Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1874-07-11
A STAMPEDE IN 1924.

to me 7"
The Questioner was tall, hand
some man, though somewhat worn
looking, and decidedly shame
faced. The person addressed was
winsOme lassie OF some seventeen
years, who had come to the well
head, where a small stream of pure
water trickled through rude spout
inserted i'm a crevice of the rock
Elsie had put down her pitcher and
was waiting for it to fill, leaning
meanwhile with both arms on the
rude stone wall which protected the
encoachments of the cattle, and
looking everywhere but at the speak
er. "YOu'll no. even look at me |!
repeated Duncan Scott, wistfully
"and this perhaps the last time
we'll ever meet by the well.side,
where we have spent so many hap,
py hours. Won't you just speak
to me, Elsie?"
"That will EO'" answered Elsie,
turning Oh him with womanly in.
dignatiOn and more than womanly
inconsistency. "That will l no.,
Duncan Scott! l wonder you dare
SO much as look ut me after what
you said, and what you evened me
to the last time we met here. !
think it shame that ever | cared
for the likes of you."
To judge from his face, Duncan
seemed to find comfort even in
these sharp words. "But, Elsie,
woman-'
"Ill hear nothing Duncan-n0t a
word J" interrupted Elsie, her blue
eyes flashing fire at the remem-
brance of her wrongs. 'rll never
we'd jealOus.pated fool. And jeal-
GUS of whom ~ she asked in tone
of the utmost scorn: "Of my own
foster brother that was nursed at
the breast of my mother! l wonder
you did ma think of Habbie. or poor
witless Machael in the ingle nook"
'But, Elsie, would you hut lis
ten"
"No, ri no. listen. For what
suld I listen ?"
"But you might tell me how it
was, Elsie? You might say word
to explain what you were doing with
young Fernichurst so late at e'er ?"
Again Elsie turned on him.
"Explain ?-and what for suld ]
explain, or what right have you to
think explanation needed q? Is not
Ferniehurst my own foster er-brother,
as | told you, and as you knew well
enough ? And is not that the same
as mine own brother, and more ?
But | will explain" said the poor
girl, forcing back the tears which
were too ready to run over: "Fer-
niehurst loves bonny Mary, Har-
den's daughter. that's away in Edin-
bOrO' with her aunt for safety; and
knowing me to be an old friend and
playmate of the young leddy's, he
gave me a letter and token uf her,
against her coming home, knowing
that no mans life is safe for a day,
with the English camped here in
our very midst. So there ye have
the tale, and much good may it do
you. No, no! You needn't try to
come round me that gate, Duncanw
she added, in firm but scOrnful
tone, withdrawing the hand that
Duncan would have taken. "Alrs
over between us. l have borne
much ere this from your jealous
humOr, but Pll bare no more. I'll
have naught to say to any man who
can call me what you called me that
night. Go your ways-with whom
you will. wish you na i'll, but all !
the good in the world but you are |
no more aught to me nor l to you |
Fare ye wellw
So saying, Elsie took up her
pitcher, which had been for some !
time brimming over, aud walked
down the path, without so much as |
casting a look behind. Duncan
seemed to feel that his cause was
hopeless, for he followed sorrow
fully enough, and did not even at
tempt to speak again.
Tweeddale, in Scotland, at no
time before the eighteenth century
a very safe or quiet place of resi- |
ience, was peculiarly unhappy in !
the year 1924. The English army. |
nnder surry, was encamped near
)edburgh, which place the Admiral
10 sorely burned and wasted that
40 garrison nor none other should
De lodged there. From their camps
he English made fOravs and in