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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.