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For the Banner of the South.
Sitting by the Fire.
i ,i<led is the sunset’s glow,
Tiw short-lived clay is uead,
And darkness bangeth o’er the snow,
O’er earth’s broad bosom spread,
i sit Him watch the shadows play,
As the flames mount high and brighter;
I is sweet to dream the hours away,
Sitting by the lire.
How often, in the days gone by,
I watched the ruby glare,
An.l mused, and built, all dreamily,
Bright castles in the air!
Aid visions gay, of wealth and fame,
My fancy ne’er would tire,
As 1 kept gazing in the flame,
Wfcil sitting by the iire.
Wild dreams of pleasures, bright and fair,
My young heart would beguile,
such fairy happiness as ne’er
Huth gilded Earth’s dark isle.
[ grasped the; laurel wreath of tame,
Awoke the tuneful lyre,
\nd won myself a poet’s name,
While sitting by the fire!
! made me friends, too, true and kind
For faithless world like this,
Where oft that friendliness we find
Which ends with Judas-kiss.
To rose-hued summits of success
My fancy w ould aspire,
And revel iu each fancied bliss,
While sitting by the fire.
-NH'c, all is changed! Grief’s gloomy night
Hath fallen o'er my way,
■ iid where the red flames flickered bright,
I now see ashes grey.
! hear sweet tones'that, lost to Earth,
Now swell the Heavenly choirs,
Aj.d see closed eyes, once bright with mirth
While sitting by the tire.
Without those loving, dark, bright eyes,
Without those voices low,
I h« glittering things that worldlings prize,
c an never charm me now 1 ,
i ut, sweeter, holier, visions came,
And fancy rises higher,
[•:! cl reamings of my Heavenly Home,
While sitting by the fire.
Tte Earls of Sutherland.
BY RUTH FAIR-FAX.
Amy looked a little surprised; she did
R .;t understand him, but Margaret did,
and, with a merry laugh, ordered the hot
porridge and whiskey, that her father-in
law spoke of.
L} this time, John, with his compan
ions, had reached the house. Old Mac
km welcomed them cordially, and usher
them in to the breakfast table,
i denlyon was a pleasant, affable man,
mid proved quite an acquisition to the
little family circle at Glencoe. He lis
iMvd to the old man’s weird stories with
ijemost profound attention, clambered
the rocks with Amy and John on pleas
r . - vs > s »d played cards with Alexan-
U 'T in the long evenings. Pleasant even
ings these were, when gathered round the
glowing peat fire, they listened to won
drous tales of “second sight,” and sipped
, 10ntdl brandy, on which no duty had
, , 11 1 a bj, from tiny French glasses that
looked strangely out of place in these
wiki mountains. Little did John think,
& uldlu g Glenlyon along the diffi
- passes ot the mountains, andpoint
, W out . the secure hiding places in the
-most inaccessible caves, that he was
! 1 dv !' s °* himself and clansmen
J )e -lands of an enemy.
G.enlyon communicated all the infor
uaaontnus obtained, to Hamilton, who,
i • Kn £ ie information sufficient for
if* Purposes, fixed the tinm of attack at
,1N v o ei„ c k on the morning of the thir
teentu of February He "expected, by
hat tune t ° reach Gleucove with about
■■ L Guild red men, and, closing up every
;V : ::! iUe escape, hem in the clan of
j‘ - l! o o, while Glenlyon butchered them,
■j, Miocker he arrived in time or not,
O'clock Glenlyon was to make the
attack, and kill.every Mac Donald under
On the night of the twelfth of Februa
ry, Captain Campbell and Lieutenant
Lindsay came into the old Hall at Glen
coe in unusually high spirits. Glenlyon
kept .foln'c and Alexander in a rear of
laughter with his merry talcs, and they
were in the midst of their enjoyment,
when, suddenly, a loud voice was heard
“I do not like this business. I don't
mind fighting, but to kill men in their
Lieutenant Lindsay sprang from his
seat, and went out; there was a slight
disturbance without, and then all was
“ One of the men has taken too much
of your whiskey,” he said, laughingly to
Mae fan, but he glanced uneasily atGlen
|lyon. John noticed the look, and felt a
! vague fear take possession of his heart .
“ Come, let us go and see about those
: fellows,” said Glenlyon, rising. John
■ followed him to the door;
“What is going on, Campbell ?” he
“ Why, to tell you the truth,” answered
the Captain, “some of Glengarry's men
have been harrying the country, and I
must scud some of the men to put them
down. Have no fear for yourselves; do
you not suppose, that it there wore any
: danger to your family, f would not have
| given Alexander and his wife a hint of
Reassured by these words, John re
turned to his wife, and soon after the
family separated for the night.
It is five o'clock in the morning, the
thirteenth of February, sixteen hundred
Let; us see where are Hamilton and his
followers, Glenlyon and his men
The night had been dark and stormy;
Hamilton bad not been able to keep his
appointment, yet, promptly at fiveo’cioek,
GleiTlyon commenced his work oi de
struction. His first victim was the aged
Inverriggen, where Glenlyon had gone to
spend the night. Going to the bedside of
his host, the murderer grasped him by
the throat, and, ere he was well
awake*, he lay weltering in his blood
on the floor. Nine others, who were
in the house, were treated in the
same way, and the soldiers went on to
Achianon. The tacksman Auehintria
tor was kneeling, with seven or eight of
his family, around the fire-place, offering
up their morning prayers. In deterred
by the solemn sight, Glenlyon ordered
his men to fire, and a volley of musketry
laid all but one of them upon the floor.
This one was Auchintriator’s brother.
Springing to his feet, he called aloud to
“ Grant me one favor, l/ot me die in
the open air.’’
“ Well/’ -aid the Sergeant,” “ 1 agree.
You have been kind to me, and L will
grant you that favor, for the sake of your
The soldiers drew away from the door,
the young moutaineer came forth, with
his plaid in his hand, rushed unon the
soldiers who were about to level their
pieces at him, dashed his plaid in their
faces, and sped away with the fleet step
of the mountain deer.
While this wa« passing at the house of
the tacksman. Lindsay went up to the
house of the chief and knocked at the
“ Wha’a there ?” asked Mac lan.
Lindsay, answered the wretch. “I
am not feeling well this morning, and
want to get something from you ”
Mac lan sprang out of bed, and catch
ing his clothes in one hand, opened the
door with the other. Then, calling to his
servants to come wait up.m the Lieutenant,
he turned with kindly inquiries to the
traitor, putting' his clothes on meanwhile.
v\ hut ails the words were cut
-hort, Lindsay levelled his gun at Mac lan,
and he fell shot through his head! Not,
■ l his lips after he fell, but
AUGUSTA, GA, DECEMBER l •>, 1868.
the last glance of his dying eyes haunted
Lindsay forever more. The two servants
who had come at Mac lan’s call, were
also slain instantly.
The wife of Mae lan had also risen
from her bed at Lindsay’s call, and was
already dressed, when she heard the re
port of the gun. The men instantly
rushed upon her, and tore from her per
son such little trinkets as the old lady
wore. The wedding ring that had been
placed upon her finger in early youth,
would not come off, and one of the brutal
assassins tore it away with his teeth.
Jean, who had been the horrified wit- |
ness oi the scene, fled iroin the room, and
entering John’s apartment, was just in
time to prevent his going forth, to know
to know the cause of the disturbance.
“No! no! you'll no go there. The
old Master and the Mistress are dead
outright; ye can 11a help them; but,
maun, try to save your own wee bit
wiftie!” cried Jean, snatching the clothes
from the bed, and rapidly knotting them
into a rope. John instantly barred the
door, and lent his assistance. The rope,
sindi as it was, was fastened to the inside
of the window, then, lifting Amy in his
arms, John bound her closely to his breast,
with his plaid, and let himself out of the
window. Scarcely had his feet touched
the ground, when he heard his name
called in a low voice. Looking up, he
beheld Jean, lowering herself from the
window in tiie same way' he laid done.
He could not leave the brave girl who
had saved his life; therefore, he paused
a moment, until she reached the ground.
That moment’s pause was fatal to him.
though not immediately so. As soon ns
Jean reached his side, he turned and
ran, lidding his precious burden tenderly
in his arms. Looking from a window,
Glenlyon saw the tall figure almost flying
over the mountain With steady hand
he raised his musket, aimed carefully,
and fired! Amy gave alow moan, and
the hand that had been clasped round
John’s neck, fell uselessly away. Her
arm was broken! John fell to his knees
for a moment, and a sharp pain darted
through his shoulder; then, rising again,
and defiantly tossing his hair from his
brow, lie sped on faster than before.
Jean, alone, knew that tlie ends of his
hair was tinged with blood, and that the
crimson of his tartan was gaining a deeper
dye. And away they sped, until far
away in the wild recesses of the moun
tains, John paused, faint from the loss of
blood, for lie was wounded, and laid the
insensible torm of Amy upon Jean’s lap.
Oh ! invaluable in this time of direst ne
cessity was this humble, loving Highland
lassie. M ith his own hands John at
tended Amy’s broken arm, while Jean
clasped her to her bosom, warming and
soothing her back to life, and when, at
last, she opened her eyes, Jean drew her
own plaid from her own shoulders, and
wrapped it around Amy’s shivering form.
“Do you suffer much, my wife?”
asked John, tenderly bur, softly, and
with lowered eyelids.
“Very little,” answered Amy; “but,
you, John—are you hurt; your voice is
weak, and you are pale?”
” Indeed, yes; he is wounded him own
-el , answered Jean, removing the plaid
from his shoulders.
Tenderly as she touched him, John
shrank from her hand. Amy came to his
side, and her soft hand drew away tlie
clothes from his shoulders. Oh! un
doubtedly was he wounded, but the wound
was not bleeding now, the dark blood lay
in a thick clot over the cruel wound,
“ Oh! my husband, you will die!”
cried Amy, m a voice of deepest agony.
“ Oh! no; I hope not,” answered Join},
with a faint smde; but, even while he
spoke, the crimson life stream tinged his
lips, and he icsted his head on Amy’s
bosom. And Amy, the gentle, timid
Amy, subduing all outward manifestation
of pain, put her sound arm around Ids
neck, and spoke calmly.
i ou must not speak, dearest; every
word will make you worse. Go, Jean,
higher upon the mountain, and gather a
handful of snow.”
Oh! there Was a depth of courage and
fortitude in that gentle heart that none
knew of, and now, at this awful time, it
shone forth brilliant as the morning star
to the lonely watcher. And with what a
depth oi adoration did John lift his beau
tiful eyes to her face, and, if his lips i
moved not, his eyes told the sweet talc of j
his love o’er and o’er again.
Jean returned with the snow, and, in i
tiny morsels, Amy pressed it between his I
pale lips. Oh! vile ingratitude! or, vile |
carelessness, that could place this daughter
of Sutherland (daughter in blood, if not
in name,) in such a position. Well knew
William that Am} 1 ’ was the wife of a
Highland Mac Donald, why, then, when
he gave that order for the wholesale
butchery of a Highland clan, did he not
ask the name of if. Oh! shameless care
lessness! A Sutherland died for him;
others, time and again, risked, their lives
for him, sheltered him in danger, were
true when all others were false, and,
now, behold the result! This carefully
! nursed, and tenderly loved daughter and
sister of Sutherland, supporting the head
of her dying husband in a lonely cave
among the mountains. Tremble ! Wil
liam, or Monmouth, whoever ye be. lest,
speed}’ retribution overtake you! Trem
ble! lest that throne, supported by the
hands of Sutherlands, should fall, now
that one of those hands has been broken
by thy act. The Master of Stairs, the
head that planned, but thine the hand
that dealt the blow, for, when thy hand
placed thy name to that fatal order, the
blow was struck!
The day wore away, and late in the
afternoon, the brave Jean left iheir re
treat, to seek help, if help might be found.
Site returned to the house of Glencoe.
Oh! what a mournful sight meet her
eyes. The house was more than half de
stroyed, the surrounding cabins were
now a smoking mass of ruins. Mangled
bodies, weltering in gore, were lying
around The troops had retired, and
the Mac Donalds were creeping out of
their hiding places, and returning to the
reined village. Jean speedily procured
help, and returned to the cave. He who
was now, by the death of his father, for a
few brief hours, the chief of his ela n, was
j carefully lifted from the ground. Colin,
the brother of Auchintriator, lifted Amy
in his arms, and the mournful company
returned to the village. The moon was
dimly shining through Hie clefts of the
mountains, like clouds piled up in the
sky, shedding a mournful light over the
mourners gathered round the murdered
Plaids were spread on a broad rock,
and Mac Inn laid upon it, Amy sat by
his head, holding down the might v grid’
ofhor heart, and trying to wreathe her
pale lips with a sad smile. Oh! what a
mournful scene ! Allan, the hereditary
bard of the clan, took his rude harp in
his hand, and clambered up to a high
rock, blending his voice, in a wild lament,
with the sighs and groans of those below.
Faint Lung tlmmoon oVr the waters;
The Lark clouds low- red redly!
i The Storm King rode on the wild winds.
And his song came down from the cairn!
'The strangers sought for shelter
’Neath the lordly roof of Glencoe.
The feast was spread for the stranger,
And the bright flames rose for his warmth,
j The sun sank, and the moon rose,
1 And the Storm King came in his wrath!
Then rose the one we had nourished.
“ Why liftest thou thy spear, oh! stranger?
Contest thou not in friendship?”
“ Yea, came I in friendship, great chief of Glencoe. '
But liis tongue was false, and his heart black,
The stranger smote great Glencoe.
Wild shrieked the shade of Mac Tan,
And fled to the spirit land !
Desolate are our homes,
And our brothers lie in their blood.
Tin voice of weeping
Mingles with the wail of the blast.
And the blue-eyed son of Mac Tan,
He of the golden locks, and mighty strength—
He. the- nursling oi Fairies, the smi ofKomerlid,
Hath fallen in his mighty strength,
Fallen in the glory of his courage.
'fhe Storm King hushes his roar,
The fire falls in the distance,
The clouds darken the sky,
And the moon falls in the chill wave,
For the splendor of Mae fan is o’er.
The voice of wailing is heard in the glen,
For the glory of Mac Tan is o’er!”
His song was hushed. The moon hid
herself behind the clouds, and with its
last departing ray, the spirit of the young
Chief rejoined his fathers.*
With a wild scream, Amy fell fainting
over his body, and the wailing mourners
took Old Allan’s lament.. Loud rang the
words, in a despairing cry, far over glen
and hill, “ The glory ol‘Mac lan is o’er.”
The first day of March.
Eugenia, brilliant with youth and
beauty, sat in her bed-room. A carpet
of rare beauty covered the floor, and the
luxurious furniture was of French manu
facture. Curtains of heavy velvet shaded
the windows, and low chairs were drawn
in a semi-circle around the Are. The
rain had been falling in torrents all day,
and, now, as night closed in, the wind
howled mournfully around the house.
Without, all was bleak and cheerless:
within, all was mirth and gavetv.
Emily and Ormnnd sat on one side of
the fire-place, their little "Raymond curled
up on a soft cushion at their feet. Mar
maduke sat beside Emily, while ’Genie,
Arthur, and Regie, formed another group
on the opposite sideof the chimney. Arthur
was in high spirits; ’Genie seconded him;
| and their mirthful sallies drew smiles
from all, even the grave Mannaduke.
“ Come,” cried Arthur, tcasingly, to
Regie, “ you hnvo got to be quite an old
man since your marriage, and 1 insist
upon your putting aside vour dignity.”
“ I think you had better assume a little,”
said Emily, laughing.
“ 1!’ ! exclaimed Arthur, in mock hor
ror; “no dignity for me, if you please;
Regie lias enough for both of us. Come,
’Genie, sing for us! ’
’Genie willingly complied with this re
quest, and the words of a merry song
tell in musical accents from her lips. In
the midst of the song, a loud rapping, at
the outer door rang through the house;
but, this did not disturb the merry party,
and ’Genie continued her song. As the
last words fell from- her lips, a merry peal
of laughter rang through the room, and
while he silvery notes still floated on the
air, the door was silently opened, and a
pale spectre stood within. They did not
recognize the figure, but the smile was
frozen on every bp as they rose to their
feet Pale, very pale, was the face that
met their gaze; the long robes of sable
that draped the figure were wet with the
cold rain, and the large, hollow eves,
looked mournfully upon them, iiv.m be
neath the snow-white brow where the
tangled curls clung wildlv. One arm
was supported by a sling, and the other
held a Highland tar;an ib!d<- I mound
For nearly a ruinuto, they sood thus,
in silent astonishment, and ’i hike was
| the first to break the awful silence. Dash-
I ing aside his chair, he sorang to the m*w
comer’s side :
“Amy! YVhal means this?”
“Amy!” repeated the others, and
’Genie, unmindful of the dripping dress,
or her own rich silk, clasped her sister in
She held her thus a moment, and then
’Duke, tenderly, but forcibly, drew Amy
away from ’Genie’s arms.
“ She is dripping wet,” he said, grave
ly; “ let us wait to know what calamity
brings her to us thus, and ear ' for her
alone, now. Come, Ormnnd: let us all
leave her alone with her sisters, until
they change her dress.”
The brothers immediate]; left the
: ' r lam aware tLat tin* son oi >1 ■ f > >... - not killed
in the great massacre of Glencoe. r. j .