The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1906-11-29
A Tale of the Olden Time
[Original.1

[OriginaL1
If a 1.-THE of the romance contained
in history could be recorded the in
ventors Of fictitious happenings would
be put to shame. In the musty records
contained in the Tower of London or
in the plain unvarnished history of
Scotland there is plentiful supply Of
themes for English song and story.
Here is one that needs no elaboration:
In cell in Scottish castle Sir John
Cochrane, knight, condemned by the
king to be beheaded, was taking a final
leave of his daughter.
Farewell, my child" said the father.
81 am to die at dawn tomorrow"
The girl looked at him fiercely-so
fercely that he almost thought this
horror had deprived her of reason.
Father" she said hoarsely, ''you
must not die
The knight folded her in his arms
and mOaned in broken tones: "The
king wills it. He has signed my death
warrant, and it is on it's way. 1t will
be here tonight. The scaffold and block
are ready. The headsman is waiting.
The sun tomorrow will not rise on
your father. My child, do not deceive
yourself. There is no hope"
Withdrawing from his embrace, the
girl turned and left him. AS she passed
out of the door she paused and, turn
ing, said with the energy Of despair:
Father, you shall not die"
The night was dark. A courier dash
ed and splashed along muddy Scot
fish road. A mail pouch was slung to
his shoulder Now and again the
bough of some overhanging tree would
sprinkle his face with rain water, and
his horse was continually plunging into
some pool or mudhole in the road. The
moorland stretched ahead of him, be-
fore him and behind him. Far in the
distance loomed the castle in which Sir
John Cochrane was confined, and the
messenger was making straight for 1t.
In the east was faint forewarning of
dawn. Noticing it, he spurred his horse,
muttering:
81 shall be late. 1t would be pity
to keep a man in suspense. It's to be
at dawn, and my presence Is as neces-
sary as that of the man who Is to part
with his head"
He had scarcely finished his soliloquy
when something sprang up and at him
from the road At first he thought it a
beast, but in another moment he felt a
pair of arms struggling to deprive him
Of his mail pouch. The courier was
not weak man, and his enemy was Of
light and slender build, but it seemed
as if heaven were giving to the latter
superhuman strength. In vain the
courier tried to throw him off, He
chung like a panther. Then the horse,
unable to support the two struggling
weights, fell. The courier rolled into
ditch beside the road, and as he
clambered out he caught sight of
figure clad in the garments of a Scot
fish knight standing in silhouette
against the line where earth and sky
met.
At the castle those who were to Off
ciate at the execution emerged from
their sleeping rooms to witness the
passing of Sir John Cochrane. Nothing
was wanting but the official order for
the execution, and that was not forth
coming. Dawn grew into daylight,
and the sun rose Then came the
courier with his story that he had been
attacked by an unknown knight and
robbed of his mail pouch containing the
warrant. The headsman rested on his
ak while the others consulted. There
seemed nothing to do but send to the
capital for another order, and. consid-
ering the distance and the roads of the
period, the trip would require two
weeks. The messenger was dispatch
ed, the officials dispersed and the
headsman put away his ak.
During the period of waiting the IA
Their cOnfessor was pleading for Sir
Johns life. Gradually a hope sprang
like green sprig from the ground,
grew stronger, budded and bloomed
into belief that the condemned man
would be pardoned. But if so which
would arrive first, the new death war
rant or the pardon? In those DAYS of
uncertain communication no one could
tell
One morning a sentry on the castle
wall looking over the moorland saw
in the distance a horseman coming at
a gallop. The sentry called the atten-
ton of others to the conner. and the
wall was soon covered with Sir John
Cochrane's wellwishers. AS the man
came near he waved a paper above
his head and shouted, ga pardonr'
The prison doors were swung open,
and the prisoner stepped forth a free
man. Going to his home, followed by
a host of loyal friends, he was over
whelmed with congratulations. He
had expected his daughter to be the
first to welcome him, but when he did
not see her he was troubled. He ask
ed for her and was told that she had
not been seen since the evening she
had parted from him in his cell. All
day the rejoicings went on. but when