Evening star., 1927-10-03

IT, M wilson 1S04-1S35, ia chiefly re
Tales Of the Borders which were drama
tized accounts of the exploits OF border
erd,ng 1u tn ts anthor il supposed TO be sub
fstantially true.l
When the tyranny and bieotry of
the last James drove his subjects to
take up arms against him, one of the
most formidable enemies to his dan
gerous usurpations was Sir John
Cochrane, ancestor of the Earl of
Dundonald. He was one of the most
prominent actors in Argyle's rebellion,
and for ages a destructive doom
seemed to have hung over the house
of Campbell, enveloping in common
ruin all who united their fortunes to
the cause of it's chieftains. The same
doom encompassed Sir John Cochrane.
He was surrounded by the king :
troops. Long, deadly and desperate
was his resistance, but at length, over
powered by numbers, he was taken
prisoner; tried. and condemned to die
Ipon the scaffold. He had but a few
days to live, and his jailer waited but
the arrival of his death warrant to
lead him forth to execution. His fam
ily and his friends had visited him in
prison, and exchanged with him the
last long. heart-yearning farewell.
with the rest to receive his blessing
one who was the pride of his eyes.
and of his house--Grizel, the daugh
ter of his love. Twilight was casting
a deeper gloom over the gratings of
his prison-house he was mourning
for a last look at his favorite child
when the door of the apartment turn
ed slowly on it's unwilling hinges. and
his keeper entered, followed by a
young and beautiful lady.
"My child. My own Grizel." he
exclaimed.
MY dear fatherw sobbed the mis-
cradle maiden.
Your interview must be short, very
short" said the jailer, as he turned
and left them for a few minutes
together.
"Thou art come. my child. for thy
fathers last blessing
NAY! Not thy last blessing-not
thy last. My father shall not die"
BE calm. There is no hope-within
three days"
Three days" she repeated, "Then
there is hope-ny father shall live!
Is not my grandfather the friend OF
Father Petre, the confessor and the
master of the king? From him he
shall beg the life of his son, and my
father shall not die"
NAY. My doom is sealed. Already
the king has signed the order for my
execution and the messenger of death
is now on the way"
On the evening of the second day
after this interview a wayfaring man
crossed the drawbridge at Berwick
and sat down to rest at an inn. The
traveller wore a coarse jerkin, and
over it a short cloak. He was evil
IDENTITY young man; but his beaver
a sort of visor-was drawn down so
as almost to conceal his features. The
shades of night were setting in. the
heavens were gathering black, sudden
gusts Of wind were moaning along the
street.
Again the stranger crossed the
bridge. and soon was upon the bor-
ders Of the wide, desolate and dreary
moor. He slowly toiled over the steep
hill. Drawing the storm, which now
ragged in widest fury. Still the
stranger pushed onward. until he had
proceeded about two or three miles
from Berwick. when, as If unable
longer to brave the storm. he sought
shelter amidst some bramble bushes
by the wayside. Nearly an hour had
passed, when the sound of horses
feet was heard, hurriedly splas shing
along the road. The rider bent his
head to the blast. Suddenly his horse
was grasped by the bride, the rider
raised his head. and the traveller stood
before him, holding a pistol to his
breast.
'Dismount! cried the stranger
sternly.
The horseman, benumbed, and
stricken with fear, made an effort to