Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1890-03-14

IN 4ssYaS [[%g/ back on thes
SGMI// mr. splashed walls and
~fS~ ~ glimmeIing roofs
- W. till they were sud
~ denly swallowed in
The mist and l suppose some natural sadness
fell upon the man at this departure; O. was
it some provision Of the end AT least, upon
our mounting the long brao from Durrisdeer,
as we walked side by side in the wet, he be-
gan first to whistle and then to sing tie sad
dest of our country tunes which sets folk
weeping in tavern, "Wandering Willie ="
The set Of words he used with it have not
heard elsewhere, and could never come by
any copy; but some of them which We're the
most appropriate to our departure linger in
my memory. One verse began;
Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly
faces;
Home was home then, my dear happy for the
Aud ended somewhat thus:
Now when day daWns on the brow OF the moor
land,
Lone stands the house and the chlmneystone is
Lone let it stand now the folks are all departed,
The kind hearts, the true hearts that loved the
place OF old.
! could never be judge of the merit of these
verses they were SO hallowed by the mclan-
,choly OF the air, and were sung (or rather
''sOothed') to me by master singer a. time
so fitting. He looked i'll my face when he had
done, and saw that my eyes waterel.
"Ah, Mackellar" said lie, "do you thnl,
have never a regret!'
Il do not think you could be so bad a
man, said 1, 'if' you had not ell the machin-
cry to be a good one"
40. not all, said he; mot all. You are
there i'll error. The rlalady of not wanting,
my evangelist" But methought he sighed
as he mounted again into the chaise
All day long we journeved in the same
miserable weather; the mist bosettng us
closely, the heavens necessarily weerng
on my head. The road lay over moorist.
hills where was no sound bat the crying OF
tie moor fowl i'll the wet heather and the
pouring of the swollen burns. Sometimes |
would do2e off III slu:ber, when | would
find myself plunged at once in some foul and
omlnOGs nightmare, from the which | would
awaken stranglinG. Sometimes, if the way
was steep ana the wheels turning slowly, /
would Overnear the voices from within. talk
ing in that tropical tongue which was to me
as inarticulato as the piping of the fowls.
Sometimes, at a longer ascent, the master
would set foot to ground and walk by my
side, mostly without speech.
And all the time, sleeping or waking. I be
held the Same black perspective Of approach
view, only they We're now painted upon hill
side mist. One, | remember, stood before
me with the coiors OF true illusion. Ii
showed me my lord seated at a table in
small room; his head, which was at frs
buried in his hands, he slowly raised aDC
turned upon me a cOunteu9nce from which
hope had fed saw it first on the blacl
window panes, my last night in Durri5deer
it haunted and returned upon me half til,
voyage through; and yet it was no effect o.
lunacv, for | have come to ripe old ag
with no decay Of nv intelligence; nor yet Ia
l was then tempted 10 SUPPOSE a heaven sen
warning Of tho futGre FOR all manner o
caamities hcfell not that caamity-and
saw many pitful sights, but never that one
1t was deced we should travel on al
night, and it was singular once the dusk ha'
fallen, my spirits somewhat rose. The brigh
lamps, shining forth into the mist and on III
smoking horses and the holding post boy
Eavo me perhaps an outlook ntrinscall
more cheerful than what day had shown; o
perhaps my mind had become wearicd of it
melancholy. AT least, spent some waking
hours, not without satisfaction in m
thoughts although wet and weary in m
body: and fell at last into natural stumble
without dreams. Vet l must have been a
work even in the deepest Of my sleep, and a
for I started broad awake, in the very act G
crying out to myself,
Home was home then, my dear happy for tn
child,
stricken to find in it an appropriateness
which had not yesterday observed, to tt
masters detestGble purpose in the preset
journey.
We were then close upon the city of Ola
where
gether at an inn, and where las the dev
would have iD we found ship in the yer
article OF sailing. Wc took places in ii
cabin, and two days after, carried our e
fleets OH board, Her name was the Non
such, a very ancient ship and very happil
named. BY all accounts this should be h,
last voyage; people shook their heads upc
the quays and had several warnings ofPert
me by strangers in tho street, to the effe
that she was rotten as a cheese, too deep
loaden, and must infallibly founder if we NJ
gale From this it fell out we were Il
only passengers; tho captain, McMurtre, W
a silent, absorbed man with the Glasgow
Gaelic accent the mates ignorant, roue
seafarers come IN through the bawsehol
and the master and | were cast upon eat
others company.
The Nonesuch carried fair wind out
the Clyde, and for near upon a week we e
joyed bright weather and a sense of progre
] found myself TO my wonde) born Sc
man, in so far at least as / was never sic
yet | was far from tasting the usual sereni
of my health. Whether IL was the motion
the ship on the pillows, the confinement, t
sailed food, or all of these together, l suffer
from blac1ness of spirit and paint
strain upon my temper. The nature of n
errsnd on that ship perhaps contributed
think it did more; the malody twhatev
atMasls sprupg from my environment. and
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