Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1879-01-10
4 Dream.

One winter evening about fifty years
ago, a post-chaise with single gentle
man inside it drove up to the North of
Scotland, where passengers who were
going to cross to Orkneys usually spent
the night. The gentleman, whom we
will call Mr.. MacT., was the owner of a
large estate, and an old house which had
belonged to his family for hudreds of
years, in the mainland, or chief of the
Orkney islands, and was now about to
visit his property. It was clustering,
stormy night, but that only made more
pleasant the cigar and glass of whisky,
and the cracking of the woOd-fre 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 lsird," as he
called him, with his widest tales Of adj
venture on the sea, They did not, how
ever, sit late, for the Orkney packet
sailed very early in the morning, and
MacT. soon found himself in his cozy,
well-appointed little bedroom. The wind
was chanting a grand Berserker melody,
and the sea was roaring deep bass
accompaniment. MacT. loved those
sounds, for they had often been the lull-
abyof his childhood, and soon fell asleep.
For some hours he slept without an
image or thought reaching his mind but,
at length, when the morning was glim-
mering gray in the East, a 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 a very long table.
The banqueting hall was now in reality
almost a ruin. but in his dream MaCT.
saw it hung with hundred lights. The
table was 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
year before. And at the bottom of the
table sat fair-haired man in dress of
skins, who was Morse chieftain, the
founder of the family. It seemed to him
that he sat for some minutes as if SPELL
bound, while the spectators muFmured
together in low, hollow tones. At length
they all rose, and 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 warning
attitude, fixed his eyes on MacT., and
said, in deep voice, the word Beware"
''The packet starts in twenty minutes,
sir" cried loud voice at the door, rOus-
ing MacT. suddenly from sleep. Con-
fused at first, yet soon remembering |
where he was, he sprung out of bed and |
began hurriedly to dress himself. Being |
a bad sailor, his first glance was natur- |
ally enough, at the sea, close to which |
the inn stood. The wind had risen in
the night. The waves thundered on the |
shore, and the little Orkney packet. was
tossing up and down like limpet shell. |
As he gazed, his strange dream arose up
with sudden distinctness before MacT.'s
minu. He was infected with q good |
deal of thorough Scotch superstition.
Besides he did not much like the look
of the sea, and so he resolved not to 90
sill tomorrow. That day the Orkney |
packet was lost with every man on
board, and MacT. and his little wife,
who was left at home with the babies
had to thank that warning dream fol
his life