Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1888-06-07
succeeded in sending the sailors on beard
ship, aRd peace was restored.

when the excitement on the street was
over, he returned to take her to the vessel.
She trembled with fear as he led her TO
the boat In waiting; and yet, when part
ing she had no words to express her
gratitude for what he had done for her,
her eyes were fastened upon hin, and he
never forgot their expression of tender
ness; never forgot the depth of feeling in
that last look, as ne stopped with uncover
ed head TO kiss her hand. From that time
Stewart was restless and unsettled. He
attended TO his business as usual, but he
was not the same man, every one could
see that, but no one knew what absorbed
him, what visions he saw in mis- absent
mindedness, what had so completely turn
ed his thoughts from their old channel.
The cartel safely reached Cadiz, when
| those on board Of her were not slow to
toll of their adventure, and how they had
been maltreated. The king was furious
when he heard of it, and brought it to the
notice of the English crown through his
ambassador, Prince Maserano, who avail
ed himself of the opportunity TO sound
the praise of Stewart.
Lord Greenville, chancellor of the ex-
| chequer,i If he could do but little to soothe
the kings feelings, rewarded Stewart for
|
| veyor-general of the southern district of
the American colonies the northern dis
trist being then allotted to John Temple.
Subsequently an offer of a responsible
position was made under the stamp act;
but the stamp act was too unpopular for
him to think of it, and having closed his
business connections in America, he re-
turned to England, where the Spanish
ambassador thanked hin warmly in per
son as be had done by letter for his kind
ness to his countrymen, and made him q
welcome guest at his residence. There
Stewart unex pectedly met a lady whose
presence put new life into him. She was
a lovely brunette, graceful In form, tall
and stately, with winning voice and charm
ing manners. It was Christina, who,
grown TO wOomhood, more than realized
the promise of her youth.
The recognition was mutual, and as
they sat and talked in the recess of a
window ne told her how the memory of
| those few nom nts when he rescued her
from peril had made him restless, almost
a wanderer; that he loved her, and if she
| could give her heart and hand to one who
had seen twice her years, she would crown
his happiness. Her hand she gave him; ;
her heart, she said was already in his
keeping; and as he stopped to her the
| prince, who had been quick to divine what
was going on, came forward, look their
hands in his ow1. and without word
i pressed them together. They were soon
married, and one of the wedding guests
was Robert Boyd, who was then living in
London.
IF the married life of Stewart was short,
it was one of happiness while it lasted.
| They travelled everywhere in Europe,
spending much time in Spain, which they
| explored from end to end. But in the
midst of their enjoyment Christina was
striker with desease, and died in the arms
of her husband, in her own beloved Cadiz;
died with his name on her lips, and with
look of love, pure, deep, and all absorb
ing. He laid her by the side of those of
her own household, and fed from a spot
where his hopes had been SO blighted;
but where to go he knew not, for almost
every place to which he turned had some
thing to remind him of her, to recall the
| happy moments they had passed to-
| getner.
At length, tired of life, and not caring
| how soon the end came, he turned from
| the haunts of men to revisit the spot
where he had passed his early years, to
lest once more on the rocky isle where he
was born, to see his old home ON the hill
side of Kirkwall the wild headlands that
| closed it in, the stormy seas, and the
Arcadians, to whom he was bound by ties
of blood; to kneel again in the old
cathedral, the pride of Orkneymen, and
look upon the crumbling ruins of the
earls' and bishops palaces, objects of
veneration in his youth; nor did he rest
| he he
of the little heaven.
| How different It seemed as he stood
there, and yet how like the picture he had
treasured through all these years-the
cathedral, so old that none could say
| when 1t was not, so worn and weather
| stained that one wondered now it could
longer hold together; the royal chapter
| house, the rude dwellings of moss grown
| stones along the narrow street, with deep
windows and low gables, and the valley,
from Scalpa bay to Kirkwall, where the
little white-faced sheep found sweet but
| scanty heritage. The boys were gather
ing kelp, as he had gathered it, the men
were busy with their creels, and the won
| en- in their wooden shoes, went dumping
| by. Drifting scud hung over sea and
| land, but above it the towering peak of
| the Old Man Hoy stood out in bold relief,
| and in every nook and crevice there was
| the same sound of gurgling waters. A
stranger to every one he met, he was yet
familiar with everything he saw; recalled
| the pride he felt when a boy III knowing
mis- home was royal bnrgh, the stories
told him in his youth of Sigurd, the earl
| Orkney, the Song of the Fatal Sisters as
| they wOve the web of death, and then he
| turned away. But before leaving the
| spot he was drawn to the annual fair of
st. Ola, the event of the year in Orkney,
that he might add trifle to the portion
of the maldens then promised in mar
| riage.
| He had but one more pilgrimage to
make, to the roof that first sheltered him
in Glasgow. His old benefactor had gone
| before, but the house in which he had
lived vas but little changed, and the i'm
age of an Indian, in gaudy paint, with
pipe i'll hand, stood at the shop door. In
the little back room he sat once more,
where he had first known his friend and
counsellor, where he had looked out upon
a world full Or promise, but which to him
| had been so checkered; and then he turn
| ed to his alma mater, and there closed
! his days. He died at Edinburg in 1873.
- New York Evening Post.
IN THE KHYBER PASS.