The record-union., 1894-01-27

| be guest, and there in my studio gave
oath that l should become the sole heir
to all the possessions of the Mac Tavitt-
providing the genuine the Mac Tavitt is
never discovered, as" and here he
looked with laughing eyes full of ten
! derness into the wondering eyes of Joan,
Il often reverently wish the Lord could
be -
During this recital, mingled tones of
defiant song and bitter deuunciation were
rising higher and shriller from the road
way beneath the cliff.
II.
The road here turns from the cliff-side
| highway, crossing the River Glass by the
| bridge of Fasnakyle, and thence winds TO
the west to Guesachan Lodge, and to the
east, through the mountain pass OF Ker-
row Wood Brae, to bonnie Glen Urqu-
! hart beyond. When the lordly sports
men of the North made their pitiless
/ highland clearances that game preserves
might take the place OF crotter homes, the
| two cottages at the fork of the road were
all, except the little church, that were left
standing of the ancient clachan or the
church hamlet of Fasnakyle.
To the eye of the passer these cottages
are sweet, old rose-embowered nests with
| snug paddockS and sunny kali yards be-
hind, but they housed this September
! day, at least in one, the fires of rancor-
Gus hate, so often characteristic of the
folk of these hidden highland hooks, and
| frequently as strangely mingled with
Scriptural self-justification and zeal, that
| sort of hatred, often mex plicable in
origin, but endless and fierce in inten-
sitY, and lacking only reckless daring to
give it tragic end.
| Internal diablerie, heritage still of these
superstitious children of the mist, and
| x~f
/ the stern and awful texts cleaned by
hate-lit eyes from the lain Guild Book"
is their sole remaining means of wreak-
| ing curse or avenging real or fancied
| wrong.
And so for twenty years old Sandy
| Nichols, the stone-mason of Fasnakyle,
had glared from his cottage windows
across at old Davy Saunders the roadside
| seller of ancient sweets and meal, who
in turn had glared back and taunted
! from his. No one knew the nature of
the feud or cared. Sandy could not, or
would not, disclose it to the ''meenis-
ter" and Davy's most exquisite delight.
when Joan was absent and time hung
! heavy on his hands, was to sound the
| tocsin of battle across the way to Sandy,
by piping loud and clear, in tones of un-
mistakable disdain and challenge, the
notes of some highland Gaelic song, usu-
ally the wild and impetuous "Coire Che
athaich," or misty Dell"
Sandy, Bible in hand, was now, as al
ways, hot for the fray. Davy, leaning
calmly over his mossy garden wall, as if
oblivious of the wrathfdl Sandy forty feet
away, lifted his roaring voice with,
| ,Se Coire-cheathaich, nan aigh can suibiach-
! my own misty Corrie by deer ever haunted.)
"Wp oot are dogs" sneered Sandy, re-
ferring to the book in his withered hand,
| An Coire rumach is urar sOnn-
| (My beauteous valley, my own verdant DELL
9TH deceitfu' i weights VII get th' swift
| arrow" returned Sandy with triumphant
scorn,
! Gu lurach miad-theurach min-gheal, ,sughar-
! (Soft, rich and grassy with sweets ever
| scented.)
"Let ma mon think o. himself mair
highly than he ought" was flung back
savagely from the opposite garden wall.
| Gu lusan fiuar bu chubbraidh leam-
! (From every fair tiow'r love dear and well. }
"Pharo's heart was hardened by the
Laird" came from Sandy with a pro-
phetic skirl of delight.
| Gu moIach, dub-ghorm, torrach, luiSreagach-
| Thickly all growing, brightly all blowing.
9TH Laird shall add tae ye th' plaques
o. this Bulk, ye auld-mou'd," yelled
Sandy, shaking the Bible at Davy men
acingly.
Corrach, pluranach, dlu-ghlan GRIM
| (Over its shaggy and green-darkened lawn.)
| "Badlyng that ye are, ye'll get rain o.
fire and brimstanen
Caoin, ballach, ditheanach, canach. mislea-
mach
Moss, canach and daises adorning its mazes.)
"Ye shall be slain, a. th' sort o. yep
! fairly howled the old stone mason. twirl-
| ing the Blessed Book above his head,
| and like all mis- great or humble kind
for nearly two thousand years, through
| it consigning the enemy he himself had
| made to its awful terrors and dooms.
| Gleann mhilltich's an Iionmhor mangi
Through which lightly gambois the 1.-the,
! graceful tawn.l
"Hoot! Ye auld cake fumler! Hoott
! Like as wax melteth at the fire, so shall
! We perish!" shrieked Sandy, dancing
about his garden and shaking his fist
and his Bible at the, until now placid
Davy, in very delirium OF imbecile hate
and rage.
That last threat, with It's Scriptural hint
! of the most grewsome curse known to the
superstitious highlanders, was too much
for Davy Saunders. His retort was
| quick, needless and thunderous. Old
! Sandy, for his gibes and taunts, gave
! back renewed and deadlier objurgations.
| Raising their embittered voices with
their increasing rage, they at last broke
! into furious Gaelic threats and impreca-
| tions, leaning far over their garden walls
and fuming and clawing like beasts in
| leash painting for each others lives, and
sickening the very valley echoes with
! their dreadful maledictions.
The unusual turmoil below had brought
| Hugh Ritchie and his companion to the
edge of the cliff. They had both listened
intently, and now Joan suddenly started
back with her hands before her eyes.
.What were those Gaelic words" he
asked sharply, noticing the girls action.
9TH corp creadh! th' corp creadh!' she
answered shudderingly, but with never
another word, as if shame would come to
her in Hugh's eyes at even her innocent
possession of such ealeful knowledge.
But Hugh Richie had gathered more of