Newspaper Page Text
2
their bed-rooms, which, if not as luxuri
antly furnished as their own at home
were equally as clean and comfortable.
Arthur was restless from the pain of his
arm, and, not being 1 able to sleep, sat by
Ormand’s side. Emily and Amy sat by
the fire 1 alking in low tones. All at once,
Amy uttered an astonished cry, and,
a, him* from her seat, came to Arthur's
side.
“Do you know where we are, Arthur?”
“Weil, just at present, we occupy a
room in the Castle of Mac lan, the High
land Chief, who soems to be a most hospi
table old gentleman,” replied Arthur,
smiling.
“Ah ! but do you know that Mac lan
is the one we have heard of in London as
Mac Donald, of Glencoe,’ 1 asked Amy,
earnestly.
“I had not thought of it, Amy; but I
believe you arc right. We have come
entirely out of our way. But, you look
startled, Amy; what do you fear ?”
“What do I fear? Ask me, rather,
what I do not fear ? Have we not always
heard that this Chief of Glencoe is the
fiercest of all the Highlanders; that the
sight of blood is not new to him; that
his famiy are robbers and murderers ?”
“True, we have heard all that,” an
swered Arthur; “and, yet, we have neither
been lobbed nor murdered. Oh 1 lie,
Amy, to think so ill of our kind friends.
Tell me, did that hoary-headed gentleman
look like a murderer ? Did that hand
some young fellow look like a robber?
Do not believe all you hear, Amy, but see
and judge for yourself. True, these war
like Highland Chiefs do not like to bend
their fierce wills to the will of the King
of England; but what of that! they are
themselves Kings, here among their wild
mountains, and are served by a loving,
loyal people ! Have no fear, Amy, go to
bed, aud sleep quietly.”
Reassured by Arthur’s words, Amy
returned to her sister’s side, and lifting
the sleeping boy in her arms, bid Emily
an affectionate good-night, and passed into
the next room.
CHAPTER 111.
The following day, was a dark, and
stormy one, the cold rain fell in torrents,
and the wind shrieked dismally among
the mountains. Amy was still sleeping
with the little Raymond in her arms,
when a stout, rosy, maiden, entered her
room to kindle a fire in the vast chim
ney place. Curious were the glances cast
by the rustic lass upon the sleeping lady,
and the beautiful infant by her side. At
last, the fire was burning brightly, but
the lady still slept, and the girl went to
her bedside to admire her beauty. Taking
up the tiny shoe that lay on the floor, she
Held up her own bare foot, and measured
the lciigdi of the shoe upon it, smiling
to herself at the vast difference between
foot and shoe; then, still holding it in her
hand, she touched the delicate laces of
Amy’s night, dress, and even gently
stroked a stray curl. Light as was the
touch on her hair, it awoke Amy instant
ly, and she started up with a low cry.
“ Na. Tin, dinna be feared, Jean man
na hurt the bonnic leddie !” said the
Highland lass, in a soothing tone.
“ I am not afraid,” answered Amy,
smiling sweetly; “ but I was fast asleep
and you startled me.”
“ Will the leddie let me put on her
wee bit shoon ?” asked the girl, gathering
up the little boots in her hands
“Certainly, if you wish to do so,” ans
wered Amy, getting out of bed, and seat
ing herself besides the fire. Jean knelt
before her, and put cn the shoes and
stockings with a practised hand. (Though
we will now give Jean’s meaning in our
own words, the reader must understand
that she then, and always, spoke her
Scotch dialect, which Amy understood
with difficulty)
“ 1 was waiting maid to my young
mistress,” said Jean, with evident pride,
as she assisted Amy in making her
toilet.
“And where is your young mistress?”
asked Amy.
“ She’s away,” answered Jean sadiy.
“ Away! but where is she. ?”
Amy, puzzled at the girl’s manner.
“She is dead!” was the low spoken
answer; and the big tears chased each
other down Jean’s rosy check.
“How long has she been dead?” in
quired Amy, looking with interest upon
the lass, who seemed to retain so tender
a recollect ion .of her young mistress.
“ About a year,” answered Jean,
loosening Amy’s hair, and deftly apply
ing the brush to the rippling mass.
“ And how old was she ?”
“ Nineteen years, in the Spring time.”
“ Just my own age,” murmured Amy,
“ but tell me, Jean—isn’t your name
Jean ?”
“ Yes ma’am, Jean Laidlaw is my
name.”
“ Tell me, then, Jean, has your old
master no other daughter ?”
“No other daughter; only the two
sons, John aud Alexander,” answered
Jean.
“ And where are these two sons?”
pursued Amy, bent on acquiring infor
mation concerning the family into which
she had been so strangely introduced.
“ Master Alexander brought you home
last night,” answered Jean, “and mas
ter John, the young laird, is away
hunting. He will be home this morning
though, and you will see him, aye. you
will be pleased at the sight, though!”
“ You think I will be pleased to see
him then, Jean ?” said Amy, smiling.
“ Oh ! you will, indeed, for he is a
rarely handsome man,” exclaimed Jean,
with enthusiasm, “ and the best hunter,
and the strongest in all Glencoe !”
“And how looks this young lord?”
asked Amy, smiling, as her fancy pic
tured a stout brawny man, rough and
rude.
“He is very tail, my lady; his eyes
are blue as the sky, and his hair like the
yellow sunset,” answered Jean.
“And his cheeks like a damask rose ?”
asked Amy, laughing outright at Jean’s
description of the young Chief.
“ They are, indeed !” replied Jean ;
and at this moment Emily opened the
door, and looked in.
“ Good morning, Amy; you seem to be
very much pleased; what is it?”
“ I am laughing at Jean’s description
of her young master,” replied Amy; “but
tell me sister, how is Ormand, this morn
ing ?”
“He is very weak, scarcely able to
lift his head from the pillow; Arthur,
also, is suffering very much with his arm;
the young man, Alexander Maclan, who
brought us here last night, is with them
now. How is little Raymond ?” Going
to the bedside, Emily tenderly kissed
the child, and lifted him in her arms.
“Raymond is quite well,” answered
Amy, “and he slept well, too; dress him,
sister, and let us go to Ormand; I know
he is unhappy when you arc away from
him, even tor a few moments.”. Most un
acountably, Master Raymond held out
his arms to Jean, and, as she receive!
him with a scream of delight, the sisters
left him in her care, and went into the
next room. Ormand was lying in bed,
his face very pale, and his eyes gleaming
brightly. Arthur was reclining in a
large chair near him. Speaking a few
kind words to Arthur, Amy pressed her
lips to Ormand’s brow, but spoke not;
her heart was too full for her to trust her
voice.
“ Do not di ress yourself, Amy, I am
no worse, only so tired; when I get over
this fatigue, 1 am sure, I will feel better.”
“ I most sincerely hope so, dear
brother,” answered Amy ; and her voice
quivered in spite of herself. “See, there
is young Mac lan,” whispered Ormand,
and turning around, Amy saw Alexander,
standing near the window. Going up to
him at once, Amy timidly offered him
her hand, and thanked him for his kind
attention.
“ You are more than welcome, lady,”
answered the young man;“my wife will
be home to-day, and can do more for
you than my poor old mother, or the
servants, who though willing, with but
few exceptions are very ignorant.”
“ You have given me a waiting maid
who knows her duty well,” said Amy,
smiling.
“Ah! yes, Jean,” said Alexander;
“and has she been singing the praises of
Mac lan, as usual ?”
“ She cc rtainly has not abused you,”
replied Amy', “and I think she spoke
somewhat in praise of your brother John,
I think she called him ?”
“ Yes it was of John she spoke; lie is
her idol; indeed we are all rather proud
of him. lam standing by the window
now, hoping to get the first look from him
on his return home ; lie has been away
from .home three days, and wo are all
anxiously looking for him.”
“You interest m said Amy, looking
up to the honest looking eyes bent upon
her; “I hope soon to meet this brother of
yours. An elder brother, is he not?”
“ Yes, John is two years older than I
am, yet he is not married. I think he
never will marry.”
A low tap sounded on the door. Alex
ander opened it himself. It was -a servant,
who came to bid them all to the break
fast. Leaving Jean with Ormand and
Arthur, the two ladies accompanied
Alexander to the breakfast room.
This was a small comfortable room
very unlike the vast ball where they
ate "their supper the night before. The
arrangement of the place showed evi
dences of a refined taste that struck Amy
with astonishment, taught, as she had
been, that the Highlanders were perfect
savages. She soon learned that the wife
! 0 f Alexander was the niece of Capt. John
! Campbell, a gentleman whom she had
I several times met in London, and greatly
j a d m ired, for his affable manner. The old
| lady rose from her seat, and met the
‘ladies with a cordial smile and pressure
of the hand, bidding them welcome to
~ ' . "^N—, II I J ■'».#
the morning meal. Amy was charmed
with the appearance of the Highland
Princess, and drew her chair very near
her’s when taking her seat at the table.
Mac lan made the kindest enquiries about
Ormand and Arthur, but interrupted
Emily, as she expressed a regret that
they should be compelled to trespass on
their host’s hospitality.
“ I tell you truly, that I am no dear
lover of the English, as a race,” said
Mac lan; “but I have some few friends
among them. An ye come not as traitors,
ye are more than welcome; for it is not
often we see a stranger’s face in these
mountains. My son Alexander’s wife
will he home this day, and she will be
glad to find you here.”
“ And if your dear ones were na sick,”
said his wife, “I would bless the chance
that brought ye here. This fair lass
minds me o’ my own bairn, Mae lan !”
“ Aye, so she does, just such a wee
bit lass was our Margaret,” answered
Mac lan, bright tears shining'in his eyes;
“and I hope the lady will stay with us a
while. Where were ye going ?” he ask
ed, turning to Emily.
“ We were going to Arrochar, where,
we were told, we could get lodgings for
the Summer. My husband is sick, and
we wished to try the effect of your High
land air.”
“To Arrochar ! Ye hae come a long
way from it; it is more than twenty
miles from here, and you took the wrong
road entirely.”
“ So we disco\cred when too late,”
answered Emily; “but when the Earl
feels a little better, wo will retrace our
steps.”
“ No, no, you will not !” exclaimed
Lady Mac lan; “you wish to try the
Highland air ; there is none better than
we have here at Glencoe; and if you
could endure us, stay here.”
“ You are very kind,” exclaimed
Emily, “and if it were not that I fear to
trespass ”
“ Say no more,” interrupted Mac lan;
“stay with us, we will be glad to have
your company.”
“ Them 1 accept your invitation, as
frankly as it is offered,” replied Emily,
“and I do bless the chance that brought
me to the roof of the Chief of Glencoe.”
“ Without being either robbed or mur
dered !” said Alexander, glancing mis
chieviously at A my, who blushed scarlet,
and exclaimed. “Oh !*I beg your par
don, but how did you —?”
“llow did I know what you said?”
asked Alexander, laughing merrily; “your
brother Arthur told me this morning,
and Jean happened to hear the reply Ik*
made you;, and his reply lias gratified
me much more than your remark has
hurt me. You have been told falsehoods
concerning us—we have been misrepre
sented, that is all; but now that you know
us as wc are, let us hope that we shall
be friends.”
“Oh! willingly, if you can forgive
my insolence,” said Amy, almost crying.
Alexander clasped her hand in silence,
and turned his eyes towards the door.
There was a confused murmur of voices
without, and then a ringing step resound
ed on the stone floor. The door was
thrown open, and a young man bounded
in. As he saw the strangers, he paused
in astonishment, then, quickly recovering
his presence of mind, lie doffed his plum
ed bonnet and bowed until the feathers
touched the floor. Lady Mac lan came for
ward, and presented, first, Emily, and then
Amy, to her eldest son, John, who greet
ed them right cordially. Amy gazed
upon his handsome face and form, in
speechless admiration. She had thought
her cousins handsome, but never before
did such a vision of manly beauty greet
her eyes, as now appeared before her.
He was over six feet in height., and most
perfectly proportioned. Ilis hair was
truly of a bright golden color, much
brighter thau OrrnancTs, and yet not
lighter; his eyes shone like stars, and his
skin was pure as an infant’s, Ilis hands
were hard and brown, but most exqui
sitely formed. Amy looked upon this
magnificent son of the Highlands, and
her admiration was so plainly depicted in
her face as to give a thrill of gratified
love and pride to his mother's heart.
And what thought this young giant of
the fair frail girl who, scarcely five feet
hieh, had to throw her head back to look
up into his face? “I could crush her to
death with one clasp of my arm,” lie said
to himself, as he looked down upon her.
The breakfast was over; they lingered
as long as possible, but it was over at
last. Little Raymond was brought in,
and, as he was just learning to talk, he
was quite clamorous for his “dinner,”
demanding an instant supply of “bread
and mini,” which his aunt declared
meant bread and meat. Rut even Ray
mond could not eat forever, aud so at
last they rose from the table. Arthur
and Ormand had been served in their
room, and declared themselves much bet
ter. At Ormand’s request, the room
was darkened; Arthur threw himself
upon the bed, beside him, and was lulled
to rest by the softly dropping »rain ; they
slept long and sweetly. The early din
ner was over when they awoke, and Ar
thur declared himself almost famished.
Emily came from the next room, as soon
as she heard them speaking, and asked
Arthur what he was saying.
“ I say, I would like to wash my face,
and have sqfne dinner,” replied Arthur,
gaily, “and it you will comb my hair, f
will be quite in trim.”
“ I think I would like to get up, too,”
said Ormand; “but help Arthur first; you
know he has only one arm now. I won
der what has become of Felix and Dora,
Emily ?”
“ They are here, Ormand ; whon they
had gone some five miles on the right
road without seeing anything of us, they
concluded that they wore wrong, and
turned back. When they got back to
the place where the road branches, they
looked for our wheel tracks, and having
discovered them, came on in the road
that leads up here ”
“ And where did they stay last night?”
“At a small hamlet called Anchnaion,
which it seems we passed without no
ticing. Here, Arthur, is your room on
the other side of ours. You will find
Felix waiting there for you.”
Arthur went into his own room, and
Emily lent her willing, loving, assistance
to Ormand.
He had just finished dressing, when
Mac lan himself tapped at the door, wish
ing to know how he was? Ormand
gladly welcomed the genial old man, and
sat conversing with him until Arthur en
tered the room, and declared himself
ready for anything they might propose.
Mae lan expressed his delight at their
improved looks, and pressed Ormand to
say that he would stay at least a month,
and Ormand assented. Arthur was
standing by the window, and he uttered
an exclamation of surprise, calling at the
same time to Ormand to “come quick!”
Ormand hastened to the window, as also,
did Mac lan. The clouds had passed
away, and the sun was faintly shining.
Standing on the grass, that was but a
pale green as yet, was the oblect of Ar
thurs admiration. A j’oung man, clad
in the Highland costume, his plaid and
bonnet flung carelessly upon the grouud,
at his side, his long waving hair floating
in a golden maze over Iris shoulders,
and in his arms a little boy whom he
was holding on the back of an immense
doer. One glance convinced him that
the child was Raymond Sutherland, his
own nephew ; but who was the young
man ?
“He is perfect! gracious, what a form!
Who is he, Ormand ?”
“I am sure I cannot tell,” answered
Ormand ; “my lord here, can doubtless
tell us and he turned to Mac lan for
information.
“Call rnc Mac lan ; I prefer the name
to all others,” said Mae lan ; “and yon
lad, you arc looking at so hard, is my
son, John.”
“Well, he is a splendid fellow,” said j
Arthur, drawing a long breath. “Come, j
let us go out, Ormand ; lam anxious to
have a nearer view.”
Mac lan tried hard to hide his pleasure,
but scarcely succeeded.
Arthur and Ormand felt, and looked
very little beside the eldest son of Mac
lan ; and, yet, they were not below the j
medium size. In a few minutes the en
thusiastic Arthur, and no loss warm
hearted John, were firm friends.
[to be continued.]
From the Savannah News.
SAVANNAH AS SEEN BY GEN. GEORGE
WASHINGTON, IN 1791.
The “Southern tour,” made by Gen.
Washington in 1791, has been mentioned
often by his biographers, but none of those
who have mentioned it have done more
than to refer to it. During his tour,
General Washington kept a diary, which
fortunately, has been saved, and now ap
pears in book form, edited by Mr. Ben
son J. Lossing. Monday night as stated
by the News and Herald, Mr. W. S.
Bogart entertained the Georgia Histori
cal Society, by reading extracts from
the book. The account of the Geuerars
visit to Savannah appears in the book,
and as it is of interest, we publish it,
only writing out the abbreviations:
The General left Philadelphia on the
21st of March, 1791, to make the trip,
and, after visiting all of the principal cities
along the route, arrived at Purisburg, in
South Carolina, on the 12th of May, of
the same year. (Purisburg is about
thirty miles from here.) “Here I was
met by Messrs. 11. Wimberly Jones*
Col. Joseph Habersham, Mr. John Hous
ton, General Lochlin Mclntosh, aud Mr.
Joseph Clay, a committee from the City
of Savannah to conduct me thither.
Boats were also ordered there by them
for my accommodation, among which was
a handsome eight-oared barge, rowed by
eight American Captains, attended. In
my way down the liver, I called upon
Mrs. Greene, the widow of the deceased
General Greene, at a place callet Mu],
berry Grove, and asked her how she did
At this place, (.two miles from Pmi ß i
burg,) my horses and carriages w ere
lauded, and I had twelve miles farther by
land to Savanna. The wind and tffie,
both being against us, it was six o’clock
before we reached the City, where we
were received under cvpry demonstration
that could be given of joy and respect.
We were seven hours making the pas
sage, which is often performed in four,
though the computed distance is fifteen
miles, lllum’ns at nighty [lllumina
tions meant. | I was conducted by the
Mayor and Wardens; to very good lodg--
ins, which had been provided for the oc
casion, and partook of a public dinner,
given by the citizens a t the Coffee Rooms.
At Purisburg, I parted with General
Moultrie.
“ 13th of May —Dined with the Mem
hers of the Cincinnatti, at a public din
ner, given at the same place, and in the
evening, went to a dancing assembly, at
which there was about one hundred well
dressed, and handsome ladies.
“ 14th of May —A little after 6
o’clock, in company with General Mcln
tosh, General Wayne, the Mayor, and
many others, (principal gentlemen of the
City.) I visited the City, and witnessed
the attack, and defense of it in the year
1779, under the combined forces of France
and the United States, commanded by the
Count De Estaing, and General Lincolr.
To form an opinion of the attack, at this dis
tance of time, and the change which has
taken place in the appearance of the
ground by the cutting away of the woods,
&c., is hardly to be done with justice to
the subject, 1 especially as there is remain
ing scarcely any of the defences.
“ Dined to-day with a number of the
citizens, (not less than 200,) in an ele
gant bower, erected for the occasion on
the bank of the river, below the town.
In the evening, there was a tolerably good
display of fire-works. •
“ Sunday, 15th of May. —After morn
ing service, and receiving a number of
visitors from the most respectable ladies
of the place, (as was the case yesterday.)
I set out for Augusta, escorted beymnd
the limits of the City, by most of the
gentlemen in it, and dining at Mulberry
Grove, the seat of Mrs. Greene, lodged
at one Spencer’s, distant 15 miles.
“ Savannah stands upon what may be
called high ground for this country’. It
is extremely sandy, which' makes the
walking very disagreeable, and the houses
uncomfortable in warm and windy weath
er, as they are filled with dust whenever
these happen. The Town on three sides
is surrounded with cultivated rice fields,
which have a rich aud luxuriant appear
ance. On the fourth, or back side, it is
a fine sand. The harbor is said to be very
good, and often filled with square-rigged
vessels, but there is a bar below, over
which, only vessels drawing not more
than twelve feet of water can be brought,
except at spring-tide. The tide does not
flow above twelve, or fourteen miles above
the city, though the river is swelled by
it more than double that distance, llieo,
arid tobacco, (the last, of which is greatly
increasing,) are the principal exports.
Lumber and indigo are also exported, but
the latter is on the decline, and it is sup
planted by hemp and cotton. Ship titn
be r, viz.: live oak and cedar is (and may
be more so,) valuable in the exportation.”
During the reading, Mr. Bogart stated
that the house in which Washington
lodged, was (according to tradition.) the
wooden house at the corner of Barnard
and President streets, on the Eastern side
of the Square. He further called the
attention of the Society to the fact, that
Washington did not mention that he was
received with a salute of Artillery; when
at other places, he always noticed that
he was received in that way, and stated
that the Chatham Artillery did give a.
salute, and he noticed it, by afterward
sending them two brass six-pounders,
which the company kept until 1804,
when the guns which were here fell into
the hands of the United States soldiers.
II UEBOLDT ON E ARTHQUAKKS. — Huii>
boldt, who witnessed several earthquakes,
said that one never gets used to them;
but, on the contrary, his feelings of dread
are intensified at each successive one
which he experiences. All beasts and
birds partake of man’s fear, and seem
panic stricken. Humboldt accounts for
man’s inability to become accustomed to,
and. consequently, not to dread earth
quakes, by saying that, whatever we
have, at any time, or under any circum
stances, considered shaky, the earth has
always stood firm, and when we line! that
tossing beneath our feet, it seems as
though the very bottom of things ban
been kuockcd out. Everytime the shock
is repeated, the unreliability ot our only
support is forced upon our attention witti
augmented force. Other dangers can m
foreseen, and provided against, bat tm-->
is inevitable and remorseless.