grow pale, sure that 
 he had given the death blow to her love. This was 
 his hour, when, disgusted with James's treachery and 
 smarting under his desertion, she would be ready to 
 show that she too could forget, and could come to 
 visit Annie with a lover of her own. So he chose this 
 evening to urge his faithful devotion in contrast with 
 his light-o'-love brother. 
 
 She was sitting alone, in front of the house, looking 
 out over the glen, where, like a placid lake, the mist 
 lay white and still in the moonlight, and a dull misery 
 lay upon her heart, clouding the future, as the glen 
 was shrouded. 
 
 Then came the memory of the past, of which noth- 
 ing could rob her; his vows of love, the ringing pas- 
 sion of his voice, the brightness of his smile, the depth 
 of tenderness in his eye, as he dwelt fondly on his 
 love for her from early boyhood; and she shook off 
 the dreary present, and determined to live in the past, 
 and wait for the future. Then it crossed her thought 
 that she might brave the lonely ride to Braemar and 
 call upon old Elspeth to solve the riddle; at that 
 moment she heard Thomas's step, and he came and 
 sat down beside her. 
 
 "Janet," he began, "I was sorry to be the bearer 
 o' ill tidin's to ye; but ye ken that absence aft mak's 
 a man forget; and Jamie, puir lad, was ever that way, 
 hot for havin' what lay near to hand, and he wad soon 
 forget whan the toy was taen out o' his sight. Wi' 
 me it was itherwise; whan my heart was set on ony- 
 thing, I held fast by it till it was mine; wad do well- 
 nigh ony thing to compass my desire." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 195 
 
 "Aye," broke in Janet sharply, "I believe ye, 
 Thomas." 
 
 Encouraged by this, Thomas plunged on, "I was 
 sure, Janet, whan ye cam' to ken us, ye wad find us 
 oot. And noo I am ready to tell ye why I hae lin- 
 gered sae lang in Ross. I kenned how it wad gae wi' 
 Jamie, and that forme there could be no change; and 
 now that Jamie has his blue-eyed Annie, I will claim 
 my brown-eyed Janet. Ye are mine by right o' a 
 love that canna change, and as mine I wad hae ye gae 
 to visit Annie and her fause James." With this 
 crowning effort, he closed his appeal or, rather, asser- 
 tion of his right, by reaching out to embrace her. 
 
 She rose to her feet, and stood tall and erect before 
 him, outlined against the mist, like a wraith; and, 
 while he cowered before her, answered him, without 
 a tremor in her voice, "Ye are fause-hearted, Thomas 
 Muir, to the very core; so fause that ye canna ken 
 that anither may be true. Ye ken my bindin' to 
 Jamie, and, gin he were fause to it, I wad be true till 
 death. But Jamie is true; his verra body bears the 
 mark o' truth, the ring o' his voice, the tread o' his 
 foot, the glint o' his e'en. But ye hae a slippery 
 voice, and a lyin' e'e, and a crafty step. So I tell ye 
 noo, aince for a', Thomas Muir, while Jamie lives I 
 will wed nane ither; and, gin Jamie were deid, I wad 
 rather live on the memory o' what he was, than wi' 
 sic a fause carle as thou," and she swept past him 
 into the house and up to her room, to spend the night 
 in tears, and wait for the morning, as watchers do; 
 and, when the day broke, to wish that it were night 
 again and time for rest. 
 
196 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 As time wore on she faded, as the roses wither in 
 the summer's heat, finding that, like some other things, 
 "waiting" was easier to preach than to practice. 
 
 But at least one relief was granted her; Thomas left 
 on the next day; even he, at last, was penetrated with 
 the belief that his wooing was helpless, and did not 
 care to await the disclosure of his peculiar methods of 
 winning a bride, which would surely overtake him 
 soon. 
 
 In the meantime, James, made desperate by the ces- 
 sation of Janet's letters, urged on the settlements 
 which would enable him to woo her openly, insisting 
 that his father should give him a letter to Lady Mc- 
 Kenzie giving his formal consent to the marriage. 
 
 Here was a tug of war, Mrs. Muir declaring that 
 she would not live under the same roof with Janet; 
 James as stoutly maintaining that he would not live 
 without her. The poor old Laird could let neither 
 go, nor could he persuade either to yield an inch. 
 At last he effected a compromise which would still the 
 noise of battle and let him pass quietly away to the 
 only rest he could hope for; he gave James the letter 
 which he demanded, exacting from him a promise not 
 to let his mother know of it, nor use it until after his 
 death. 
 
 This put but a short restriction on its use, for, 
 within a month, he passed suddenly away, and James, 
 without further parley, told his mother of the letter, 
 and informed her that he was going with it to Ross to 
 ask Lady McKenzie's consent to his marriage with 
 Janet. 
 
 "Ye ken what that means for me and Margaret," 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 197 
 
 said Mrs. Muir, in a hard voice. "But I reckon that, 
 in these days, the fair face o' a lass wins mair hearts 
 than a mither's love." 
 
 "I ken this, mither," answered James, without 
 bitterness, for his mood was generous now, "that, gin 
 Janet will be my wife, I hae won a bonnie lass wha 
 will be a fond daughter, gin ye welcome her as such." 
 
 Mrs. Muir's lip curled with scorn: "I ken weel 
 enow what kind o' a daughter she wad be, wha has 
 turned awa' the heart o' a son frae his mither;" and, 
 having the last word, she swept from the room. 
 
 The next day James was off to Ross. 
 
 The summer had waned, and the fresh autumn 
 days, with their cool evenings, were fine weather for 
 hard riding. John Gunn rode with him the first day, 
 ostensibly to take his instructions as to things to be 
 done in his absence or made ready against his return, 
 but really to watch this romance which he and Helen 
 had followed with such keen interest, and bring her 
 back news how James bore himself under the near 
 fulfillment of his hopes. 
 
 Up and along the Don side they rode, now and 
 again crossing the stream; and ever the rushing waters 
 sang to the hasty lover, as they leapt down to the 
 embrace of the sea, and they made him long to leap 
 up to the hills, where a boundless love was awaiting 
 him ; but it is slow work up hill. 
 
 John rode about twenty miles with him, and, after 
 some futile effort to talk of things useful, drifted per- 
 force to the only topic that would hold the young 
 Laird's attention — Janet, and the way to her, its dis- 
 tances, delays, and their home-coming. 
 
198 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 So bidding him Godspeed, John turned back and 
 reported to Helen that the Laird was "clean daft; as 
 we all are, bonnie wife, whan ye beguile us wi' your 
 saft black e'en." 
 
 "But, John," said Helen, "the Leddy Janet's e'en 
 arena black, nor unco saft." 
 
 "Aweel," answered John, "it matters little the 
 color — black, brown, or blue; it is a' ane to the spell- 
 bound, wha can rarely tell the color o' his mistress's 
 e'en; and the Leddy Janet gars them look saft on 
 the Laird, howe'er they look on you." 
 
 "But, John, ye haena told me a bit what the Laird 
 had to say," said Helen, eager for the details, which 
 reminded her of a time in her life which she would 
 not willingly forget. 
 
 "My bonnie lassie," said John fondly, "ye ken the 
 story weel; it is aye the same in hall or hovel, save 
 only anither name. Wi' me it was Helen that I heard 
 the birds sing and the burns wimple; wi' the Laird, 
 it was just Janet that they dinged in his ears, owre 
 and owre again. And, faith, he seemed to catch the 
 tune, for it was Janet wi' himsel', every three or four 
 words. And, had I askit him wha should I let the 
 nether farm to, he wad hae answered Janet; and 
 what should we ca' the gray filly it wad hae been 
 Janet; and wi' the same stuff he wad fence a field or 
 big a cot. There was but ane thing in the lad's 
 head, and sae there was naught else to be gotten frae 
 him." 
 
 Helen threw herself into John's arms, with her eyes 
 aglow, "Aye, John; but it is bonnie." 
 
 "Aye, and halesome too," said John, as he kissed 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 199 
 
 her; for she was dearer now than when he wooed her 
 under the hawthorn hedges. 
 
 After John left him, James pricked up his horse 
 and rode harder, as the rushing waters goaded him 
 on. The stream was swollen by recent rains, and the 
 day was waning as he rode down toward the ford of 
 Tillyfourie, when a group of Highlanders at work in 
 a field near the road came running toward him, shout- 
 ing and waving their hands. They were like men 
 possessed, and he drew rein; and when they reached 
 him, one stood at his bridle, and all united in protest- 
 ing against his crossing the stream. 
 
 "I am on an errand that will not bear delay, and I 
 must stop at Glenkindie Inn this nicht," said James, 
 endeavoring to shake loose his horse's bridle. 
 
 "Ye maun bide here or ye winna sleep at Glenkin- 
 die," said one of the men, while another, in a matter- 
 of-fact way, asked: "What do ye say, lads, shall we 
 lift him frae the garron, and bind him, till the morn?" 
 
 They spoke in simple earnest, and James was mak- 
 ing ready to force his way, when he bethought him 
 that fair words are better than foul blows, and asked : 
 "What for wad ye bind me? Gin it be for friendship 
 ye can do it by words; but, gin ye are foes, I hae 
 ne'er been bound, and ye canna bind me alive." 
 
 "Do ye hear the feckless laddie?" said the chief 
 spokesman, whom they called Angus, a grizzled old 
 Highlander whose brawny arms, thrown around 
 James, would have settled the question at once. "Ye 
 canna crass the ford and live, and ye maunna gae 
 frae our hands to your death." 
 
 James's patience was exhausted, when old Angus 
 
200 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 added, "Ye are too fine a lad to meet foul play, and 
 we winna stand by and see it dune." 
 
 "But tell me why I canna gae forth on my errand. 
 I hae crassed Don water three times to-day," said 
 James, putting strong restraint on himself. 
 
 Then Angus spoke out freely: "We were haein* 
 our cracks, at noon this day, anent the Don water that 
 was brawlin' down the glen. I was tellin' the laddies 
 o' the fause ford aboon my faither's cot on the Black 
 Water, and hoo, aince in ilka year, be it spring or be 
 it fa', but always wi'out fail whan the water gang 
 brawlin', we were ware o' the kelpie wha had but ane 
 cry: 'The hour but not the man is come'; and, watch 
 as we might, there wad come some traveler to the 
 ford, and him the kelpie wad claim for her ain." 
 
 His companions listened, awestruck, to their oracle, 
 but James, growing restive, broke in upon the tedious 
 recital of the garrulous old man: "What has all this 
 to do wi' me? The Black Water is far frae here and 
 I am " 
 
 "Haud fast your tongue and your lugs open, my 
 laddie, and ye'll win to be wiser than ye are noo," 
 replied the stolid old man ; and James saw that he 
 must fight it out or hear it through, and chose the 
 latter. 
 
 Angus gravely resumed, "We were haein' our crack 
 anent these wonderfu' things, and I was tellin' o' the 
 bonnie lads and lassies wham the kelpie had buried in 
 the Black Water, and hoo the Don was roarin' uncan- 
 nily; and, just e'er ye cam' in sight owre the crest o' 
 the hill, I was ware o' the kelpie's cry; and I said 
 'We maun look out for the man'; and here ye are. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 201 
 
 Noo ye ken why ye canna crass the ford the 
 nicht." 
 
 "But, my friend, I am in nae fear o' kelpies, and 
 will e'en keep on my way, with thanks for your warn- 
 ing. Unhand my bridle, good friend, and I'll wish 
 you farewell," said James firmly, and with as much 
 patience as was left to him. 
 
 "Ye'll do naething o' the kind," said Angus, and, 
 suiting the action to the word, he threw his arms 
 around James and lifted him from his horse. 
 
 The old man's grip was like iron, and he quietly 
 gave orders to bind James hand and foot, while he 
 held him, and one of them took his horse's head to 
 lead him up the hill. Here was a sorry plight for an 
 impatient lover. 
 
 "Hold one moment, and listen to me, friend An- 
 gus," said James, feeling like a child that does not 
 know whether to laugh or cry. "Hae ye ne'er heard 
 that twa things gar a man free frae the kelpie's power, 
 a mither's love and a true sweetheart?" 
 
 "Aye, laddie," said Angus, "but where is the 
 mither or the sweetheart?" 
 
 "I am ridin' hard to meet my sweetheart, wha waits 
 for me in the Highlands, and her heart is like to 
 rend, gin I fail to come, and I hae eighty more miles 
 to ride. Gin I crass the ford wi' her name on my lips 
 there isna a kelpie in a' the Don that can harm me. 
 Ye tell me that ye hae heard the kelpie ca' frae the 
 Don, 'The hour but not the man is come'; the voice 
 o' my sweetheart has been callin' to me frae the Don 
 water that same message; and I maun heed the voice 
 that I hear." 
 
202 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Old Angus listened solemnly. "The laddie is 
 richt; set him up again, laddies, and let him win 
 through; the kelpie canna do him harm." 
 
 So they watched him, as one with a charmed life, 
 ride down through the foaming flood and up the other 
 bank, and, as he turned to wave his adieu, shouted 
 over the water: "Fair fa' ye, laddie, and your bonnie 
 Highland lassie!" and old Angus added this to his 
 legends of the kelpies. 
 
 As James rode on, the night fell dark, the gray moss 
 and lichen under the trees made a sort of elfin moon- 
 light, the chill wind soughed through the bare birches 
 an ourie song for a lone rider; but against the kelpie, 
 the mirk night, the chill wind, and all boding sights or 
 sound he bore a talisman on which was graven 
 "Janet"; which, as John Gunn said, was "halesome. " 
 
 The inn marked, in a double sense, the first stage 
 of his journey; for here he had parted from Janet, but 
 little more than a year ago, and her presence haunted 
 the place. In his pocket was the letter which told 
 him all her hopes and fears, as she rested here for the 
 night. 
 
 After seeing first to the care of his faithful pony, 
 .and then paying due respect to a hearty, hot supper, 
 he went straight to the room where the letter was 
 written, and read it and a budget in the same hand- 
 writing, and then, like a sensible young man, instead 
 of wasting his time by going straight to bed, he read 
 them all over a second time, and some of them a third 
 time. 
 
 The next day's ride was -on up the Don, then 
 through Glen Avon, past old Cairngorm and along 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 203 
 
 Loch Avon to Spey side, a good forty-five miles. He 
 met the parties of bee-harvesters bringing home the 
 hives that had been all summer on the moors and 
 were now full of the strong, rich mountain honey. 
 He heard their merry voices, as they reckoned up the 
 fruits of the industry of their little servants, and esti- 
 mated which hive held a comb fit for the Laird, or the 
 parson, or the factor. James, who was after honey 
 too, gave them a friendly greeting, and thought of his 
 home-coming. 
 
 During this night's halt he cheered his solitude by 
 another perusal of the letters ; which seemed to gain 
 freshness and interest as he drew nearer to the writer. 
 
 Early the next morning he crossed the auld brig 
 and rode along the Spey for the head of Loch Ness, 
 and so on to the home of his Janet. 
 
 It was more than fifty miles to ride and it was far 
 into the night before he halted at the door and, fumb- 
 ling about in the dark, by dint of knocking and shout- 
 ing at last roused the inmates; for young Roderick 
 McKenzie was not wakened until the whole house 
 was roused. 
 
 When the young Laird of Ardross recognized the 
 voice of his cousin of Stoneywold, he shouted through 
 the hall to Janet to make ready a room for Jamie 
 Muir. 
 
 While Janet lingered, in order that her own ears 
 might assure her that this was not a dream, old Lady 
 McKenzie came into the hall and bid Janet go to bed, 
 and allow her to see to the care of guests, as she had 
 always done. "And when they come at siccan 
 uncanny hours, wi' dinsome racket to rout peacefu' 
 
204 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 folk frae their rest, they were more mannerly to bide 
 in the byre, or lie down wi' the hounds before the 
 hearth." 
 
 So she sent the household to their beds, calling 
 down through the dark to her son : "Roderick, ye can 
 bid Jamie Muir bide where he is, or can gie him a 
 share o' your ain bed; but he maun bide still and not 
 disturb the sleep o' quiet folk ony mair!" with which 
 scant courtesy she went back to her room. 
 
 Lady McKenzie was not lacking in the Highland 
 grace of hospitality, and James Muir was a favorite of 
 hers ; but her heart was sore for her Janet, who had 
 been little else than cast out of Stoneywold, and she 
 suspected the reason. She knew that there had been 
 youthful love passages between Jamie and her girl ; 
 she knew, from Lady Stoneyvvold's own lips, that 
 Margaret Erskine was, at least, second choice for her 
 son. 
 
 And this Margaret Erskine, with a dower ten times 
 greater than her Janet's, famed through the shire for 
 her beauty, having traveled and seen the world, easy 
 in her manners, witty and genial, had won the name 
 of "Merry Meg" among her wide circle of friends 
 and kinsfolk. And now she was Janet's guest, and 
 James Muir was come to court her, before Janet's 
 eyes; and the heart of the old lady was sore at the 
 thought of how her girl must be wounded and give no 
 sign. She lay awake planning how to humble this 
 truculent lover, who was fain to buy his own pleasure 
 at the expense of her Janet; and made up her mind 
 that she would set, here and there, a thorn among 
 Master Muir's roses. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 205 
 
 Janet went to her room, and she too passed a sleep- 
 less night, not planning to set thorns or roses in 
 Jamie's path; but in a tumult as to what the message 
 from his mother might be. 
 
 As she communed with her own heart in the night 
 watches, she recalled passages of his letters, needing 
 no candle to read them; for she knew them by heart. 
 
 James too passed but an indifferent night, and was 
 up betimes; now seated in front of the fire, warming 
 himself with the recital of what he would say to her 
 and what she would say to him, then starting out into 
 the cold haur of the early morn repeating: 
 
 " Oh ! I'm wat, wat. 
 Oh ! I'm wat and weary, 
 Fain wad I rise and rin 
 Thinkin' o' my dearie." 
 
 But when, through the window of the dining-room, 
 he saw his "dearie" superintending the preparations 
 for breakfast, and started to "rin," with his hand on 
 the door, he paused — why, he could not tell. How 
 hard he had ridden to meet her, why did he wait on 
 the threshold — his heart thumped, his ears were ring- 
 ing, and all his fine speeches were forgotten. It does 
 not do to rehearse for such parts; the drama plays 
 itself. At last he "tirled the pin" and was in her 
 presence. 
 
 "Janet," he gasped, "I hae come " then his 
 
 breath failed him. 
 
 "I kenned that ye wad come, Jamie," she said 
 sweetly, and came to his arms as though their parting 
 had been but over night. "And ye find me true, 
 Jamie ; for I wadna forfeit the bonnie token that ye 
 
206 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 gied me," and she pointed to the brooch with the 
 true lover's knot. Then, seeing that he was still 
 under the spell of thoughts too strong for speech, she 
 said lightly, "I am ovvre fond o' bawbies, Jamie; and 
 was bound to keep this, for I wear nane ither, " and 
 she laughed softly, as she nestled closer to him. 
 
 Then he laughed too, and did ever so much more, 
 as these kind of people have done and will do, and 
 which needs no further description ; for those who 
 have done it know all about it ; and those who have 
 not, might deem it folly ; and these two were not 
 fools. 
 
 The story of the intercepted letters was soon 
 guessed, and it was "halesome" for Thomas that he 
 was on the high seas. 
 
 Into this scene came Merry Meg, who needed no 
 other explanation than a hug and kiss of great inten- 
 sity from Janet ; while James, if he had been gifted 
 with four legs, would not have had one left to stand 
 on. 
 
 "I hae always heard that ye maun rise early, if ye 
 wad hear the laverock's sweetest song, and I was aye 
 fond o' the song o' birds. But I am unco fond o' a 
 guid breakfast ; and gin ye think to gar me feast on 
 sic thin fare as I see here, then ye maun find me a 
 lover, wha has ridden a hundred miles and mair, to 
 tell me that I hae bonnie brown eyes and am a' the 
 world to him, and sic like clishmaclaver. Be aff wi' 
 ye, Janet, and see to the breakfast, while I court your 
 Jamie, a bit, in the window-seat, and gar him see how 
 a girl wha isna love-daft can handle a bonnie lad. 
 Come, Jamie;" and she drew him to the window-seat 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 207 
 
 and plunged con amore into the whole matter, not only 
 into the past with its shadows, but into the sunny- 
 future on to the wedding, when, where, and how it 
 was to be. And, better than all, she undertook to 
 manage the announcement to Lady McKenzie. 
 Jamie was like wax in the hands of this bold leader, 
 to whom obstacles were only cobwebs. 
 
 So, while Janet kept flitting in and out of the room 
 making ready the morning meal, Meg was preparing 
 for her a morsel sweeter than the mountain honey and 
 stronger than the "bread that perisheth." 
 
 When Lady McKenzie came down she found Janet 
 doing her duty, like a diligent little housewife, James 
 and Miss Erskine sitting apart in the window-seat, 
 talking earnestly in an undertone. 
 
 The old lady, using the kinsman's right to chide, 
 welcomed James with : "Ye hae a braw tap for a mid- 
 night hour, Jamie Muir. I trust ye left your leddy 
 mither more comfortable than ye found me, nigh 
 frighted into an ague by your night alarum." 
 
 "I left my mither very well, and present her com- 
 pliments to your Leddyship, and am sorry that I dis- 
 turbed ye; but I was weary, frae a sair lang ride, for 
 I hae ridden fast and hard, and was fain to find shel- 
 ter for my pony and mysel'." 
 
 "The byre was open to ye baith. But ye maun 
 mak' less haste ; ye were aye a bit head owre heels, 
 Jamie," said the old lady; then to Miss Erskine, 
 "Meg, lass, ye are better nearer the fire; the haur is 
 cauld and unhalesome, and ye gie sma' heed to your 
 health." 
 
 Meg, with a smile, came forward, and, standing 
 
208 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 beside the hearth, with her arm on the mantel shelf, 
 made far too handsome a picture to please the old 
 lady; nor did it add to her charms when she said: 
 "Jamie was tellin' me that which made me forget the 
 haur o' the mornin'." 
 
 "Aweel," answered Lady McKenzie, "it isna fendy 
 to gie too quick an ear to a laddie's clavers. Jamie 
 hasna sleepit weel eneuch to hae the fu' power o' his 
 wits;" which brought a peal of laughter from Meg 
 directed at Jamie, while Janet looked like a rosy dawn. 
 
 The old lady was sadly nonplussed. She could 
 guess the riddle so far as it touched James and this 
 saucy Meg; but what of Janet? 
 
 By Meg's advice, James was to present his creden- 
 tials before breakfast. "It will be sae bonnie to hae 
 a kind o' weddin' breakfast to celebrate your trystin' ; 
 and we will a' eat wi' a fine appetite," she had said. 
 
 In accordance with this plan, Meg, who could go 
 very far with Lady McKenzie and not come to grief, 
 broke in at this point: "My Leddy, I hae counseled 
 Jamie to tell you our bit o' news before breakfast; 
 it will gar us eat in merry mood. He has a letter for 
 you frae his faither. " 
 
 "Meg, lass, haud thy folly and mak' nae sic un- 
 canny jokes ovvre the puir Laird, wha is past haudin' 
 commerce wi' us," said Lady McKenzie sternly. 
 
 "It isna a joke, my Leddy," said James, producing 
 the letter and, in his confusion, the budget of Janet's 
 letters too. 
 
 "Hand them a' owre, Jamie," laughed Meg. 
 "They'll be bonnie readin' and will refresh Leddy 
 McKenzie's memory." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 209 
 
 James fumbled with the letters, Janet stood waiting 
 in a sort of sweet misery, Lady McKenzie frowned 
 sternly, while Meg rang out peal after peal of laugh- 
 ter. At last James found and handed over the letter, 
 explaining as well as he could that, in accordance with 
 his father's request, he had come to ask Janet's hand, 
 which he had been kept from doing sooner by his 
 father's death and the settlement of his affairs. 
 
 Lady McKenzie felt as though she were being asked 
 to accept the statement that black was white; but did 
 not propose that anyone should see how she felt. 
 After reading the letter very slowly, amid the silence 
 of all the rest, she turned to Janet: "And do ye lo'e 
 him, lassie?" 
 
 "Aye, mither, as my life," said Janet, looking not 
 at her mother but at James. 
 
 "Then he can tak' ye," said the old lady, with a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 "I will be true to her, my Leddy, as I hae been 
 syne I was a boy," said Jamie. 
 
 "I ken that, my laddie, or I wadna let her gae wi' 
 ye; and may the blessin' o' our faithers' God bide 
 wi' ye baith; Roderick, say grace, and we will to 
 breakfast. Janet, sit ye by Jamie and ye can eat your 
 first parritch thegither, out o' the same bowl, gin ye 
 wad relish it." 
 
 "And I'll salt it for guid luck," said Meg, and she 
 kissed Janet over and over again, and all went mer- 
 rily, as it should when parted lovers are brought side 
 by side for life. 
 
 They were married, on James's birthday, in the kirk 
 of Ardross, with Meg as bridesmaid, and Roderick 
 
210 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 McKenzie gave away the bride. John Gunn and 
 Helen rode all the way to Ross to see the closing 
 chapter of this story, which they knew from the very 
 beginning. 
 
 Lady Stoneywold and her daughter sent not even 
 one word of greeting to her son and his bonnie bride, 
 hearing with great disgust that Margaret Erskine had 
 been bridesmaid where she should have been bride ; 
 which showed that the plans of women, like those of 
 "mice and men," may "gang aglee." 
 
 They lingered but a little while in Ross, and started 
 on the long ride homeward, with John and Helen as 
 attendants, as blithe a party as ever traveled that 
 road. Janet said that it was worth all it cost to win 
 such joy as this. 
 
 The waning sun seemed to lap the earth in golden 
 beauty; the parting song of birds and the hum of 
 insects sounded cheery ; and even the mist, as it crept 
 cold and chill from glen and burn, reminded them 
 how cosy the wayside inn would be, with its crack- 
 ling fire and hot supper. 
 
 When they reached Stoneywold, Mrs. Muir met 
 them with glunch and gloom, which James was fain to 
 bear as well as he could ; but he set Janet, without 
 more ado, at the head of his house, and in a master- 
 ful way bade his sister remember that she was mistress 
 of Stoneywold ; and this in his mother's presence. 
 Such a state of things could not long endure, and soon, 
 to the great relief of all parties, Mrs. Muir and Mar- 
 garet went to live in Aberdeen. 
 
 Janet won her way to all hearts, by her strong 
 sense and unchanging truth and goodness. "She is 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 211 
 
 bonnie and fendy, and as leal as she is fair," was 
 John Gunn's summary of her; and let it stand in lieu 
 of any other. She was thoroughly alive to all that 
 concerned the estate and the welfare of the tenants. 
 "She has mony a crack wi' the Laird, when I am main 
 glad that it is not me she has taen up," said John in 
 telling Helen of the ways of the new Leddy. 
 
 Nor need old Lady Stoneywold have looked any 
 farther for a wife for James who could take a position 
 in the shire, worthy of the mistress of Stoneywold. 
 
 She became warmly attached to Helen and, through 
 her, deeply interested in the strange race from which 
 she was sprung. They were drawn still closer by 
 their common interest in a gypsy girl whom John had 
 brought from the camp, for Helen to nurse. The poor 
 girl was in the last stage of consumption, past all help 
 save the soothing of her little remnant of life, to 
 which Janet contributed, not only with delicacies 
 made by her own hands, but even more by her daily 
 visits to the cot. 
 
 As she strove to speak comforting words to the 
 girl, she found that the troubled spirit was wrestling, 
 alone, with the great problem of the hereafter; and 
 death was casting a shadow darker than the pain and 
 weariness of disease. 
 
 At last Janet persuaded her to see the minister, and 
 came, the next afternoon, bringing Gordon McDonald. 
 
 It gave one help to look into his broad face, over 
 which the light of humor or depth of tenderness would 
 sweep like sunlight over the water, while his kindling 
 eye imparted his feeling to others. 
 
 He drew near the couch on which the dying girl 
 
212 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 rested, and, gently laying his strong hand on her thin 
 and wasted fingers, smiled into her eyes; and she 
 smiled back on him, as on an old friend. 
 
 "Ye arena weel, lassie; but we a' maun learn, 
 sooner or later, that this is not a' our life. 'Tis a 
 bonnie world," he said, looking out on the bright 
 winter sunshine; "but, by a' accounts, yon world is 
 bonnier far than this, and nae mair sickness is there, 
 nor ony greetin', and death canna win to that city." 
 
 The girl listened intently while the rich voice, mel- 
 low with sympathy, soothed her by its mere tones, 
 and bore her along as on a broad, flowing current. 
 When he stopped speaking, it was as if a low melody, 
 to which the ear was straining to listen, had suddenly 
 censed. 
 
 "But I dinna ken onything anent the doctrines o' 
 the Kirk," said Elsie Graham pensively. "I ken 
 naething o' prayin' nor what I ought to say; but I am 
 wae o' gangin' to yon warld which is fu' o' wraiths 
 and bogies and ghaists and a' sic like uncanny creat- 
 ures;" and the girl looked wistfully to the minister to 
 lift the shadows lying athwart her soul. His eyes 
 were fully as sad as hers; for how should he tell the 
 quickly passing soul the truth, in such clear, potent 
 form as would reach her heart and still the passion of 
 its hunger. 
 
 "My lassie," he said tenderly, "ye hae naught to 
 do wi' the Kirk or its doctrines. Gin it be God's will 
 to spare ye, we can talk o' that at our leisure ; and I 
 wad be fain to win ye to the Kirk and teach ye her 
 sound and precious doctrines. But now we maun 
 look at the matter in anither light and spier how ye 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 213 
 
 are to find, right now, peace wi' God and sure hope 
 for the life to come." 
 
 "Aye," interposed Elsie, "that is what gars me 
 greet ; for I am wae to gang into yon gruesome 
 warld." 
 
 "Yes, lassie, I ken that mony are sair frighted anent 
 the warld ayont this life; but they aftwhiles fiichter 
 themselves because they forget that the same guid 
 God wha made this warld a bonnie place for us, where 
 we only bide a wee, winna forget to big us a bonnier 
 house where we are to bide for aye. The Guid Book 
 has naught to say o' wraiths and bogies and siccan 
 creatures ; but it tells us that, when we are free frae 
 these puir sickly bodies, we shall be like the angels o' 
 God, which are sae bonnie to look on ; and we shall 
 be clad in white, wi' crowns on our heads like kings, 
 and shall greet nae mair. And a' this we win to, 
 wi'out ony price, as the free gift o' God through his 
 Son." 
 
 The girl listened, her dark eyes dilating, as the 
 minister culled, from the visions of the Apocalypse, 
 such immortelles as he thought she would prize. 
 
 "Aye, minister, that is bonnie; but I dinna ken 
 the Son o' God. Do ye ken Him? Will ye ask it frae 
 Him, for me? Bides He far frae here, at the king's 
 court?" She poured forth these questions with 
 breathless eagerness. 
 
 "Nay, my lassie, ye winna find Him at the court o' 
 kings. He is not far frae ony ane o' us." 
 
 The girl looked round with a start. 
 
 "He isna a wraith or bogie, is he?" 
 
 "Na, na, my lassie," said Mr. McDonald, praying 
 
214 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 the while that he might say just the right thing. "He 
 is just like the sun in the sky aboon us; and, like the 
 sun shinin' everywhere at the same time, the Son cT 
 God shines wi' His love into our hearts." 
 
 "I can see the bonnie sunshine, minister; but 
 I canna feel His love shinin' in my heart. Perhaps, 
 minister, the Son o' God canna love just a puir Egyp- 
 tian lass. I hae dune nae great ill to ony man, but I 
 ken weel eneuch that I amna fit to bide amang lairds 
 and leddies; and it wad irk me sair to be in their 
 company. And sae, minister, it may be'better just to 
 leave me gang where a' the lave o' my folk are in the 
 ither warld, for I doubt that I could be made fit for 
 braw company;" and she fell back wearily upon her 
 pillow and closed her eyes, as though this were the 
 end of the matter. 
 
 Then the heart of this man of God was stirred. 
 He did not question that the truth could penetrate the 
 twilight of this soul and make it shine as the perfect 
 day; but he doubted whether there lay in him that 
 power of sympathy making him so akin to her that he 
 could bring the truth home to her heart; and he 
 prayed God to bring him nearer in heart to this gypsy 
 girl. And as he prayed the light broke over him. 
 
 Passing his hand gently over the damp forehead he 
 said: "Ye needna answer me, my lassie, but I will 
 tell ye a story o' the Son o' God and a gypsy chief. 
 Lang whiles He had shone on men like the sun in the 
 sky; but they said, as ye said but now, we canna see 
 Him nor feel His love in our hearts. Then He said, I 
 will come down to them and gang aboot wi' them, and 
 they shall look on me and ken that I am wi' them. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 215 
 
 So He was just born, like ony ither child, frae the 
 daughter o' a king o' Judah; and He lived like ony 
 ither man, save that He ne'er did wrang; and He 
 healit men's sicknesses. But He cam' to an ill-faured 
 race, wha didna believe on Him, save only a few o* 
 them ; so they took Him and nailit Him to a crass, and 
 garred Him hang there to dee. And a' this He bore 
 to win us a hame in yon warld ayont this life. But 
 while He was hangin' on the crass and the cruel 
 nails garred His hands and feet bleed sairly, and the 
 hot fever was burnin' in His body and the sun beatin' 
 down on His head, there hung by His side twa gyp- 
 sies; ane o' them the chief o' a band wha lived by 
 robbin' and murderin' honest folk, wha had done nae 
 guid but only evil, a' his life lang. 
 
 "But when the people, wha had come to see the 
 hangin', stood girnnin' at the Son o' God because He 
 had saved ithers but didna save Himsel', the gypsy 
 chief, turnin' to Him, said*' Lord, dinna forget me when 
 ye win to your palace' ; and the Son o' God said to him, 
 'This day shalt thou be wi' me in the bonnie garden 
 o' the Lord.' So ye see, my lassie, the Lord is unco 
 glad to bid the gypsies welcome, gin they are willin* 
 to come." 
 
 The soft tears were stealing through the closed eye- 
 lids, as she listened. 
 
 "Why didna He save Himsel' frae the bitter 
 death?" she asked softly. 
 
 "The knowledge o' that, mayhap, ye canna win to, 
 my lassie; but I will tell ye summat mair o' the story. 
 When He died, they took Him frae the crass and 
 buried Him and sealit up the grave, settin' a guard o' 
 
216 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 soldiers owre it; but the angels o' God cam' down 
 and brak' the seals and drave awa' the guard, and the 
 Son o' God cam' oot o' the grave alive and showed 
 Himsel' to His friends, and, before their very e'en, 
 rose up into the sky, blessin' them and sayin', 'I am wi' 
 ye to the end o' the warld'. He took this way o' 
 deein' first and risin' frae the deid and ascendin' to 
 heaven, that, wi' His ain bluid, he might wash awa' 
 our sins and gar us see how we should rise frae the 
 deid, and gang to bide wi' Him in heaven. Do ye 
 mind, lassie?" 
 
 "Aye, minister," she said, "I mind it weel; the 
 story is unco bonnie, but I canna understand it a', it 
 is sae new and strange." 
 
 "He doesna bid us understand it, lassie," said the 
 minister, "for then we couldna win there. The gypsy 
 chief couldna understand it, and we ministers can 
 understand but a wee bit. But ye can believe it, 
 lassie; and it is a bonnie thing just to tak' the Son o' 
 God at His word, and leave a' the lave to Him." 
 
 "I will try to believe it, minister. It is a bonnie 
 story, but it gars me greet." 
 
 "Aye, lassie, we maun greet owre the sorrows that 
 befell the blessed Saviour; but He is glad owre the 
 joys that He has bought for you ; and ye maun try to 
 believe Him, and He will gie ye help to believe mair." 
 
 "I will, minister," she said. 
 
 Then they bid her good-by, and Janet, leaning 
 over, kissed Elsie fondly, and passed out into the 
 bracing winter air, with her heart too full for words. 
 
 When they had gone a little way in silence she 
 turned to her companion with the query. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 217 
 
 "What do you think of her, Mr. McDonald?" 
 "She is a dear lassie," he answered tenderly. 
 ' 'And my heart is glad when I think that I led her to 
 say that which won a blessin' frae the Lord when on 
 earth: 'Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.' " 
 It was in such scenes as this that Janet won the bless- 
 ings of the tenantry. They could depend upon her 
 to grace their weddings, to gladden their christenings, 
 and to stand by the bedside of the dying. To her 
 they brought their troubles for consolation, their per- 
 plexities for solution, their little hoards of money for 
 safe-keeping; and the Laird himself was not more felt, 
 as a power on the estate, than was the ' 'canty Leddy 
 o' Stoneywold." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "kings and bears aft worry their keepers." 
 
 WHILE life at Stoneywold was thus placidly mold- 
 ing itself into another generation, and there 
 had come another James Muir, and a Charles, and an 
 Edward, to wake the long silent echoes which waited 
 in the nooks and corners of the old Hall for chil- 
 dren's voices to rouse them, the outside world was 
 stirred with the portent of a coming storm. The air 
 was full of vague rumors, making men feel that some- 
 thing momentous was at hand. 
 
 There were gatherings of the gentlemen under cover 
 of a hunt which failed to make the meet, or a hasty 
 summons to the castle of some nobleman ; and such a 
 summons took precedence of business or pleasure. 
 
 These gatherings were limited to those known to 
 favor the old regime, who spoke of the reigning sover- 
 eign as "the Elector"; when they said "the King," 
 they had in mind a gallant youth, with long, golden 
 locks and a courtly air, which won the hearts of men 
 .and turned the heads of women, the "bonnie Prince 
 Charlie." 
 
 What these gatherings portended, no outsider 
 knew; but that they were not mourners met to bewail 
 the loss of the good old days, was apparent from the 
 buoyant manner of the gentlemen as they gathered or 
 dispersed. 
 
 218 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 219 
 
 The Laird of Stoneywold was constant in his at- 
 tendance at these meetings and ardent in his hopes as 
 to their issue. John Gunn insisted on his right, as 
 retainer, to follow the Laird on these expeditions; 
 and an incident of one of their rides convinced James 
 that it was wiser to accept his escort. 
 
 He had been summoned to attend a meeting at 
 Lord George Gordon's, in the northern part of the 
 shire. The message had reached him late in the 
 afternoon of a stormy day ; they had set out just in 
 the edge of the gloaming, and it was late and very 
 dark when they halted at an inn for supper and to 
 bait their ponies. James was for riding on, though 
 the night was stormy and the way very rough, but 
 John persuaded him that, by waiting till the early 
 morning, they could make better time, with their 
 horses fresh. 
 
 After supper John's attention was attracted to three 
 well-dressed genltemen who were on their way to the 
 stables to look after their horses, an office which most 
 gentlemen of that day left to their gillies; so he 
 quietly followed them; and, as he overheard them 
 talking in low tones, the familiar gypsy cant caught 
 his ear: "Choar a ben gaugie" (Rob the gentle- 
 man). 
 
 "Shan drom jaw vren beenlightmen" (It is a bad 
 road; he will not go before daylight), said another. 
 
 Then followed some whispers, of which John only 
 caught "feck a bar and mar the gaugie" (take a stone 
 and fell the gentleman). 
 
 "Chee chee Nawkens; bing feck" (Hold your 
 tongue, tinklers, or the deil will have you), said John, 
 
220 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 stepping, out of the darkness, into the circle of light 
 made by the dim lantern. 
 
 The startled gypsies drew their ever-ready pon- 
 iards; but John, with as quick a hand, drew Charlie 
 Graham's snuff-box from his pocket and presented 
 this, in lieu of dirk or pistol. 
 
 "Feck fluffan, Nawkens" (Take a pinch of snuff, 
 gypsies), he said; "for ye'll ken me when I tell ye I 
 am John Gunn, gudeman to Helen Faa, of the Loch- 
 gellie band." 
 
 This put an end at once to hostilities, for the doings 
 of the Lochgellies were among the proudest annals of 
 Little Egypt. 
 
 After this the Laird, under John's escort, rode, not 
 only unhindered, but under the protection of these 
 lords of the moors and fens. Janet often insisted that 
 James should use more caution in the matter of his 
 service to the cause, warning him by what she had 
 heard from John of the disastrous ending of the last 
 uprising. It was therefore in a sort of triumph that 
 he came from Lord Gordon's, with great news. 
 
 "I hae summat fine to tell ye now, Janet," he said 
 breathlessly. "We hae news o' help frae France." 
 
 "But for what will France spend her money and 
 the bluid o' her men to fight our battles? By a' 
 accounts they are busy enough owre the water, wi'out 
 meddlin' wi' us." 
 
 "It will aid them abroad to harry the English at 
 hame; and it will gie the seal to the sacred truth that 
 kings hold sway by right divine, and parliaments and 
 ministers hae naught to do wi' makin', but only wi' 
 servin' the king." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 221 
 
 "And for this, will France do the bluidy work o' 
 settin' Prince Charlie on the throne?" asked Janet. 
 
 "It winna be sae bluidy as ye think. Gin the 
 Prince's feet aince stand on English ground, it will 
 gar a' men see that he is the only true and lawfu' 
 king, and the Highlanders will rise to a man, and 
 mony a secret friend will declare himsel' openly, baith 
 here and in England, when they see us sure o* suc- 
 cess." 
 
 "Hae ye nae mair than the bare word o' the king 
 that he will help the Prince to his throne; for I hae 
 heard said that the 'word o' a king is a sliddery 
 footin'.'" 
 
 "Aye, we ken what he will do. The great and 
 glorious Marechal Saxe will set sail wi' 15,000 men; 
 and 20,000 mair will join us on Scottish soil, and, as 
 we march south, it will be like the tide comin* in." 
 
 "Alack; Jamie, maun ye gae south wi' the Prince? 
 Why canna ye bide and haud Scotland, and leave 
 England to the Saxons," said Janet sadly. 
 
 But this glorious news was followed quickly by the 
 report of the storm that had scattered the squadron. 
 "And upon the heels o' the storm," added James, 
 sadly crestfallen to bring such news from the meeting 
 which was called to select a deputation to meet the 
 Prince, "cam' the fleet o' Sir John Norris, wha barely 
 left the Prince a chance o' return to France." 
 
 "Aye, Jamie, ye maun wait till ye see how the 
 Prince will fare before ye put your trust in this aid 
 frae France. If they canna place him on English 
 soil, they canna put him on the throne, ye may be 
 sure." 
 
222 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 It was a dreary night in the latter part of January 
 when the Laird of Stoneywold rode back, with John 
 by his side, from Kenmuir Hall, where a conference 
 was held, after this disaster. It had been a notable 
 gathering; the McDonalds, Glengarry, and Keppoch 
 were there, the young Lochiel of the Camerons, Roy 
 Stewart, Lord George Murray, and Lord Lewis Gor- 
 don, with a host of others more or less closely identi- 
 fied with the cause. 
 
 A division of sentiment was apparent; McDonald 
 of Sleat, McLeod of Skye, and Lochiel were for cau- 
 tion and delay, urging the cessation of meetings for 
 a while; while Keppoch, Lord Lewis Gordon, and 
 Stoneywold repudiated, with disgust, this cautious 
 counsel, and were the more ardent because of the 
 cloud that hung upon their prospects. 
 
 In the one party were those who had large estates 
 at risk, in the other were the lesser lairds or those 
 who had friends in exile from the rising in 1715. 
 
 Muir returned from this meeting full of misgivings, 
 and, as they rode along, gave vent to his feelings. 
 
 "I am in a sair strait, John," he said moodily. 
 "Did ye mark how McDonald and McLeod grew 
 wary ; and the great chieftains were quick to tak' up 
 wi' their mood." 
 
 "Aye," said John, "and it is weel, my Laird, to 
 haud your rein until ye see which way the hare will 
 rin." 
 
 "Na, na, John," answered Stoneywold quickly. 
 "Ye mistake me, I didna mean that. I am for 
 Prince Charlie, wi' the Frenchmen or wi'out them. 
 But we lack arms and money ; and some lack courage 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 223 
 
 too. But I am for settlin' this business in our ain 
 way, wi'out the foreigners, gin we can find arms to 
 put in the hands o' our brave Highlanders." 
 
 "Ye maun hae mair arms than hands, and that is a 
 sorry pass; for they winna fight your battles. And, 
 my Laird, it seems to me that a man may as weel 
 ken where the road leads, before he pitches down 
 it at a gallop," added John, warily feeling his 
 way. 
 
 "Gin a man will gie his king a leal service and win 
 honor for himsel', he maun tak' his life in his hands 
 and trust to Providence and his ain braid claymore," 
 said Muir. 
 
 "Aye," retorted John, "I hae seen summat o' that 
 in my day too, when a man has fixit himsel' to be tossed 
 like a cud in a cow's mouth, and always betwixt the 
 grinders. "There is Tullibardine, wha let himsel' gang 
 that gait; and Athole, wi' its braid acres, is in the 
 hands o' his younger brother. Glenbucket has had an 
 owrelang stay in France, and there is Kenmure in his 
 grave, and Winton in the Tower o' London to-day. 
 I'm thinkin', my Laird, that ye winna gang amiss, gin 
 ye tak' counsel wi' the Leddy Janet anent this business 
 and hear what she maun say. Do ye mind how the 
 Laird o' Darnick cam' hame to join his friend Wat 
 Scott; but his Leddy caged him in the donjon, to 
 remain, 'till I tell thee thou'rt wanted by James Stewart 
 or Wat Scott ;' and, when frae Darnick towers she saw 
 which wad win the day, 'Now,' she said, 'thou know- 
 est which party to fight for' ; and the fendy Leddy 
 set her Laird in the way to win glory and haud his 
 lands too. It is a braw thing to ken whan the par- 
 
224 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 ritch is cooked, and not dip in the pot and lift out a 
 raw mess." 
 
 James smiled at John's fendy counsel; "I hae had 
 a commission of factory drawn for the Leddy Janet, 
 and she can hold and lease the estate of Stoneywold 
 for her ain use. But my sword I maun gie, wi' my 
 ain hand, to the cause that is right and true." 
 
 Then John saw that, with the Laird, motives of 
 prudence had little weight; for his purpose had its 
 root in principles which he held sacred, and in honor, 
 which was not to be weighed in the balance with self- 
 interest. 
 
 Subsequent councils of war, if so they might be 
 called, were troublous affairs; the general sentiment 
 being averse to any movement without substantial aid 
 from France, while a few were eager to cast the die, 
 trusting to themselves alone and to the justice of 
 their cause. 
 
 Now, when darkness seemed to brood over the 
 cause, Janet exerted herself to cheer James. 
 
 "Why canna ye send a trusty messenger to France, 
 Jamie, and not wait for the tidin's that come by wind 
 and wave." 
 
 "Ill news travels fast enough, and there seems 
 naught but that kind in the wind just now," answered 
 James, in despondent mood. 
 
 Nevertheless he came back from their next meet- 
 ing, cheered by the result of this suggestion. 
 
 "We hae sendit Murray o' Broughton, as messen- 
 ger, to France, to confer wi' the Prince and tell him 
 how eagerly we wait his comin'," he said more hope- 
 fully. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 225 
 
 "Aye, Jamie, and it will gar him see that ye are in 
 earnest, and it will stir the French king to gie ye 
 aid," answered Janet. 
 
 In the early spring their messenger returned. 
 
 "And what news does he bring, Jamie?" asked 
 Janet, eager, for more reasons than one, to know how 
 near the din of war might be. 
 
 "The Prince is already on his way, aboard a French 
 brig, which will convoy our privateer Elizabeth," said 
 James, breathless with the astounding news. 
 
 "And how many Frenchmen does he bring wi' 
 him?" asked Janet. 
 
 "He hasna a single ane, but only the seven gentle- 
 men wha hae shared his exile ; and they are English, 
 Scotch, and Irish," answered James. 
 
 "They may be that; but there arena mony o' 
 each," answered Janet, smiling at the brave array. 
 "But what say Lord Lewis and the rest o' our friends 
 to this news?" 
 
 "Alack, they arena merry owre it," answered 
 James; "and wad hae Murray (wham I do not alto- 
 gether trust), back to the Prince to persuade him that 
 the time is not ripe." 
 
 "And that wad be nae mair than the truth," replied 
 Janet. "Ye ken yoursel', Jamie, that the greater 
 lairds are shy o' your gatherings; and they that do 
 come arena at ane." 
 
 This was true enough; for, when this return mis- 
 sion was proposed, Murray replied that he had ex- 
 hausted all arguments to hinder the Prince from set- 
 ting sail, and to no purpose; then the discussion waxed 
 warm. 
 
226 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "It is simply to put all our estates at forfeit and 
 our necks in the noose, to let this go on," said Mc- 
 Donald of Clanranald. 
 
 His cousin of Sleat, who loved to be called "Lord 
 of the Isles," had gone back to his western home, 
 along with McLeod of Skye. 
 
 "It is nae mair a noose for a brave man's neck than 
 is every battle for the right," said old Keppoch. 
 "We may win or we may lose, God kens; but we are 
 wi' the right." 
 
 "And Ave canna expect the Prince to put his life in 
 danger, gin we, wha owe him service, are sae fendy 
 o' the risk to oursel's," said Lord Lewis Gordon. 
 
 "And for my part," said Stoneywold, "my heart 
 gaes out wi' hope and faith in the star o' destiny 
 which leads the steps o' Prince Charlie, as the star o* 
 Bethlehem led the wise men o' the East." 
 
 "Aye," said McDonald, "the Laird o' Stoneywold 
 hasna the years to remember that the star o' the 
 Stuart's has had ither risin's which set in bluid, and 
 led them wha followed it to exile. It doesna shine sae 
 fair as in 17 15, and there isna sic a cry wi' which to 
 rally the clans as Montrose, a hundred years syne, 
 could muster them wi', 'Death to the Campbells.' I 
 want only a fair prospect o' winnin', such as the aid 
 o' France will gie us, and then am I heart and soul 
 for raisin' the standard o' the house o' Stuart." 
 
 "Ye hae traveled through Duncan Forbes's borders, 
 and hae caught the tone o' his talk. But he can 
 weel afford to support the Elector, wha has made him 
 Lord President and gien him authority enough to hang 
 every Jacobite in Scotland ; but there is nae sic a. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 227 
 
 place waitin' for you, Clanranald," said Gordon bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "I dinna covet ony sic authority to hang men; for 
 we mete out punishment to the foes o' our house wi' 
 the claymore, and not wi' hemp," replied the western 
 chief sullenly. 
 
 "I trust we arena harborin' in our midst the match 
 to that treacherous auld barbarian, Lovat; wha is 
 ready, wi' ane breath, to counsel a hempen cord for 
 his neighbor Duncan Forbes, and, wi' the next, to 
 salute him as Lord President, and curry favor wi' 
 him," said Stoneywold, looking toward Clanranald 
 and Lochiel, who were talking, in whispers, apart from 
 the others. 
 
 "What is that?" said Lochiel, stepping across to 
 Stoneywold. "Wha is a traitor?" 
 
 "Lord Lovat and a' wha, like him, blaw hot and 
 cold, be they frae east or west," answered Muir 
 firmly. 
 
 "I'll let nae man ca' me traitor!" retorted Lochiel. 
 
 "And I winna hesitate to ca' ony man a traitor, 
 wha shows himsel' such," answered Muir. 
 
 "You maun answer to me for this, my Laird!" said 
 Lochiel, hotly. 
 
 "Hold, hold, my Lairds!" said Lord Murray. 
 "We arena met for brawls, but for counsel and help. 
 The Laird o' Stoneywold hasna ca'd ye a traitor, 
 Lochiel. Why wad ye force a quarrel?" 
 
 "I wad fain hear that frae the lips o' the Laird 
 himsel'," answered the angry chieftain. 
 
 "I say again," said Muir, "that Lovat is a black- 
 hearted villain, wha declares for baith sides; and I 
 
228 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 say that Lochiel tak's a strange way to help a cause, 
 when he counsels to tak' nae step to push it forward. 
 I canna believe a Cameron fause, and I ken that they 
 are brave; then what does Lochiel mean?" 
 
 "I mean this," answered the young chieftain, "I am 
 sae leal to the Prince that I winna help to ruin him 
 by feckless counsels. There winna be ony sic upris- 
 in' as ye hope for, and ye are beguilin' the Prince's 
 feet into the snare which is spread for them. That is 
 what I mean." 
 
 The waning ardor of the Jacobites was roused by 
 the news that the Prince, having borrowed ^"Sooo 
 and secured 1500 firelocks and 1800 broadswords, 
 had set sail, with his suite of three Scotchmen, two 
 Irishmen, and two Englishmen, on June 22, on board 
 the Elizabeth, with the Doutelle as convoy. 
 
 The airy confidence of this expedition awoke the 
 enthusiasm of the devotees and the scorn of the wav- 
 ering. 
 
 "It will rouse the Highlands to a man, " said old 
 Keppoch ; "for they love a man wha can do and 
 dare." 
 
 "What say you, Lord George," said Lochiel, turn- 
 ing to Murray, who was a recognized leader in their 
 councils. 
 
 "I fear me the day for such methods of warfare are 
 over," answered Lord Murray. "We must remem- 
 ber that we are to meet disciplined armies, and we 
 cannot do it without men and means. The larger 
 chiefs, with the greater following, will hold aloof, and 
 we can count on little from the Lowlands and Eng- 
 land." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 229 
 
 "Can we do less than the Prince, who is ready to 
 risk all?" said Muir. "Courage begets courage. 
 Can we not reckon that this will count for something, 
 my Lord ; for my part, this news stirs my blood like 
 the slogan." 
 
 "He who has lost all, does not take much risk on 
 the next venture, my Laird o' Stoneywold. Are you 
 willin', at the echo o' a few brave words, to hazard 
 the fate o' your Leddy and bairns and fine estate on 
 the chances o' war, wi* such a nucleus for an army?" 
 answered Lord Murray. 
 
 "For my part, no man can question the loyalty o' 
 our house, but I winna rush to ruin mysel,' nor let 
 my Prince be led on to his undoin'. Our cause will 
 prevail; but we must make ready like sane men to 
 meet our foe," said Lochiel. 
 
 What was there to say in answer to this? but what 
 was there to do, save wait for the turn of events. 
 Soon there came conflicting rumors of the affair off 
 Lizard Point, on July 9, when Captain Brett, with 
 the Lion, attacked the rebel vessels. The Lion had 
 to put back to port for repairs, and many of her crew 
 asserted that the Doutelle was in far worse case, and 
 would have good luck if she made her way back to 
 France. The half-hearted looked on this as the final 
 decree of fate, and the most sanguine could scarce 
 pluck any hope from such disaster. 
 
 When their fears had well-nigh gotten the better of 
 their hopes, there came a secret messenger, bearing 
 through all the clans, on his ride from the west, 
 the news that the Prince with his conglomerate 
 suite had landed, on July 23, on the little isle of 
 
230 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 Eriskay, on the western edge of the gulf of the 
 Hebrides. 
 
 It was a barren bit of land, a bare foothold for the 
 Prince, who came in a gloomy season, when drench- 
 ing rain and thick mist gave but a dreary welcome to 
 one who had lived in the marble halls of Italy. 
 
 He was lodged in the tacksman's hut, distinguished 
 from the others only in size. In common with the 
 rest, it had a peat fire in the corner, with a hole in the 
 roof for the escape of the surplus smoke. 
 
 All this, the messenger from Sir John McDonald 
 told the assemblage of gentlemen hastily summoned at 
 Lord Lewis Gordon's to hear the news. 
 
 "And how does the Prince bear himsel'?" asked 
 Stoneywold, when the silence which followed the an- 
 nouncement had become ominous. 
 
 "Aweel, ye maun better spier hoo he tholes the 
 uncanny weather and the reek o' the peat, whilk is 
 new to his nostrils. He is our ain king, mayhap; 
 but he isna Hieland born nor bred; for the puir lad- 
 die is weel-nigh chokit to death wi' the reek. And 
 whiles he bides oot in the rain, wi' the water tricklin' 
 frae his head, and whiles he bides in the hut, till the 
 tears rin frae his e'en; but he can thole neither rain 
 nor reek sair lang. And auld Angus McDonald, wi' 
 wham he bides, glunches owre him, and says to me: 
 'What a plague ails yon fellow that he winna sit nor 
 stand still, and canna bide but nor ben?' " 
 
 "But does he bear himsel' brawlie, in sic dull 
 company and donsie weather?" said Stoneywold, 
 seeking to elicit a gleam of brightness for this dull 
 picture. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 231 
 
 "Ah! he is a braw laddie," answered the McDon- 
 ald. "What he broods owre wha kens, save those 
 wha ken the thochts o' kings; but he bears himsel' 
 right bonnily. Whiles he broods, and then will whistle 
 like a laverock, to a tune blither than a bagpipe; but 
 he is unco restless and spiers owre the water, as though 
 he were waitin' for ane wha is lang o' comin'." 
 
 At this conference it was decided to send Clan- 
 ranald's brother, McDonald of Boisdale, to the Prince; 
 and with him went John Gunn, Stoneywold remain- 
 ing at home, where stanch friends were needed to 
 counteract the influence of the wavering ones. 
 
 McDonald came to the Prince, loyal in heart, but 
 firm in the conviction that it was madness to per- 
 sist. 
 
 "What has induced your Highness to put your per- 
 son in such peril and run such grave risks as are 
 involved in a campaign without men or means?" was 
 his salutation. "We, to whom your cause and person 
 are dear, cannot bear to think of the issue of such a 
 venture." 
 
 "I am surprised at such a salutation from a faithful 
 friend of my house," answered the Prince coldly. 
 "I follow the star of destiny, which leads me on to 
 regain the throne of my fathers, and, on Scottish soil, 
 I had looked to find unflinching loyalty." 
 
 "But how will your Highness wage war without 
 men?" answered McDonald, taking no note of the 
 implied reproach. 
 
 "I will trust to my faithful Highlanders," replied 
 the Prince haughtily. 
 
 "But can your Highness name me a chief who will 
 
232 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 rally to your standard, without the aid of France?" 
 said McDonald. 
 
 "There are my loyal subjects in Skye, McDonald 
 of Sleat and the Lord of McLeod," answered the 
 Prince. 
 
 "I can assure your Highness that they have de- 
 clared themselves on the other side," replied Mc- 
 Donald. 
 
 "Then have I naught to do with men ; they may 
 come or they may go, I follow the star of my des- 
 tiny," answered the Prince. 
 
 John Gunn, in detailing the scene to Stoneywold, 
 said, "McDonald might hae spared his breath for a 
 better use ; for the Prince was sae sicker o' his trusty 
 Highlanders that he recked not o' ane and anither 
 wha had forgotten the faith o' their fathers, and 
 declared that for ane chief wha failed him there wad 
 rise up a hunder men wha wad rin to fight for him." 
 
 And McDonald came back with a dim superstition 
 that the destiny, which, like a halo, surrounded the 
 Prince, was not wholly a figment of his imagination. 
 
 The next visitor to the Prince was the chief of 
 Clanranald, who found him not in the tacksman's hut 
 on Eriskay, but on board the Dontelle at anchor in 
 Loch Na Nuagh, off Clanranald's country. Under 
 the awning which covered the deck a repast was 
 spread, and the Prince, in noble and gracious fashion, 
 received his distinguished visitors. Clanranald and 
 his cousin of Kinloch-Moidart, who accompanied 
 him, were firm in their discouragement of the under- 
 taking. 
 
 "Does your Highness appreciate the thorough mili- 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 233 
 
 tary preparation of England, with her army of 
 veterans drilled and well accoutered?" said Clan- 
 ranald. 
 
 "My training, gentlemen, in foreign parts, has led 
 me to know as much, or more of this, than it has 
 fallen to your lot to see. The armies of England are 
 not invincible, I can assure you," answered the 
 Prince. 
 
 "But your Highness has not seen the want of dis- 
 cipline which our men show on the field. We shall 
 require time not only to gather, but also to drill our 
 men," said the chief. "We are in want of arms, too, 
 and everything that goes to make up preparation for 
 war. ' ' 
 
 "I have brought you arms. Would God I had 
 brought you the desire to take them up," said the 
 Prince. 
 
 "Is your Highness aware that our friends are 
 divided, by reason of your coming among us unaware; 
 that an urgent demand was made that you should 
 return, until the time was ripe for rising?" said 
 Kinloch-Moidart. 
 
 "I was led to believe that I should find, at any 
 hour, my loyal men of Scotland ready to cast off the 
 yoke of the oppressor, and I am fain to think better 
 of your hearts than of your tongues, gentlemen. Des- 
 tiny knows no hour, but marches on without let or 
 hindrance from the dull minutes which measure the 
 life of those who toil like slaves under the master's 
 lash," answered the Prince. 
 
 "Many were greatly disheartened, your Highness, 
 by the promised aid from France, which, not being 
 
234 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 forthcoming, has made them feel that they are left to 
 bear an undue burden," said Clanranald. 
 
 "It is well that I shall owe the glory of winning my 
 throne to my own loyal Scots, rather than to foreign 
 aid. I can trust to convincing you, gentlemen, that I 
 am led by destiny, which nothing can withstand. 
 The divine right to the throne which is mine, will 
 bring to my side the power to obtain it." 
 
 While this debate went on young Ranald McDon- 
 ald listened, with glowing eyes, not daring to join in 
 it with words. The Prince caught his eye, aglow 
 with fervor, and turned to the stripling with the Mat- 
 tering appeal: 
 
 "Will you not assist me, sir?" 
 
 "I will, your Highness, wi' my last drap o' bluid!" 
 responded the young Highlander, flushing red. 
 
 "You see, gentlemen, how the spark kindles in the 
 breast which has not learned the cold maxims of 
 worldly caution," said the Prince. 
 
 The two chiefs stood abashed, for a moment, then, 
 catching the infection, they pledged themselves by a 
 like vow; and, in token of their loyalty, invited the 
 Prince to land; and Clanranald assigned him a body- 
 guard from his clan. 
 
 Immediately upon the landing of the Prince a sum- 
 mons was sent to the two great Skye chieftains, which 
 elicited a flat refusal, shedding gloom over the hearts 
 of his followers, but in no wise cooling the ardor of 
 the Prince's dauntless hope. 
 
 Sunshine and shadow, in swift alternation, flickered 
 across the path of this young heir of the house of 
 Stuart on his way to the throne, and fell athwart the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 235 
 
 hearts of his followers; but left him, always, with a 
 changeless faith and purpose. 
 
 A gleam of sunshine followed the recusancy of the 
 island chieftains. Donald Cameron, the "young 
 Lochiel" as he was called, came to persuade the 
 Prince that there was every reason why he should 
 abandon the attempt; but, when reason and destiny 
 lock antlers, there can be but one issue to the strug- 
 gle; and Lochiel, too, gave in his adherence. 
 
 Messengers were at once sent out to all the clans, 
 and the Prince began his march westward from Clan- 
 ranald's county to Kinloch-Moidart, thence to Glen- 
 adale, where Gordon of Glenbucket joined him. 
 
 The clans were summoned to meet at Glenfinnan, 
 near the head of Loch Eil and Loch Shiel, on 
 August 19. 
 
 "We cam' there about noon," said John, describ- 
 ing the scene to Stoneywold, "and there were scarce 
 fifty men, and they all McDonalds; wha are guid 
 men and true, but unco wild. Barrin* them, the glen 
 was empty, save some bairns frae the hamlet near by, 
 wha gowked and girned on the Prince, and were an 
 unkempt pack o' gomerils. But the bonnie young 
 Prince rode gayly up and down the glen, as though 
 a' Scotland were his, wi' nane to dispute it wi' him. 
 But whan our hearts were nigh saft as a haggis, we 
 were* ware o' a piper wha piped the pibroch, that it 
 was guid to listen to it, and, alang the crest o' the 
 hill, we saw, against the sky, a braw host o' Highland 
 men, 800 strong, and down the glen they cam', rushin' 
 and shoutin' the slogan o' the Camerons, wi* the 
 douce young Lochiel at their head. Aye, but it was 
 
236 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 a bonnie sight, to gladden the e'en and stir the bluid 
 o' a man wha loves the gay plaids o' the Highland 
 men. And, before nightfall, there were nigh twa 
 thousand men in Glenfinnan. And, gin ye could hae 
 seen auld Tullibardine o* Athole bear the standard o' 
 the Prince, while the proclamation was bein' read, it 
 wad hae dune your heart guid. Our gracious King, 
 James VIII., set a' matters right that were gane 
 wrang, in his lang absence frae the country, and made 
 the bonnie Prince Charlie his regent, wi' a' needed 
 power to regain the throne. Then our guid Prince 
 proclaimed free forgiveness to a' wha had taen arms 
 under the Elector, and made guid a' the back 
 pay to his officers and men, baith in army and 
 navy. 
 
 "The next day we marched on for Fort William, 
 and we met the foe and won our first victory, at 
 Highbridge. It was a sma' skirmish, ye may say, a 
 mere straw; but it garred the wind blaw frae the right 
 airt; for it was the report o' this that made the Saxon 
 General Cope, when he met us at Corryarick Pass, 
 turn frae the Highland road, and mak' his way, wi' 
 due speed, to Inverness. He had lost his likin' for 
 the hills and the scent o' the heather, and the peat- 
 reek garred him shiver. The braes and glens rang 
 wi' the slogan o' the clans, when our scouts brought 
 word that the Saxons had refused the road up the pass 
 arid taen their way to the pent-house o' Inverness. 
 'They are aye fond o' a warm bed and a tight roof 
 owre their heads,' said Lochiel. 'Aye, the peat-reek 
 gars them snivel save when they get it in usque- 
 baugh,' said Clanranald. But the Prince aye said 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 237 
 
 naething, but smiled and bid them move on to Holy- 
 rood." 
 
 The next news was of the march to Perth, with 
 none to dispute their way, followed by the inspiriting 
 tidings of the capture of this ancient residence of the 
 Scottish monarchs. 
 
 Just one hundred years ago, it had been seized by 
 Montrose, and, in the late uprising, by the Earl of 
 Mar. Did there cross the young Prince's mind a 
 thought of how ill-starred had been the fate of the 
 previous captors of the "Fair City," or how, three 
 centuries ago, it had become famous as the scene of 
 the murder of one of the wisest and best of Scotland's 
 kings, patriot and poet? But ' 'wha kens the thoughts 
 o' kings." 
 
 Now all went merrily; the Highlanders in their 
 picturesque garb, led by the Prince clad in the 
 national costume richly bedecked with gold lace, such 
 as was never seen on Highland costume, drew crowds 
 of sightseers, as to a show. 
 
 But they were to pay the piper; for the Prince, 
 who entered Perth with one guinea in his pocket, left 
 it with ^500 in hand. 
 
 At Perth the Laird of Stoneywold was summoned 
 to attend the Prince. Janet waited impatiently for 
 his return, wondering whether he would come back, 
 or march southward with the army. 
 
 "What news, Jamie?" she said, bravely enough so 
 far as outward sign went. 
 
 "Ah! he is a bonnie Prince, my Janet; and 
 weel may we gie him our service," began Stoney- 
 wold. 
 
238 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Aye, aye, Jamie, I ken that; but what has he set 
 ye to do?" broke in Janet. 
 
 "Ah! that is not sae bonnie. I hae commission, 
 along wi' Lord Lewis Gordon, to raise men in the 
 shire o' Aberdeen, and circumvent the plans o' Duncan 
 Forbes o' Culloden, wha seeks to win awa' the clans 
 and hinder the wark o' recruitin'," answered Muir. 
 
 "Ah! now I will ca' him a bonnie Prince," said 
 Janet, with a great sigh of relief. 
 
 "It suits me ill to be tied down to sic tame business; 
 but whan I plead to gae south wi' him he answered 
 me: 'Ye can tell us o' your victory owre Cope's army 
 in our Palace o' Holyrood, my Laird; and your 
 reward shall equal your service and high loyalty;' 
 and I was fain to be content." 
 
 "I ca' that a bonnie Prince; and will gladly hear 
 more o' the takin' o' Perth, now, Jamie," answered 
 Janet. 
 
 "Aweel, I saw naething o' this but a braw set o' 
 Highland laddies march into the town, and a' men 
 speakin' them fair. And the day was a fine sight 
 when Jennie Cameron rode into the camp at the head 
 o' twa hundred and fifty claymores. She was on a 
 bay geldin' decked in green trappin's and trimmed 
 wi' gold. Her hair hung down her back, clasped wi' 
 twa silver buckles, and she had on a velvet cap wi' 
 scarlet feathers. In her hand she carried a drawn 
 sword, and her men cam' on behind singin' 
 
 " Miss Jenny Cameron 
 She pit her belt and hanger on 
 And awa' to bonnie Prince Charlie. 
 
 And the Prince gave her a commission of Colonel." 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 239 
 
 "Jennie Cameron may awa,' but I am sair happy to 
 ken that my Jamie can serve the cause o' Prince 
 Charlie in Aberdeen," said Janet; to which James 
 was not unkind enough to reply that he wished he 
 could march with Prince Charlie. 
 
 On September 11 the Prince set out, in great state, 
 from Perth on his southward march. Shunning the 
 passage of the Firth of Forth and also the bridge near 
 Stirling Castle, which might be taxed with a toll that 
 he did not care to pay and could not well refuse; 
 they bore to the westward and around the fords of 
 Frew. The only sign of an enemy was the dragoons 
 of Colonel Gardiner, who watched their crossing and 
 fell back before the victorious host. 
 
 Past Bannockburn, with its glorious memories, on 
 through Falkirk and Linlithgow to Edinburgh, they 
 pressed forward, with flying banners; there the Prince 
 promised he would hold court in Holyrood, after a 
 royal fashion. 
 
 What need to dwell upon the easy capture of the 
 ancient city. It was defenseless, except the castle; 
 and the counsels of the authorities were vacillating 
 and divided. Incompetent civilians made vain mili- 
 tary preparations for defense, while the terror-stricken 
 magistrates and people watched, with longing eyes, 
 for the sails of the fleet which was to bring General 
 Cope's army from the north. The clang of the fire 
 bells summoned the alarmed citizens to a town meet- 
 ing, and they ran hither and thither, not knowing 
 what the summons meant, nor where to gather, nor 
 what was the business on hand. When they were 
 come together, some clamored for immediate surren- 
 
240 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 der, and a few for stern resistance. Then suddenly 
 the meeting was flooded with the manifestoes of the 
 Prince, and the clamor for surrender grew beyond 
 control, and the magistrates beat a hasty retreat from 
 their own townhall. 
 
 A deputation of citizens was formed to obtain terms 
 of capitulation from the Prince, and, as a party of 
 Highlanders under Lochiel, who were sent to blow up 
 one of the gates, saw the Nether Bow Port open for 
 the exit of the coach carrying the deputation, they 
 slipped in, displaced the civil guard, and themselves 
 mounted guard in the interest of His Royal Highness 
 Charles Edward, without waste of powder or of 
 blood. 
 
 On the next morning, in gay attire, with waving 
 banners and fine old Scotch martial music, the Prince 
 entered the city and trod the halls of Holyrood, 
 which, for more than threescore years, had not echoed 
 to the footsteps of a Stuart. 
 
 What more was needed to set the seal to the subtle 
 creed of the divine right of kings and the destiny 
 of the Stuarts, by which the feet of this Prince had 
 been set in the palace of his fathers. 
 
 From the Old Cross of Edinburgh, where, from 
 immemorial times, the Scottish kings were wont to 
 proclaim royal edicts "in glorious trumpet clang," 
 with heraldic splendor and in presence of a mighty 
 multitude, the Prince caused the edict of King James 
 and his own proclamation of amnesty and largess to 
 be read again. 
 
 Perchance this gallant youth had never heard the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 241 
 
 tale of how, more than two hundred years before, 
 when a King of Scotland undertook to play the part 
 of knight errant to a Queen of France, and, as her 
 bounden champion, she laid it on him to march, for 
 her sake, three miles on English ground, and he 
 had assembled one hundred thousand men to do her 
 bidding; there appeared at dead of night, at the Old 
 Cross, a ghostly herald, in form and fashion like a 
 herald of the Scottish Kings, who called a muster- 
 roll of the Scots gentry to meet his master in the other 
 world. Happily there was one awake, who heard the 
 ghostly summons, and took appeal therefrom to the 
 mercy of God; and all, save he, made answer, on the 
 fatal field of Flodden, with their lives. 
 
 But the shadows of the past were not upon this 
 youth. 
 
 In the meantime, General Cope with his army had 
 arrived by the sea, landed at Dunbar, and re-enforced 
 by Gardiner's dragoons and the refugees from the 
 city, was marching on Edinburgh. 
 
 The Highlanders were eager to meet the foe, un- 
 disciplined as they were, many of them armed only 
 with axes, scythes, or any available tool. Clad almost 
 in rags, they were full of enthusiasm. 
 
 On September 21st, at the village of Prestonpans, 
 Cope halted to await the attack of the Highlanders. 
 He posted his troops among the houses, using the stone 
 walls of their enclosures as breastworks, having his 
 front toward a broad morass which lay between him 
 and his foe. This bog could be crossed only by a 
 line of stepping-stones, which were exposed to a 
 
242 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 murderous fire. As the twilight fell, the English 
 commander settle! himself securely for the night, pre- 
 pared for the attack on the morrow. 
 
 Put the situation offered an opportunity for the 
 favorite tactics of the Highlanders, a night march and 
 a surprise. By a long detour to the eastward they 
 could reach a point where the bog narrowed into a 
 deep ravine, down which the gathered waters of the 
 morass clattered noisily; here they could cross and 
 fall on the left and rear of their unsuspecting foe. 
 
 In this action John Gunn took part, having arrived 
 in the camp, bearing dispatches from Lord Lewis 
 Gordon, on the eve of the battle. 
 
 "I cam' at nigh midnight to the place where, by a' 
 accounts, I should hae found our army," he said to 
 the gathering of gentlemen, to whom, on his return, 
 he recounted the affair; "but a' was sae still that, 
 though the night was clear, I wadna hae kenned I was 
 in the midst o' an army, hadna I met a band o' horse- 
 men. I asked them to lead me to the Prince, and, 
 whan they spiered my business, told them I bore letters 
 frae Laird Gordon and was baillie o' the Laird o' 
 Stoneywold. They led me through the lines, and, as 
 I walked between the winrows o' laddies fast asleep 
 on the ground, happed in their plaids like bairnies, 
 nane o' them stirred as I passed to the Prince's tent. 
 It was a bit uncanny to see sic a heap o' men and nae 
 sign o' life, and I was glad whan, at a word frae Lord 
 George Murray, the sentries passed down the lines 
 and, wi' a silent shake, brought the laddies to their 
 feet. 
 
 "When they were a' in their ranks the Prince 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 243 
 
 steppit bonnily to the fore and said, 'Follow me, gen- 
 tlemen ; by the help o' God I will this day mak' ye a 
 free and happy people.' Ah! it garred my bluid rin 
 hot frae my heart to hear him, and I wad hae fol- 
 lowed him to the gates o' hell. As we gang owre the 
 bog, the Prince leadin' the way, but bein' no wise 
 used to travel by this sort o' conveyance, he missed 
 ane o' the steppin'-stanes, and was up to his knees in 
 the bog. I clouted the mire frae his breeks wi' my 
 ain hands. 
 
 " 'Your Highness will need to step wi' care,' said 
 Lord George; 'for a man maun easy miss the stanes 
 in the dark, gin he forgets the stride to which they 
 are set.' 
 
 "Wi' a bonnie laugh, Prince Charlie answers: 
 'Aye, my good Murray, but step by step we gae on to 
 glory, and the stanes that a Stuart treads are set to his 
 feet by destiny, and gin he miss ane, he will be sure 
 to land on the next.' To which Lord George made 
 no answer; but I couldna help but think to myscl' 
 'for a' that it is fendy to keep in step wi' the stanes.' 
 When we were weel owre the stanes and the night was 
 wearin' awa', we formed quickly and silently, in three 
 battalions, the twa to the fore were McDonald's led 
 by the Duke o' Perth, the Camerons, Stewarts, 
 and McGregors led by Lord George, wha is always 
 to the fore ; in rear o' these were the Athole 
 men, Drummonds, and Robertsons led by Laird 
 Nairn. 
 
 "Swift and tently we swept down on the foe, and 
 were close hand before thedowie sentinels kenned that 
 the Highland laddies were upon them. They had to 
 
244 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 face about, so that the stane walls, that were to be 
 their bield, were now their slaughter-bught ; for we 
 were on them, before they were fairly about. The 
 laddies cam' on a sharp trot, fired their pieces aince, 
 then flung them awa', and ilka man leapit wi' a yell 
 on his neist foe. They parted like sheep, in a mo- 
 ment; fenced in by their breastworks, which were 
 their undoin'. Foot to foot, hand to hand, lookin' 
 straight in ane anither's e'en, they fought like deils. 
 It was savage wark, a bloody sword-cut fight, and 
 minded me o' the tales o' battles fought lang syne. 
 The Prince grew sick o' it and, ridin' in amang the 
 men, bid them spare his father's subjects; and Lord 
 George, Drummond, and Lochiel did their best to 
 stay the slaughter. It was sair sad, the way they 
 mowed them down ; and, aboon a', it garred my verra 
 heart bleed to see their brave Colonel Gardiner. Sair 
 wounded by a Lochaber ax, he set himsel' to muster 
 the routed men and fetch them aff the field. He 
 stood like a guid man, and I wad fain hae seen him 
 spared; but ane o' those wild western McDonalds 
 fell on him, wi' a scythe blade, and put an end to a 
 noble life. But the lave o' their officers were wild to 
 get out o' reach o' harm's way, and save their thin 
 hides frae bein' punctured; they'd be grand on a 
 footrace." 
 
 And this opinion of John's was endorsed by their 
 own General Lord Kerr, who received, at Berwick, 
 the first news of this defeat from the officers in com- 
 mand ; and he greeted them with this savage com- 
 ment: "Good God! gentlemen, I have seen some 
 battles and heard of many, but never before of the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 245 
 
 first news of defeat being brought by the general 
 officers." 
 
 "But what did ye get out o* this victory, John?" 
 asked Stoneywold. 
 
 "Aweel, we put an end to Cope's army; and we 
 laid hold o' their treasure-chest containin' ^2500, 
 and there was fine booty o' arms and clothin' and self- 
 movin' watches, which so pleased some o' the laddies 
 that they went back to their glens, to hang the trophies 
 in their huts." 
 
 "What was done with the prisoners?" asked Lord 
 Gordon. 
 
 "Aweel, there were many o' them sent to a far, far 
 country, and the rest to an island in Loch Clunie, in 
 the Athole country. And the next day Prince 
 Charlie went back to Edinburgh, wi* great glory. He 
 is gentle and gracious to a' men, and the grand balls 
 at Holyrood bring the lairds and leddies about him, 
 a' wearin' the white cockade. I saw him touch for 
 the king's evil; and a' men speak him fair, save ane 
 old Covenanter minister, wha has a kirk close under 
 the castle guns, and prays that 'the young man come 
 amang us to win an earthly crown may soon receive 
 frae the Lord the crown o' glory.' But there is 
 naught come o' that, yet." 
 
 "How many have they recruited?" asked Lord 
 Gordon. 
 
 "Aweel, they are 6000 strong, I hear," answered 
 John ; ' 'but the city tradesmen hae nae likin' for war. 
 
 "I hear, too," said Lord Lewis, "that the clergy 
 hold aloof, and the bankers refuse to take their treas- 
 ure from the castle; is this true?" 
 
246 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "Aweel," answered John, "the public moneys hae 
 been seized, and the Crown claims are paid in favor 
 o' King James; but the bankers hae their funds out 
 o' reach, I hear." 
 
 "But what matters it, my Laird," interposed 
 Stoneywold, "that the tradesmen hold aloof ; we get 
 on bravely wi'out them, and they are ill suited to bear 
 arms. Excepting Inverness and Edinburgh Castle, 
 and a few small forts, a' Scotland is ours to-day." 
 
 "And the Prince didna tak' the Castle," added 
 John, "because the barbarous general in command 
 declared that he wad bombard the town, if he did. 
 And when the citizens besought the Prince to save 
 them from this cruelty, he graciously consented to 
 forego the capture of the Castle, at such a price." 
 
 Shortly after John's return Lord Lewis and Stoney- 
 wold were summoned to a council of war. 
 
 Lord Murray briefly summed up the questions 
 which confronted them. 
 
 "My Lords and gentlemen, we have to face the 
 question as to what our next step shall be. There is 
 no sign of an English or even of a Lowland rising. 
 There is no immediate prospect of foreign aid. Our 
 success has been wonderful; but we must not let it 
 blind us. Can we hold Scotland with a force of 6000 
 men? General Wade is marching up the east coast 
 with an army reputed to be larger than our own. We 
 must meet the question now." 
 
 "Gentlemen," interposed the Prince, "I will not 
 have you waste words upon the situation ; it is my 
 purpose to march on London." 
 
 For a moment all were aghast at this announcement. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 247 
 
 "This is to provoke disaster, your Highness," said 
 Lochiel. "Our Highland men cannot meet the Eng- 
 lish on their own soil." 
 
 "And yet, my Lairds," said Murray, to whom they 
 all looked to save them from this mad proposal, "I 
 do not see what better we can do. We cannot await 
 the English army here with the Castle in the enemy's 
 hands. On our march southward we can keep to the 
 west, which is defenseless, and where we will be 
 among friends of the cause. It will give an aspect of 
 success, which will win us friends mayhap, and afford 
 opportunity for an English uprising, or a French 
 invasion. 
 
 The adhesion of Lord George to the plan was fol- 
 lowed by the rest of the leaders ; and so they took 
 up their march southward, in the latter part of Octo- 
 ber, 300 dragoons and thirteen Highland regiments, 
 with the Lowlanders and broken clansmen in three 
 other regiments. They were in fine heart and condi- 
 tion, having spent six weeks in the richest part of 
 Scotland. On reaching the Border, however, many 
 of the Highlanders, with superstitious dread of Eng- 
 lish soil, disappeared and made their stealthy way 
 back to their mountain retreats. 
 
 The Prince reached Carlisle on November 10, and 
 summoned the city and castle to surrender. The 
 doughty little Mayor had made boast that he was 
 no Scots Patterson, but a loyal English Pattison; 
 and he was ready to defy this rebel horde. But 
 the guns on the wall were found to be useless, and 
 Colonel Durand, in command of the fort, found his 
 volunteers deserting him to a man, and so both 
 
248 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 town and castle fell an easy prey to the victorious 
 Prince. 
 
 On November 18 he entered Carlisle, on a white 
 horse, gayly caparisoned, with a hundred pipers play- 
 ing before him ; and the shrill music, strange garb, 
 and uncouth speech of the Highlanders struck terror 
 to the hearts of the citizens. 
 
 With the story of this march of unhindered con- 
 quest, the Laird of Stoneywold confirmed the position 
 that he had taken from the first, that destiny had 
 chosen this young Prince for the throne. 
 
 But there came no report of recruits flocking to the 
 standard. The English Jacobites seemed, one and 
 all, of the same mind as the daughter of Howard of 
 Castle Corby, who entertained the Prince with state 
 in the oak parlor, and sent him on his way with the 
 empty prayer, "May God bless him." 
 
 At Preston, the populace shouted and rang the 
 bells; but did not join the ranks. When Janet com- 
 mented on this, James's answer was: "It is early yet 
 to expect recruits." 
 
 He proudly recounted the next success at Manches- 
 ter, where the loyalty of the citizens was testified by 
 the subsidy of ,£3000 granted to the Prince; and 
 where 200 recruits joined his standard. 
 
 "But that was ever counted a most loyal section," 
 replied Janet. 
 
 "Aye, but the English are cold-hearted; when 
 the Prince has taen London, we will see their temper 
 change," answered James. 
 
 "It is late to fight when the battle is ended," said 
 Janet. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 249 
 
 "Aye, we must win it by our ain hands; and then 
 they will submit, wi'out a struggle," he replied. 
 
 "But when will he take London?" asked Janet. 
 
 "On the first of December he left Manchester for 
 London ; and, for a' that we know, the messengers 
 are on the way, now, to tell us that it is ours." 
 
 But the bearers of that message were never dis- 
 patched ; for, at Macclesfield, they received news 
 that the Duke of Cumberland was in Staffordshire 
 with a large army, and another army awaited them 
 on Finchley Common; and they halted to take 
 counsel. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ALL O ERS ARE ILL, EXCEPT O ER THE WATER 
 AND O'ER THE HILL." 
 
 THE tide was at the flood. Up to this point their 
 career had been a romance; cities and fort- 
 resses had fallen before them. They had marched 
 through three hundred miles of an enemy's country 
 without any base of supplies or any line of retreat 
 save that which Providence kept open for them ; they 
 had eluded two armies, each larger than their own ; 
 and now, with 4500 men, were within 130 miles of 
 London, with two armies between them and Scotland. 
 
 They had struck terror into the hearts of their 
 enemies. The king is said to have had his most pre- 
 cious effects embarked in barges, for instant flight; 
 the Duke of Newcastle is reputed to have shut himself 
 up for a whole day, accessible to none, debating 
 whether he should transfer his allegiance to the 
 Prince. 
 
 In the meanwhile there was a reaction in Scotland. 
 
 Lord Lewis came to Stoneywold with the report of 
 the troublous times at Edinburgh, Perth, and Dun- 
 dee: "The burghers threaten the unco small garrisons 
 which are left to hold these cities." 
 
 "My scouts bring me the same story frae the 
 West," replied Muir. "Duncan Forbes holds a firm 
 
 250 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 251 
 
 hand not only on the men o' Skye, but on others wha 
 control full 10,000 men. John Gunn tells me that 
 even the treacherous old barbarian Lovat stands in 
 awe of Forbes." 
 
 "And yet," said Gordon, "I ken that he sent to 
 the Prince a secret messenger counseling that Forbes 
 be secured dead or alive." 
 
 "Aye," said Stoneywold, "but it cooled his ardor 
 for the Prince when he found that he wasna made 
 Duke of Fraser; and now he will curry favor with 
 Forbes, and sent to him bemoaning that his son had 
 joined the Prince with 1500 men, which he had bid 
 him do; but first he bid him capture Forbes, and 
 carry him prisoner to the Prince. But Forbes knew 
 his neighbors, and had fortified Culloden House." 
 
 "He had Lovat in durance, as a hostage, I heard," 
 said Gordon. 
 
 "Aye," answered Muir, "but he is not easily held; 
 the wily old fox was soon free; but he dreads the 
 trap, and will let Forbes alone now." 
 
 "But, my Laird, I have brave news from abroad: 
 our treaty with France is made; and Lord John 
 Drummond, who, being born in France, is a French 
 citizen, has set sail at the head of a thousand men," 
 said Gordon. 
 
 "And this not only gives us an addition to our 
 force, but Ave can demand that the English troops, 
 withdrawn from the Continent under parole, shall not 
 be brought into the field against these French troops," 
 said Muir. "The recruiting in Aberdeen is but slow 
 work, my Laird, and we are sorely in need of some 
 help," added Stoneywold. 
 
252 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I shall force a levy, my Laird," answered Gor- 
 don; "and demand one well-found soldier for every 
 ^£100 of valued rent, or £5 substitute money." 
 
 "It winna do, my Laird," said Muir. "It will 
 bring riot and bloodshed." 
 
 "Then their blood be on their own heads," an- 
 swered Gordon. "We have to deal wi' a low-minded 
 set, wha count the cost to themsel's rather than their 
 duty to their Prince." 
 
 "Aye, my Laird," replied Muir, "but it is an unco 
 hard task to gar men see wi' your eyes; we maun 
 content oursel's wi' strivin' to mak' ane man do the 
 wark o' twa." 
 
 This recruiting made Stoneywold a marked man in 
 the community; and it was with many misgivings that 
 Janet saw him ride off on these errands; for her loy- 
 alty did not extend to the sacrifice of her husband for 
 the cause. 
 
 "It isna work for you to be at, Jamie," she 
 pleaded. "You were made to lead men, not to drive 
 and tax them, and hoard up their malice against 
 you." 
 
 "Ah! Janet," he answered, "gin every man is to 
 pick and choose, we may as well gie owre. Lord 
 Lewis is ready to do it, and I canna say it is not fit 
 work for me." 
 
 "Lord Gordon can suit himsel'," replied Janet; 
 "but I ken this is work for a recruiting sergeant; and 
 you are fit for better things." 
 
 "The work that is needed is the work for me," he 
 answered gayly, as he rode off to Aberdeen. The 
 town was in a state of excitement, and John Gunn, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 253 
 
 hearing muttered threats on every hand, begged his 
 Laird to let the business rest. 
 
 "Bide a wee, my Laird, till we hear frae the south 
 that the Prince has taen London ; then the tide will 
 tak' a turn, till we canna enroll the men as fast as 
 they flock to us." 
 
 "Wherefore should I bide till the work is done; 
 and I must feel that I had nae hand in it?" answered 
 Muir. 
 
 "Aweel, do not gang abroad to-day," plead John. 
 
 "It will be a sorry day," replied Muir, "when I 
 amna free to walk the streets o' a Scottish city;" and 
 he strode down Broad Street. 
 
 Scarce had he gone half-way to the recruiting sta- 
 tion when one Reid, a barber, in an excess of loyalty, 
 and smarting under Lord Gordon's exaction of sub- 
 stitute money, fired at him from a second-story 
 window. 
 
 The street was full of people and there was great 
 consternation at the unexpected shot; but the Laird 
 of Stoneywold halted under the window, and, drawing 
 himself up to his full six feet two, invited the knight 
 of the razor to come down, and he would show him 
 fair play before the townsmen ; which invitation the 
 barber saw fit not to accept. 
 
 But now the French contingent were on hand, and, 
 joining their Scotch recruits to these, Lord Lewis and 
 Stoneywold started on their westward march. 
 
 Janet bid her Jamie good-by with a brave face, and 
 he waved his adieu from the head of his column, 
 proud of the trust reposed in him, and sure that he 
 would win honors which Janet would share with him. 
 
254 A HIGHLAND CHROXICLE. 
 
 No such hope sustained Helen in parting with 
 John. This Frince Charlie had no titles or favors 
 within his gift that could atone for the taking away of 
 her John. She was wholly on the side of old Sandy 
 and Gordon McDonald, who had used all their pow- 
 ers of warning and persuasion to keep the Laird and 
 John from espousing the Prince's cause. 
 
 With John it was not a matter of politics, but of 
 devotion to his Laird and chief. 
 
 "Ye ken what I owe to the Laird. He stood be- 
 tween me and the halter; and the neck he saved is 
 his." 
 
 "But what gars the Laird rin after this feckless 
 Prince Charlie?" said Helen. "Where is he gane 
 noo? He is in London, they say. Aweel, there let 
 him bide, and let my John bide at hame." 
 
 "Aye," broke in old Sandy, "ye hae the richt o' it, 
 lassie. Let the twa kings fight it oot, gin they be 
 minded to wrastle for the crown; and let honest folk 
 bide at hame and mind their ain affairs." 
 
 "But that isna the way o' the warld," remarked 
 John sententiously. "Whan kings fa' oot wi' ane 
 anither, the bluid o' men maun rin to settle the 
 quarrel." 
 
 "Aye," retorted Sandy, "the Scripture saith 'the 
 way o' the warld warketh death,' and it is e'en sae. I 
 am sair weary o' this fightin' amang neebors and kin- 
 folk for a man wha will not content himsel' wi' the 
 orderin's o' Providence, but maun crown himsel' wi' 
 the bluid o' honest men." 
 
 "Wi' me it isna the quarrel o' the kings, but the 
 service o' Stoneywold ; and gin he is to the war, I am 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 255 
 
 by his side, for life or for death," said John; and 
 this closed the discussion, save for old Sandy's part- 
 ing shot, "Aweel, John, ye hae my disapprobation, 
 and my prayers." 
 
 As the winter drew on, word came that a party of 
 McLeods were across the Spey, on their way to clear 
 Aberdeenshire of insurgents, and stop the recruiting 
 for the Prince. 
 
 "Let them come," said John, "we'll show them 
 which will clear the shire. They are best on their bit 
 island, the mainland is unco braid for them to find 
 their way aboot." 
 
 "John, ye may find that the McLeods can crack a 
 crown," answered Stoneywold. "It suits me ill to 
 lead Frenchmen agen Highlanders, wha should be wi' 
 us. But sae must it be; and we maun do our duty 
 even though others forget their fealty." 
 
 The two forces met at Inverurie; and the men of 
 Aberdeen, after a short, sharp fight sent the McLeods 
 back to the west. This success, and the gathering of 
 the Frasers at Perth under Lord Strathallan, as an 
 army of reserve, gave life to the hopes of the Prince's 
 men, and made them eager for news of victory from 
 the south. 
 
 "What news frae London, Lord Lewis?" asked 
 Stoneywold, as soon as the messenger from Lord 
 George was gone. 
 
 "The news is not from London. The Prince is on 
 
 his way back to Scotland, pursued by the Duke of 
 
 Cumberland with a large army," said Lord Gordon; 
 
 and he told him the story of the retreat to Carlisle. 
 
 James was leaving oamp to pay a visit to Janet. 
 
256 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 When he reached home she read ill news in his face, 
 and without delay he told it to her. 
 
 * 'Our men, wha carried, each man, his rations in a 
 meal-pock, and lay down at night under the open sky, 
 happed in their plaids, easily outstripped the Duke 
 marching; but, at Clifton, his dragoons overtook our 
 rear guard, under Lord George, wha is always betwixt 
 the Prince and danger. He sent for more men, and, 
 when these were refused him, he posted those he had, 
 which were Roy Stewart's men, the McPhersons, and 
 the Glengarry McDonalds, so that he had a hedge on 
 one side, and the wall o' the Lonsdale inclosures on 
 the other. The sky was full o' broken clouds, and 
 by the moonlight, through a rift, our men saw the 
 dragoons, dismounted, creepin' on them; and Lord 
 George ordered a charge at once, and, by a' accounts, 
 the Highland men made short work o' my Lord 
 Duke's dragoons. We hear that they got such a taste 
 o' claymore as lasted them till our men reached 
 Carlisle." 
 
 "And where is the Prince now?" asked Janet. 
 
 "He left a garrison in Carlisle, and marched to 
 'Glasgow ; where, by a' accounts, they held a fine 
 Christmas jubilee and made a noble levy on the rich 
 traders, at which they were sae angered that their 
 dames hae declared that the Prince is far frae good- 
 lookin', and they vvadna attend his ball;" and Muir 
 laughed merrily. "We hae sent John for orders, and 
 he will be back, wi' the next news, in a day or 
 two." 
 
 "And what will ye do now, Jamie? Canna ye just 
 bide at hame?" 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 257 
 
 "Na, na, Janet, we must wait our orders frae Lord 
 George; but they winna be to bide at hame. " 
 
 Two days later John came back with a batch of 
 news which one might regard as good or bad, accord- 
 ing to his humor. 
 
 "The Duke is gane back to London, and General 
 Hawley, wha by a' accounts is brutal alike to friend 
 and foe, was set to chase 'the rabble,' as he ca's us. 
 He made merry owre the mischances o' Wade and 
 Cope, and wanted only the chance to meet us. Aweel, 
 and he had it. We were layin' siege to Stirlin' 
 Castle, and he cam' on to Falkirk. He was at break- 
 fast wi' Lady Kilmarnock, when they spoiled his par- 
 ritch wi' the news that our men were makin' for the 
 high ground o' the moor, overlookin' his camp. The 
 information was true, but a bit late. Up frae the 
 table he sprang, and wi' bare-head rode through the 
 storm, his gray hair streamin' in the wind, and he 
 shoutin' orders to his dragoons to sieze the high 
 ground. It was a fine race; but we had the start, 
 and reached the mound first, but in stragglin' fash- 
 ion; and Hawley shouted for the dragoons to charge, 
 which they did, with the infantry, in double line, close 
 behind them. The dragoons were on us so quick 
 that they were in amang our lines; and we fought 
 hand to hand, while the storm beat on us. Our sec- 
 ond line was comin' on, and, when the dragoons drew 
 back to form for anither charge, they gave them a 
 rakin' fire, which made them waver for a minute; and 
 then, wi' the slogan soundin' wild and free, our men 
 swept down the hill. There was naething could stand 
 against that glorious rush, and the Saxons scattered 
 
258 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 as if the storm was blawin' them to every airt; leavin' 
 not less than three hundred dead on the field." 
 
 "Ah! John, it was a rare chance. I wish I had 
 taen the dispatch mysel'," said Stoneywold. 
 
 But Janet was more than glad that he had not. 
 
 But, now, they heard of the Duke of Cumberland at 
 Edinburgh to take command in person, and that the 
 siege of Stirling was raised, and the Highland army 
 were coming back to their own land. The Prince, 
 with one division, took the Highland road by Blair 
 Athole, and Lord George, with the other, came up 
 through Aberdeen ; they were to winter at Inverness. 
 
 With forces combined, they were now on their own 
 soil, and their hopes ran high. They would recruit, 
 through the winter, and open the spring campaign 
 with a strong force of Scotch and a substantial con- 
 tingent of French troops. 
 
 The Prince came near paying dear for his confi- 
 dence in his leal Scotch subjects. Riding far in 
 advance of his army, attended by Lord Gordon, 
 Muir, and three other gentlemen, he stopped, over 
 night, at Moy House, the seat of government of the 
 Clan Mcintosh. 
 
 While at dinner a shepherd came in, with the news 
 that a party of McLeods were on the borders of the 
 estate. While the Prince and his suite rode away 
 toward the army, John Gunn remained behind, as a 
 scout. 
 
 Down by the burn was a cluster of cottages, around 
 the blacksmith shop, where John was wont to while 
 away many an hour "haein' his cracks wi' the smith, 
 wha is a douce man and leal to the cause," he said. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 259 
 
 In return for the news of the neighborhood, John 
 told him stories of the war, battles, night marches, 
 and overwhelming surprises of the enemy, which 
 tickled the old Jacobite. Hither John repaired, when 
 the gentlemen left, and confided to his friend Angus, 
 the smith, and three of his cronies, that he was acting 
 as rear guard to the Prince and his attendants, who 
 were riding away from a band of McLeods. 
 
 Angus proposed that they organize for defense. 
 "We will gang down by the burn, alang the track the 
 thievin' McLeods maun tak', and we'll post oursel's. 
 I ken where the road breaks through a hollow, wi' a 
 fir copse on ane side, and we'll put Lang Jock in 
 command." 
 
 "Aweel," said John, nothing loath, "not to be out- 
 done by freend Angus, I'll form ye into four divisions, 
 and appoint each o' ye to a sole and separate com- 
 mand." 
 
 "Will we fight at close grups or lang range," asked 
 the smith's blower, who had his misgivings. 
 
 "My notion," said Angus, "is that we do the heft 
 o' the battle wi' our lungs, and the rest wi' our heels, 
 which we'll rely on for defense, gin the affair is too 
 hot. For my ain part I think I can beat the bushes 
 o' that copse, and tramp the snaw crust, to the tune o* 
 aboot twenty men; gin the rest o* ye can do as weel, 
 we hae the power o' eighty men ; and I'll set our gen- 
 eral down for as good as forty more." 
 
 So they went to the dell, at nightfall, and posted 
 themselves under Angus's direction. The night was 
 dark, and the little band of McLeods came warily on ; 
 as they reached the head of the hollow, where the 
 
260 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 road went down to the burn, they halted, when they 
 heard the tramp of feet on the hillside; for the five 
 men tramping the crusted snow sounded like the 
 tread of an army. 
 
 They heard the order given, in a suppressed tone, 
 for the second division to make a detour round the 
 hill, to intercept their retreat; then there was some 
 countermarching and the order was given to seize the 
 ford. 
 
 The confusion of mind as to the plans of this 
 unseen foe added to the panic with which the Mc- 
 Leods beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 John dubbed this adventure "The Rout of Moy"; 
 and became famous not only for his tactics, but also 
 as a skald, when, to admiring circles of the Jacobites, 
 he told, with many a thrilling touch, the story of this 
 famous victory. 
 
 The two armies lay in winter quarters, the one at 
 Inverness and the other at Aberdeen. The Duke of 
 Cumberland contented himself with quartering his 
 men on the Jacobite families, confiscating estates, 
 burning houses, and laying waste the lands of those 
 who had "gone out." 
 
 From this devastation the Stoneywold estate was 
 protected by the deed of factory, which the Laird had 
 given to his wife. But an English company of dra- 
 goons, under command of Captain Leighton, was 
 quartered at the Hall. He was a gentleman, and 
 interpreted his orders in a spirit of chivalry toward 
 an unprotected woman. His exposure to the rigors 
 of a northern winter laid him up with a severe illness, 
 through which Mrs. Muir, with the help of Helen 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 261 
 
 Gunn, nursed him, and she wrote to his mother, in 
 the south of England, that her son, sick and far from 
 home, was in the hands of one who recognized the tie 
 to another mother's son, amid all the bitterness which 
 war engenders. 
 
 He would have paid for it with his life if he had 
 been left to the rough nursing of his men ; and, when 
 he left, he told Mrs. Muir, in a manly and tender 
 Avay, that he knew that he owed his life to her and 
 Helen, and would never forget it. 
 
 The Prince's army found occupation in constant 
 forays for subsistence, in the assault and destruction 
 of the old castle at Inverness, and the destruction of 
 Fort Augustus. 
 
 During a season of comparative inaction, Stoney- 
 wold gained permission to lead an expedition for the 
 relief of the Earl of Cromarty, who was hindered from 
 joining the Prince by Duncan Forbes, who, with a 
 small force, kept his neighbors in subjection. 
 
 The Lord President retreated before the energetic 
 pursuit of Stoneywold across the Firth of Dornock, 
 and, having a brig to patrol this long narrow neck of 
 water, settled himself securely on the western shore. 
 This seemed indeed to put an end to the pursuit, for 
 the insurgents could bring no vessel to cope with the 
 brig. 
 
 "John," said the Laird, "we must win across this 
 narrow water." 
 
 "It isna the water that bothers me, my Laird; but 
 the guns o' yon brig, which look unco angry," an- 
 swered John. 
 
 "Do ye tak' the men down the Firth, and I will 
 
262 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 gang up the shore, and, by morning, we will gather 
 enough fishers' boats to carry us over, and, gin the 
 mist will hang for twa hours on the water, the brig 
 will do us nae harm." And, sure enough, under the 
 very guns of the brig, they crossed in the rowboats, 
 and fell upon the over-confident Lord President, who 
 was forced to beat such a hasty retreat that all his 
 camp equipage fell a prey to his active pursuers. 
 
 Another portion of the army was in constant skir- 
 mish with the parties sent out by Cumberland to over- 
 awe the Lowlanders; and, in this service, the men of 
 Aberdeen bore their part. 
 
 But, as spring opened, all these minor operations 
 were brought to an end, and the forces were concen- 
 trated to meet the army of the Duke, who had taken 
 up his march from Aberdeen, along the coast, accom- 
 panied by a fleet of storeships. He advanced very 
 slowly, and there was ample time to make their prep- 
 arations and discuss the plan and place at which they 
 should give him battle. 
 
 On April n he reached the Spey. Here Lord 
 Lewis Gordon and Stoneywold, and a number of 
 the more ardent spirits, were anxious to make a 
 stand. 
 
 "The river is rapid, and the banks are steep," 
 urged Lord Gordon. "Our Highland men can meet 
 them with the advantage of ground that will give them 
 a chance to charge as they love to do; and their 
 strength and bravery will tell against the discipline of 
 our enemy." 
 
 "It is the Highland frontier," said old Keppock, 
 with glowing enthusiasm. "It will fire our men to 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 263 
 
 ken that they hold them back, at the very door, and 
 winna let them tread a foot on Highland soil." 
 
 "This is worth a whole regiment o' men," plead 
 Stoneywold. "I am sure I can hold the Spey against 
 twice our force." 
 
 Lord George yielded, against his own convictions; 
 and Lord Gordon, Keppock, and Stoneywold were 
 given 1200 men to withstand the passage of the 
 Duke's army over the Spey. 
 
 Lord Gordon insisted upon throwing up some petty 
 breastworks, in view of the pitiful size of their force. 
 
 "It winna answer ony good purpose, my Laird," 
 urged Stoneywold. "The laddies wad gang waist- 
 deep in the roarin' water, and fight like demons; but 
 your ditches will mak' cowards o' them." 
 
 "And why not?" said Keppock. "A man can 
 fight, in the open, till muir or river rins red; but wha 
 will be penned, like sheep in a slaughter-bught, and 
 not lose courage?" 
 
 Somewhat crestfallen this little force fell back on 
 the main army, without the loss of a single man, it is 
 true, but without having held the enemy in check for 
 an hour. All these things gave the men a feeling that 
 their leaders lacked plan and purpose. 
 
 On April 15, the Duke's army halted at Nairn to 
 hold a feast in honor of the commander's birthday. 
 This festivity suggested the possibility of a surprise, 
 when the enemy were off their guard, after the 
 revel. At eight o'clock that night they set out, Lord 
 George Murray himself in command; for they all felt 
 that this was a promising opportunity. How often had 
 just such a situation given them an overwhelming vie- 
 
264 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 tory. But forced marches through the glens and over 
 the moors, on their forays for food, had wasted the 
 energies of the men, and the feuds and want of pur- 
 pose among their leaders had dispirited them. 
 
 Lord Murray gave orders that the divisions should 
 approach the camp by different routes. 
 
 "The men are not to use firearms at all," he said, 
 "but must fall silently on the foe, when they are 
 asleep, cut the tent-ropes, pitch over the tents, and 
 stab, with dirk or claymore, wherever they see the 
 canvas bulge." 
 
 The very tone of the order seemed to picture their 
 helpless foe before them, in the toils of their own 
 tents; and the men felt for their dirks. 
 
 They started with impetuous ardor, but the night 
 was pitch dark and the moorland was rugged, and the 
 men were worn by hunger and cold; and, at two in 
 the morning, they were still three miles away from 
 the enemy's camp. 
 
 "There is but a short time before the dawn will be 
 breakin'," said John Gunn, as he kept close beside 
 Muir, wondering how the Laird held such a stride, 
 after six hours' march. 
 
 "It will gar us see where to strike, John," answered 
 Muir. 
 
 "Aye, my Laird, and it will gar them see us, before 
 we strike," said John. 
 
 "Ah! John man, what was that?" said Muir, as 
 he heard a drum beat in the enemy's camp, but 
 refused credence to his own ears. 
 
 "It is the token that we are seen already," replied 
 John. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 265 
 
 "That cannabe," answered Muir; "for ye couldna 
 tell a man frac a furze bush, twenty feet awa'." 
 
 "For a' that," answered John, "the furze bushes 
 bide still; and, gin ye see them move, it is time to be 
 awake." 
 
 They were some forty rods in advance of the main 
 body. 
 
 "It may be as well to bide here, until we ken what 
 Lord George mak's o' the racket," said John. 
 
 So they stood still; but the dark mass in the dis- 
 tance did not come any nearer, and they fell back on 
 the main body, to find that a retreat had been 
 ordered. 
 
 Stoneywold was indignant, and hurried after Lord 
 Lewis, to seek an explanation of this hasty surrender 
 of their plan. 
 
 "My good Stoneywold, it was plain as the daylight 
 that we could not take them unawares. Whether 
 they saw us or not, they were certainly awake, and 
 we would have found them intrenched, and would 
 have fought fresh men with men weary and worn by 
 a long night march." 
 
 Muir could not resist the potent wisdom of this 
 reasoning and was perforce content; but the Prince 
 was furious, and denounced Lord Murray as a coward 
 and traitor. 
 
 There were loud contests for and against the com- 
 mander-in-chief, as the dispirited Highlanders made 
 their way back to Drummossie Moor, in the neighbor- 
 hood of Culloden House, and resumed their desperate 
 efforts to find food in a barren land. 
 
 John had spent the previous day in foraging, over 
 
266 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 a wide district, to get some meat for a haggis, or a 
 fowl for a cock-a-leekie. The meal-pocks were 
 empty, and, even if full, this was a sorry diet, for so 
 long. John was bent on giving Stoneywold a more 
 solid stay to his stomach, for to-morrow's battle. As 
 soon as they reached camp, he set to work preparing 
 the meal, against Stoneywold's waking. 
 
 The damp ground and long march had so stiffened 
 the joints of the men that they were hard to rouse; 
 but, by dint of threats and persuasions, judiciously 
 mingled, he got enough of them at work gathering 
 wood and kindling a fire to have some porridge ready 
 for the men ; and a haggis in fair condition for 
 Stoneywold's breakfast. 
 
 When James came, at John's call, the hungry looks 
 of the men made him suspect that it was at the ex- 
 pense of their fasting that he was feasting. 
 
 "Ye hounds, canna ye leave the Laird to his bit 
 breakfast?" said John, scowling on the men. 
 
 "Na, John, we'll share alike," replied James. 
 "We are a' to fight in the same cause this day, side 
 by side, and wha kens whose hand shall strike down 
 that butcher Cumberland. So let a' fare alike. 
 • Come, laddies, I'll share your parritch, and ye shall 
 taste my haggis." 
 
 With keen disgust, John saw man after man come 
 forward for a taste of the savory dish; but, for him- 
 self, declined to touch a morsel of it. 
 
 They had scarce finished their hasty meal when 
 Lochiel came with the summons from Lord George 
 Murray to muster the men by clans, as the enemy was 
 already forming their line of battle on Culloden Moor. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 267 
 
 "God forfend that there be no foe in our own 
 camp when we face the Saxons," said the Cameron 
 chief. 
 
 Stoneywold looked up in surprise. 
 
 Lochiel answered the look. "Aye, we may have 
 more cause to fear friend than foe. The McDonalds 
 have claimed a place on the right o' the line, and 
 Clanranald has e'en said they will fight there or 
 nowhere." 
 
 "And what said my Laird Murray to this?" in- 
 quired Stoneywold. 
 
 "He told them that he was put in command by the 
 Prince and was responsible to him for the best dis- 
 posal of his men ; and, with this, they carried their 
 complaint to the Prince. Only old Keppock said he 
 was ready to fight a Saxon, right or left." 
 
 "Aye," broke in John Gunn, "we'll see that man 
 to the fore, gin he has to gae there alane." 
 
 "But what says the Prince?" inquired Stoneywold 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Ah!" replied Lochiel, "what says the Prince 
 ever; a bonnie word and a smiling promise, which I 
 fear me are not like to suit these rough western men ; 
 and Lord George will place his men as he thinks fit. 
 He is ready enough to fight for the Prince, but not 
 with him." 
 
 This was disheartening news; but it had nothing 
 to do with the present exigency, which was pressing 
 enough to absorb, for the time, all the energies of the 
 Laird of Stoneywold and Lord Gordon, and such of 
 their retainers as were at hand. They found a piper 
 and bid him play the pibroch, and they sounded the 
 
268 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 slogan of clan after clan. There was a feeble, scatter- 
 ing response; but it dismayed them to see how small 
 the muster of men was. 
 
 With those who did respond, they organized parties 
 who went through the dells and copses, beating the 
 bushes as if on a fox hunt, finding the men wrapped 
 in their plaids, so fast bound in the sleep of the weak 
 and weary that they could be roused only by a hard 
 shaking. 
 
 They staggered to their feet and mechanically fol- 
 lowed where they were led. As band after band of 
 these stragglers came in, Lord George and Stoney- 
 wold organized them, under the leadership of those 
 who were more thoroughly awake, and sent them to 
 the front. 
 
 In a little knot, apart from the rest, were the Mc- 
 Donalds, the chieftains in excited consultation, the 
 men catching the murmur of their discontent, with a 
 sullen look that boded ill for the share that they would 
 take in the coming struggle. 
 
 In this light it appeared to them all, leaders and 
 men alike; and, to most of them, it seemed the final 
 and supreme effort on which hung all the fortunes of 
 the house of Stuart. 
 
 But the Prince, for whom this desperate strife was 
 made, with easy assurance, felt that the crowning 
 moment of his life was come; the quarrels of the 
 petty chieftains did not ruffle his serenity; the priva- 
 tions of the men were but necessary incidents in the 
 prosecution of his plans, and he was lavish in his 
 promises of reward for their loyal service. 
 
 Upon Lord George Murray the perplexities of the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 269 
 
 situation weighed heavily. He moved about, with 
 careworn face, giving his orders with decision, but 
 with a weary voice. He was facing ten thousand dis- 
 ciplined troops with six thousand dispirited men. 
 
 The position, too, was all in the enemy's favor. 
 The wide moor, which the eye took in at a glance, 
 showed no bit of rugged ground to aid the Highland- 
 ers in their peculiar mode of warfare, no chance for a 
 surprise, no high ground from which to break on the 
 foe, like one of their own wild mountain storms. 
 
 Lord George therefore hesitated, even after re- 
 peated orders from the Prince, to give the command 
 to charge; for everything was against them, even the 
 wind. 
 
 At last the clamor of his men, standing helpless 
 under the slaughter made by the Duke's well-served 
 artillery, forced him to give the order. The front 
 rank of the Highlanders straggled obliquely across 
 the moor and was broken in pieces before the second 
 rank was in motion, and so swiftiy did the tide of war 
 roll back the broken front upon the advancing re- 
 serves, that in a half hour Culloden Moor was clear of 
 every man that could escape. 
 
 The white rose was torn, and its petals scattered so 
 that none might ever gather them. Through all the 
 wild havoc John Gunn kept close to Stoneywold, more 
 bent on shielding his Laird than on saving the cause 
 of Prince Charlie. 
 
 The cold-blooded slaughter, which earned for the 
 Duke of Cumberland the epithet of "butcher," and 
 the hot pursuit of fugitives under the order to seize 
 the persons of rebels, and, if they resisted, put them 
 
270 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 to the sword at once, set every man to escape as 
 best he might. Orders were also given that the 
 goods and chattels of the slain were forfeit to their 
 captors; "which made the soldiers very alert in 
 searching and apprehending rebels," naively remarks 
 one chronicler; "and if others suffered in carrying 
 out this function, the accident could not be helped," 
 he adds. 
 
 The forces of the Duke, scattered over the country 
 in detached parties, charged with this congenial duty, 
 did their grim commander's will with zest. 
 
 One night, in the latter part of April, the Lady of 
 Stoneywold, sitting by her open window, at twilight, 
 with a heavy heart, knowing not what to hope or fear, 
 was startled by a stone thrown in at the window, 
 around which was wrapped a bit of paper with this 
 message on it, "The Highland army was destroyed at 
 Culloden — the Prince is a fugitive with a price on his 
 head — the Laird and John escaped." It was from 
 her quondam patient, the English captain, on his way 
 to the south ; and she felt well repaid for her care of 
 him. 
 
 The Prince fled westward from the bloody field, 
 with a small escort of Highlanders. 
 
 John kept close to his Laird, and they were swept, 
 by the rout, off the other side of the moor, and did 
 not catch sight of the Prince. With a few compan- 
 ions they made their way to the woods of Kingussie, 
 and there dispersed. 
 
 Stoneywold and John concluded to push their way 
 toward Aberdeenshire, and at least show themselves 
 alive to Janet and Helen. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "every man bows to the bush he gets bield 
 
 FRAE." 
 
 THEY had put their cause upon the hazard of the 
 die, and it was lost. This the most sanguine 
 must now admit. The Prince was a fugitive, with a 
 price on his head ; his followers were scattered, living 
 in the forests and on the moors, hunted like wild 
 beasts. 
 
 It behooved every man to look to his own welfare 
 and escape, as best he could, the consequences of his 
 adherence to the fallen house of Stuart. 
 
 As Stoneywold and John made their way, down 
 through the Braemar wilds, toward Aberdeenshire, 
 they had little to say of the great battle on which 
 their fate had turned; they were more concerned with 
 the dangers of pursuit, which threatened them on 
 every hand. 
 
 After many a hairbreadth escape, they reached the 
 foot of Cairngorm, the old home of the Lochgellie 
 band, the sight of which stirred in John's heart many a 
 memory of the past, and brought vividly before him 
 the thought of Helen and the Lady Janet, both long- 
 ing to hear tidings of the Laird and himself. And 
 yet they were not in such sad case as one might think. 
 John congratulated himself that the Laird had come 
 
272 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 safe and sound out of the rout; and the excitement 
 of pursuit kept the Laird from dwelling on the disas- 
 ter, which, after all, was only an incident in the fickle 
 fortunes of war. 
 
 As they came near home they lay hidden in the 
 woods until nightfall, and then, making their way 
 down the Don side to the neighborhood of John's 
 cottage, Stoneywold remained in hiding while John 
 went forward to reconnoiter. 
 
 Helen met him with the news that a company of 
 English soldiers were quartered at the Hall, and that 
 the Lady Janet, with the children, slept in the rear 
 room of the first story, in the left wing. 
 
 Nothing daunted by so trivial an obstacle, James 
 determined to see his Janet. 
 
 "Let me gae," said Helen, "and fetch the Leddy 
 Janet to our cot. I'll tell her that Nell is sick; or 
 I'll change frocks wi' her, and lie down by the bairns, 
 till she comes back." 
 
 "No, Helen," answered the Laird, "ye canna 
 change hair wi' the Leddy Janet, nor gie her your 
 free stride ; and I winna let ony rin a risk that I 
 dinna tak' mysel'. It wad rouse their suspicion to 
 see you come and gae by night. I will tap at my 
 Leddy's window, and, gin I rouse the guards, it 
 will be fight or flight; and I can beat them at 
 baith." 
 
 So off he posted, near midnight, disguised in the 
 dress of a farmer's gillie, which he had gotten from 
 James Jamieson, one of his tenants. He crept toward 
 the house, but not so softly as to escape the quick ear 
 of Janet, who lay thinking of him, as she had done 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 273 
 
 every night, far on toward morning, since the message 
 had come from the English captain. 
 
 He raised his hand to tap on the window, but she 
 was there, and had recognized him through his dis- 
 guise; the sash was lifted before he could give the 
 signal, and, vaulting to the sill, he was by her side 
 again. 
 
 Their talk was all in whispers ; for, in such troub- 
 lous times, no risk was to be run of children's prat- 
 tling tongues. 
 
 "Ah, Jamie, I feared me it wad come to naught," 
 sighed Janet, when the first greetings were over. 
 "But I have to thank God that ye didna gie your life 
 for the feckless Prince." 
 
 "Aye, Janet, we are not in fine case, but we maun 
 hope for brighter days; and you and the bairns are 
 safe," answered James, picking a crumb of comfort 
 from the forlorn situation. 
 
 "But what will ye do, Jamie; and where will ye 
 hide?" queried Janet, thinking less of the lost cause 
 than of her husband's safety. 
 
 "I will tak' to the moors and hide there, till the 
 summons comes frae the Prince for the gathering of 
 the clans, somewhere in the Highlands," said James, 
 with more assurance than he really felt. 
 
 "Ah! Jamie, canna ye let it alane? The Prince 
 will ne'er gather ye but to the grave. The English 
 say that he has already taen ship to France. They 
 say that he canna bide in Scotland, for a price is on 
 his head, which wad mak' mony a Highland laird 
 rich ; and there will surely be some wha will gie him 
 owre to the English." 
 
274 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 "I tell ye, Janet, Prince Charlie will ne'er be gien 
 up, at ony price. Whamever he trusts will be true to 
 him; for he has that bonnie way that wins a' men to 
 love him," said James stoutly. 
 
 "He doesna win a' men to fight for him. But let 
 us leave him to his ain devices, and tell me, Jamie, 
 where will ye gae and how shall I ken that ye are safe 
 and well? Ah! it is but a sorry business to be at," 
 said Janet sadly. 
 
 "I shall bide, for the nonce, wi' James Jamieson; 
 and you can reach me by seein' Helen Gunn. She 
 will gae back and forth to her own cot, every day, 
 from Jamieson's, " answered James. 
 
 Then they fell to discussing what their future was 
 to be; and, though it was cloudy enough, they both 
 kept brave hearts, taking comfort in the thought that 
 they were spared to each other, and, in the light of 
 this, the prospect seemed to brighten. It was a time 
 to try the souls of men, and women too, but the trial 
 brought forth power of endurance and hope in these 
 two. 
 
 The merciless crusade of Cumberland against all 
 who were even suspected of sympathy with the lost 
 cause, including defenseless women and children, 
 determined John and Stoneywold to linger in the 
 neighborhood, and, if Janet were threatened, to 
 gather the tenantry and sell their lives dearly in de- 
 fense of wife and children. 
 
 But Janet had so many friends among the gentry of 
 the shire, of both political creeds, that she was in no 
 danger; and, though subjected to many annoyances 
 and harsh exactions, was not in peril of her life. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 275 
 
 The regularity of Helen's visits to Jamieson's out- 
 lying farm drew suspicion upon her; and, one night, 
 she was aware that she was followed by three or four 
 soldiers. They might suspect as they pleased, but 
 they were greatly mistaken when they dreamed of 
 outwitting a girl of the Lochgellie band. 
 
 Helen was not many rods away from her cot before 
 she knew that they were tracking her; so, instead of 
 turning off toward Jamieson's, she kept right on up 
 the Don side until she came to the Ourie Ford, a 
 doubtful bit of water to cross even by daylight, but 
 safe for her in the darkest night. In she plunged, 
 and, as the men broke cover and ran for the edge of 
 the stream, she was fairly over to the other side, and, 
 picking up three or four stones, she threw them in the 
 water, giving the impression that she was still floun- 
 dering in the stream. 
 
 The men leveled their carbines and fired for the 
 sound; Helen screamed and threw more stones into 
 the water, and again the shots were fired at the rush- 
 ing- Don. She sat on the bank groaning, while the 
 men debated whether they should ford the stream; 
 at last, hand in hand, they filed cautiously into the 
 water. Helen sat on the bank, luring them on by 
 fainter and more piteous moans. 
 
 About midway, the ford, which, up to that point, 
 bears up stream, takes a sharp turn downward; and, 
 just at the angle, there is a deep hole with a whirling 
 eddy, whose shivering waters give the ford its name 
 of "Ourie." 
 
 Helen waited for them to reach this "ourie water"; 
 on they came, warily at first, but growing bolder as 
 
276 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 the ford showed no sign of deepening, and enticed by 
 Helen's fainter groans. Then came a splash and a 
 cry for help; Helen's laughter rang out like a demon 
 of the woods, as she shouted, "Ye hae followed the 
 Don kelpie, and noo she has ye by the lugs" ; and, as 
 the terrified trio struggled back to the shore, leaving 
 their drowned comrade to drift down the stream, they 
 believed it ; in which belief they were confirmed when, 
 on their way back to the Hall, they stopped at John 
 Gunn's cottage and found Helen fast asleep in bed. 
 
 But Stoneywold felt that he could no longer be kept 
 in hiding so near home, without exposing others to 
 danger, and so left the neighborhood and made for 
 the wilds of Buchan, with John Gunn as his escort. 
 Nell went to the Hall as Lady Stoneywold' s waiting 
 maid, and Helen followed John to the moorland, 
 resuming her gypsy garb and mode of life, and carry- 
 ing letters to and fro, concealed in the braids of her 
 long black hair. 
 
 These were stirring days; the Prince, in woman's 
 dress, was being guided by secret friends from place 
 to place, living the life of a hunted hare; and scat- 
 tered bands of his followers were sharing a like fate. 
 Some had leagued themselves together under the 
 name of "Caterans"; and of one such band the 
 famous Ranald More was leader. Their hiding-place 
 was a sea cave in the rocky shore below Peterhead, 
 accessible only by a footpath wide enough for a single 
 person, and defended by those who would die to a 
 man rather than surrender, on the grim terms which 
 Cumberland offered, "that they should be reserved 
 for the pleasure of the king." What this meant, the 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 277 
 
 hapless fate of those who threw themselves upon his 
 grace bore witness. 
 
 Ranald had not been "out with the Prince"; but 
 the merciless conduct of Cumberland, he declared, 
 alone induced him to take command of these men ; 
 for, being branded for slaughter, they were fairly 
 driven to this mode of life. 
 
 A little band of refugees were soon gathered under 
 Stoneywold's leadership, who led a roving life, mov- 
 ing from place to place along the edge of the moor- 
 land, as their methods of subsistence off the neighbor- 
 ing farmers brought them into unpleasant notoriety. 
 
 It was a life of constant excitement and adventure, 
 which was charming to John Gunn, and not without 
 interest for Stoneywold. 
 
 Brave, cheerful, and inspiriting, his men were 
 devoted to the Laird, and watched over his safety 
 with a jealous care. 
 
 Their adventures had often a savor of fun, which 
 let them have a laugh at misfortune. One day, on 
 the hill of Mormond, the little band had seated them- 
 selves to a dinner, which, for a week past, had been, 
 with them, a movable feast, owing to the pressure of 
 pursuit. They were scarce seated when warning was 
 given them of a party of soldiers coming up the 
 hill. 
 
 The detachment was too strong for them to think of 
 resistance, so they betook themselves to flight; but, 
 before leaving, John, determined that his haggis 
 should not tickle the palates of the foe, upset the pot; 
 the stout old ram's stomach held together, and down 
 the hill rolled the steaming pudding. One of the 
 
278 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 English soldiers, to whom "the fair, fat, sonsie face" 
 of haggis was a stranger, dexterously caught the roll- 
 ing ball on the end of his bayonet, and it burst, be- 
 dewing him and his comrades with its hot and savory 
 contents. 
 
 "See there," cried John, in great glee, "even hag- 
 gis, God bless her, can charge down hill!" 
 
 But the hunt grew hot, and this little band was 
 forced to disperse. John went to Ranald More and 
 joined his band of Caterans; Helen returned to 
 Leddy Janet, and passed back and forth to the refu- 
 gees with letters, or the safer missives by word of 
 mouth. 
 
 Stoneywold took refuge with Allan Graeme, a small 
 farmer living on the edge of the moorland ; and, don- 
 ning the dress of a gillie, worked on the farm, and 
 slept in an outhouse. But the disguise was only of 
 the outer man, and he soon found that he was 
 watched, and must seek a more obscure hiding-place 
 than even an outlying farm. So he betook himself to 
 the heart of the moor, to the hut of old Davie Gair, a 
 cobbler, and, if all tales were true, a poacher when his 
 necessities drove him thereto; but a douce, honest 
 man, when he had enough to eat and drink. 
 
 "And wha can be streectly honest, on an empty 
 stomach?" he would say. 
 
 To him Stoneywold applied, "Can ye gie me shel- 
 ter?" 
 
 "That I can," answered auld Davie, looking his 
 man over, and wondering why such as he should be in 
 want of shelter; but too discreet to ask any questions. 
 "I canna thole a spierin' man or a claverin' woman," 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 279 
 
 thought auld Davie; "and I maun bide by my ain 
 rules." 
 
 So he made no objection when Muir proposed to 
 make an excavation under the bed, forming a burrow 
 where he ran to cover, whenever any stranger ap- 
 proached the hut. 
 
 "Aye, the rabbits hae their burrows, and the foxes 
 their holes; and the one are a sair kittle folk, and the 
 ither sair fendy; and belike this braw laddie is only 
 followin' oot the Scripture 'to be wise as a serpent 
 and harmless as a cushat.' Time will show," said 
 wise auld Davie. 
 
 Muir dared not go abroad by day, and could not 
 endure the long-drawn idleness, and so set himself to 
 learn the cobbler's trade, while he had his cracks 
 with auld Davie; and to such good purpose did he 
 work that his old master was astonished, and said to 
 him one day: 
 
 "Jeems, my man, what for did ye no tell me that 
 ye had been bred a souter?" 
 
 "And so I was, freend," answered Muir gayly, 
 "but, to tell ye God's truth, I was an idle loon, 
 gey weel-faured and owre fond o' the lassies; so I 
 joined the Prince's lads, and ye see what is come 
 o't." 
 
 "Ou, aye," said auld Davie, "and that is the bee 
 in your bonnet, laddie. Aweel, ye're nane the waur 
 for that, in my estimation. I hae an unco kind feel- 
 in' for them that arena come by their ain in this 
 warld; for I am ane o' that ilk mysel'. I was made 
 for a bonnier life than to cobble in a muirland hut, 
 and I hae a fellow feelin* for Prince Charlie. He is 
 
2 So A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 a bonnie lad by a' accounts. Did ye see him wi' 
 your ain e'en?" 
 
 "That I did," answered Muir merrily. "I saw 
 him and spoke wi' him, and stood beside him at Cul- 
 loden." 
 
 "Wow! but ye were in luck," said auld Davie. 
 "But what will he mak' noo, think ye?" 
 
 "He'll mak' sail for France, by the first fair wind 
 and chance that befa's him," answered Muir. 
 
 "And what will ye be doin', when that comes to 
 pass?" asked Davie. "The bonnie Prince winna be 
 makin' aff himsel' and leavin' his faithfu' followers 
 to their fate, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 "Aweel, he has a' that he can see to, in securin* a 
 passage for himsel'," said Muir, inclined to change 
 the subject. "It has come to that pass where ilka 
 man maun tak' tent o' himsel'." 
 
 "Aweel, Jeems, " said auld Davie, after a thought- 
 ful pause, "then I count it weel-nigh as puir a trade 
 as cobblin', this followin' in the train o' Princes. It 
 is like marriage, man; it leaves ye nae chance to bet- 
 ter yoursel' whan aince ye are in it. It is a feckless 
 fox that has but ane openin' to his lair; for aftwhiles 
 the grand question in this life is, not hoo to get in, 
 but hoo are ye to get oot." 
 
 But these comfortable cracks with auld Davie were 
 not enough to occupy the restless spirit of Muir; and, 
 from time to time, he made excursions into the neigh- 
 borhood. One day, when he had gone over to visit 
 John Gunn in the cave of Ranald More, he had gotten 
 but a short way on his return, when a stray picket 
 spied him, as he was crossing a rough bit of moorland, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 28 1 
 
 and called on him to halt, which had the effect of 
 putting Muir to his best speed ; and, as the soldier 
 fired a signal gun, Muir, making over the hill, ran 
 toward the seashore and took refuge in a cliff cave, 
 until the friendly shelter cf night should let him return 
 in safety to the cobbler's hut. 
 
 A heavy rain was falling, and Muir bethought him 
 that it might be easy to track him, on the soft ground, 
 to his lair at auld Davie's; so he took out his cob- 
 bler's tools and beguiled the tedium of the long after- 
 noon by reversing the heels on his brogues; and spent 
 the time right merrily, to judge by his smiling face. 
 When it was fairly dark, he set out to walk the ten 
 miles from the shore to auld Davie's hut; and he 
 found it a weary way to plod, with this new adjust- 
 ment of heel and toe; and the joke, over which he 
 had chuckled in the afternoon, was rather against him 
 when he was putting it in practice ; but, for all that, 
 there were the footmarks, plain as day, leading away 
 from auld Davie's door. 
 
 The old cobbler chuckled to himself, at intervals, 
 all through the morning, after Muir had shown him 
 his afternoon's job; and he went out more than once 
 to inspect the tracks. 
 
 "It be a braw thing to gang aboot your ain business 
 and send ither folk on the way to mind theirs, at the 
 same time. It is a pity, Jeems, that ye canna apply 
 this maist excellent preenciple to the ither parts o' a 
 man besides his heels. Ye can tak' a bit leather and 
 big yoursel' anither pair o' brogues, Jeems; ye maun 
 let that pair bide as they are. It is a canty thocht, 
 and they may prove their value anither time." The 
 
282 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 old man could remember some occasions when he 
 himself would have found such a pair of brogues not 
 amiss. "Let them bide, Jeems; it is uncanny to 
 meddle wi' what has proven sic a providential bless- 
 in' to ye." 
 
 So James set himself to making a new pair of 
 brogues. 
 
 But he lived the life of a hunted animal; and, 
 when Janet sent him a letter telling him of the Prince's 
 escape, he listened to her urgent appeal, and to "Nor- 
 oway over the faem" he fled, with blind old Glen- 
 bucket and Lord Lewis Gordon. 
 
 The night before he sailed Muir bid old Davie 
 good-by. "I winna forget ye, Davie, when I see 
 better days, for ye've been a true friend to me," said 
 Muir, grasping the horny hand of the old cobbler. 
 
 "And I winna forget ye, Jeems, my man; ye hae 
 whiled awa' mony a tedious hour, and hae gien me a 
 hint o' things outside the muir. I'll miss ye, 
 Jeems," and the old cobbler wrung his hand; "but 
 ye hae left me food for reflection, and the toe-heeled 
 brogues for an hour o' need. God guard ye, lad- 
 die;" and he stood in the doorway of his lonely old 
 hut and watched James stride across the moor, and 
 out of sight, in the misty moonlight. 
 
 Muir betook himself to Ranald More's cave. It 
 was not pleasant to leave the friendly old cobbler on 
 the moor, to part with John would be a real pain. 
 He tried to think of it as only temporary. 
 
 They walked up and down the beach, far on toward 
 midnight, talking of all the many things they had in 
 common. Then James turning to him said: "John, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 283 
 
 ye hae been to me as a friend that is closer than a 
 brother. I canna gae to a strange land leavin' ye 
 where ye are now. Promise me, John, that ye'll 
 leave the Caterans. " 
 
 "They hae gien me shelter, my Laird; I canna 
 forget that," said John. 
 
 "I ken that, John; but it is the old story over 
 again. Ye were forced to leave the Lochgellies for 
 Helen's sake; ye maun leave the Caterans for the 
 same guid reason." 
 
 "The way was open for me to leave the Lochgel- 
 lies; I see naught for it but to bide wi' the Caterans," 
 replied John. 
 
 "Ye maun do as I am doin', John; ye maun emi- 
 grate," said Muir. 
 
 "I canna frame my tongue to foreign speech, at 
 my time o' life," answered John. 
 
 "There are rich lands in Virginia. Gae there wi' 
 Helen. It winna be for lang. When the breeze has 
 blown a bit, we can be back, in twa years or sae. I 
 canna gae, John, till I hae your word; and the skiff 
 is waitin' there on the shingle, ayont that point o' 
 rock," and Stoneywold waited. 
 
 John was silent for a few moments. 
 
 "I will leave the Caterans, my Laird," he said; 
 and Muir wrung his hand hard, and went down the 
 beach to the skiff that was waiting to take him on 
 board the lugger. 
 
 After James was gone Stoneywold seemed, to Janet, 
 haunted with his presence; the house would echo, in 
 her dreams, to his step; field and glen were peopled 
 with the memory of their rides and walks together. 
 
284 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 These were busy days, when she had to undertake the 
 management of all affairs herself, but not busy enough 
 to let her forget; and the very fields and woods grew 
 lonely. 
 
 It was lonelier still when news came that the High 
 Court of Judiciary had arraigned the Laird of Stoney- 
 wold for treason and pronounced judgment of banish- 
 ment on him. 
 
 To be sure, she was proud to hear that only two 
 witnesses could be found against him, and their testi- 
 mony was chiefly to the effect that he restrained his 
 men from violence and plunder, which the Lord Jus- 
 tice said was more to the credit of the Laird of 
 Stoneywold than to that of the witness for the Crown. 
 
 "They canna even condemn him wi'out finding 
 summat to his credit," she said. 
 
 But for all this, his banishment emphasized her 
 lonely condition, and she made up her mind to share 
 his exile. 
 
 At first, she had purposed to put John in charge, as 
 her factor; but she found that he was a man of too 
 much mark to slip quietly back into his old place, 
 without some reasonable explanation of his absence; 
 and hence John, in accordance with his promise to 
 Stoneywold, went with his wife and wean to Virginia. 
 It seemed to Janet that everyone was seeking a home 
 in other lands ; and so she leased the estate to one 
 of the old tenants, and went to join her husband in 
 Sweden. 
 
 As she rode down the avenue for the last time and 
 looked back at the shaded path under the old beach, 
 where she had come down to meet Jamie that night, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 285 
 
 and, for the first time, had lain her head on his 
 breast, and felt the clasp of his strong arms about 
 her, the dear old life and its precious memories 
 seemed slipping from her, as the dead lose their hold 
 on life and its nearest ties; and her heart sank within 
 her at the thought of the unknown life before her. 
 
 "It was a sair price," she thought, "to pay for sic 
 an uncertain gain ; which after all wasna gain, but 
 only loss. But, gin I tell that to Jamie, he will say 
 that women always look at war in this fashion. 
 Aweel! then I wish that Prince Charlie had been 
 blessed wi' a canty wife to counsel him." 
 
 Janet found her wandering hero already estab- 
 lished, and they began life again, in a foreign land; 
 and, while all around was strange, it was home to 
 them, for they were together; and to Janet it was a 
 haven of rest, after the stormy two years. 
 
 With a brave heart and strong purpose Muir (or 
 Jamieson as he called himself) leased an estate, and, 
 by his energy and skill, made himself a man of mark 
 in the land of his adoption. At the invitation of the 
 King of Sweden he undertook the direction of some 
 public improvements, which won him great honor and 
 a patent of nobility from the king. 
 
 Janet thoroughly appreciated these honors done her 
 husband, and yet, as she said, "The sun shines fair in 
 Sweden, but it hasna the blink it had in our ain coun- 
 tree, our bonnie Scotland, of all lands the fairest to 
 my e'en." 
 
 Six of her children were gone to the land o' the 
 leal, and her son James, with two daughters who were 
 left, she longed to educate in Scotland. At last 
 
286 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 James consented to the separation, and, in the spring 
 of 1759, Janet returned to the well-known scenes of 
 her native land ; and, when she was back again, her 
 longing grew to remain and live and die in Scot- 
 land. 
 
 She busied herself not only with her children's edu- 
 cation, but also in securing permission for her hus- 
 band to return. After three years of diligent effort 
 she was rewarded by welcoming him home again. 
 
 For more than fifteen years his eyes had not been 
 gladdened with the sight of the banks and braes of 
 Don, and he was eager as a child to set out, with Janet, 
 from Edinburgh for Aberdeenshire. 
 
 As they drew nearer to the old home they rode 
 along in silence. James missed, in thought, that 
 trusty guide of his youth and friend of his riper years, 
 John Gunn, the tried and true, and Janet could not 
 banish from her present happiness the memory of the 
 little, tinkling feet that had merrily trod the halls of 
 the old home, who were now resting in their graves in 
 a foreign land. 
 
 When they reached Stoneywold the tenants were 
 out in force to welcome back the "Laird and Leddy, " 
 the toddlin' bairns now grown to be braw lads and 
 lasses; but there were other bairns to take their 
 place. 
 
 There was feasting and merry-making, as in old 
 times, and it was plain to see that the Laird and 
 Leddy had not been forgotten, as the years had flown. 
 They looked on the tenants, wondering how some had 
 grown so old ; and the tenants thought how changed 
 the young Laird and Leddy were. 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 287 
 
 But they were not changed at heart; for the very 
 first business that James undertook was to seek out 
 his moorland friends and care for them. 
 
 For auld Davie he could do no more than mark his 
 last resting-place by a simple monument, on which 
 was carved this record: "He gave shelter and food 
 to him that was ready to perish." As he stood by 
 the stone, James wondered what had become of the 
 toe-heeled brogues. 
 
 Allan Graeme, too, was gone to his grave, ripe as 
 one of his own corn-shocks; but Stoneywold took his 
 widow and five children home with him and put them 
 on one of his best farms, and had the boys taught 
 trades, and, when the daughters were married, the 
 noble old Laird gave them away like a father. 
 
 When John Gunn heard that the Laird was back, 
 he offered himself for the old service again ; and, as 
 James Jamieson, the name which had served his mas- 
 ter abroad, he came to the old place, after an absence 
 of many years. His hair was snow white, but his 
 form was erect, his step firm and his heart warm and 
 true as when, on the moorland, he followed the for- 
 tunes of his Laird, for better or worse. 
 
 For nearly twenty years James and Janet lived a 
 quiet life that was like the still waters of a deep, land- 
 locked harbor, where the ships lie at anchor, with 
 their sails furled, and rock with an easy motion on the 
 soft, swelling tide, and forget that they have breasted 
 storms and scarce escaped shipwreck. 
 
 After James had been gathered to his fathers in the 
 quiet kirkyard, in Janet's eyes the last and best of 
 the Lairds of Stoneywold, she left the place and went 
 
288 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 to live in Aberdeen ; remembering how a dowager 
 Lady of Stoneywold had made her entrance to the 
 house uncomfortable, she determined that her son's 
 bride should come there the undisputed mistress of 
 Castlewood Hall. 
 
 She took Helen Gunn along with her, John having 
 died some years ago, and Nell being happily married 
 and settled on one of the farms of the estate. 
 
 There, in a snug lodging, she passes a peaceful old 
 age, Helen and her dog Duchie being her constant 
 companions. 
 
 On one side of the ingle sits old Lady Stoneywold 
 knitting sedulously on a stocking, and on the other side 
 is Helen hard at work on its mate ; bound to one an- 
 other by the tie of old times and the memory of 
 James and John. Every now and then the maid is 
 summoned from the kitchen to take up the stitches 
 which the old women ever and anon let slip, each 
 too proud to ask help from the other. 
 
 Duchie lies at their feet, except when she is before- 
 hand with one of them and gets possession of one of 
 their easy-chairs ; in which case she snarls, and leaves 
 them to find another seat. 
 
 Their dinner is more often regulated to suit the 
 capricious taste of Duchie than to cater to their own 
 appetite. "It is really all the enjoyment in life which 
 Duchie has," Janet would say, when Helen remon- 
 strates. "We have our knitting, you know, and our 
 talk of old times, and our game of piquet, while 
 Duchie, poor thing, has only her dinner." 
 
 Their game of piquet was a series of skirmishes; 
 for, though Helen had been taught the game by Janet, 
 
A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 289 
 
 she claimed some points of superior knowledge, which 
 Janet stoutly contested. 
 
 Janet was more than half blind, and could not dis- 
 tinguish diamonds from hearts, or clubs from spades; 
 while Helen, who saw clearly enough, had grown very 
 deaf, and must needs guess, in large part, what was 
 said to her. So they blundered along and fought a 
 battle for the possession of almost every trick. 
 
 "O Helen, Helen, ye are sae deaf and stupid," 
 Janet would say, when her patience was exhausted. 
 
 "Yes, my Leddy, it's a sair pity that ye canna see," 
 Helen would answer at random. 
 
 "Aweel, Helen, it is a sore affliction to be sae deaf; 
 blindness is a sma' matter compared wi' it, for the 
 loss o' the eyes leaves the mind clear, but the deaf are 
 always sae hard o' understandin'," the old lady would 
 retort, commiserating herself as well as Helen. 
 
 "Yes, my Leddy, I ken it is my trick, as ye say," 
 Helen would answer. 
 
 "I maun bear wi' ye, Helen, for auld lang syne," 
 sighed the old lady. 
 
 "Yes, my Leddy, ye maun follow suit; ye are 
 playin' hearts to my diamonds." 
 
 Young Roderick McKenzie, her nephew, came, 
 from time to time, to visit Janet and hear from her 
 lips the stirring tales of old times, which she loved to 
 tell, interspersed with keen but kindly thrusts at the 
 manners of the present day; and this is the descrip- 
 tion that he wrote home to Ardross: 
 
 "You ask me what Aunt Janet is like. I wish you 
 could see her. She is a beautiful old lady; her teeth 
 are still fresh and white and all there, her lips ruddy, 
 
290 A HIGHLAND CHRONICLE. 
 
 her cheeks suffused with as delicate a tint as when she 
 was the ' lily and rose of Ardross, ' and with the same 
 evenness of mind that has accompanied her through 
 all her trials. Her fair, comely face is encircled in a 
 pure white, close cap with a frilled border, over which 
 was a rich black lace cap, of the form shown in sev- 
 eral of Queen Mary's pictures; she wore a gray satin 
 gown with laced stomacher with silver buckles, and 
 deeply frilled hanging sleeves that reach to the elbow; 
 and over her arms are black lace mittens leaving the 
 fingers free for the ornament of rings; about her 
 shoulders was thrown a black lace scarf, and she wore 
 high-heeled shoes with small, square, silver buckles. 
 From her waistband was suspended a portly shagreen 
 case, and on the opposite side was a wire sheath for 
 her knitting." 
 
 Such was Janet McKenzie Muir, the Lady of 
 Stoneywold, until her death in 1805; belonging to a 
 past century in dress and manners, and living in the 
 past, waiting in the present, and hoping for the future 
 
 THE END.