The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1870-11-19

their conversation. At the expiry Of an
other little hour the lovers parted, and part
cd TO meet no mofe-a misfortune whlcl
they but little anticipated; for solemn
promise was given BY both 10 meet IN th'
same place and at the same hour on thai
day Sc 'ennight.
As it may lead to the qualification o
some curiosity on the part Of the reader re
garding the mysterious lover Of Ellen Mar
tin, we shall follow bis footsteps after leavin!
her in the manner jus. described. We MAJ
as well first, however, make the rea1e
aware that these visits Of the person alluded
to were by no means of very easy accom-
plishment. They cost him journey ovel
mountain and moor of over a score of miles
but be was light of foot, nimble as one o
the deer of his native mountains, and such
a feat to him was not one which be deemed
much to boast Of
If we follow him, then. as proposed, on
the night in question, VIC shall find him per
forming such a journey as we have alluded
to, and finally arriving at deep but mar
row glen, or ravine, far up among the bills,
and accessible only at one extremity, and
even here Of such difficult entrance that
none but those intimately acquainted with it
could effect it. This knowledge, however,
the person whom we are now accompanying
I possessed. He assembled the natural bar
RE. by which the ravIne was closed with a
sure but rapid step; when, having gained
its utmost height, and ere be descended on
the opposite side, be extricated a small bone
or ivory whistle from the folds of his plaid,
and drew from it short, low, but piercing
sound. Had be omitted this precaution bis
! life would have been the forfeit for, con-
ceaied amongst the copsewood at little
height inside of the glen, lay sentinel
with loaded rife, whose duty it was instant
ly to fire on any one entering without such
'ntimation previous y given Of bis being a
friend. Having sounded the whistle, the
4 person Of whom we were speaking, without
waiting for any response-for none was re-
quired-plunged down into the ravine be-
low, bounding from crag to crag ike a
hunted chamois, and trusting for security on
each airy footing to handful Of the licheu
which grew from the precipitous wall Of
rock down which be was descending.
Having gained the bottom Of the ravine,
be pushed on towards its centre, when BE-
again ascended, and now made for clumI
of copsewood, which grew at a.consderablt
height on the side of the glen. This gained
ne dashed the branches aside and in the
next instant plunged into a cavern whose
dark mouth they concealed. Accompanying
him thus far also, We shall find the com
panion of our travels reaching large and
lofty chamber, in the centre of which burnt
a huge fire of Feats, built on a circular
piece. of rude masonry, and around which
are seated eight OF ten men. Here and
there may be seen, resting against the walls
Of the chamber, the large steel basket hits
Of broadswords, and, in different corners
dccumnlatlons Of plaids and bonnets An
other object, also, will strike US. This il
several immense sides of beef and seveTal
carcases Of mutton, hung up in various
parts Of the cave, all ready for the opera
tons Of the cook. Neither the characte,
Of the place nor Of those by whom it is oc
cupied can be mistaken 1t is a den Of
Highland katherans.
The reception by the latter Of the person
whom we have Just intruded upon them was
very markedly cold and distant; and it was
rendered more so by the contrast between
his manner to them on bis entrance and
theirs to him. The former was cheerful
and conciliatory-the latter sullcn and re.
pulsve.
The eagles eyry is not now in the
cleft Of the rock, " said one. " 1t is in the
barn-yard. "
"Ay, the deer bas left the mountain
and gone to herd with the swine" said
another
:" understand you, friends, replied the
intruder. You do not approve Of thest
wanderings Of mine You think | am tam
ing down into some such animal as a Low
land shopkeeper, Al, Wanshaw weaver and
perhaps it is 50 e@e nesuse, but can
nkhhelp ito | knowledge that the whole
eftgies Of my nature-all tAe feaRgs o
my ,hcart-havq Undergone tota&e6ange
both in character and direction. | certainly
am not the man | was. feel it, and there
fore feel that | am no longer fit to be YOU
leader"
" Macpherson said one OF the men
you guess part of our feelings towards you
Just now, but nc. all There is in these
feelings at least as much fear for YOUR safety
in these excursions Of yours, as displeasur,
with your neglect of US and our common in
terest. You know that we love you, Mac
pherson, for yours is the generous and oper
hand-yours is the hand that was neve
raised in anger against the unoffending O.
the helpless, and never closed in bard
heartedness against the needy"
mo, thank God" replied the persoI
TINS eulogized; 'much evil al | have done
the shedding Of blood is no part Of it. Per
sonal injury | have never yet done to an,
man, nor TO any man shall ever do it, un
less in self-defence. Neither can the poo
ever say they asked from me in vain. But
my friends" went on the speaker " this j
but melancholy strain. Come, LEI us hav
something of livelier spirit, aud let me Sc
if cannot introduce il"
Having said this, be went to a corner o
the cavern, where lay large wooden chest
This he opened and drew out a violin. l
was a favorite instrument, and well coul,
the person who now held it employ it. Seat
ing himself on an elevated bench of stone
which had been erected by the inmates Q
the cavern against the wall, be commences
playing some cheerful airs, and with sue
effect that be very soon dissipated the angr
feelings Of bis auditors and brought expires
sions Of benevolence and good will into thes
rugged countenances, that had been but
little before lowering with gloom and discou
tent. The skilful minstrel, perceiving th
effect Of his musician effect, indeed, whic
, former experience had taught him to antici
. pate with perfect certainty-now change
his strain and launched into series Of th
most thrilling and pathetic airs, all Of whic
be played with exquisite taste and e,