The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-11-02


of scanty feeding and yearly calves
had had it's natural effect. The calf
was left, miserable weakling. worth
nothing without a mother. The
sale of the annual calf and the wool
from her sheep was Mor's rent, and
peace, and security. Without COW
how would she live here? Its milk
and some potatoes were her food, the
calf her rent. How to bring the calf
up without milk would have puzzled
wiser head than Mor's. All she
could see before her was bleak desc
lation.
All the romance, all the poetry Of
Mors life was wrapt up in that poor,
undressed, stone hut, with the reed
covered roof and rocky floors. Her
father had toiled and suffered to keep
it. 1t represented his life's aim to
her, and round it clustered all the
poetry and aspirations of her life.
Outside her home there was only
one being whom Nor had ever let in
to her heart, and this was a girl some
years younger than herself, the
daughter of rather large crofter for
those parts, who lived along the
coast to the north.
Nor had seen little Eilidh Mac
Eachan, with her pale, fair face and
light hair, come to church on Sundays,
and from her own unkempt, shoe
less, ragged state had viewed with
childish delight in details Eilidh's
plaid frock, and above all her shoes
and stockings, evidences of luxury
that but few in the crowded congre-
cation could claim to.
There is no difference of rank
among crofters. Eilidh's people had
newly come from the northern end
of the island, and the children met
out herding, and they made friends,
as children do, and appointed meet
ing -places to drive their respective
COWS to, and sat and chatted, and
huddled under the same rocks when
the heavy shower swept up from the
sea.
AS they grew up the girls remained
friends still, though pretty Eilihd had
lovers and to spare; but she never
seemed to care for any of them, and
gradually they dropped off as year
by year she grew paler and thinner,
and the cough which used to come
only in the winter stayed all the sum
mer too.
Nor, looking out of her cottage
door with her dead COW inside, with
the shivering calf crouched beside it,
was going over her troubles and ap-
prehensions in the bitterness of her
heart. She was only half conscious
of the wide expanse of landscape,
with its protecting rim of sandhills,
behind which the setting sun had
left primrose yellow, until sudden
leap of flame and a cloud of smoke
rose up against it's soft light.
ut will be-" she cried, chat they
are burning ths houses in Airidh
Beag, the black sin and shame that
it is, and all the poor folk will be
turned out upon the bog and with
never a shelter to their heads but the
sky, and it was myself that was told
the cruel villains was to serve the
notice, and it was | that was forget
ting all the misery and the trouble
because it was my poor Kate, the
creature that was taken so bad. Ii it
is my Eilidh that will be turned out
this night, it is myself that can
never be forgiven for my blackness
to her, and it is my Eilidh that has
not been near me all the time at all,
and what for did l not think Of that
before7"
As Nor fed along the rocky track,
that could not be called a road, that
led towards Airidh Beag she over
took a party of excited men and wo-
men.
"And it is the factors men that are
tearing down the peoples houses in
Airidh Beag," they cried to her, "and
the barley and potatoes coming up,
and it is not even the crops that they
have sown that they will be allowed
to gatherl"
But Nor needed them not, for COM
ing along the road from the burning
village towards them was slim, girl
ish figure, flying with trembling feet
and painting breath straight, as il
seemed, into Mor's arms.
They have killed my father, they
have killed my father~ was all that
she could cry, and she fell a sobbing,
painting heap ON to Mor's breast
Nor, her heart burning with a great
anguish, held the thin creature in her
strong arms.