The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-09-12

- 'ue anna she. And my grandmother
IIiu 'aIes o aud Ettericks who dade WI
( douglas and the Bruce and the ancient
Kings o Scots; nd she used to tell o. OH
ers IN her mothers time, terrible shock
Aeaded men hunting the deer and rinnin'
on the nigh moors, and bidn' in the brok-
en- stane biggings on the hlll-taps."
Inc shepherd stared, and he, too, saw
the picture. He smelled the air of battle
BATH
And you yourself" the bird went on,
are sair fallen off from the aud stock.
NOW We sit and spell in books. and talk
ABOUT what We little understand when
your fathers were roaming the warld.
nut hltle cause have to speak, for l too
am downcome My bill is two inches
shorter than my mothers, and my grand
.hother was taller on her feet. The warld
IS getting weal1lier things to dwell in it,
even since mind myself"
fe nave the gift Of speech, bird" said
the man, land / would hear mair." You
WIN perceive that he had no mind Of the
SabDath day Of the 18th head of the fore
moons discourse.
nat things have I to tell We when We
ulhha Ken the very horn-book o. knowl-
eager Besides l am not clatter-yengeance
10 tell stories in the middle O. the muir.
When there are ears open high and low
Iheres others than me WI mair expert
ence and better skill at telling. Our
can was well acquaint wi the reivers
ana htters o the muirs, and could crack
line O wars and the talking of cattle
But the blue hawk that lives in The
eorrie o the Dreichill can speak o. KEEL
pies ana the dwarfs that bide in the hill.
Inc heron, the lang solemn fellow. kens
o the greenwood fairies and the wood
elfins; and the wild geese that souatter on
the TAP o the Muneraw will croak to We
OF the merry maidens and the girls o.
the pool. The wren-he that hons in the
grass below the birks-has the story of
the lost ladies of the land. which is
over aud and sad for any but the wisest
TO hear; and there is a wee bird bides in
the heather (hill-lintie men call HIM who
SINGS the Lay of the West Wind and the
glee of the Rowan Berries But what am
talking Of? What are these things TO
you, IL We have not first heard the Song
OF the Moor, which is the beginning and
end o all things"
Il have heard no songs" said the man
save the sacred psalms O. Gods kirk"
Benny sangs" Knocked the bird "Once
| flew by the hinder end O. the kirk and I
keekit in. A wheen aud wives WI mulch
es and wheen solemn men Wi hosts! Be
sure the Song of the Moor is no like Won
can you sing 1t, bird?" said the man,
for 1 am keen to hear it,"
Me sing" cried the bird me. that has
voice Ike craw! Ma, ma, I Gamma sing
II; but maybe | can take We where We may
near it. When was young an auld bog
bitter did the same to me- and sac began
my education But are We willing and
brawly willing, for if We get but a sough
OF 1t We will never malr have an ear for
other music?'
Il am willing, and brawly willing" said
the man.
'"rhen meet me at Gled's Cqeuch Head
at the suns setting," said the bird, and
away it flew.
Now it seemed to the man that in a
twinkling it was sunset, and he found
himself at Gled's Cleuch Head, with the
bird Mapping in the heather before him.
The place was a long rift in the hill, made
green with juniper and hazel, where it
was said True Thomas came TO drink the
water.
Turn ye to the west" said the wfaup.
and let the sun fall on your face. TAea
turn We five time round about, and say
after me in the Rune of the Heather and
the Dew" And before he knew. the man
cd as he was told, and found himself
speaking strange words, while his head
hummed and danced as if in a fever.
Now lay We down and put your ear TO
the EARTH" said the bird, and the man did
so. Instantly a cloud came over his brain,
and he did not feel the ground on w.lich
he lay or tho keen Hill air which blew
about him. He felt himself falling into a
deep abysm of space then suddenly
caught up and set among the stars of
heaven. Then slowly from bhe stiffness
there welled forth music, drop by drop
like the clear falling of rain, and the man
shuddered, for he knew that he heard The
beginning of the Song of the Moor
High rose the air and trembled among
the tallest pines at the summit of the
in ha Of
rain and the batter of hail, the soft crush
Of snow and the rattle of thunder among
the crags. Then it quieted TO the low,
sultry Groom which told of blazing midday,
when the streams are parched and the
bent crackles like dry finder Anon it was
evening, and the melody dwelled among
the high, soft notes which mean the COM
ing OF dark and the green light of sum
set. Then the whole changed to a great
paean which rang like an organ through
the earth. There were trumpet notes in
it, and flute notes, and the plant of pipes
Come forth" 1t cried, "the sky is wide,
and It is far cry to the worlds end!
The fire crackles fine o. nights below the
frs, and the smell of roasting meat and
wood smoke is dear to the heart of man
Fine, too. is the sting of the salt and the
risp of the northwind in the sheets. Come
forth, one and ALL to the great lands over
sea and the strange tongues and the fire.
NIT peoples! Learn before you die to fol-
low the Piper's son, and though your old
bones bleach among gray rocks, what mat
ter, if You have had your bellyful of life
and come to the land of Hearts Desire?'
And then the tune fell low and witch
ing, bringing tears to the eyes and joy to
the heart, and the man knew Though no
one told him) that this was the first part
of the Moor Song, the Song of the Open
Road the Lit of the Adventurer, which
shall be now and ever to the end of days.
Then the melody changed to a fiercer and
sadder note. He saw his forefathers, gaunt
men and terrible, run stark among woody
hills. He heard the talk of the bronze-clad
invader, and the jar and clangor as flint
met steel Then rose the last coronach of
his own people, hiding in wild glens, starv-
ing in corries, or going hopelessly to the
death. He heard the cry of the border To-
ray, the shouts of the poor Scots as they
harried Cumberland, and he himself rode
in the midst of them. Then the tune fell
more mournful and slow, and Flodden lay
before him. He saw the flower of the Scots
gentry around their king gashed TO the
breast-bone, still fronting the lines of the
south, though the paleness of death sat on
each forehead. "The flowers of the forest
are gone" cried the lit, and through the