The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1873-12-22


sweet Bessie McGrath. But what was
he to do? He knew not of love, or the
potent charms surrounding its exist
ence. He only knew vision stood be-
fore him that governed tie quick beat
ings Of his heart and filed his soul with
unspeakable emotions. The floodtide
OF Joy, Of happiness, rushed madly be-
fore his vision, and his manhood was
securely moored beside the form that
enchanted him.
To speak, TO look, to do, was the
unison Of souls, the happenings Of des.
tiny, the entwinement Of loves pure af-
fection, and then with the will that
governs human fate, with m earnestness
that controls NIL manly actions, did
Dundas Pyor lay his pure heart bare
at the feet Of Bessie McGrath.
Not like the Queen controlling her
subjects, did she wave her wand, deny.
ing IN audience but with tho reaec-
tion Of Cupid's electricity was 1t blend.
ed in the motion gold Of Natures
crucible, and the meridian attained.
Their marriage was not celebrated by
the ringing OF bells, long bridal trains,
and festivals upon the green, but at
the simple little "kirk," embowercd
by holly and fern, did the good man
unite these two loving hearts, and send
them forth with Heavens blessings.
Quickly passed the years in noble
energy and virtuous seclusion. Happy
their hours by day, and peaceful their
slumbers by night. No knowledge Of
the wicked world, no contamination by
It's guilt; and when little "Donald" "
was born to them with his CHEEKY smile,
their hearts leaped anew, and mingled
at the fountain OF domestic bliss ;
and when at three Of years Of age he
would sitIupon llis'good father'sknee and
play with the ribbons that adorned his
pipes, as he blew the merry airs Of his
native hills, with Bessie by his side, in
front Of their little cabin, as the dying
day was casting its faint tints Of golden
glory on the woodland and meadows
far beyond their home, the picture was
one OF beauty and grandeur, and the
monarch that swayed tho sceptre DER
their heads might envy them for their
peace Of mind.
Bessie was not long to stay. Her
soul died out like the closing petals OF
the carly violet; and when the strong
November wind moancd sadly around
the house of Dundas Pyor, Bessie's
spirit was waited far beyond the hills
she so often had gazed upon and Won
dared where Il ended. Then with her
pale dead form was she lnid in the little
kirk.yard, where in early life she had
been so happy, and only knew Of Joys
surrounding her peaceful home; and
when the cold hard clay was emptied
on her grave, Dundas turned with weep
ing eyes TO little Donald who gazed In
innocent curiosity upon the strange
procedure, and folded him to his weep.
ing breast. Bessie was gone, the grave
had closed over her; the once happy
home was desolate, and Dundas loft to
mourn. Little Donald grew with tho
strength Of childhood, grew in intellect
far beyond his years, grew with tho
sunlight that casts its shadows oil
around, and smoothed the sorrows OF the
parents heart. And when tho spring.
time came, with its budding flowers
and sweet perfumes, would father and
son go to the lonely grave Of tho dear
departed and weep that she whom they
loved had been taken away.
Little Donald grew delicate, deeline
rapidly followed, and before the dying
days OF another year had come to
close he was laid beside his mother
Bessie. Then did Dundas Pyor give
up all hope, all energy, all love for life
and human happiness. His pipes were
never touched again, but hung, old and
soiled, upoi the wall OF his little cot.
tage, and he so promaturely old, sat
for days and mourned like a child,
Watching for Bessie ind little Donald,
wondering why they did not return,
with the anxiety Of onelost in vision Of
dream land. L.l
Yes, Dundas Pyor is old, and lame,
and gray, his cottage is deserted by all
but himself and the wild birds that fit
and chirp near his hearth, and there he
sits with eyes bedimmed, his long,
snowy tresses playing with the wind,
looking for the time when his loved
ones shall come back to make his home
happy once again.
In going 70 "Athole heath" with
gun and dog, I passed by his lonely
place. The flowers had oil died out,
the little cato that enclosed his grounds
was broken and the bench, once paint
cd green, was weather stained, but
"oldn Dundas sat in front not know.
ing, and seemingly not to care who
passed him by; with kilt all worn and
tattered, his long sinewy arms bare,
his form bent rs one in deep medita-
tiOn picture Of misery ay,h and na,61 tSrioEn II1
visit this lonely spot and wait away the
spirit Of the honest highlander, the
once proud Dundas Pyor.
tt,.,. ptano HtNI