which suddenly made its appearance in the lower part of the glen. These troops, as has been already remarked, being received as friends, upon the solemn word of their officers that their coming was in peace, neither meditating nor intending injury to any of the inhabitants, were distributed in small parties in the various dwellings of the clan, in a manner altogether suitable for the murderous part they were destined to act; while their hosts, trusting in these hollow assurances, exerted themselves to greet them with such welcome as their means permitted. Such being the state of affairs, young Eachan, who, from his erratic habits of life, was in the way of hearing every current report, pacific or alarming, divided his presence and his cares between the house of his mistress and the family of his chief; passing from Kinlochlevin to Glencoe, or Auchnaghon, as circumstances prompted, and frequently visiting all those places in the course of the same short-lived winter day. It was upon the afternoon of February 12th, 1692, that Eachan came to the bothy of Ian Bochal, and with some agitation informed the old man that he had seen one from Ballachulish, who reported certain movements of the troops there and at Inverlochy, of a suspicious if not an alarming description-"Ye'll better look out for yourself," added he; "and ye had as good drive the cattle up the glen out of sight the night; and, Isobel dear, be ready for a start yourself. As for me, I must be off to the laird, and give him a word of warning: but I'll be back here, please God, before this time to-morrow; and there's little chance of ill before that time, any way." The dark eyes of Isobel bent upon the young man half-mournfully, half-reproachfully, as he spoke, and her lips severed as if she would have addressed him; when at that moment, a black shaggy sheep-dog, which lay basking before the peat-embers on the hearth, raised its head, and uttered a loud wailing howl. All eyes were turned upon the animal-Isobel started, and her father, running to the door, cast an anxious look around. "Oh go not to Glencoe the-night," said the girl, turning earnestly towards him when they were alone "don't leave us at such a time, Eachan. See, the night will close in before you're half over the hill, and a wild road is that, even by daylight-see, Shulach won't have you to move.' 'Hout, lass, what would keep me?" replied Eachan: "before the light's done I'll be across the water, and Auchnaghon is no that far off." "What ails thee, Shulach?" said the father, now returning from his espial, and addressing the dog which was so named-"what ails you, poor beoch?-deil a creature is near." The only reply of the animal was another long dismal howl, with a glance at the door-way, and a look at Eachan. "The bitch smells a fox or some vermin," said Eachan; "and she wants me to go after it with her."-"Na, na," replied the father, "that's no the yelp Shulach would give if game or vermin were in the wind-the creature's no canny-she smells mischief, and it's for us to guard against it."-"Oh Eachan! my father says true," said Isobel, imploringly "there is mischief about to happen, as sure as ye're before us-oh let Glencoe and Mackian alone the-night-there's plenty o' them to keep themselves-dinna leave the bothy at this time o' day."-"What! lass," said the father somewhat sternly-"would ye tempt the lad to forsake his chief at need, and leave his own foster-brother in danger? Na, na! he'll no hear such counsel from old Ian Bochal. -Off with you, young man-God speed and bless you-let me alone to tak care o' the beasts, and no fear of ourselves." "I'll no say, sir," continued the old guide, "that there was not a weight upon Eachan's heart, as he took a kiss and a look at Isobel, and turned to leave the bothy: and scarcely had he passed the threshold when Shulach, suddenly rising from her lair, darted before him, and began to howl and to bark more wildly than ever, still crossing and recrossing his path, and seeking, as ye might think, to stop his progress.-'Down, Shulach! down, ye fool!' cried he, trying to caress the beast as it bounded past-but it still kept away out of reach, continuing its strange eldrich antics. Hear me, Eachan,' at length said Isobel'it's a true word my father spoke when he said that beast's no canny. Shulach's no like other dogs-mind how often she has led us, by her yelping and tugging, to the beast that has fallen into a peat crack-and was na it she that took my father last winter to the place where old Callum was lying half-dead in the drift? Let the beast go wi' you, Eachan-she canna' do you ill, and I'll be easier for it in my mind-for, ochone! I wish there may na be some evil about to befal us!'-And in truth. sir, the creature would na be forbidden; and when at last he turned away with a determined step, and whistled her to him, the beast lap and jumped about him, as if it had been contented to follow since she could not keep him from going on his ill-fated journey. "Well, sir-away went Eachan. The evening turned out a wild one, and it got so dark with rain, and drift, and snow, that before the night set in it needed all his skill and stoutness of heart to make his way to Mackian's dwelling. There he told his story, but the good laird would na believe that any ill could be meant after the plighted words of Glenlyon and of Lindsay; and he set down all the stir among the soldiers to the score of the Glengarry and Keppoch men. He wanted Eachan to stay the night in the place, but he was keen to be with his foster-brother at Auchnaghon, and off he set straight for the house. "It seems that the people of Auchnaghon and of Inneriggin had as little thought of danger as the Laird of Glencoe himself, for they all went to their beds as usual, except old Auchintriaton, who, no doubt alarmed by Eachan's tidings, which maybe strengthened his own suspicions, thought it as well to sit up all night along with his whole party. "Eachan having seen his foster-brother, to whom he told all his suspicions, and whom he earnestly prayed to continue upon his guard, quitted the house, which was already full both of its own folk and of the soldiers quartered there, and retired to that where Auchintriaton kept watch, and took his place with others around a good fire of peats. The early part of the night was passed in talking cheerfully, and drinking moderately; in which the soldiers and officers of the party stationed there freely joined. But as it grew late the soldiers retired, leaving the room to the poor doomed Macdonalds, who towards morning began to be drowsy, and to watch less carefully. Among the rest, Eachan, wearied with the buffeting of the night's storm, lay down in his plaid upon the floor, behind the rest, and fell into a sound sleep. "How long he lay in this way, sir, he could not tell, but he was awakened by a loud continued rattle, like that of thunder; and starting up to know what was the matter, was instantly felled to the ground again, by a shock, of which, at the moment, he did not know the nature. For a few moments his head swam round, and a sickness like death itself came over him; but on recovering, and hearing around him a horrid uproar of cries, and groans, and curses, mixed with the heavy tread of men, and the clash of arms, he looked up: the room was filled with smoke of gunpowder; and by the dim light of the fire he saw himself surrounded by the bodies of his companions, stretched dead upon the floor, or writhing with their wounds, while a number of soldiers were bursting into the room, and some were already thrusting their bayonets into the bodies of those who had fallen by their fire. Not a moment had he to think or to recollect himself, sir, for scarcely had he opened his eyes when he saw the bayonet of one of the butcherly soldiers within a foot of his breast: a waft of his arm dashed the weapon aside, and on looking up at the man who aimed it, the faint gleam of the fire showed him a face he well knew. 'Hold, hold, Hamish, man!' cried he, 'would ye murder your friend Eachan Ruah?' 'Deoul! Eachan, are you there, and alive?' cried the man, stepping back a pace; 'but what can I do? see, they are all there, at my back.'-'Oh! but, man, dinna let me die by a friend's blow-let me go-let me die out of doors if it must be-not in this hole, to be burned like a beast, when the fire takes the bothy.'-'Weel, weel,' said Hamish, if I canna save you, I'll no kill you-off wi' you, man.' So he let him rise; and Eachan rushed through the throng to the door, where three of the red-coats were watching wi' fixed bayonets and loaded muskets. But Eachan was a supple chiel, sir; he pushed through the bayonets, and as the men lifted their guns to fire at him, he took his loose plaid, flung it over their faces, and off he started like a deer. "There was a sergeant close by, who saw this daring act: 'Seize the fellow,' cried he; and off he set himself, wi' his drawn sword, after Eachan. But it was na the like o' him that could catch the lightest foot and best wind in Glencoe or Lochaber; and his useless attempt was the safety of Eachan; for the men, when they freed themselves of the plaid, could not fire after him, for fear of harming their officer. The sergeant saw this when it was too late, and flinging himself on the ground, called out, 'Fire away, boys-shoot the rascally rebel.' Bang went their pieces; but a dark morning and a running foot spoil a good aim—the balls whizzed by him harmlessly, and on bounded Eachan, dashing across the river, though it was roaring in speat, and up to the hills on the east of the glen. "But his course was soon very near being stopped to some purpose; for as he turned the corner of a little knowe, at the foot of which the high-road passed up the glen, he found himself full in front of a dozen soldiers, who were hastily marching onwards. Halloo! that's one of them,' roared their leader, 'fire! shoot the fellow!' and Eachan, though he doubled like a hare, had scarcely time to dash across the road, and down a little heathery brae, before eight or ten musket-balls were rattling about him. Nor was theirs so bad an aim; for one of them cut the belt which fastened his philibeg round his waist, and another gave him a deep flesh wound in the side. But the mischief was little, and he scarcely felt it at the time; and as for the soldiers, their power was spent with their powder --for who, while strength and breath remained, could keep foot with the Red Hunter? "Away sprang the lad, like a horse that feels the spur; and before a red-coat was fit to follow he was deep among the wild rocks of the corry. But to skulk like a hunted fox was not the design of Eachan.-'No,' said he to himself Isobel!-Isobel!-while I have life and strength, let me strive to reach GlenLeven let me see if she be safe yet: and then, come life, come death, Eachan will care but little. Ochone! Ochone for Mackian!-Ochone for the brave young Allister! a black, black day is it for the clan, and the black curse rest on their bloody murderers!' The thought of poor Isobel, perhaps in the hands of these butchers, gave him force and speed, the light was increasing in spite of the driving storm; and Eachan neither halted nor breathed himself, until he saw the black glen below him, from the top of the wild hills above us, sir, which lie between Glencoe and Glen-Leven. from the soldiers, until she saw him fall, and lie like a dead man on the hill; and then it seems the poor beast must have kenned that better help than she could give was wanted, and off she set to the bothy to bring it. "The moment Isobel saw the dog she gave a scream, and cried out, 'Eachan!-Oh Eachan! they have murdered you!'-and her heart failed her, so that she fell almost fainting against the door-post. But Shulach, running up, fawned upon her, tugging at the skirt of her gown-then ran off again-looked back, and then returned to pull again at her clothes. Isobel was not long of understanding what all this meant, sir.'Oh Moraig!' said she to the old woman, he is not dead-I am sure of it— Shulach is calling me to him-he may be wounded, or dying in this wild weather—oh' let me go to him at once.'-And catching up her plaid, and whatever clothes came first to her hand, with a horn o' whisky and a bannock of bread-off she set, following the dog, which, bounding and scampering before her, led her straight to the hill. Sure enough, sir, there did Isobel find her poor Eachan, bloody and stiff; and the coldness of his body went to her heart like ice, for she thought he was dead and gone entirely. But, oh! muckle will a woman do for the lad of her heart, your honour. Isobel covered him wi' the plaid, and even laid her own warm body upon his-and, ochone' glad was she when she saw his hurts begin to bleed again, for that was a sure sign of return "The road was then easy, for it was all down hill, and he was eagerly looking through the mist for the black bothy of the Bochal. But will cannot strive against nature; the blood which had flowed from his wounds began now to tell-a sick faintness came over him, his knees trembled, and while still distant from the bothy, poor Eachan, in spite of his stouting life. heart and best exertions, fell insensible upon the ground, which was now white with the driving snow; and he would soon have slept the sleep of death with the rest of his wounded clansmen-but there was a Providence watching over him, sir, and the hand of man could not prevail against it. "The poor lassie, Isobel, had remained the whole night watching in her father's bothy, attended only by an old woman, who could have been of no use as a protector. For lan Bochal had on the preceding evening, according to the advice of Eachan, set out with a protchach of a herd-boy, to drive the cattle to the hills, and she did not expect him back till the next day. The night passed without disturbance; and when morning dawned, she continued, carnestly gazing about the bothy door, in hope, and partly in fear, of seeing some one approaching, until her attention was attracted by the sight of a dog running furiously towards the hut. It was Shulach, sir, the creature which had followed Eachan the whole way to Auchnaghon, and accompanied him back when fleeing And so it was in truth; for he opened his eyes, and gasped, and sobbed, while the dog, poor beast, kept licking at his wounds, till at last he glowered about him, and called out, 'Isobel!' "Weel, sir! I need na tell you how she dressed his wounds, and covered him with the clothes and the plaid she had brought; and how he was recovered by a sup o' the whisky, and came to himself; and Isobel, blithe to see him in life again, was for going back to the bothy, No! no! Isobel, dear,-it's the mercy of God that the villains have na been there alreadyit would be rank madness to go back. No, no! let the trash that's in it go—we'll after, your father, and be off to Rannoch, till this sore sough blow by; and then we'll do as the Lord pleases. As for Glencoe, there's as many corpses as gray stones in it by this time o' day. "It was well for them, your honour, that they went na back to the bothy; for Isobel had na left it ten minutes before the red-coats came. They murdered the poor creature Moraig, and, plundering it of all the few things it contained, set fire to it, and left the place, I cursing, no doubt, the chance that had saved myself-or rather to my name and family, the rest of its in-dwellers. would willingly have made substantial acknowledgments of the same. But not one penny "Eachan, revived by the refreshment he had received, and by the warmth of the clothes which Isobel had brought him, was able to assist her through the drift and snow to the hill where her father had driven the cattle. To save his master's property and his own, as well as the lives of the whole party, was the point now; and accordingly they drove the beasts as fast as the wild weather and Eachan's wounds would permit, towards Rannoch, where Ian Bochal had a cousin, in whose good-will he could trust. There they remained until the false and bloody Glenlyon went off to Holland, and the great folk of the nation began to make a stir about the slaughter of Glencoe, when the surviving sons of Mackian were enabled to claim their own. Ye may believe, sir, that Eachan and Isobel were na long o' being married: and the man who now tells you the tale is grandson to that very Eachan Ruah." "Indeed! my friend," said I, with some surprise; "I did expect to hear that you were in some way connected with this Red Hunter; but, old as you are, I certainly did not give you credit for being the grandson of a man who figured and married so long ago."-"Ay, sir, that may be, for I'm gay and stout, sure enough; but whatever ye may think, it's the truth. I was a weel-grown rattling chield at Culloden; and if I be spared to Lammas, I'll be just four-score and five years of age. It's a long-lived race we're of, your honour, and the glen is a braw place for health." "And pray, my good friend, how do you live-what are your means?" demanded I, still more interested by the veteran's account of himself. "Oh, it's little that keeps the like o' me, sir," replied he. "The family are kind to me, as they have been to all my forebears. -I have the little bothy up by, from them, wi' leave for a few goats and some sheep; and the colonel, God bless him, gives me a pension; and the gentle folks that pass through the glen give me something for my guidance and my clavers, whiles; and the neighbours are all very kind too-so when it pleases the Lord to call old Allister from this weary world, there'll no be wanting something to bury him decently, and to gie a dram to the caillachs that cry his coronach." Delighted with the old Highlander's simplicity and patriotic independence,—for, poor as he was, a slighting look, or an expression against his country or clan, he would not have endured from King George himself,—and gratified, perhaps, with his flattering attention to would the old man accept in the shape of coin. "No, no," said he, "proud woud old Allister be, sir, to follow your father's son from the Mull o' Cantyre to Loch Eribol itsel,-forby showing him the bonniest glen in a' the Hielands. If young — wad gi' him but a pinch o' snuff out o' his own mull, he wad think more of it than a' the siller."- That will I, my good friend," said I, presenting him with a handsome Laurencekirk box, which I had lately bought and filled with right Lundyfoot; "and you shall keep the box and all for my sake." "Ochone!" said he, "it's too much trouble; may the Lord protect you and bless you, sir, when old Allister is put under his own graystone." "Amen!" responded I, "but I hope to see you at the bit bothy yet, once and again, before that." The old man turned to me with a softened eye:-"No, no," said he, shaking his head gravely,-"that's no to be thought of-but the Lord's will be done!" Alas! it was the truth. Many a year had passed, and through many a land had I wandered, before I again visited Glencoe. The scenes were the same, "unchangeable, unchanged," and my heart beat as recollections of the past rushed thick upon it but a green turfy mound occupied the place of the bothy in the glen, and its former tenant, my honest old guide, had long been gathered to his fathers. ROB ROY'S GRAVE. The history of Rob Roy is sufficiently known; his grave is near the head of Loch Katrine, in one of those small sheepfold-like burial grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland. A famous man is Robin Hood, Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart, And wondrous length and strength of arm: Nor craved he more to quell his foes, Or keep his friends from harm. |