The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-12-11
"Bonny Prince Charlie."

On the hills Of Paradise.
ssBonny Prince ,Charlic."
It was in the year 1746, after the bat
tie OF Culloden, that Bonnie Prince
Charlie" lay hid amongst the passes in
Glen Moriston, and dared not move out,
for posted for and wide from the point
of Ben Attow to Beauley were the Eng-
lish red-coats. It was known that the
prince was in hiding in the glen, and the
English Government we're resolved to in
teroept him in any attempt he might
make to reach the sea-coast. But there
were some who, ''death and exile BRAY
ing," we're bent on releasing him from
his perilous position.
''Ye'H no forget me entirely, Mary,
hinny, if 30 be ye'd never see me mair
gin this night be over. IT'S lang,
dreary way I'm travelling this cen, and
there's name SO sure-footed but whall
slip sne day. Kiss me ance mair, and
gle me your word yell think on your
jamie till ye meet him again; it might
be on airth, but it maun be in heaven"
''What for are ye 80 downcast this cen,
jamie? 'Tis mony time ye've walked
frae Invermoriston to Caenacroich syne
ye put the pack upon yer shoulder.
Cheer up, mon, and sure I'll ne'er forget
ye till ye're back hame on the morn. Ye
max me greet wi your dolefu' wall
inga;"
wFang. but I've q weight that presses
down my HART and forebodes sad wark
for we twa. But gin return or gin I
fa' asleep among the stones in the glen,
'tis a one, syne we mann meet again.
My lassie and my king is o. the warld to
me-"
The pedlar shouldered his pack and
slowly wound his way down the little
path from the Highland clachan. At
the foot of mound he stood and looked
back.
The last rays of the setting sun dyed
the rioh brown heather of the thatched
cottage to ruddier hue, and turned the
faxon locks of his Mary to halo of gold.
The high hills behind formed back
ground of deep indigo to the picture,
and fondly the pedlar gazed on that we'll
known scene; then. waving his hand to
the tall girl who stood shading her eyes
from the sun to look after him, resumed
his course. It led him over mountains
and moors, through woods of pine trees,
and by the foaming, tumbling river, Mo-
riston.
1t was still, frosty winters night;
dying leaves or resounded along the
highway. The moon, gradually rising
from q bed of clouds, illumined the
whole scene, gave q mysterious white
ness to the snow-capred distant noun
tains, and sparkled diamond-like upon
the crystal drops Of dew and hoar- frost
by the roadside. The feathery birch
trees, all blown and bent by their fre-
Quent contests with the wind, cc% rested
motionless from their ceaseless murmur-
ings. Nothing disturbed the quiet. save
the peller's footsteps, for the very deer.
accustomed to bis frequent journeys to
and fro, knew him, and lay still in their
coverts. Often aud often had he trod
that path, whistling gaily, perhaps, as
he went, or thinking of his Mary; but
now he trod gloomily, drearily, no sound
on his lips but the dull, dread PRESENT.
ment weighing down his heart.
'Whist!" shonted voice suddenly
in his ear, and the pedlar started back
several PAGES. A tall gillie stood before
very earth itself The pedlar's alarm
was. however, short-livcd. He recog-
nized friend, and it was with "Well
met, Sandy. From where spring we2''
that he advanced with out-stretched
hand.
''The gillie took it, and replied: "Ye're
lnte. mon. I've been waiting for ye this
hour AID nair. come from ane We
know" pointing with his finger toward
the rocks beside the Moriston, "who
bids me tell you dinna gang yer road
this night. The glen is chock fu' q
red.coats, and ye might weel be mistaken
for anc ye are not, and frae those nls
takes there's no turning back. Ye know
weel ye're nnco' like him in the face"
''And do you think, Sandy, tits n TO,
nought I'm made 10 nnco' like him? L
30 be by snoh mistake he were enabled
to leave his den j. the rocks, where be
king O. this land. would it be I wac
hinder sic blessedness? TITS little sit
pnir lad rs can do FOR him; but y.
mnuna stop me frne that little
Sandy returned no answer. The sci,ti