Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1864-03-19

canine worthless. Bran was the companion of
Fingal. You shall read about him tonight in
NV Irish Legends; > / remember too that
there is an account of him besides in the Lee
gends of the County Clare How funny it is
that the story there of his final disappearance
contrasted Economically with his appearance
here 1t is asserted, if | remember the le-
gend rightly, that, having chased snow
white hart for many hours, Bran sprang after
il into a small lake. The deer vanished on
touching the water A beautiful lady appear
ed in its stead, laid her hand on the dogs head,
and submerged him forever; and the cliff
from which he sprang is called Cralg-a-
Bran"
How splendid, father, that this dear old
fellow is called Bran. Why, it is the same
dog. of course--I see it all. He swan, after
sinking in the lake, under its banks, through
a long cave of water; that took him years.
How long ago is it-a century? WE'LL it took
him years and years, and then he came out
into the sea away off on the west shore of
ireland, and emigrated, as every one does,
from that country and came here. No wonder
he was so tired; Scotch girl-and Fingal
his master was really a Scotchman, wasn't he,
father? put her hands round his dear body,
and rescued him. How splendid And we
must call the sea-shore here: Saved-Craig-a-
Bran.'
From that time, two more attached and
sympathizing friends than Bran and | never
existed. 1t was knight and lady. He was so
devoted to my service; always so generous,
so considerable, so brave; | feeling perfectly
secure in his guardianship; happy in his COM
pany proud of his love; proud, too, of his
great courage and proves, in so chivalric
knight. Brand! dear, dear Bran you lie
buried now on that same seaside spot. Five
years ago, you laid your noble head, grown
gray and { eble, in my lap, as we sat on that
same EasthamptOn beach, and, with last
grateful wag, and long, soft dream-like moan,
your eyes fading on mine the while, your life
went out For the first time on that beach
wept, and as one may weep for such friend /;
and there, now as / write, know the roll of
the surf chants to your grave, for there was
one whom you had lost once and found again,
whom YOU loved as well as me, who had car
red your dear old body down to the beach
that dav, and who laid you afterwards in a
grave as enduring as those in the old East
hampton churchyard, close to the surf, on
Saved Craig
The Second summer after Bran was given
to me by the sea, was really gay in Easthamp-
ton. There were more nice people there than
ever before-from New York, Philadelphia,
and Baltimore. One evening | went up to
the hotel to a hop, which | expected to be the
gayest of the season. | had been dancing,
and being very warm, asked my partner to
get me a seat by the window. The steady
night breeze, in passing, left some of its
freshness where | sat /; l could hear the crick-
cts am katy-dids; | could see the grass sill
vered with dew and moolight. l enjoyed
that, and yet could hear the bright conversa-
-. -, fbn LAM a.I
chatter in the ballroom, and be aware of the
dust and the heat, and the many Pickering
candles that surrounded the crowd. was on
its outskirts, and could ignore at will its clam
or and langle for the deep booming of the
ocean. | do not know if | was not growing
deaf to the former and only unconcious of
the latter, when | heard familiar voice-it
was Mrs. Ralston's-say Alice, you and Mr..
Grant seem oblivious ofquadrilles and polkas;'
and as turned from the window, she contin-
ued / wish to introduce to Miss Macdonald,
Mr.. Man. / could not catch the name
distinctly; but an agreeable figure was bow
ing before me. As the face was lifted, | saw
nv vision of the night of the storm-my con-
slant companion, in spirit and fancy, of the
last two years-in human body and express
sion. My emotions surged through nae,
bringing establishment, fear and delight.
Whether my companion talked to me for five
minutes or one hour, | do not know what he
said or whether | answered, | do not know.
did not faint, but the scenes about me were
a blur-the sounds hum. Everything was
confused and indefinite. The first words of
his that | understood as the shock wore off,
were Miss Mcdonald, fear you are not
well; you have grown so pale; may get you
a glass of water?' No | thank YOU | an
swered, but if you will take me to my IA
ther who is probably on the piazza, | will go
home; | do feel unWell.' As we went to-
wards the door Mrs. Ralston came up and
said why, Alice, surely you are not going
so early? Well, have something to tell
you first The gentleman handed me to my
father, bowed and withdrew. Your partner,
is he not handsome have known him for
several years, but he only arrived here to-day.
| was talking with him when he saw you, he
looked as if he had seen a spirit, and ex-
claimed, in the most theatrical manner,
Gracious heavens, how strange!' and then
he apOlogiZed to me {: Excuse my emphasis,
Mrs Ralston; but the face in that window
astonished me by its likeness to one which /
saw two years ago under very remarkable cir
cumstances; please introduce me to that
young lady, She hurriedly whispered that
information, and, as she kissed me goodnight
added: 1t is very strange, is it not, Alice ?,
lie 10TH WHICH hdu flcitcu Dub
when | was fully awake, and which appeared
so tangible and impressively two years ago
that associate existence, twin companion of
my life since that night the real living being
who had cOnversed with me just now in the
ball-roOm-all those were one-that | knew.
The fact had the terror of mystery; it was
enchanting. Understand or explain it |
could not ; yet it monopolized all my thoughts
filled me with dread yet pleasure.
Nv dear old father did not notice my alb
sence of mind and silence, as we took our
way, arm-in-arm, down the quiet road and
over the stile to the path in the dew-covered
fields, coming nearer all the while to the in
creasing dash of the surf Bran met us with
a whine and gambol of delight. All through
that night slept not. Bran snored on the
threshold of my room. In the morning got
up and went about as if in a dream. l did
not 90 out to join the bathers on the beach,
and | felt glad that no visitors from the hotel
called But, after tea, l and Bran sauntered
to the sea-shore. We went along the beach
for a couple of miles. The twilight was long
and soft. The waves rolled in with midsum-
mer drowsiness. Bran neither dashed through
the breakers or on ahead. He noticed my
thOughtfulness and quiet, and suited his man.
ner 60 mine, stepping slowly by my side, his
cold nose on my hand. l was aroused by
Brans hurrying ahead of me few steps, and
giving low, enquiring grOwl. A gentleman
was approaching-it was he to whom | had
been introduced last night-the subject of