The mountain Democrat., 1863-07-11
GrixOl Coehrano.
a TALs OF TwEsDMoU4H MooH.


the present Earl of Dundonald. He was
one Of the most prominent actors in Ar
gyle's rebellion, and for ages . settled
gloom seemed to hang over the house Of
Campbell, enveloping in common ruin
ell who united their fortunes 10 the cause
Of its chieflains. The',SaNe doom en-
compassed Sir John Cochrane. He was
surrounded by the Kings troops-long,
deadly and desperate was his resistance.
but at length overpowered by numbers,
he wss taken prisoner, tried and con.
demned to die upon the scafFold. He had
but . few days TO live, and the jailOr
awaited nothing but the death warrant to
lead him forth to execution. His family
and his friends had visited him in person
and exchanged with him the last, the
long, the heart yearning farewell. But
there was one who came not with the
rest to receive his blessing-one who was
the pride Of his eve, and Of his house,
even Grizel, the daughter Of his love.
TSiIight was casting deeper gloom over
the gratings Of his prison house he was
mourning for a last look at his favorite
child, and his head vas pressed against
the cold, damp walls Of his cell to cool the
feverish pulsation that shot through il
like strings Of FIRE, when the door Of the
apartment turned slowly on its unyield-
ing hinges, and the keeper entered, fol.
lowed by a young and beautiful lady.
Her person was tall and commanding, her
eyes dark and fearless; but their bright
ness spoke Of sorrow, too deep to be
wept way, and her raven tresscs parted
over an open brow, clear and pure as the
polished marble. The unhappy captive
raised his head as they entered
my child my own Grizvl :" he ex-
claimed, and she fell upon his bosom.
MY father! my father!" sobbed the
miserable maiden, and dashed away the
tear that accompanied the words.
"Your interview must be short, very
Short" said the jailor, as he turned and
left them for few moments together.
"God hold and comfort thee, daughter I"
added the unhappy father, aS he held her
to his breast and printed q kiss upon her
brow. ~ had feared shat should die
without bestOwing my blessing on the
head of my own child, and that Stung the
more than death but thou art come
and the last blessing Of thy wretched
father"
Nay, forbcar!" she exclaimed mot
thy Last blessing, not thy last!-my
father shall not dic!"
Be calm. be calm, my child" re.
turned he; would to heaven that
could comfort thee. my own. But there
is no hnpe-within three days thou and
all the little ones will he -fatheresS, he
woull have said, but the word died on
his tongue.
Three days." repeated she, raising
her head t,om bis breast, and eagerly
pressing his hand, ." my father shall live
Is not my grandfather the friend Of father
the King? From him he shall beg the
life Of his son, and my father shall not
die"
NAY, nay, my Grizel," returned he,
be not deceived, there is no hope al
ready my doom is sealed already the
King has signed the order for my execu.
ti"n. and the messenger Of death is now
on the way"
yet my father shall not. shall not
BUG IFpNotCu uud
claSping her hands together.
Heaven speed daughters purpose,
she exclaimed. and turning to her father
said calmly, We part now, but we shall
soon meet again"
"What would nv daughter ?" in
qnired he. eagerly, gazing anxiOusly on
he face.
ASK not now my father" she re-
piled, TASK not now; but pray for me
and bless me, bnt not with the last
lesSing"
lie again pressed her to his breast and
wept upon her neck. In few moments
the jailor entered, and they were torn
from the arms Of each other.
On the evening Of the second day after
the interview We have mentioned, a way
fa'ing man crossed the drawb,idge at
Berwick, from the north, and proceeding
down Marygate, sat down to repoSe upon
q bench By the door of an hosteIry on the
south side Of the street. nearly fronting
where what was called the Mainguard
then stood. lie did not enter the inn, for
it was above his apparent condition, belng
that which Oliver Cromwell had made his
headquarters a few years before, and
where at some earlier period, James VI.
had taken up his residence when on his
way to take the throne Of England. The
traveller wore coarse jerkin, fastened
round his body by leather girdIe, and
. small cloak. composed Of equally plain
materials. He was evidently . young
man, but his beaver vas down so as to
almost conceal his features. In one hand
he carried a small bundle, and in the 9TH
er q pilgrims staff. Having called for .
glass Of wine, he took a crust Of bread
from his bundle, and after resting 9 few
moments rose to depart. The heavens
were gathering black, the clouds rushing
from the sea sudden gusts of wind were
moaning along the streets, accompanied
by heavy drops of rain, and the face Of
the Tweed was troubled.
Heaven help thee, il thou intendest to
travel far, such night as this" said the
sentinel at the English gate, as the trAv-
eler passed him aud proceeded to cross
the bridge.
Ina few minutes he was upon the Dor.
der Of the wild, desOlate and dreary moor
Of TweedmOuth, which icr miles present.
ed desert Of whins, ferns and stunted
heath with here and there dingIe Gov.
cred with thick brush wood. He slowly
toiled over the steep hill, braving the
storm that was now raging in its fury
The rain fell in torrents and the wind
howled as a legion Of famished wolves,
hurling its doleful and angry echoes far
over the heath. Still the stranger trav-
eled onward till he had proceeded two or
three miles from Berwick, when, as if un-
able longer to brave the storm, he sought
shelter amidst the crab and bramble BUSH