The weekly Butte record., 1861-03-30
The Heir of Linn.

lad is not to be found, will endeavor TO tell
the story in plain prose:
The Laird of Linn, in Galway, was one of
the richerst land proprietors in Scotland Be
sides the lands and dwellings, be had focks
and herds, and good stock of gold More
over, he was a man of frugal and parsmonous
disposition, so that the men of Galway avoided
his company, and the whole town cried, shame
increased to mighty sum, and there was no
telling what heaps of treasure he had snugly
concealed
The Laird of Linn did not marry till late in
life, and his wife died within year after his
marriage She left him one child, son, who
was the joy and plague Of his existence
Though naturally, of noble and generous
temper, he was wild, reckless and extrayagant
Seeing and hearing his father ridiculed every
day for his mserly temper and habits, he re-
solved at all events not to be like him, and
spent all he could lay his hands on among low
it is that one extreme often produces another.
1t was in vain that his father demonstrated
with him; he only grew worse as he grew
older.
At last the Laird of Linn lay on his death
bed. He had out lived all his near relations,
and he had no friends, so that he was obliged
to leave all his substance to his son, aud besides
next to his gold he loved his prodgal heir
Previous to his death he called the heir of Linn
to his bedside and thus spoke:
"My son, when my lips are cold in death
and my tongue is silent in the grave, know
how it will be with you. You will spend all
the substance Of your ancestors, and all the
gold got together, in dissipation and extrav-
agance. Nevertheless, do not wish my son
to live beggar. Therefore give heed to my
only dying command, and if you disregard it,
may fathers dying curse cling to you. The
upper chamber of my house in Kippletringan
is now locked up, and have thrown the key
into the sea. When you have lost both gold
and lands, when you have not friend who will
lend you baubee, and when you are actually
suffering for a crust TO appease your hunger,
break the door open and you will find GER
tain relief, but if you open the door before that
time, l say again, may fathers dying curse
cling to you
With these words the old man fell back and
expired.
The heir of Linn did not grieve long for his
parent. He soon after threw open his house
to all comers. His forest Gil beneath the axe.
His chimneys smoking, hundred men sat
daily at his board, and he bought horses and
hounds, and lent money without counting it to
his dissolute companions; he jested and drank
and gambled, as if he could not get rid of his
substance in all these ways he took no care of
his affairs, but gave up the guidance of them
to bailiff or steward named John OF Scales
who was knave and notorious usurer.-
John cheated his master in variety of ways,
and put more than half his rent into his own
pocket
At last what the heir of Linn's father had
foreseen had cone to pass. His money was all
gone and he had no means OF keeping up his
excuses except by selling his lands but no
one was rich enough TO buy them except John
of Scales, and every one knew how he came
by his money The young Laird was dcsper-
ately in want of cash to pay his gaining debts
and was moreover heated with wine, when the
unjust steward offered to buy his estate. 1t
was a hard case, but after much discussion he
agreed upon the bargain.
Give me your gold good John of Scales,
and my lands shall be yours forever" said the
heir of Linn
The John counted down the good, clean gold,
and hard bargain his master had of it. For
every pound that John agreed, the land was
worth three.
The last money went like the first and the
heir of Linn was a beggar. He first went to
the house that had once been his own, but now
belonged to John of Scales. To seek some re-
lief, he looked into the window of the great
banquit hall, but there was no feasting going
on in it. The fire was out and the dinner table
taken away and all was desolate and dismal.
Here's sorry cheer" said the heir of Linn.
John would not give him penny, but told
him to 60 to the friends he had spent so much
money upon foolishly. He did so, but it did
no good. Some pretended not to know him,
and none would lend him a farthing, or even
offer him dinner, so he wandered about for
lorn and hungry for two days, for work he
could not, and to beg he was ashamed. At
last in his extreme misery he bethought him.
self of his fathers dying words. "I have not
sold the house in kippletrIngan yet" said he,
'for no one would buy it. l will go and break
open the upper chamber. My father said |
would find relief there, and perhaps be meant
treasure. If it should prove so l will be
wiser man than | was, and not waist it on
knaves" \
To the house then he went, and broke the
chamber door open. lie found relief indeed.
There was nothing in the room except q
high stool, and directly over it halter dangling
from hook in the ceiling. He looked up and
read these words
L 1