The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1900-05-08


"Steady, Duncan! I've enough. I'm
|, going Keep 1t for Yourself" yaSp.,
INA, ma, laird; taxi some MAR OF
| III TAX some myself, though"
He drank the mixture, and, as the
spirit brought back life into his trem-
bling frame, he said:
MAN. laird, houp that officer chlel
was good levin man. He deserves to
gang to a place there's nae SIGH q
drought as there's here"
you were always plucky, Duncan"
said the lieutenant. "But I'm going"
His voice was now at a whisper.
INA, ma; yell TAX anlther drappe"
said the piper, and again lie poured a
few drops between the laird's lips.
Duncan, could you play march be-
fore got"
I'll try, but ma l. id awfu' queer.
Hiv We my pipes"
"Yes; kept them in my left hand"
Piper Farquharson tuned his pipes.
"Now, the 'Haughs O CrOmdale,'
Duncan. I'm going" whispered thelaird.
1>u. III JCl lluC SuuIt iuiiu' ! II P"y
We Il reel" And over the desolation
foated the springing crispness Of the
Perth Hunt"
From the darkness the scntrics on
the heights and in the trenches fired
off their rifles and their sleepy COM
rades stood to their arms. These yer.
domed pctticoat roOncks were to make
night attack. Suddenly the music
stopped.
"Dae ye mind that? 1t was danced
at yer coming o age"
Eyes, remember, Duncan. But play
the march and sit down here beside
me. I'm cold. 1t will soon be snow,
Duncan"
Duncan, whose head was throbbing
with the effort in playing the reel,
crawlcd down beside his laird.
AYE; think it will be snow afore
mornln," he said.
Then Piper EarQuharson played
marches and strathspeys, and In the
cold and darkness death came to many
of his audience. But as they fell
asleep and their thirst was stated and
their pain eased, their lullaby was, to
them, the sweetest they had heard
since childhood.
Duncan could play no more. 1t was
indeed only titfully he had played at
all.
And the laird was passing.
"Goodby, old man, and thanks"
sighed the laird. IF you 90 home, tell
them | sent my love. | wrote to them
all yesterday. Good
There was slight tinklc the laird
fell sideways. He had gone with his
comrades.
The dawn would come soon. Already
the SUBMITS of the eastern hills were
beginning to appear through the gray
ness Day was coming, and the night
blackncss were now to be numbered
with that which had been.
Duncan, however, was only concern
cd about one thing.
The laird was gone. lie had asked
him for Il march. lie should have one
Duncan rose, rroppcd himself against
the bowldcr and stood over the body
of his lieutenant.
Then over the ycldt the low, wailing
strains of 'IOchabcr No More rose
and swclcd in the dawn, like the voice
Of a mother mourning with Il sore ar
ticulatc grief the loss of her children.
1t was well played. The infinite sor-
row, the wild hopelessness of the mu-
sic rang out over veldt and kopie, and
the more supcrstitious among the
Beers muttcred that sit was the wall
ing Of the souls Of the petticoat ROOF.
neks." 1t was probably Piper Farqu-
harson's best effort. 1t was his last.
The Boer sentinel in the advanced
trench saw, as the dawn came, a
rooinek standing facing him. He was
pctticoat and might have thousands
behind him. The sentry brought his
rifle to the present" 1t was an easy
shot--a tall man, with no khaki tunic
to deceive the marksman. Then the
Mauser parked.
In this wise Piper Duncan Farquhar-
son of the Highland brigade rejoined
his laird.-Detroit News.