Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1898-07-26
the .Birks Of Aberfeldy, - thu. described
"The braes aacend ike lofty was,
The foamipg stream deep roaring fA's,
O'erhung vi fragrant spreading shaws
The Rfrks Of A Aberfeldy"

oy BURNS
"The braes ascend ike lofty was.
The foamipg stream deep roaring fR's,
O'erhung vi fragrant spreading shaws
The Birks Of Aberfeldy,"
and again vision OF days that are no
more comes over the senses "like the
evening sun on my soul"-s vision Of q
wintry night away of la q remote c0un-
try across the sea, where through the
darkness q loved voice comes ringing up
through the rafters and the silence sing
Ing:
Bonnie lassic, win you 20.
WIN you 60, wii.ill you 5000.
Bonnie lAssie, win you go
To the Blrks Of Aberfeldyl"
The answer has come now after many
years, and more beautiful spot can be
found nowhere on earth. At every step
the glOries OF Nature confront you -
but descriptions are too tame.
But the halo around this Northern
country arises from It's association with
the King o. the Highland Hearts, Bon
ME Prince Charlie" and his generous and
heroic followers who made II their
dweliing-plsce. In these mountain fast
nesses was his hiding place for many
months, where he was ministered unto
by his faithful Highlsnders with devo-
tion unequalled In all the annals Of his
tory or fiction.
Sir Walter Scott tells OF an old man he
knew In his youth who was one OF the
band who sheltered and nourished the
loved wanderer for many weeks 10 n
cave In these mountains. His peculiar
characteristic was carrying his right
hand always hidden In his breast, th,
res son being that the Prince had shaken
hands with him when they parted. Moth
ing could ever induce him to use hi.
right hand for any purpose.
Another example OF the Highlanders
devoted heroism was young man
whose appearance was much like that OF
the Prince, aud because OF this he was
one day set upon by band OF rufii,ns
who had In mind the 10000 offer
ei for his head. He would not reveal
his identity, thinking IL might save the
Prince, and dying he said To them,
"Alss. you have slain your Prince"
They took his head to Edinburgh and
for many months thereafter the poor
wanderer was free from molestation, and
ensDled 10 escape.
Every one knows Of the heroic con.
duct Of Flora Macdonald in aiding him
to escape by lending him the garments
Of her servant maid and leading him
safely through desperate dangers. Sht
was imprisoned In London for a time In
consequence, but afterwards was shown
much honor for having played such
dauntless part, and even the royal family
expressed great admiration for her
heroism and noble conduct, though ex-
erted In behalf Of their dangerous rival.
The simplicity and dignity Of her char
scter WAS expressed in her remark that
she never thought she had done any
thing wonderful till she heard the world
wondering at IL.
There Is an old song called 1.-THE La
ment OF Flora Macdonald" written by
Neil Cow, the composer Of most OF th.
old Scotch reels, and whose home was
the little whitewashed cabin down yon-
der In the valley.
"And oh there Is one whose har,i fate dcplorc.
Nor house. ha' nor hAmc In his kintry has he;
The conflict Il past. and our name IL no more.
THERE'S nought left but sorrow for Scotland
an me-"
The suffering and sorrow that filled
the souls OF these loyal Highlanders a,
the bitterness OF their defeat will never
be forgotten. In Smollett's Tears OF
Scotland" he tells OF their sad heart
breskings.
"Mourn. hapless Caedonian, mourn;
Thy banished peace, thy laurcls torn"
No one can help but admire the In
domitsble spirit OF these Highlander.
Looking at their whole conduct during
this bitter strife, when they fought So
heroically against overwhelming num-
bers, at presents" says Sir Walter
Scott, n dazzling picture to the imagi-
nation unequslled In splendor and inter
es, by any which could be described by
fiction. and such disinterested conduct
will reflect honor on the Highlands OF
Scotlsnd while their mountains shall
continue TO exist"
The heather was brown on the hill
sides, the broom was shaking Its golden
banners across the moorland, silver
clouds half hid the azure OF the zenith,
and over the grim tops OF the mountains
the white mist WAS drifting, when In the
tender light OF the morning We bade
goodbye to the Highlands OF Scotland.
Farewell TO the Highlands,
Farewell TO the North,
The birthplace ofvalor.
The country Of WORTH
MARTHA MAXIM.