The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1878-05-08
Two Dollars a Year.
A Dream.

One Winter evening about 80 wears
ago, post chaise, with a single gentle
man inside il, drove up TO the little inn
on the Pentland Firth, in the North OF
Scotland, where passengers who were. 20.
ing TO cross 10 the Orkneys usually spent
the night The gentleman, whom We
will call Mr.. Net, was the owner of a
large estate, and an old house which had
belonged to his family for hundreds OF
years; in the Mainland, or chief of the
Orkney Islands, and was now about TO
visit his property. 1t was "A bluster
ing, stormy night, but that only made
more pleasant the cigar and the glass of
whisky and the cracking wood fire by
which MacT. sat chatting with the land
lord, who was an old friend both of his
father and himself and who was proud
Of entertaining the young laird, as he
called him, with his widest tales of ad
venture on the sea. They did not, how
ever, sit late, for the Orkney packet
sailed very early in the morning, and
Met, soon found himself in his coy.
well appointed little bed room. The wind
was chanting great Berserker melody,
and the sea was roaring a deep bass ac
compartment. Met, loved those sounds,
for they had often been the lullaby of
his childhood, and soon fell asleep. For
some hours he slept without an image or
a thought reaching his mind; but at
length, when the morning was glimmer-
ing gray in the east, strange dream
came to trouble him. He dreamed that
he was in the ancient banqueting hall of
his old house, in the Mainland, sitting at
the head of very long table. The ban
quoting hall was now in reality almost a
ruin, but liz his dream MacT. saw it hung
with tapestry, and blazing with hun.
dred lights. The table was filled on both
sides, and he thought he glanced Curl
ously down its length to see who his
guests were. As he looked he shuddered
in his dream. Those who sat at table
with him were all his dead ancestors for
many generations back. He knew their
faces and dresses, well from their por-
traits in the picture gallery. Next to
him sat his own father, who had died
about year before. And at the bottom
of the table sat a fair-haired man in
dress of skins. who was a Morse chief
tain, the founder Of the family. 1t
seemed to him that he sat for some min
utes as if spell bound, while the spectres
murmured together iii low, hollow tones.
At length they all rose, slowly, one by
one, in turns, left the hall. But before
they went, each one paused at the door,
and turning, raised his hand in a warn
ing attitude, fixed his eyes on MacT. and
said in deep voice, the word BE
ware" The packet starts in twenty
minutes, sir" cried IA loud voioo at the
door, rousing MacT. suddenly from sleep.
Confused at first, yet soon remembering
where he was, he sprang out of bed and
began hurriedly to dress himself Being
a bad sailor, his first glance was naturally
enough at the sea, close to which the inn
stood. The wind had risen in the night.
The waves Numbered on the shore, and
the little Orkney packet was tossing up
and down like a limpet shell. AS he
gazed, his strange dream rose up with
sudden distinctness before MacT. 5 mind.
He was infected with a good deal of
thorough Scotch superstition. Besides
he did not much like the look of the sea-
Bd. & hat ddgIH65d RGut} packet was lost
with every man Oh board, and MacT.,
and his little wife, who was left at home
with the babies, had to thank that warn
ing dream for his life.-The Argosy.