 Volume 2, Chapter 22 of Rob Roy. But now the hand of fate is on the curtain, and gives the scene to light. Don Sebastian. I felt stunned and chilled as they retired. Imagination dwelling on an absent object of affection paints her not only in the fairest light, but in that which we most desire to behold her. I had thought of Diana as she was, with her parting tear dropped on my cheek. When her parting token received from the wife of McGregor, augured her wish to convey into exile and conventional seclusion the remembrance of my affection. I saw her, and her cold passive manner, expressive of little except composed melancholy. Disappointed, and in some degree almost offended me. In the egotism of my feelings I accused her of indifference, of insensibility. I upgraded her father with pride, with cruelty, with fanaticism, forgetting that both were sacrificing their interest, and Diana her inclination to the discharge of what they regarded as their duty. Sir Frederick Vernon was a rigid Catholic, who thought the path of salvation too narrow to be trodden by a heretic, and Diana, to whom her father's safety had been for many years the principle and moving spring of thoughts, hopes, and actions, felt that she had discharged her duty in resigning to his will. Not alone her property in the world, but the dearest affections of her heart. But it was not surprising that I could not at such a moment fully appreciate these honorable motives. Yet my spleen sought no ignoble means of discharging itself. I am condemned, then, I said, when I left to run over the tenor of Sir Frederick's communications. I am condemned and thought unworthy even to exchange words with her. Be it so, they shall not at least prevent me from watching over her safety. Here will I remain as an outpost, and while under my roof at least, no danger shall threaten her. If it be such as an arm of one determined man canvert. I summoned Seidol to the library. He came, but came attended by the eternal Andrew, who, dreaming of great things in consequence of my taking possession of the Hall of the Annexed Estates, was resolved to lose nothing for want of keeping himself in view, and as often happens to men who entertain selfish objects, overshot his mark and rendered his attention tedious and inconvenient. His unrequired presence prevented me from speaking freely to Seidol, and I dared not send him away for fear of increasing such suspicions as he might entertain from his former abrupt dismissal from the library. I shall sleep here, sir, I said, giving them directions to wheel nearer to the fire an old-fashioned day-bed, or settee. I have much to do, and shall go late to bed. Seidol, who seemed to understand my look, offered to procure me the accommodation of a mattress and some bedding. I accepted his offer, dismissed my attendant, lighted a pair of candles, and desired that I might not be disturbed till seven in the ensuing morning. The domestics retired, leaving me to my painful, ill-arranged reflections, until nature, worn out, should require some repose. I endeavored forcibly to abstract my mind from the singular circumstances in which I found myself placed. Feelings which I gallantly combatted while the exciting object was remote, were now exasperated by my immediate neighborhood to her whom I was so soon to part with forever. Her name was written in every book which I attempted to peruse, and her image forced itself in me in whatever train of thought I strove to engage myself. It was like the officious slave of prior Solomon. Abra was ready ere I named her name, and when I called another, Abra came. I alternately gave way to these thoughts, and struggled against them, sometimes yielding to a mood of melting tenderness of sorrow which was scarce natural to me, sometimes arming myself with the hurt pride of one who has experienced what he esteemed unmerited rejection. I paced the library, until I chafed myself into a temporary fever. I then threw myself on the couch, and endeavored to dispose myself to sleep. But it was in vain that I used every effort to compose myself, that I lay without movement of a finger or a muscle, as still as if I had been already a corpse, that I endeavored to divert or banish disquieting thoughts, by fixing my mind on some act of repetition or arithmetical process. My blood throbbed to my feverish apprehension, in pulsations which resembled the deep and regular strokes of a distant filling mill, and tingled in my veins like streams of liquid fire. At length I rose, opened the window, and stood by it for some time in the clear moonlight, receiving, impart at least, that refreshment and dissipation of ideas from the clear and calm scene, without which they had become beyond the command of my own violation. I resumed my place in the couch with a hot, heaven-nosed, not lighter, but firmer, and more resolved for endurance. In a short time a slumber crept over my senses. Still, however, though my senses slumbered, my soul was awake to the painful feelings of my situation, and my dreams were of mental anguish and external objects of terror. I remember a strange agony, under which I conceived myself and Diana in the power of McGregor's wife, and about to be precipitated from a rock into a lake. The signal was to be the discharge of a cannon, fired by Sir Frederick Vernon, who, in the dress of a cardinal, officiated at the ceremony. Nothing could be more lively than the impression which I received of this imaginary scene. I could paint, even at this moment, the mute and courageous submission expressed in Diana's features, the wild and distorted faces of the executioners, who crowded around us with moping and mawing, grimaces ever changing, and each more hideous than that which proceeded. I saw the rigid and inflexible fanaticism painted in the face of the father. I saw him lift the fatal match, the deadly signal exploded. It was repeated again and again and again, in rival thunders, by the echoes of the surrounding cliffs, and I awoke from fancied horror to real apprehension. The sounds in my dream were not ideal. They reverberated on my waking ears, but it was two or three minutes' air I could collect myself so as distinctly to understand that they proceeded from a violent knocking at the gate. I leapt from my couch in great apprehension, took my sword under my arm, and hastened to forbid the admission of anyone. But my route was necessarily circuitous, because the library looked not upon the quadrangle, but into the gardens. When I had reached a staircase, the windows of which opened upon the entrance called. I heard the feeble and intimidated tones of Seidel, expostulating with rough voices which demanded admittance, by the warrant of justice standish, and in the king's name and threatened the old domestic with the heaviest penal consequences if he refused instant obedience. There they had ceased, I heard to my unspeakable provocation, the voice of Andrew bidding Seidel stand aside and let him open the door. If they come in King George's name, we have knitten the Their. We have spent bathed bold and gall for him. We didn't need to durn ourselves like some folk, Mr. Seidel. We are neither papers nor Jacobites, I true. It was in vain I accelerated my pace downstairs. I heard bolt after bolt withdrawn by the officious scoundrel, while all the time he was boasting his own and master's loyalty to King George. And I could easily calculate that the party must enter before I could arrive at the door to replace the boss. To voting the back of Andrew fair service to the cudgel so soon as I should have time to pay him his desserts, I ran back to the library, barricaded the door as best I could, and hastened to that by which Diana and her father entered, and begged for instant admittance. Diana herself undid the door. She was ready-dressed and betrayed neither petrobation nor fear. Danger is so familiar to us, she said, that we are always prepared to meet it. My father is already up. He is in Rachele's apartment. We will escape into the garden, and thence by the post and gate. I have the key from Seidel in case of need, into the wood, and know it tingles better than any one now alive. Keep them a few minutes in play, and, dear, dear Frank, once more, fare thee well. She vanished like a meteor to join her father, and the intruders were ramping violently, and attempting to force the library door by the time I had returned into it. You rubber dogs, I exclaimed, willfully mistaking the purpose of their disturbance. If you do not instantly quit the house, I will fire my blunderbuss through the door. Fire a fuel's wobble, said Andrew Faire's service. It's Mr. Clerk Jobson, with a legal warrant. To search for, take, and apprehend, said the voice of that excruble pitifogger, the bodies of certain persons in my warrant named, charged of high trees and under the thirteenth of King William, Chapter Third. And the violence on the door was renewed. I am rising, gentlemen, said I, desirous to gain as much time as possible. Commit no violence, give me leave to look at your warrant, and if it is formal and legal, I shall not oppose it. God save the great George R. King, ejaculated Andrew. I told you that you didn't ever find Jacob I. Teer. Finding out the time as much as possible, I was at length compelled to open the door, which they would otherwise have forced. Mr. Jobson entered with several assistants, among whom I discovered the younger wing-field, to whom, doubtless, he was obliged for his information, and exhibited his warrant. Directed not only against Frederick Vernon, and a tainted traitor, but also against Diana Vernon, spinster and Francis Obaldestone, gentlemen, accused of misprison of treason. It was a case in which resistance would have been madness. I therefore, after capitulating for a few minutes delay, surrendered myself a prisoner. I had next the mortification to see Jobson go straight to the chamber of Miss Vernon, and I learned that from thence, without hesitation or difficulty, he went to the room where Sir Frederick had slept. The hair had stolen away, said the brute, but her form is warm. The greyhounds will have her by the haunches yet. A scream from the garden announced that he prophesized too truly. In the course of five minutes, Rochley entered the library with Sir Frederick Vernon and his daughter as prisoners. The fox, he said, knew his old earth, but he forgot it could be stopped by a careful huntsman. I had not forgot the garden gate, Sir Frederick, or if that title suits you better, most noble Lord Billkamp. Rochley, said Sir Frederick, thou art a detestable villain. I better deserve the name Sir Knight, or my lord, when under the direction of an able tutor. I sought to introduce civil war into the bosom of peaceful country, but I have done my best, said he, looking upwards, to atone for my errors. I could hold no longer. I exclaimed to watch their proceedings in silence, but I felt that I must speak or die. If hell, I said, has one complexion more hideous than another. It is where villainy is massed by hypocrisy. Ha! my gentle cousin, said Rochley, holding a candle towards me, and surveying me from head to foot. Right welcome to a baldy stone hall. I can forgive your spleen. It is hard to lose an estate and a mistress in one night, for we shall take possession of this poor manor house in the name of the lawful heir, Sir Rochley of Alderstone. While Rochley braved it out in this manner, I could see that he put a strong force upon his feelings, both of anger and shame. But his state of mind was more obvious when Diana Vernon addressed him. Rochley, she said, I pity you. I pity you, for, deep as the evil is which you have labored to do me, and the evil you have actually done, I cannot hate you so much as I scorn and pity you. What you have now done may be the work of an hour, but will furnish you with reflection for your life, of what nature I leave to your own conscience, which will not slumber forever. Rochley strode once or twice through the room, came up to the side table on which wine was still standing, and poured out a large glass with a trembling hand. But when he saw that we observed his tremor, he suppressed it by a strong effort, and, looking at us with fixed and daring composure, he carried the bumper to his head without spilling a drop. It is my father's old burgundy, he said looking to Jobson. I am glad there is some of it left. You will get proper persons to take care of old Butler, and that foolish scotch rascal. Meanwhile, we will convey these persons to a more proper place of custody. I have provided the old family coach for your convenience, he said, though I am not ignorant that even the lady could brave the night-air on foot or on horseback, were the air and more to her mind. Andrew wrung his hands. I only said that my master was surely speaking to a gaste in the library, and a villain lanced he to betray an old friend that sang out the same song-book with him for every sabbath for twenty years. He was turned out of the house, together with Seidel, without being allowed to conclude his lamentation. His expulsion, however, led to some singular consequences, resolving, according to his own story, to go down for the night where Mother Simpson would give him lodging for an old acquaintance's sake. He had just got clear of the avenue and into the old wood, as it was called, though it was now used as a pasture-ground rather than woodland, when he suddenly lighted on a drove of Scottish cattle, which were lying there to repose themselves after the day's journey. At this Andrew was in no way surprised at being the well-known custom of his countrymen, who take care of those droves, to quarter themselves after night upon the best unenclosed grass-ground they can find, and depart before daybreak to escape paying for their night's lodgings. But he was both surprised and startled when a Highlander, springing up accused him of disturbing the cattle, and refused him to pass forward till he had spoken to his master. The Mountaineer conducted Andrew into a thicket, where he found three or four more of his countrymen. And, said Andrew, I saw soon they were over-moneymen for the drove, and from the questions they put to me, I judged they had other tow on the rock. They questioned him closely about all that had passed at a baltestone hall, and seemed surprised and concerned at the report he made to them. And truth, said Andrew, I told them a kind for dirks and pistols were what I could nearer refuse information to in my life. They talked in whispers among themselves, and at length collected their cattle together, and drove them close up to the entrance of the avenue, which might be half a mile distant from the house. They proceeded to drag together some felled trees which lay in the vicinity, so as to make a temporary barricade across the road, about fifteen yards beyond the avenue. It was now near daybreak, and there was a pale eastern gleam mingled with the fading moonlight, so that objects could be discovered with some distinctness. The lumbering sound of a coach drawn by four horses, and escorted by six men on horseback, was heard coming up the avenue. The Highlanders listened attentively. The carriage contained Mr. Jobson and his unfortunate prisoners. The escort consisted of Rochley, and of several horsemen, peace officers, and their assistants. So soon as we had passed the gate at the head of the avenue, it was shut behind the cavalcade by a Highland man, stationed there for that purpose. At the same time the carriage was impeded in its father progress by the cattle, amongst which we were involved, and by the barricade in front. Two of the escorts dismounted to remove the felled trees, which they might think were left there by accident or carelessness. The others began with their whips to drive the cattle from the road. "'Who dares to abuse our cattle?' said a rough voice. Shoot them, Angus!' Rochley instantly called out, "'A rescue, a rescue!' and firing a pistol wounded the man who spoke. "'Claymore!' cried the leader of the Highlanders, and a scuffle instantly commenced. The officers of the law surprised at so sudden an attack, and not usually possessing the most desperate bravery, made but an imperfect defence, considering the superiority of their numbers. Some attempted to ride back to the hall, but on a pistol being fired from behind the gate they conceived themselves surrounded, and at length galloped off in different directions. Rochley, meanwhile, had dismounted, and on foot had maintained a desperate and single-handed conflict with the leader of the band. The window of the carriage on my side permitted me to witness it. At length Rochley dropped. "'Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and old friendship?' said a voice which I knew right well. "'No, never!' said Rochley firmly. "'Then, traitor, die in your treason!' retorted McGregor, and plunged his sword in the prostrate antagonist. In the next moment he was at the carriage door, handed out Miss Vernon, assisted her father and me to a light, and dragging out the attorney, head foremost, threw him under the wheel. "'Mr. Abalda Stone,' he said in a whisper. "'You have nothing to fear. I must look after those who have. Your friends will soon be in safety. Farewell, and forget not the McGregor!' He whistled. His band gathered round him, and herring Diana and her father along with him, they were almost instantly lost in the glades of the forest. The coachmen and postillian had abandoned their horses, and fled at the first discharge of firearms. But the animals, stopped by the barricade, remained perfectly still, and well for Jobson that they did so, for the slightest motion would have dragged the wheel over his body. My first object was to relieve him, for such was the rascal's terror that he never could have risen by his own exertions. I next commanded him to observe that I had neither taken part in the rescue, nor availed myself of it to make my escape, and enjoined him to go down to the hall, and call some of his party, who had been left there, to assist the wounded. But Jobson's fears had so mastered and controlled every faculty of his mind that he was totally incapable of moving. I now resolved to go myself, but in my way I stumbled over the body of a man, as I thought, dead or dying. It was, however, Andrew Fair service, as well and whole as ever he was in life, who had only taken this recumbent posture to avoid the slashes, stabs, and pistol-balls, which for a moment or two were flying in various directions. I was so glad to find him that I did not inquire how he came thither, but instantly commanded his assistance. Rushley was our first object. He groaned when I approached him, as much through spite as through pain, and shut his eyes, as if determined like Iago to speak no word more. We lifted him into the carriage and performed the same good office to another wounded man of his party, who had been left on the field. I then with difficulty made Jobson understand that he must enter the coach also, and support Sir Rushley upon the seat. He obeyed, but with an air as if he but half comprehended my meaning. Andrew and I turned the horse's heads round, and opening the gate up the avenue led them slowly back to a balderstone hall. Some fugitives had already reached the hall by circuitous routes, and alarmed its garrison by the news that Sir Rushley, Clerk Jobson, and all their escorts, save they who escaped tell the tale, had been cut to pieces by the head of the avenue by a whole regiment of wild Highlanders. When we reached the mansion, therefore, we heard such a buzz as arises when bees are alarmed, and mustering in their hives. Mr. Jobson, however, who would now in some measure come to his senses, found voice enough to make himself known. He was the more anxious to be released from the carriage, as one of his companions, the peace officer, had to his inexpressible terror expired by his side with a hideous groan. Sir Rushley of Balderstone was still alive, but so dreadfully wounded that the bottom of the coach was filled with his blood, and long traces of it left from the entrance door into the stone hall, where he was placed in a chair, some attempting to stop the bleeding with claws, while others called for a surgeon. No one seemed willing to go to fetch one. "'Torment me not,' said the wounded man. "'I know no assistance can avail me. I am a dying man.' He raised himself in his chair, though the damps and chill of death were already on his brow, and spoke with a firmness which seemed to be on his strength. "'Cousin Francis,' he said, drawn near to me. I approached him as he requested. "'I wish you only to know that the pangs of death do not alter one iota of my feelings toward you. I hate you,' he said, the expression of rage throwing a hideous glare into the eyes which were soon to be closed forever. "'I hate you with a hatred as intense, now while I lie bleeding and dying before you, as if my foot trod on your neck.' "'I have given you no cause,' I replied, and for your own sake I could wish your mind in a better temper. "'You have given me cause,' he rejoined. "'In love, in ambition, in the paths of interest, you have crossed and blighted me at every turn. I was born to be the honor of my father's house. I have been its disgrace and all owing to you. My very patrimony has become yours. "'Take it,' he said, and may the curse of a dying man cleave to it. In a moment after he uttered this frightful wish, he fell back in the chair. His eyes became glazed, his limbs stiffened, but the grin and glare of mortal hatred survived even the last gasp of life. I will dwell no longer on so painful a picture, nor say any more of the death of Rochley, than that it gave me access to my rights of inheritance without further challenge, and that Jobson found himself compelled to allow that the ridiculous charge of misprison, of high treason, was got up on an affidavit which he made with the sole purpose of favoring Rochley's views, and removing me from Balderstone Hall. The rascals' name was struck off the list of attorneys, and he was reduced to poverty and contempt. I returned to London when I had put my affairs in order at Balderstone Hall, and felt happy to escape from a place which suggested so many painful recollections. My anxiety was now acute to learn the fate of Diana and her father. A French gentleman who came to London on commercial business was entrusted with a letter to me from Miss Vernon, which put my mind at rest respecting their safety. It gave me to understand that the opportune appearance of McGregor and his party was not so fortuitous. The Scottish nobles and gentry engaged in the insurrection, as well as those of England, were particularly anxious to further the escape of Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trusted agent of the House of Stuart, was possessed of matter enough to have ruined half Scotland. Rob Roy, of whose sagacity and courage they had known so many proofs, was the person whom they pitched upon to assist his escape, and the place of meeting was fixed at a Balderstone Hall. You have already heard how nearly the plan had been disconcerted by the unhappy Rochley. It succeeded, however, perfectly. For when once Sir Frederick and his daughter were again at large, they found horses prepared for them, and by McGregor's knowledge of the country for every part of Scotland and in the north of England were familiar to him, were conducted to the western sea-coast and safely embarked for France. The same gentleman told me that Sir Frederick was not expected to survive for many months unlingering disease, the consequence of late hardships and privations. His daughter was placed in a convent, and although it was her father's wish she should take the veil, he was understood to refer the matter entirely to her own inclinations. When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of my affections to my father, who was not a little startled at the idea of my marrying a Roman Catholic, but he was very desirous to see me settled in life, as he called it. And he was sensible that, in joining him with heart and hand in his commercial labours, I had sacrificed my own inclinations. After a brief hesitation and several questions asked and answered to his satisfaction, he broke out with, I little thought a son of mine could have been a lord of a balder stone manor, and far less that he should go to a French convict for a spouse, but so dutiful a daughter cannot but prove a good wife. You have worked at the desk to please me, Frank. It is but fair you should wive to please yourself. How I sped in my wooing, will-tresion, I need not tell you. You know, too, how long and happily I live with Diana. You know how I lamented her, but you do not cannot know how much she deserved her husband's sorrow. I have no more of romantic adventure to tell, nor indeed anything to communicate further. Since the latter incidents of my life are so well known to those who have shared, with the most friendly sympathy, the joys as well as the sorrows, by which its scenes have been checkered. I often visited Scotland, but never again saw the bold Highlander who had such an influence on the early events of my life. I learned, however, from time to time that he continued to maintain his ground among the mountains of Loch Lomond, in despite of his powerful enemies, and that he even obtained, to a certain degree, the connivance of government to his self-elected office of protector of the Lennox, in virtue of which he levied black mail with as much regularity as the proprietors did their ordinary rents. It seemed impossible that his life should be concluded without a violent end, nevertheless he died in old age and by a peaceful death, sometime about the year 1733, and is still remembered in his country as the Robin Hood of Scotland, the dread of the wealthy but the friend of the poor, and possessed of many qualities both of head and heart, which would have graced a less equivocal profession than that to which his fate condemned him. Old Andrew Fair Service used to say that there would be many things o'er a bad for blessing, and o'er a guide for banning, like Rob Roy. Here the original manuscript ends somewhat abruptly. I have reason to think that what followed relates to a private affairs. The Second Article of the Appentix to the Introduction to Rob Roy contains two curiously letters respecting the arrest of Mr Graham of Galeon, by that daring freebooter, while levying the Duke of Montrose's rents. These were taken from scroll copies in the possession of his grace the present duke, who kindly permitted the use of them in the present publication. The novel had but just passed through the press when the right honourable Mr Peel, whose important state avocations do not avert his attention from the interests of literature, transmitted to the author copies of the original letters and enclosure of which he possessed only the rough draft. The originals were discovered in the state paper office by the indefatigable researchers of Mr Lemon, who is daily throwing more light on that valuable collection of records. From the documents with which the author has been thus kindly favoured, he is enabled to fill up the addresses which were wanting in the scrolls. That of the 21st of November 1716 is addressed to Lord Viscount Townshend and is accompanied by one of the same date to Robert Pringlesquire, under secretary of state, which is here inserted as relative to so curious an incident. Letter from the Duke of Montrose to Robert Pringlesquire, under secretary to Lord Viscount Townshend. Sir, Glasgow, 21st of November 1716. Having had so many dispatchers to make this night, I hope you'll excuse me that I make use of another hand to give you a short account of the occasion of this express, by which I have written to my Lord Duke of Roxburgh and my Lord Townshend, which I hope you'll get carefully delivered. Mr Graham, younger of Cullin, being on Monday last in Menteeth at a country house, collecting my rents, was about nine o'clock that same night, surprised by Rob Roy with a party of his men in arms, who, having surrounded the house and secured the avenues, presented their guns in at the windows, while he himself entered the room with some others with cocked pistols, and seized Cullin with all his money, books, papers and bonds, and carried all away with him to the hills, at the same time ordering Cullin to write a letter to me, of which ye have the copy enclosed, proposing a very honourable treaty to me. I must say this story was as surprising to me as it was insolent, and it must bring a very great concern upon me that this gentleman, my near relation, should be brought to suffer all the barbarities and cruelties which revenge and malice may suggest to these miscreants, for his having acted a faithful part in the service of the government and his affection to me in my concerns. I need not be more particular to you, since I know that my letter to my Lord Townshend will come into your hands, so shall only now give you the assurances of my being, with great sincerity, sir, your most humble servant, signed Montrose. I long exceedingly for a return of my former dispatchers to the secretaries about Methvin and Colonel Urquette, and my wife's cousins, Balamoon and Finnaven. I must beg you will give my humble service to Mr. Secretary Methvin, and tell him that I must refer him to what I have written to my Lord Townshend in the affair of Rob Roy, believing it was needless to trouble both with letters. Examined, Robert Lemon, Deputy Keeper of State Papers, State Paper Office, November the 4th, 1829. Note, the enclosure referred to in the preceding letter is another copy of the letter which Mr. Graham of Colleen was compelled by Rob Roy to write to the Duke of Montrose, and is exactly the same as the one enclosed in his Grace's letter to Lord Townshend, dated November 21, 1716. R.L. The last letter, in the appendix number 2, 28th of November, acquainting the government with Colleen's being set at liberty, is also addressed to the Under Secretary's State, Mr. Pringle. The author may also hear remark that immediately previous to the insurrection of 1715, he perceives, from some notes of information given to government, that Rob Roy appears to have been much employed and trusted by the Jacobite Party, even in the very delicate task of transporting specie to the Earl of Brudarbon, though it might have somewhat resembled trusting Don Rafale and Ambrose de Mala with the church treasure. Notes to Rob Roy, Doogled Chair Moore. Note A, the Grey Stone of McGregor. I have been informed that at no very remote period, it was proposed to take this large stone, which marks the grave of Doogled Chair Moore, and to convert it to the purpose of the lintel of a window, the threshold of a door or some such mean use. A man of the clan McGregor, who was somewhat deranged, took fire at this insult, and when the workmen came to remove the stone, planted himself upon it with a broad axe in his hand, swearing he would dash out the brains of anyone who should disturb the monument. Athletic in person and insane enough to be totally regardless of consequences, it was thought best to give way to his humour, and the poor madman kept Sentinel on the stone day and night, till the proposal of removing it was entirely dropped. Note B, Doogled Chair Moore. The above is the account which I find in a manuscript history of the clan McGregor, of which I was indulged with a perusal by Donald McGregor Esquire, late major of the 33rd Regiment, where great pains have been taken to collect traditions and written documents concerning the family. But an ancient and constant tradition preserved among the inhabitants of the country, and particularly those of the clan McFarlane, relieves Doogled Chair Moore of the guilt of murdering the youths, and lays the blame on a certain Donald, or Duncan Lien, who performed the act of cruelty, with the assistance of a ghillie who attended him, named Charlie Ogh, or Charlie. They say that the homicides dared not again join their clan, but that they resided in a wild and solitary status outlaws in an unfrequented part of the McFarlane's territory. Here they lived for some time undisturbed, till they committed an act of brutal violence on two defenseless women, a mother and daughter of McFarlane clan. In revenge of the atrocity, the McFarlane's hunted them down and shot them. It is said that the younger Ruffian, Charlie Ogh, might have escaped being remarkably swift of foot, but his crime became his punishment, for the female whom he had outraged had defended herself desperately, and had stabbed him with his own duke in the thigh. He was lame from the wound, and was the more easily overtaken and killed. I always inclined to think this last the true edition of the story, and that the guilt was transferred to Duke Gould, Chair Moore, as a man of higher name, but I have learned that Duke Gould was, in truth, dead several years before the battle. My authority being his representative, Mr. Gregerson of Ard Tornish, see also note to introduction, legend of Montrose, volume 6. Note, see, the Loch Lomond expedition. The Loch Lomond expedition was judged worthy to form a separate pamphlet, which I have not seen, but has quoted by the historian Ray, it must be delectable. On the morrow, being Thursday the 13th, they went on their expedition, and about noon came to Invisnade, the place of danger where the paisley men and those of Dumbarton, and several of the other companies to the number of in hundred men, with the greatest intrepidity, left on shore, got up to the top of the mountains, and stood a considerable time beating their drums all the while. But no enemy appearing, they went in quest of their boats, which the rebels had seized, and having casually lighted on some ropes and oars hid among the shrubs, at length they found the boats drawn up a good way on the land, which they held down to the Loch. Some of them, as were not damaged, they carried off with them, and such as were they sank and hewed to pieces. That same note they returned to Lus, and then, next day to Dumbarton, from whence they had at first set out, bringing along with them the whole boats they found in their way on either side of the Loch, and in the creeks of the Isles, and mooring them under the cannon of the castle. During this expedition, the Pinaces, discharging their Pateraros, and the men, their small arms, made such a thundering noise through the multiplied red bounding echoes of the vast mountains on both sides of the Loch, that the McGregors were cowed, and frighted away to the rest of the rebels, who were encamped at Strathfillin. Race history of the rebellion, tome four, page 287. Note D, author's expedition against the McLaren's. The author is uncertain whether it is worth while to mention that he had a personal opportunity of observing, even in his own time, that the king's writ did not pass quite current in the brass of Bulkwader. There were very considerable debts due by Stuart of Abbon, chiefly to the author's family, which were likely to be lost to the creditors if they could not be made available out of this same farm of Invenente, the scene of the murder done upon McLaren. His family, consisting of several strapping deer stalkers, still possessed the farm by virtue of a long lease for a trifling rent. There was no chance of anyone buying it with such an encumbrance, and a transaction was entered into by the McLaren's, who, being desirous to emigrate to America, agreed to sell their lease to the creditors for five hundred pounds and to remove at the next term off with Sunday. But whether they repented their bargain or desired to make a better, or whether from a mere point of honor, the McLaren's declared they would not permit a summons of removal to be executed against them, which was necessary for the legal completion of the bargain. In such was the general impression that they were men capable of resisting the legal execution of warning by very effectual means, no king's messenger would execute the summons without the support of a military force. An escort of a sergeant and six men was obtained from a Highland regiment lying in Sterling, and the author, then a writer's apprentice, equivalent to the honorable situation of an attorney's clerk, was invested with the superintendents of the expedition, with directions to see that the messenger discharged his duty fully, and that the gallant sergeant did not exceed his part by committing violence or plunder. And thus it happened, oddly enough, that the author first entered the romantic scenery of Loch Cartrain, of which he may perhaps say he has somewhat extended the reputation, writing in all the dignity of danger, with a front and rear guard and loaded arms. The sergeant was absolutely a Highland sergeant kite, full of stories of Rob Roy and of himself, and a very good companion. We experienced no interruption whatever, and when we came to Invenente found the house deserted. We took up our quarters for the night, and drew some of the vitals which we found there. On the morning we returned as unmanested as we came. The McLarens, who probably never thought of any serious opposition, received their money and went to America, where, having had some slight share in removing them from their pauper and regner, I sincerely hoped they prospered. The rent of Invenente instantly rose from ten pounds to seventy pounds or eighty pounds, and when sold the farm was purchased, I think by the late leader of McNabb, at a price higher in proportion than what even the modern rent authorized the parties interested to hope for. Note E, Alan Breck Stewart. Alan Breck Stewart was a man likely in such a matter to keep his word. James Drummond, McGregor, and E, like Gathen and Petrucchio, were well matched for a couple of quiet ones. Alan Breck lived till the beginning of the French Revolution. About 1789 a friend of mine then residing at Paris was invited to see some procession which was supposed likely to interest him from the windows of an apartment occupied by a Scottish Benedictine priest. He found, sitting by the fire, a tall, thin, raw-boned, grim-looking old man with a petty choir of St. Louis. His visage was strongly marked by the irregular projections of the cheekbones and chin, his eyes were gray, his grizzled hair exhibited marks of having been red, and his complexion was weather-beaten and remarkably freckled. Some civilities in French passed between the old man and my friend, in the course of which they talked of the streets and squares of Paris. Till at length the old soldier for such he seemed and such he was, said with a sigh in a sharp highland accent, dear any of them art is worth the history of Edinburgh. One inquiry, this admiral of old Reiki, which he was never to see again, proved to be Alan Brick Stewart. He lived decently on his little pension and had, in no subsequent period of his life, shown anything of the savage mood in which he has generally believed to have assassinated the enemy antipressor, as he supposed him, of his family and clan. Note F. The Abyss of Wilton. The nunnery of Wilton was granted to the Earl of Pembroke upon its dissolution by the Magisterial Authority of Henry VIII or his son Edward VI. On the accession of Queen Mary of Catholic memory, the Earl found it necessary to reinstate the Abyss and her fair recluses, which he did with many expressions of his remorse kneeling humbly to the vestals and inducting them into the convent to antipossessions from which he had expelled them. With the accession of Elizabeth, the accommodating Earl again resumed his protestant faith and a second time drove the nuns from their sanctuary. The remonstrances of the Abyss, who reminded him of his penitent expressions on the former occasion, could ring from him no other answer than that in the text. Go spin, you jade! Go spin! Note G. Mons Meg. Mons Meg was a large old-fashioned piece of ordinance, a great favorite with the Scottish common people. She was fabricated at Mons in Flanders, in the reign of James IV or V of Scotland. This gun figures frequently in the public accounts of the time where we find charges for Greece, to Greece Meg's mouth withal, to increase as every schoolboy knows the loudness of the report, rivins to deck her carriage, and pipes to play before her when she was brought from the castle to accompany the Scottish army on any distant expedition. After the union, there was much popular apprehension that the regalia of Scotland and the subordinate Palladium, Mons Meg, would be carried to England to complete the odious surrender of national independence. The regalia, sequestered from the site of the public, were generally supposed to have been abstracted in this manner. As for Mons Meg, she remained in the castle of Edinburgh, till by order of the Board of Ordnance she was actually removed to Warwick about 1757. The regalia by His Majesty's special command had been brought forth from their place of concealment in 1818 and exposed to the view of the people by whom they must be looked upon with deep associations and in this very winter of 1828-29 Mons Meg has been restored to the country where that which in every other place of situation was a mere mass of rusty iron becomes once more a curious monument of antiquity. Note H. Ferry superstition. The lakes and precipices amidst which the Avondieu or River Forth has its booth are still according to popular tradition haunted by the Elphin people. The most peculiar but most pleasing of the creations of Celtic superstitions. The opinions entertained about these beings are much the same with those of the Irish so exquisitely well narrated by Mr Croft and Croker. An eminently beautiful little conical hill near the eastern extremity of the valley of Abba Forle is supposed to be one of their peculiar haunts and is the scene which awakens in Andrew Fair service the terror of their power. It is remarkable that two successive clergymen of this parish of Abba Forle have employed themselves in writing about this Ferry superstition. The eldest of these was Robert Kirk a man of some talents who translated the Psalms into garlic verse. He had formerly been minister at the neighbouring parish of Barquitta and died at Abba Forle in 1688 at the early age of 42. He was author of The Secret Commonwealth which was printed after his death in 1691 an edition which I have never seen and was reprinted in Edinburgh 1815. This is the work concerning the Ferry people in whose existence Mr Kirk appears to have been a devout believer. He describes them with the usual powers and qualities ascribed to such beings in Highland tradition. But what is efficiently singular the Reverend Robert Kirk author of the said treatise is believed himself to have been taken away by the Ferrys in revenge perhaps for having let in too much light upon the secrets of their commonwealth. We learn this catastrophe from the information of his successor the late Amoebaal and learned Dr Patrick Graham also minister at Abba Forle who in his sketches of Perthscher has not forgotten to touch upon the Dionchee or Men of Peace. The Reverend Robert Kirk was it seems walking upon a little eminence to the west of the present manse which is still held a Danchee or Ferrymand when he sunk down and what seemed to mortals a fit and was supposed to be dead. This however was not his real fate. Mr Kirk was the near relation of Graham of Dockray the ancestor of the present general Graham Sterling. Shortly after his funeral he appeared in the dress in which he had sunk down to a medical relation of his own and of Dockray. Go said he to him to my cousin Dockray and tell him that I am not dead. I fell down in a swoon and was carried into Ferryland where I now am. Tell him that when he and my friends are assembled at the baptism of my child for he had left his wife pregnant I will appear in the room and that if he throws a knife which he holds in his hand over my head I will be released and restored to human society. The man it seems neglected for some time to deliver the message. Mr Kirk appeared to him a second time threatening to haunt him night and day till he executed his commission which at length he did. The time of the baptism arrived. They were seated at table. The figure of Mr Kirk entered but the lead of Dockray by some unaccountable fatality neglected to perform the prescribed ceremony. Mr Kirk retired by another door and was seen no more. It is firmly believed that he is at this day in Fairyland. Sketches of Perthshire page 254. The treatise by Robert Kirk here mentioned was written in the year 1691 but not printed till 1815. Note I Clocken of Upper Foil I do not know how this might stand in Mr Osboarder Stone's day but I can assure the reader whose curiosity may lead him to visit the scenes of these romantic adventures. That the Clocken of Upper Foil now affords a very comfortable little in. If he chances to be a Scottish antiquary it will be an additional recommendation to him that he will find himself in the vicinity of the reverend Dr Patrick Graham. Minister of the Gospel at Upper Foil whose urbanity in communicating information on the subject of national antiquities is scarce exceeded even by the stores of legendary law which he has accumulated. Original Note The respectable clergyman alluded to has been dead for some years. See note H End of Volume 2 Post Script and Notes End of Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott Recording by Felicity Campbell Whanganui, New Zealand