Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1878-05-01
Dreams.

One winter evening about fifty years
ago, a post-chaise, with single gentle
man inside it, drove up to the little inn
ON the Pentland Firth, in the north of
Scotland, where passengers who were
going to cross to the Orkneys usually
spent the night. The gentleman, whom
we will call Mr.. Mac T., 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 clustering, stormy night, but that
only made more pleasant the cigar and
the glass of whiskey, and the cracking
wood fire by which Mac L. sat chatting
with the landlord, who was an old
friend both of his father and himself,
and who was proud of entertaining the
syoung laird" as he called him, with
his widest tales of adventure on the
sea. They did not, however, sit late,
for the Orkney packet sailed very early
in the morning, and Mac L. soon found
hir.self in his cosy well-appointed little
bedroom. The wind was chanting a
grand Berserker melody, and the sea
was roaring a deep bass accompaniment.
Mac L. loved these sounds, for they
had often been the lullaby of his child
hood, 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
glimmering grey in the east, strange
dream came to trouble him. He dreamt
that he was in the ancient banqueting
hall of his own house, in the Mainland,
sitting at the head of very long table.
The banqueting hall was now in reality
almost a ruin, but in his dream Mac L.
saw it hung with tapestry, and blazing
with hundred lights. The table was
well filled on both sides, and he thought
he glanced curiously down its length to
see who his guests were. As he looked
he shuddered in his dream. Those who
sat at the table with him were all his
dead ancestors for many generations
back. He knew their faces and dresses
well from their portraits in the picture
gallery. Next TO him sat his own
father, who had died about a year
before. And at the bottom of the table
sat a fair-haired man in dress of skins
who was a Morse chieftain, the founder
of the family. 1t seemed 10 him that
he sat for some minutes as if SPELL
bound, while the spectres murmured
together in low, hollow tones. AT
length they all rose, and slowly, one
by one, in turns. left the hall. But be-
fore they went, each one paused at the
door, and turning, raised his hand in
warning attitude, fixed his eyes on Mac
T., and said in deep voice, the word
'.beware.
''The packet starts in twenty minutes,
SIR cried loud voice at the door,
rousing Mac I. suddenly from sleep.
Confused at first, yet soon remember
ing where he was, he sprang out OF bed
and began hurriedly to dress himself.
Being bad sailor, his first glance was
naturally enough at the sea, close to
which the inn stood. The wind had
risen i'm the night. The waves thun-
dered on the shore, and the little
Orkney packet was tossing up and
down like a limpet she'll. As he gazed.
his strange dream rose up with a sudden
distinctiveness before Mac T.'s mind.
He was infected with a good deal of
thorough Scotch superstition. Besides
he did not much like the look of the
sea, and so he resolved not to go till
tomorrow. That day the Orkney
packet was lost with every man on
board, an d Mac Il. and his little wife,
who was left at home with the babies.
had to thank that warning dream for
IN is life