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Page 106, verse 2, line 1— For "quick- ly" read "quietly." Page 116, verse 3, line 5 — For "through all them months of trial," read "through all those months of trial. " By OSCAR DHlf. > , , 1892. '-■ i*-^ %gf^'.,'Wfl^J7f'^W?^hfm^fV^FCi; DONALD MORRISON, 3b< (Sattttdton mtlm; A TALE OF 57tc ScottisK JE^oTieers, APPROPRIATELY tLLUBTRATCD. " Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mounx.^' < ' By OSCAR PHIJ. ^' JiJm fc Y" • ^ 1 ' * I \ R •ii PREFACE. { 4 I m V It 'A:;;i- Upwards of three years have passed since Donald Morrison, the Canadian outlaw, was imprisoned in St. Vincent ,de Paul Peniten- tiary for the slaying of "Jack" "Warren, at Megantic, in 1888. That it was justifiable homicide, no unprejudiced person, conversant with the evidence adduced at the trial, will deny. And the almost universal syrnpathy expressed for the accused before and after said trial, will attest to the truth of our statement. It was, therefore, not strange that a general feeling of disgust and indignation was experi- enced when it became known that the out- lawed Scotchman had been sentenced to 18 years of penal servitude ! And why ? Simply because he had a sufficient regard for the "first law of Nature" to defend his life against the unscrupulous alien who had sworn to shoot him on sight ! ; ' In proportion, however, as Morrison's troubles accumulated, popular sympathy also «^%j*)^ 17. increased, until it became mooted that a mon • ster petition be presented to the proper authorities for a commutation of the severe sentence imposed. But months passed, and good resolutions never matured. Fearful, therefore, lest Time, the healer of all wounds, should allay the sympathy so strongly enter- tained for Morrison — whom we deem a worthy object for judicial clemency— we offer this little volume to the public in the earnest hope that it may assist the laudable efforts of those who are endeavoring to secure the release of one of earth's wronged. In a former ** Life of Morrison," a work as absurd as it is imtruth- ful, an attempt was made to stigmatize the religious principles of the Highlanders. Had the authors of the book in question taken the pains to visit the cottages of the lowly, instead of the — perhaps more congenial— liquor resort., of a frontier town, they would have discovered beneath the homespun a religion as sincere as it is unostentatious, and as grand as it is sim- ple ; and we would have found it unnecessary to vindicate a temperate, God-fearing commu- nity. The wrongs which drove Donald Mor- rison to the verge of despair, the fruitless attempts to arrest him on suspicion of having urned his lost home ; the worthless character ▼. of the late Warren ; his tragic death ; and subsequently, Morrison's marvellous success in eluding the motley army of pursuers ; and, finatly, the outlaw's betrayal and cowardly capture, are all introduced as central figures in the following tale. We sincerely disclaim any hostile motives in dealing with the persons accused of conniving at Donald's ruin. We can only express our regret that they should have allowed themselves to be drawn into transactions which ended so disastrously for all concerned ; and earnestly hope that the lesson taught will not soon be forgotten. The orthography of the Gaelic words in the present work may be defective from a literary standpoint, as I have followed the style of the late Josh Billings, rather than the correct one. Complaints had been made previous to Mor- rison's capture regarding the assistance afforded him during his wanderings in the Compton wilds. The complaints emanated from thwart- ed speculators, who, while thirsting for the Coveted ** reward," still lacked the courage to brave the Scottish youth in his native haunts. From the same source also emanated the story of Morrison's ferocious and bloodthirsty in- stincts ! a calumny as false and malicious as it wns unmerited. The rabid faultfinders could 1 i ▼i. little realise the nature of the hospitality so characteristic of the Highlanders— a hospitality that could turn no one 'vhose needs were urgent front the door. Much less could their mercenary natures understand how the poor Scottish farmer could resist the power of the reward so temptingly displayed. "Come, Scotty, reveal Donald's whereabouts, and re- ceive 3,000 mighty dollars ! " God forbid I Aye, all honor to the people whom no threats could intimidate, or bribes corrupt ! We com- mend this humble effort to the stream of public opinion, and while craving indulgence for our own imperfections, we bespeak the sympathy of all lovers of justice and humanity for the bereft maiden weeping in her loneli- ness, and for the ill-fated Donald Morrison, who is buried with the cherished hopes of years in the rayless gloom of St. Vincent de Paul Penitentiary. The Author. f \ // i DONALD MORRISON. If s fonafo llorrismr, THE CANADIAN OUTLAW, •:o A TALE OF THE SCOTTISH PIONEERS. --:o: — CHAPTER I. Tlie ScotH Pioneers of Compton. " In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome, from the heath-coveietl moimtains of Scotia they come."— Aytoun. In humble language, unadorned, I'll sing of what befell A brave young Scottish Highlander— The country knows him well. Nipped by misfortune's bitter frost In manhood's early prime. Can Morrison from henceforth shun The shadow of a crime. -10— The doubt— for doubt there surely is — Will stand as now it stands, Until eternity unseals The book not made with hands ; Meanwhile, let not presumption now Our clemency deride : If err we must, 'twill be, I trust, On gentle Mercy's side. / The story of this Scottish youth Is filled with tragic woe ; The wrongs that drove him to St. Paul 'Tis right that all should know ; No desperado steeped in deeds Of violence was he ; An honest Scot, he stoutly fought For home and liberty. Vindictive stories, glibly told, Regarding Don's career. Were caught by slander's poisoned tongue And whispered far and near. In justice, therefore, to the lad, Whom vengeful darts assail, ■ We now would fain, in simple strain, Relate his mournful tale. t —11— Descended from a hardy race, Whom all the world admires, foung Donald had the manly traits P(j3sessed by manly sires. These peaceful Highland fishermen ' Were pure as Scotia's clime. The caller air of Lewis ne'er Did nourish seeds of crime. But the striped prince of Bengal Is not fiercer in his mood At bay in native jungles In defence of home and brood. Than are these sturdy Highlanders When wronged by lurking foes — Through love of home like this did come The cause of Donald's woes. This little group of heath clad isles In Scotland of the north, Hath sent to every country Hardy men of moral worth. Alas, for poor old Scc^tia That she canna keep her ain ! And never will, 'tis true, until She breaks oppression's chain. —12— The galling yoke of bitter wrongs Hath weighed her people down ; A vicious system bids them quake Beneath a tyrants' frown — Ah ! England, you can ill aflford To banish sons of sires Who fell for you at Waterloo Beneath Napoleon's fires. When British armies fought and bled Along the banks of Nile, Their ranks were filled with soldiers From each little heath clad isle. And e'er as duty called them forth To fight in foreign lands. They firmly stood and shed their blood At Britain's proud commands. The awful siege of Lucknow Is a witness to their worth ; And Mida felt the prowess of Thkise heroes from the north. . The glori(, an heights of Aim* - - Will attest to theiv renowti, 'I And herald forth thejr waVrior worth , To Britain's glorious orown, -13- Sebastopol \kill also speak In praise of Scottish arms, The Russians wavered when they met, And fled like flies in swarms. And recent Tel-el-Kebir, What a lesson it instils ! The boy that led them all was bred On Sc tland's rugged hills ! Alas, for Britain's recompense. She honors but the dead. Who sleep 'neath costly monumentK While children cry for bread ! The living Scot, less fortunate, Returns from war to hear The awful doom, *' No room, no room ! " But for the gentry's deer ! Prepare ye, then, to leave your homes. Your happy homes behind ! Go forth ! to lands unknown, untried, A dwelling place to find. The wealthy tyrant scornp your tears — Then why dejected grieve ? No room is here for man and deer — The man must therefoie leave ! —14— The god of greed encroacheth on Each Cottar's humble lease, Ti) pander to the i)leasure of The tided lord of ease. The laud by right belonging fo The hardy sons of toil, Is torn away that deer may stray Upon its choicest soil. The Lewis Crofter's troubles grew With Matheson's regime ; The titled tyrant found the isle Too small for him and them. Supreme as Julius Cjesar's came The landlord's harsh decree, That drove brave men from hill and glen To cross the raging sea. Submission is their one resource. Remonstrance will but fail ; They needs must leave their native land — Oh, woeful, woeful tale ! The despot, from his castle wall. That overtops the main, With lofty frown looks coldly down On all their grief and pain 1 —15— The gallant ship now sails away, The winds and waves are fair ; Although the scalding teardrops fall, Brave hearts will ne'er desi)air : Their hopes are buoyed by tales oft told Of Canada renowned, Where freedom's laws uphold the cause Of those who till the ground. With tearful eyes the people bid Their native land adieu ; The bills on which their fathers sleep Are fading fast from view. A long, last lingering look is cast Back to those lonely graves, And then — O, then, each hill and glen Sinks down beneath the waves ! •ii.-i Farewell, farewell, Scotland, farewell ! We leave thy lovely shore : *' Scha till clui till dut till nine ttdligh^" Roar, O billows roar, And speed us to that distaiit land — The land across the sea : Though banished from our native home, America is free ! —16- In seven weeks the journey ends ! Our fathers leave the deck Of that good ship that braved the storms From Scotland to Quebec. With buoyant spirits, healthful minds, And brawn and strength galore, Theklauntless band now quickly land On Canada's fair shore. ' u The fair blue hills of Scotia's isle They never more shall see ; Amid the wilds of other lands Their dwelling place shall be. And yet tis well ! old Scotland's loss Is Compton's gain, we know — Brave hearts had they who sailed this way O'er fifty years ago. They journeyed from Quebec in carts — The trip was rough and slow ; No railroad coaches glided then, As now both to and fro. The great Grand Trunk could not insure The comfort of this band ; No Q. C. R., with palace car. Meandered through the land. / I -17- And C. P. R. ! undreair/, of then— (ireat syst'-ni yet to be, Its rumbling thunders echoed not As now from sea to sea. No rails from Sherbrooke to the " Lake "* Invaded hill or glen — John Henry Pope (old Compton's hope) Was but a stripling then. At length the little village known As Sherbrooke is attained, Where our devoted immigrants v ' Accommodation gained. The rich B. A. L. Company Now take their case in hand. Inducing all at prices small (?) To settle on their land. r 1 This Sherbrooke — fair metropolis Of all our Eastern towns — Was then a dot : the forest waved Within its present bounds. When Highlanders first viewed her glens, In eighteen thirty-eight, No lofty domes or costly homes Adorned her real estate. ' Megantic. —18- The Townships, from old Lingwick — Going eastward to the ** Lake," Comprise the Scottisli settlements — So much for Scotia's sake. This was the land selected For our fathers long ago, To build thereon their future home While sojourning below. Rude cabin homes, with roofs of bark, Are built among the trees ; One neighbour helps another, "- By a custom known as "bees." They work in peace and harmony, , Contentedly each day ; Till blow by blow the clearings grow — The forest flees away. Their brawny arms soon wield the axe With all a native's skill ; The echoes of their sturdy blows Resound from hill to hill. The fallen tiuiber quickly lies In chaos all around ; Till piling "bees " arrange the trees In heaps upon the ground. . v.. —19— Now densest Hmoke ascends from 8potM Where trees are all aglow, Beneath whose shades the red men slept In summers Ion,;; ago. Perchance the ghosts of long dead braves Surround the burning piles, Lit by the flame of me;, who came From far off Scottish isles. *» ''s. The settlement is under way — Strong hearts will never quail, ' Though hard the toil and rough the |>ath Their spirits n-jver fail. Aye, Scotland's glorious heritage Was theirs of strength galore. To meet rebuff on many a rough, Toil beaten path of yore. ■■I ':^. Ah 1 little recks the tinsel youth, •* - That drives with reckless speed In comfort over smoothened roads His handsome highbred steed. The hardships by his parents borne 1 n years that have gone by, Through blinding sleet and scorching heat 3?he8e comforts to supply. i '' —20—' We little realise to day The cOYiqueHts won by those Who made the trackless wildenioss To blosNom like the rose : The trials and discouragenients Up-lK)me by those who trod, With aching feet each wild wood street, Beneath a weary load. How often in those early, years — . ' ■^■^ Provisions being short, EactjL.man with bag at early morn To Eaton would resort. And loaded with one hundred pounds, O'er twenty miles away, Would then return, weary and worn, Before the close of day. The loving mother strives to calm The hungry ones at home ; A single " Bcnnach " must suffice Until the fpther comes. She fasts alone ! — the children must Obtain her share of food ; O, self-denying, deep, undying Love of motherhood ! -V —21- Sce I now hor fond glanco restH upon That portion of the woods, Through which n path iniJAudorH To adjacent neighborhoods. Ah, now her features brighten, as ' Emerging from the gloom, 8he ({uickly spieH, with loving eyes. The father coming home. '■V' ,» >■ ■ 5*-^ ; /■' She gently bids him welcome, * Marks his weary look, and sigha. O, there's a world of sympathy '-^ In Mary's deep blue eyes I ' '* The tired husband feels it, as -"--^ His brightened looks attest— With what content encourage nent Instils the human breast ! '"vti Her willing, toilwom fingers now Untie that precious sack, Borne twenty miles since noonday on rhe weary father's back. And all amid the children's loud Entreaties to be fed. With cheerful brow she hastens now To make some barley bread. ^mmm'fimmfffmmmff —22— The meal is quickly stirred about, Andpojred upon the lidck ; As quiokly baked, and served alone To each young sturdy Mac. The prospects brighten — hunger flees, The world looks pleasant still ; That single room is home, sweet home ! The youngsters have their fill. In moss-embowered cabin homes Those early years were spent — Years toilsome, but unburdened by Grim, all-devouring rent. Though unadorned, and rude withal, Substantial homes were they. That ever held in days of eld - . The northern storms at bay. What tho' through many a crevice swept The blast with sullen moan. Unlike the homes they left behind, Th,ese buildings are their own ! A sense of independence that They could not feel before. Inspired with hope the hearts to cope With trials still in store. ■\ i ^mi'i^^r^^^ -23— Although the winter's chilling breath At tiniea was keenly felt, A compensation sweet was had When snows began to melt. What universal joy there is When springtides welcome sun, In t^lory floods the maple woods, And sap begins to run ! >•• vV '■■'# Of all the species we can boast Among our forest trees, That proudly dip their lofty crests Beneath the northern breeze — The grandest is the map^e bold, On which our emblem grows ; The tree so dear, from which each year, The mystic fluid flows. That boon of nature — sweetest gift Our forest can bestow, Poured down its choicest blessings On our fathers long ago ; Fond memory ever lingers round The sugar-making time — Then give to me the maple tree, The glory of our clime 1 -24— The fir tree next was utilized For '* troughs " to hold the sap That trickled down so merrily When time had come to tap. And who that ever tended kettles, Foaming to the brim, Can e'er forget the vigils kept Beneath the starlight dim ? Mt :* An April night in Compton's woods, In sugar-making time. Has not the interest now it had In eighteen thirty-nine. A mystic silence brodded then O'er forests wild and vast ; Unbroken still by Duds well kiln, By train, or whistle's bUst. » 1 Lured by the nectar on the breeze And camp fires burning bright. The bears would issue from their haunts And prowl around at night. The dismal howling of the wolves At times would also break Down from the shades ot Galson's glades And Moffat's gloomy lake. H n> 3 p* W -1* ^ V\' .1 -26— ^ Reclining on their spruce bough couch, Far happier than kings, Enjoying all the health and strength That backwoods labour brings ; And gazing with abstracted mood Into that glowing flame- Its burning gleams would woo to dreams Of future wealth and fame. Night draws apace ; and quiet reigns— The gentle springtide breeze' Hath ceased to croon its mournful lays Among the maple trees. The melancholy b'rds of night A silent vigil keep On yonder limb, their outlines dim Tpon the vision creep. The shadows deepen deeper still, The forest blacker grows. The mufl3cd murmur of the stream, That creeps beneath the snows, And bubble of the boiling eap Invade the solitudes All else is still from hill to hill In C^mpton's lonely woods. B -26— Beneaff. .1 ■ '" "'o will ^ -p'-tions „nh„ ,„„, ,/ : M. Embodied tJiero «. ^ n -i -together with fK , ' * 'ysBeep between. ' '■'»' glowing e,„be« „„„ " • ■"» turret, to the akies, ^y fancy Jpri i. .07- The shifting scenes pnchain the eye, And fancy roams at will, Through pleasant fields of waving 'jrrain — Through vale an 1 over hill. .'^^ Pj'er and anon, like uloains of joy, / Bright sparks dispense their cheer ; ^ A little while they seem to suiile, And then they disappear. ' -^ The scene is changed again : and now The amber light reveals The halls of that enchanted bower Where fancy often kneels. A joyous throng, in flashing robes, Inhale the scented air, And loved ones known in years long gone Are plainly pictured there. V ^ •. I > ;;, ' », 1 1 The golden cup of pleasure shines — A sparkling ball of fire ; They thought to quaff its contents, and Obtahi their hearts' desire. They raise the goblet to their lips. When, lo ! instead of bliss, Quenched every spark, and all is dark, While boiling waters hiss ! -28— The kettle's running over and The ruin is complete ; Their castler, cup and wealth are now In ashes at their feet. So did the light of hope go out ; i In mystic days of yore— The delnge came, and quenched the flame Of life for evermwe. The process then of boiling down Was slower far than now ; iH' Expensive heaters, arches, pans, Those days would not allow. . However, to offset the means And modes of later years, , Old Nature does not smile on us As on the "Pioneers. It seemeth true that now, as then, The farmer never sees The bush fires running o'er the ground And sap from out the trees : For in those years the maple bold Would drip in sweetest tune. With leaves f nil' gromi, by breezes 6/ow'ii, And fliAvertt all abloom. if —29- At length the labor done go well A sweet reward obtains ; iTie maple syrup, O, how sweet ! How sweet the golden grains 1 And sweeti^r still the weleoino sound That floats across the way, ** Come one and all, b<»th great and small We sugar off to-day !" ■^. O happy, loved, though toilsome years, Fond memory clings to thee As young, dependent child around A loving mother's knee. O, give us back these scenes again, With ciibin homes of yore ; Where all day long we heard the song of Nature at the door ! ,r Pure, upright lives— intelligence, And simple faith in God, Are traits that mark the Scot ut homo Insure respect abroad. The family altar, based on love, Their lowly homes adorn ; And humble prayer is offered thero. With reverence, night and morn. -30— The Ilighlfinders of whom wo write Were enrly taught to i)ray, And tread the jiuth (»f piety In humbleness eacli day. And when they left their Scottish homes, To dwell in fcjreign lands, They brought with theui— bright house- hold gi-m ! The Bible— God's commands I Though plain the hardy pioneers Who settled C»nupton's woods, The ('jiospel light was shining 'neath Their rustic homespun goods. And good old people living now In memory alone, This precejyt tav(jht in every cot : ' '■Love God, His word, and home. " Ah ! rapid is the flight of time, The years draw on apace, The old folk quickly pass away — The young must take their place. Full many a saintly spirit passed From Compton up to God, Since pioneers, 'mid hopes and feare, First turned our virgin sod. i * -3J- Yea, mnny of the forms we loveil Are lying side by side, Death cast his chilling mantle o'er The bridegr.>oni and the bride. And when the King of Terror comes To close mir mortal eyes, With them we trust to lay our dust— With them we hope to rise. CHAPTER 11. . The barhr • U Their social life beyond reproach — Religion most sincere Their rugged nature far removed From fashion's light veneer. No artificial tints beguile. No poisoned wrongs subdue, But flowers wild around them smiled, Fresh, fragrant with the dew. No golden trinkets coldly bright. With diamonds galore — The perspiration caused by toil, The only gems they wore ; No silks or satins, lace, nor that Death encompassing stay ; Nor deadly balls in gilded halls To wear the life away. -34— . \ ■ ■,. Their sunburnt brows, unmarked by care, Were garlanded with health ; Their ligures, set in nature's mould, Were clad in homespun, wealth. To them the birds would sweetly sing Among the woodland trees, And sweet perfume from flowers in bloom Was borne upon the breeze. i( ^Jp":. The sweetest chimes tliat ever rang From grand cathedral domes. Will not compare with cowbells tinkling Near these forest homes. Behold ! on summer evenings, when The milk'ug time came round, With pail in hand the milkmaids stand To hear the welcome sound. Now hark I the distant tinkling chimes Invade the solitudes, The kine are slowly coming from Their fasture in the woods. A " smuclge " is quickly started and Mosqu: toes take their flight ; Each solemn cow doth enter now The hncdludh for the night. —35— The milking's done by willing hands, The foaming nectar fl»)vva To fill the pans that grace the clean, Cool cellar shelves in rows. And O, the sweet delightful treats That cellar could bestow ! Thick cream upon a barley scone Sonio twenty years ag'> ,' Sweet, too, the cream from niodern cans That rest in gurglins? pools, And quick are now results obtained Compared with former rules ; Yet, notwithstanding modern modes, I never can forget Delicious si{>s that cooled my lips From milk my mother set ! CHAPTER III. Pleasure after Toll. "Ye Himrn the legcmlH wliicli the sljcpherd tellH : , , The j?roK8 gay noug, the oJ<1 romantic- tale : ', ', Mat<;hing the niiracleH of fairy tales. '' Your opera seenes would turn our wizards pal'j. Heaven's homage poured in highest, holiest strains, Ma> choose your music! for its glowiutr tongues. Give me my quiet hamlet back again. ^ And its long 0V08 of legends and of songs." Iun>, The day is done and darkness ends The farmer's weary toil— How welcome are thy shades, O night To tillers of the soil : Long ere the sun lights up the East Their labors are begun, And in the West he sinks to ro.st Long ere their work is done. r -37- '^■* The younger folk on pleasure bent Are off in eager haste ; The father takes his pipe to soothe His tired nerves to rest ; The housewife knitting, by his side Is lovingly installed, And good old times in other climes Are tenderly recalled. The joyous tones of happy youth, The somber night hawk's hum, And dread mosquito's doleful drone Proclaim that night is come. Around each lowly cabin home The summer zephyrs play, And " smudges " rise to drive the flies- Tormenting pests— away. B The young of all the neighborhood Now seek the trysting place, ehold^the joy of meeting ! see The smile upon each face ! A fire kindled on the spot, where Hundreds flashed before. Doth pierce the night— a beacon light To many a cabin door. ■P —38— :V No multitude could vitiate • '^ The air within that room, Comprising all the space beneath Yon heaven's spacious dome. Each lusty lad a cavalier, Each rustic lass a queen ! Stars twinkling bright smiled in delight Upon the h.'i,pj)y scene I The harmless gossip of the town Is now discussed by all ; By girls who sit on logs for seats, / And boys who round them sprawl. The youngsters pile the fuel high. Now hark ! the crackling sound, The tire's flare a ghctstly glare Is casting all around. "'' The singers next are called upon And all must sing in turns, Old songs from well-known minstrels, Like McRitchie, Ross and Burns ; And stories quickly follow on All subjects grave and gay, With tales of fright and " second sight," That make one wish for day 1 \- —39— They talk of courtship, marriages, Of beauty, wealth and fame ; They talk of man and all his ways Beneath that fitful flame ; The future's grand achievements, and Each youthful mind's desire, Is oft the theme, beneath the gleam Of this bright roadside fire. Aud thus the minutes quickly fly. The /fenna burneth low ; Its embers blaze, then sink to rest, As wind gusts come and go. The ghostly shadows deepen as Each narrator proceeds, With bated breath, to speak of death And death's uncanny deeds. Each lass now nestles closer to The lad she loves the most Young hearts in love's communion scorn The wiles of any ghost. And now the lust weird tale is told. And parting time is come— Each manly lad, with spirit glad, Doth see his sweetheart home ! -I -40— Thy memories, cheerful kenna hey. Are cherished still I know, By all who basked beneath thy beams And felt thy kindly glow. How varied are the scenes recalled, When thoughts revert to thee ! And hearts of men grow young agaim Thy welcome light to see ! ■v\' J Amid such scenes young Donald passed His happy youth away ; > Amid such scenes till life should end 1 k * I know he fain would stay. How all these youthful pleasures had Around his being twined, He only kens who leaves his glens And native hills behind. N H C i r.. SS ^9 3 2 ?-< sr •1 A o o 3 V a p (A tf> sr o c s 1/1 o 5!3 ^ Eg- (» 3" O « 050 £ o E-2 » » 3 O 3 P o 3 K '^ o o 3 31 C i^ P — ^ a. n 3 a c CHAPTER IV. Lore. '•O happy \ovol where love ]iko this in found! O heai-ufcir, mptuiv.s: blw.^ beyond <;OFnp.u-e! rvc IravolJcd much thU wmvyuwvtiil round, And 8a^e oxporjcnco bids urn tins declare - If heaven a drau,'„'ht of heaveidy pleasures Kpurc, One cordial in thin inolaneholy valo, 'Tis whcji H youlh?:!]. lovJ«g., modest pair. In others arms breathe out the ie.uder tnle Beneath the nd!k-vvhito thorn tliat scouts the evninggiile. BCItNS. TwHs at tills Ihue tlint M ornsDU First fok tl 10 Of that kni'Il^' ,' U'tUW sofi: thiiue tb;it swfiy.s at will All hearU for weal or vvoa The love that lills 1 Nor cli I's m;\:j]y breast :ingG nor tinie cha si «iy. A love to shed its b.M.ns aliead O'er life's dull d reary way. , v-i:-' V ; -v. —42— :vv;:-^'. .. Young Marion McKinnon was A fair young girl and true— A perfect form, a winning smile, And eyes of highland blue. The rose and lily blend on cheeks So healthful, full and fair, And sunshine seems to shed its beams Upon her nut-brown hair. 1. -' A bonny maid withal was she, As good as she was sweet ; And many youths for miles around Were fairly at her feet. ^ / ^' Yea, at each yearly sacrament, When people thronging came From towns around, the young were bound T<. seek McKinnon's hame. s. In household duties "she excelled— To bake, wash, knit and such ; And flaky pancakes fairly danced Beneath her ni.nble touch. An adept with the needle, she Could also weave and spin. And at each fair a goodly share Of prizes she would win, :y, i'^^i" V ■..;:■■■■; — 43— /■■ No languid worshipper of styles Or hftughty maid was she, Stern commonsense was hers allied With true simplicity. Unlike the old young girls we see In fashion's scabbard sheathed. This undefiled own Nature's child Was pure as air she breathed. v^ J Among the swains that gathered round To woo this wild wood flower. Was Morrison, a farmer boy, and Subject of this leor : His manly graces, courteous ways. And truthful, honest mind, Their homage paid, and won the maid— The sweetest of her kind. The old, old story, ever new, Repeated here again — The story whether told in cot Or castle is the same. We need not dwell upon the theme So often told before, They met and fell beneath the spell As millions did of yore. -44- Oiir Donald planned as others will, Beguiled by Love's young dream ; Events to couie had faiJed to cast Their shadowH o'er the scene. Bright vistas oj>ened to his view, Hope's candle brightly burned, And to the •' West," with keen unrest, His yearning eyes were turned. *r A project he had long iii view Would win the end desired— Go West and realise the dream His youthful fancy lired. The mortgage on his father's farm Would soon be wiped away, And then with 6r galore in store Would homeward come to stay. A ^■.c The youthful lovers strive to hide ; Their sorrow, but in vain ; : Each strives to think of days to come When all shall meet again. All! still though hope affords a prop On which sore hearts may lean. Through burning tears they see the years Of loneliness between. And yet 'tis but the fate of all, v^ ; A fate none can avoid ; Who ever yet was blest with gifts Of pleasure unalloyed ? Each meeting has its parting pang, Each rose has got its thorn, Each heart howe'er devoid of care Has got its time to mourn. ■W,' ?);' ■ ^' «»■■ 1 ■ i V 1 % - i ~ ,, • -'-Si' ^K \^: ■di ■;.;/:'::-tr.::>..;. :%) V'ff: CHAPTER V. Donald goes West. "Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those— The bursting tears my heart declare— Farewell, the bonny banks of Ayr ! " At length the last sad parting came, Young Donald went away To seek his fortune in the West Like many of his day — In Canada's Utopia, That far-off sunset land, He saw in dreams bright crystal streams, With banks of golden sand. / ■-/i Alas ! how true a distant view Is seldom what it seems, And, O, how often men have won A fortune in their dreams I The beauty of the distant scene ' Recedes as we draw near. And dreams like dew soon fade from view — Our riches disappear. Th« Western prairie's broad exi)an8e Is bailed with keenest joy ; The wild free life the plains afford Delight* our Compton boy ; His brave and manly nature loved The roaming life out We%t, And there for years, 'mid hopes and fears, He toiled with youthful zest. Yea, youthful vigor laughs at toil When hope is at the wheel, And these twin giants conquer much Upheld by love that's leal ; For oft when Don was on the plains To heat and thirst a prey, Hope, ever fair, would still be there To help him on his vfiy. X When othsrs joined in lawless sports That rack and mar the mind, Young Donald, unobserved to all, Sequestered spots would find ; And there alone with memory, When care and toil had ceased, A star that shone for him alone Would beckon toward the East. "TT -48— What cared ho for those passing joys In which gay fools delight, Back to the home he^ left behind His fancy takes its flight ; A sweet young girl that far away, On Compton's hills remained, Was more to him than all the trim, Gay girls the West contained. And thus for seven years he toiled Long, weary years were they ; A cowboyVi dark vicissitudes Did oft obstruct his way. He overcame tliem manfully, For sake of days to come. Each cimquest won, each day's W(»rk done, Was so much nearer liome ! ^ At length the longed-for day arrived, And Donald bade adieu To Western scenes he'd often roamed With comrades good and true. Montana's hills he leaves behind — Each vista fades away — Speed on, O train, across the plain, Unwearied night or day. S —49— How eagerly he longs for home I To him the iron horse Seems creeping slowly through the land, Though bounding on its course. How drearily the moments drag ! The rapid motion of r The flying train is slow to him Who journeys to his love. ■\ The Compton hills appear at length. The long, long journey ends, And Morrison is once again Surrounded by his friends. O, sweet home coming I dear to all Who feel afFectic n's power ! . The heart is stone that hath not known The bliss of such an hour. 'Twas at the season of the year When Nature's form sublime Was clothed in robes of living green. So lovely in our clime. How charming is the scene around Of mountain, loch, and glen ! To Donald they all seem to say, " You're welcome home again." > , -60- 'Tis •* Welcome, welcome I " all around, In tones his spirit loves ; The little birds sing " Welcome home ! " In yonder woodland groves. Ah ! still this greeting, kind and sweet, From all, could ne'er supply The welcome of a lasting love That flashed from Morag'tt eye I //•' 1 // V •• >^ CHAP. VI. ''Praise God from WJwrn all Blessings Flow." "Praise ye the Father, God the Lord, who gave us, With full and perfect love, His only Son ; Praise ye the Son, who died Himself to save us; Praise ye the Spirit, praise the Three in One." The sacramental Sabbath dawned The brightest of the year ; The town is filled with worshippers From districts far and near. With solemn thoughts attend the feast, \ Let no one dare deride The Gospel plan to fallen man, For whom the Saviour died ! , Young Donald drives to church to-day, And, proudly by his side. Sits Marion, so trim and neat And blushing like a bride. The people from surrounding towns Are gathering too in crowds, On foot, in teams, in constant streams They raise the dust in clouds. i The ministers are now arrived — All wend their way to church ; • ft ' The day is clear, they seek the shades Of maple, beach and birch ; And there beneath yon lofty dome, The blue ethereal skies, Sweet songs of love, to God above, In grand hosannahs rise. fi- %f The vast assembly fills the grove. And now with solemn looks The preacher of the day comes forth And opes the book of books. A psalm is read in ringing tones, Proclaiming "God is Love I" When old and young join in the song Of praise to Him above. And now a prayer is offered up To God's eternal throne — A plea for each poor carnal mind And every heart of stone. ^ A text is then selecV/ed from The everlasting Word, And dull, I fear, are they who hear Such sermons still unstirred. — 63— The preHcher's clear, impressive tones Now echo through tlie grove, Appealing is the voice that dwells On Christ's redeeming love. How sweet these Gospel teachings fall On a believer's ear I , . . None realize who cannot prize \ The Spirit's inward cheer. I' .. ti How sweet it is for Christian souls Thus yearly to commune I When with the sacred rites performed If All Nature seems in tune. , A sense of deep conviction falls, . Like blessings from on high, When anthems of eternal love Are wafted to the sky. ; > i -i Though many doubtful ones abound Who lightly disapprove Of how the Scot commemorates A Saviour's dying love, (Jod grant our children's children ' May the custom still uphold ; Yea, that they will observe it still As fathers did of old. ■V The brightest gems that ever shone 'Mong Scotland's role of saints Are placed in grand array against Each doubting soul's complaints. Could lips long turned to ashes speak (Loved ordinance of thee), They'd tell how on thy hills was won Salvation ! full and free. The Scottish isles that stem the wild Atlantic in the North, Have raised for Jesus' kingdom Countless stars of shining worth ; Who form a brilliant gnlaxy (Loved Scottish Church in thee), And they shall shine for ever thine, O glorious Trinity ! Were souls — long since in glory— here, We know t ley would uphold The blessed n^.eans that safely brought Into the Saviour's fold Flocku Horn the hills of Scotland and From Canada our owa ! Redeemed throng — the Lamb's sweet song — Who sing around the Throne. -55— To Gordon, Fraser, and Milloy— True servantH of the Lord — . The people gladly flocked to hear The preaching of the Word. Such times of deep awakening 'Twere pleasant otill to see, For O, 'tis sweet when Christians meet In peace and harmony ! ^^ IV . And still another name occurs, A name that brightly shines Undimmed among the brilliant role Of Highland Scot divines ; Though he that bore it sleeps beneath Balallan's granite hill, " " The seed he sowed along life's road Bears blessed fruitage still. -■'.A. So sympathetic, cultured, wise I So grave, yet full of mirth, It ill becomes our talents to Commemorate his worth. The theme is one that mei'its praise From greater pens, 'tis true ; We give our mite from motives right— 'Tis all that we can do. —66— Lamented, good, and holy roan, We little prized liis worth, Until the summuns (juickly came That called him forth from earth. Alack the day, the woeful day, That laid him in his shroud ; He waH a bright and shining light, Of whom we all were proud. ' vl' Regardless of emolument He journeyed night and day. Relieving pain and nickness That he met upon the way ; He ever was attenti /e to The poor man's n^edy cry, Where'er he moved he ever proved His broad humanity. No sordid motives ever marred His puro and hon ist mind, Within his breast no thirst foi* wealth A dwell ng place did tind ; Contented with his daily bread, rie liven with those he loved ; ,, The rest e ich day In; gave awr.y To all whose needs were proved. ^•tl —57 , i I Affliction's sorely wounded henrt Ne'er sought his help in vain, 'J Through winter's drifting storm clouds Or in summer's drenching rain. lie willingly responded in a / -• Spirit mov^jd by love — The poor man's friend, until the end, Macdonald thou didst prove. v,v'' '''- \ CHAPTER Vll.; Jlt^ Scapeyoat. "But scarce observed, the knowing and the bold Fall in the general maHHacre of K»ld ; Wide, wasting pest ! that rages unconflned. And crowds with crime« the records of man- kind." JOIINBON. . O would these happy days could last For Morrison, our friend I How sad to think such joyous hours Must quickly have an end. Auspicious was his life till now, » With nought to make him sad, But clouds appear— the time is near When nought can make him glad. Yea, shadows of impending fate Are thrown athwart his path, The distant rumbling of the storm Presages coming wrath. Reluctantly, yet firm withal, We dwell in grief upon The deeds of those whose covert blows Were rained on Morrison. '-'■::}//' '-59- ■- O brightly beainod the sun of hupe In Donald's youthful breast, Until the trouble came that took The wealth he won out West. But now the shadows cast by grief Are creeping on his sight, And soon, ah 1 soon, the light of noon Will turn to gloom of night. Suspicious schemes, stupidity, With negligence and spite Combined, assailed young Morrison . , And robbed him of his right. We purpose not denouncing here The men who plied the rod, We leave them all, the great and small, With conscience and their God. :*" •Y r\\ /■•. a Although instalments oft were sent In yellow Western gold To pay the mortgage on the farm, For fear it might be sold. The title deeds to house, and lands Revealed a glaring flaw, The money sent was all mis-spent, And Donald went tj law ! V-'.,.-- 60^ He sought redress, 'twas all in vain, Redress was slow to come ; His money dwindled fast away, And still no nearer home ; The lawyers swore by earth and sky His. wealth would be restored. Till down the maw of m(mster law v His earnings all were poured. " Abandon hope who enter here " — These words of awful gloom, Perceived by Goethe — deathless bard — Upcm the gates of doom, Should be inscribed upon the doors Of courtrooms of our day, -js . To warn the throng that pass along So heedlessly that way. Forsaken now by legal lights Whose wiles had stripped him bare, Discouraged by misfortune dire — Half crazed by wild despair ; The hard-earned wealth of long, long years. Now gone beyond rocjill, Strange not that he should turn at bay Thus driven to the wall. ^w Ho lost all hope and happiness. His buildings, flocks and lands ; His very heartstrings, clinging still, Were snapped by ruthless hands ; The Sheriff's hammer loudly tripped The knell of coming t That Donald called his home ,^: He thus beheld his all of earth Pass to another's care, The earnings of a life of toil Were represented there. The acres rescued from the wilcl.s ' It took so long to win, Will yield no more their golden store To D At times he'd also emerge forth And stroll m broad daylight, ^ Into the village of Chaudiere, Regardless of his plight ; And there would mingle with the throng, The calmest one of all ; Still none would dare molest him there, Or drive him to the wall. An expert with the pistol and - The rifle he became, While hunting on the prairies So successfully for game. So quick, so brave, so accurate. And calm in danger's hour— From qualities like these arise No me^n or meagre power. *^ ■ —66— Strange not, therefore, that local lights Had failed to bring him in, They had no foolish fancy for The glory they might win ; The first great law of Nature Had attractions greater far, They went, they saw, and conquered - all Their love for fame and war ! Thus days and weeks had passed to months, Sfciil Donald held the fort ; A hoary rock his throne of state And birds and beasts his court. The speckled beauties splashed and played In yonder gurgling stream. While Nature smiled upon that wild And strangely tragic scene. 'Twas at this time tha!: Warren came — A vain, misguided man — 'To execute without delay His own ill-fated pliii. " I'll kill this Scot, and end the fus*," He boasted o'er his wines ; Alas ! for him, young Donald's kin Revealed liis dark designs. —66— Responsive to the fatal force That urged bim to his doom, This alien sought for Morri&on Around his wildwood home ; Indulging there in stimulants To fortify his nerves, He waits alone, but never from His vile intention swerves. The fatal twenty-third of June Arrived, and all was fair ; The summer sun shone bright upon The village of Chaudiere. Ah ! little thought the people ere Another day should close Their village green would be the scene Of Warren's dying throes I * ' Pray, show me now the outlaw who Hath terrorized your land, " Said Warren to some villagers Who round about did stand. ' • To capture Donald Morrison I came across the line, And if I fail, pray tell the tale To other ears than mine !" U -67- Our Donald hath not terrorized The country, as you aay, But bloodhounds of misfortune met And mocked him in the way. He would not yield the pxth of life Without one struggle more, Thus goaded on he quickly won The name we all deplore. v I 1 1 An outlaw now he roams at large O'er Compton's hills and dales. His countrymen must give him bread. For each his fate bewails The officers of justice day and night His steps pursue ; He does not yield to them the field. Nor will he yield to you. ^■i; Misguided man, heed not the voice That drives you to your doom. Resist th« promptings of your heart — A safer role assume ; Perchance, a gentle mother now -, Awaits your safe return. Then yield, pray yield ! your . doom is sealed If you our counsel spurn. %.' —68— Bo warned, therefore, in time, young nmn, Avoid an interview ; .. The glorj' of his capture, Sir, Will ne'er devolve on you. Let them who have the work in hand Pursue it to the end. Your presence here Avill now, we fear, To greater troubloM tend. 1 thank you for the friendly voice Asserted in my aid, „ „ But I am still determined to ' Arrest him, VVarrsn said ; And should I fail, I'm ready, Sirs, To meet the common fate. Death comes to all, both great and small Of high or low estate. Unheeding still the friendly voice That warned him to beware, Young Warren strode across the street Into the village square ; ■ ' And vowing vengea:ico on the boy Whose trials we ri'late. His mind, I think, inflamed by drink. Impelled him to his fate. ; '■ -(>9^ Unconscious of rfll danger. Donnld BAunterH into town, As Warren's furtive glances Travel up the street and down. Oh, grant ye Fates I that Morrison He may not now espy, iFor if they meet upon the street One of the twain shall die I -W Alas ! too late, the die is aist, None can prevent the fray, For Warren, seeing Donald, Intercepts him on the way. Though cautious are his actions. There is mischief in his eyes ; Alive or dead, your mine, they said. Or Lucien Warren dies I Surrender, Donald Morrison, You're now my prisoner ! ^ • . I swore that I would capture you — I'll shoot you if you stir 1 He grasped his deadly weapon, As these rapid words he spake, And on he came, with eyes aflame, But death was in his wake ! \ \ IV' -70- With courage in his bright blue eye The son of Morag stood Before the rash, misguided man Who sought to shed his blood ; With eagle glance made perfect By experience on the plains, All doubtful turns, he soon discerns, . But still his ground maij tins. ■ F In fearless tones, sub<' ued but clear, His answer quickly came, I charge you keep your distance, You have erred in what you claim ; That brightly glearaim; weapon To your pocket pray restore. Put up that gun, for Blorrison, Has met such ni«in before I •v. All speech was vain, f:)r Warren Quickly drifted to h.s fate. He strove to raise his weapon, But, alas ! he was too late. For Donald drew upon him, and Quick flashed the fiitjvl flame, The bullet sped and Warren dead Proclaimed the cowboy's aim ! ■' -Jr-{ ^cS^: t < -71- Thug Warren met young Morrison, And thus he met his f«te, None conld prevent the f ragedy, - Assistance came too late ; For ere the fearful villagers Could realize the scene, The angel Death, with chilling breath, Swept coldly in between. Vi AV i- . ; CHAPTER IX. Donald meets tht- Jndye. . "A frame of adamant, a 80ul of fire. No danRors fright him, and no labors tire. Behold surrounding IcingH their powers com bine. And one ca))itu]ate, and one ruHign." *^.' The fatal shot that caused the death Of Warren at Chaudiere Was borne upon the summer breeze To hamlets far near. The wires flash -that mystic flame ' ) Imbued with lightning speed — The tidings caught, and points remote Soon heard of Donald's deed. Detectives came from old Quebec, From Sherbrooke, Montreal ; Fresh forces daily on the scene Arrived at duty's call. They came from far, they came from near To win the prize they loved, And some there were from God knows where Whom viler motives moved. ■■ . y. "M \ ■ W O 3 a- -cr'^&::^5m\ ~?3~ They come ! they come ! the black, the white; .^•rtfii/. The coward, and the brave ; Three thousand dollars lead them on *' To glory or the grave." Young " Donald of Megantic " ; 'r Is the victim of the chase, qyiaijt»0' O hasten, then, o'er hill and glen, • You'll need a lively pace ! They scoured the woods by day and night, , They searched both high and li>yf f, ;,rVi A constant stream of armed men ,3 Were passing to and fro. i/fii/ PfOm Lake Megantic's lovely shores To Dudswell in the West, Determined wills o'er vale and hills Pursued the futile quest. At length Judge Dugas called a halt, To try another course ; He'd exercise persuasion with The lad he failed to force ; His honor's proclamation of A truce was sent to Don, Who answered that he'd meet him at Wild Gabon's swamp alone ! ^ !I mmmmm % II /r -74- Ho kept his tryst, and met the judge At nuidnight ih the swamp, A lantern shed its fitful rays Within a forest camp ; Courages as a lion when Secure in native haunts, Don steps within his suit to win — Judge Dugas he confronts. \ ' The judge received him kindly As one worthy of his steel, His admiration for the man He could not well conceal ; Although surrounded there by foes; No craven fears he felt, But with a smile he stood the while His Honor firmly dwelt Upon the dangers he incurred By his unyielding stand Against the men who represent The laws that rule the land. We must uphold our statutes At all hazards, Dugas said, Resistance will be vain and ill M»y fall upon your head, ^-v -75- The woods are filled with armed men, < From Lingwick to the "Lake," Who deem their reputation and Their welfare are at stake. Our orders were explicit, and We must not say them nay, *' Bring him," they said, "alive or dead Three thousand we will pay. " You cannot long resist the force Arrayed against your life, The country anxiously awaits The outcome of the strife ; In four and twenty hours more The truce shall have expired, No law will then restrain our men From bloodshed as required. Tt Surrender then, I pray you. In accordance with our laws, And we'll pledge our word of hcmor To assist you in your cause. But if you spurn our counsel, And remonstrance proves in vain, The strife will end, I fear, my friend, In misery and pain. H, ^76- ■< }■ *■ Young Donald answered calmly, >" jxlT "Judge, your motives I admiro,'!"'' But still the balm you oflfer me'<<'*'j5> ^^'f^' Is not what I desire. > t! .,7 li mI'I Cans't thou insure ray liberty ?'•'<' I'X > Can'st thou restore my home ? ' 'V' If not, I pray you go your way,:i fine ',r And I— I still may roam, i'vi^* L'-y\a\' 1 I " My faith in legal courts is slain, u •) ikiY I cannot trust them more ; < /jvri/. I know the kindness to expect uiiioj nl'i" From what they gave before.Jito '''l ' I'm doomed to roam the forest wild, i ai Beneath your legal ban, ; yjun 'ii!T Then come what will, of good or ill, ; oil I'll bear it like a man." hoouf nn^'i% ■■; t; ■i-t. ^.1 Thus saying, Donald quickly turned, ;'iuH And left that dingy room^fuibioju^ al A moment paused to look around,,.*/^ hi\L Then plunged into the gloom^ur.sB uT. So ended that strange interview i ti )Ji Around, above him, black as death, i; "}( > Beneath him cold and damp ; iftjV/ On through the night, on, on, until , ^(\f That silent wildemesB, rrff "t l^iVi^ That stretched away to Sandy Bay, nuA Was growing less and less. ,.. /; The rays that herald in the dawn !i^ n^'fT Were struggling in the East fT ' ' ^ When Donald's weary tramp was 'for, | Full twenty miles at least, p m//.C[ His rendezvous attained at last, f? i. hfj/. He laid him down to rest, ,,; iif.MiVv' A nd soundly slept till shadows crept ■_; .T Far over towards the West, -i^; uAi'f Tl We now retrace those wear}' miles /i/iJj Back to our midnight scene,, ui .-.liyiH And find the Judge still sitting there a^'T • With stern and thoughtful mien. Ij At length arising from his seab.ij(r«o;^ i-.iM He crossed the broken tioor,;.9'\>j iDiV/, And waved his hand, when lo ! his band T Were quickly at the door, ^tTitflf) mHI* ^^ ^>v ^-J. r -ts^ He then informed that eager throng, Beneath the lantern's light, Of all the conversation had With Donald on that night. The information was received With feelings deeply grave ; • Kind men were they, averse to slay A youth so firm and brr ve. 'I! Then silently, as when they came, Judge Dugas and his men Departed from that midnight camji Down Galson's lonely glen. And scarcely had they disappeared, When lo ! dark forms are seen To emerge from the forest's gloom That formed a welcome screen. i i Brave Highlanders were they who came From Ling wick to defend The *' outlaw " Donald Morrison, If he should need a friend. Had cowards marred that interview With treachery or hate, Twelve men were there, prepared t*) share The daring outlaw's fate. ^^ ^ ,'; . * CHAPTER X. The Truce. "While reclining that niglit. on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scnring fagot that guarded the slain ; At the dead of the night a sweet vision 1 aw, And twice ere the morning I drcanit it again." A circular is issued now, In whicli the Judge affirms That Morrison, the outlaw, "Has refused the country's terms ;" It also warns the peoph; that Imprisonment will be The fate of all, both great and *mall, Who Iit4ped this lad to flee ftrom justice, by extending aid In shelter or in food, Aud thus tinabliug him to roam T\%e country unsubdued. But all su**!! proclamations, " AU such warnings were in vain— Wko. think you, could refuse him food Or shelter from the rain / w -80- ■\t '>v'l I ill 7^ A brilliant thought at length invades The noddles of that train, " Scotch hospitable tendencies Are now our countiy's bane ;" They then proposed a remedy To bring the outlaw in — Arrest cind hound, till none are found On whom his hopes can lean,,., J' .„j; , /. (I tuMiM'ih ! 'Aidirn'fn iiM ••'!■• 'i ^r//.' hit/. Though mothers with their children weep, The ruthless monsters come '" ' To tear brave fathers, brothers, sons At midnight from their home ; , , , j I • Old men of marked benevolence Were also captive led. Because 'twas thought each humble cot Had sheltered Donald's head. And still the story of tbi^ Ij^d, ' ^ Eluding all who came, ^ , Resounded through the laad until ^^^^ , ,,y Alaska spoke his name. .-v y\ i ' •■' -81— ■■\^ Tho tactics now pursued by foes 1 no outlaw s .spirit renJs : Ihoy find the vulnerable spot, AIL 1 • i '•>/ .ff^lIT And shoot him through his friends ! Relentless as the day of fate Ihe heartless lash they ply, Till numbers from each Scottish town , In Sherbrooke prison lie. ,, , '..'^' ^':,' «';ii.!().- At length the Caledonian feociety began lo take an active interest ,. In Compton's outlawed man • They sent a deputation ' From their lodges to induce ' ' The august band that ruled the Icind To grant another truce. , A truce was g nted them at once, . And clansmen took their way .^, To Lingwick and to Winslow towns ' „„ Ine tidings to convoy. A truce ! a truce ! the cry resounds Through hamlets near and far, From hill and glen bring m the men-* Ine valiant men of war ! \\^ h -^%' \l- a -82— Call off your bloodhounds, Biss'nett, There's a truce for several days, That we instead of force may try Persuasion's milder ways. Suspend your vain endeavors Fur the hours that intervene, Let none, we pray, attempt to slay Should Morrison be seen. '1^ Such were the tidings borne along Upon the April breeze ; Such were the tidings Donald heard Among the maple trees. Deep, deep in Compton's wilderness The outlaw now exclaims, " This may portend the welcome end Of trials and of pains." Our Donald kindly thanks the friends That brought the news to him, Then leaves his silent haunts behind, And in the twilight dim He eastward takes his course alonsi Lake Moffatt^s tangled shores. Where in the gloom is heard the loon And Moffat's monster roars. \i 1* / ^ -", ', ■ i,^jf — 8(i— And as he leaves Loch Rook behind The stars peep out above, To cast a beam upon his path To Marion and Jove ; The anxious fears that weighed him down Are growing lighter now, And marks of care the troubled wear Are fading from his brow. 1 f / 1. Far to the right he sees the lights Of Scotstown village ijleam ; He hears the Salmon ri\ r roar In swollen rage between. On, on, till Scotstown's left behind, Wild Marsden lies before— Lights disappear, nor does he hear The Salmon waters roar. % With youthful strength that scorns fatigue He still pursues his way, Till Marsden's rugged hills are reached Before the dawn of day ; j And there amid grand maple trees A sugar house he spies, i Beneath whose bark, secure and dark. The sleepy outlaw lies. IMAGE EVALUATSON TEST TARGET (MT.3) // .^^-^.'e. A ^o 1 Z. 11= 1.25 Its lis u 2.0 1 I HE U 11.6 JS 4: ^^^%^' '^^^* > Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)673-4503 4^ i\ <^ c^ ^ -84- VVithin McKinnon's rustic camp He takes his well-earned retst, And sleeps as only they can sleep With healthful vigor blest. '. . i Day dawns, the birds begin to sing ;, , Their joyful roundelays, ' And sunlight streams, in playful beams, Upon his sleeping face. ,,1 ;.;! ; •• ' i'i But still no sound disturbs his dreams, He slumbers calmly on, The sunbeams creep far up the wall In silence, one by one. Sleep on, poor hunted outlaw, sleep, And dream your cares away, ,. ^^^.^, You'll ne'er obtain the like again Through life's long, lingering day. .,, . i ,( ■ Lu Before his dreaming fancy spread A landscape rich and fair, A happy home was in the midst. And Marion was there ! A little child, with sunny curls. Was playing near the door. And fields of grain stretched o'er the ^:lh iitii. plain fi -J Mt; •;•;'■ ./•■[^o n To Lake Megantic's shore ! Ml vv [•. ,'}: ,;u-')« 5 O'.t;- M -85- Hif; dream has changed, and fancy now Presents a Western scene ; >• '' Above, grand mountains rear their heads, Beneath him valleys green, ' ■ ' ■ Far up the slcjpe where pine trees wave Their limbs like beckoning hands, By Custer's brook, in sheltered nook, His cowboy ca})in stands. He saw the burning summer sun Sink slowly in the West, Until it vanished all aflame Behind yon mountains crest ; And there amid the dying glow Of sunset stood again His Compton home, his Marion, And fields of waving grain I J5ut see ! 'tis not the sunset glow That o'er yon summit gleams, , . .r He hears his Morag call for help — ; Beholds his home in flames. Now, horrors ! dusky forms appear. She screams in wild despair ; And Ind'an, of fearful mien, , Hath clutched her waving hair. « , 1 I ! ^ !Ujt.,. .ii-^. -86— The cowboy wildly strove to save His sweetheart from her fate, He tjuickly reached his burning house, Alas ! he was too late. He madly dashed his dusky foe Down into flame au-^ smoke, Cried, "Life for life," and raised his knife, And then— the cowboy woke ! He rubbed his oyes, and . ? He cautiously steps forth to see — 'Tis right that he should know. On looking out he meets a glance As flashing as his own. The odds are equal— friend or foe 1 The person is alone. But oh ! 'tis love, not hate, that darts From yo" bright eyes of blue ; Not hate, but love, that strives to prove Its depths in being true ! -87- 'Tw?is Marion that stood without, And whom but her besides Could cause the tumult in his breast His sterner nature hides ? Her startled glance, how sweet to see. But sweeter far, I ween, The accents glad in which she bade Him welcome to the glen. m. 'I. ;) : I ', 1 H .1 M- . . , I : !'• '^".y.u. .■,: -I ! ■ •,i.i.-,M ,1 i.,l/ CHAPTER XI. , , . f... ' ./,r I • ^ t Second Sight. " 'Tis the sunset of life glve8 me mystical lore, And coming events cast their sliadows be- fore." Campbell. Then arm in arm they strolled along Down to a shady grove, Where they had oft before exchanged Sweet vows of lasting love. She gladly told him all the " news " He wished so much to learn, Of friends and foes, of joys and woes That touched them, and in turn m He told her of his weary tramps And dangers that beset His path while down at Lingwiclc — All that passed since last they met. He told her of his noonday dreams — Strange fancies of the brain ; And how he still could hear her shrill Voice calling him in vain ! —8(1— The nmiclen listens to tho cldse. And new she softly sighs, The sad allusion to his dream Firought moisture to her eyes ; Slio whispered, as she brushed away The tears she could not quell, ' ' O, Donald, love ! I also have A gruesome dream to tell. "Last evening, ere I went to rest, I knelt upon the floor ' Beneath the window that o'erlooks Your father's cabin door ; The night was dark and dreary. Fiercely blew the storm and loud, While overhead, like billows, sped Each dark and rolling cloud. " Regardless of the waning nigh My vigils still I kept. Lured by the howling of the gale That o'er yon forest swept ; The moaning of the giant trees Half human seemed to me. When winds assailed they creaked and wailed As if in agony ! ~»0- *'A sense of clanger filled my mind * Without apparent cause ; I am not superstitious, dear, You know I never was. Yet, as I strove to pierce the gloom Around your father's cot, Uncanny things, on spirit Avings, Seemed hovering near the spot. " The storm increased, the forest roared, The darkness darker grew ; Horsed on the wind the inky clouds Like very demons flew ; And by a flash of lightning flame. That turned the night to day, I saw l)efore your father's door Two hulking shadows lay ! "J could not scream, my tongue was tied, The power of speech was dead ; 1 heard the storm and saw the clouds Still rolling overhead ; And then arose those awful forms, With long, dishevelled hair, I saw the harm, but could not warn My Donald to beware 1 -»1- " Now stealthily us thieves at ni^jht Beyond the door they pass, And further on they (juickly crouch Like wild beasts in the grass ; And then, oh, horrors I what a dream That wound nie in its spell — The demons twain took deadly aim, And thou, my Donald, fell I " Mcthought 1 saw the wretches lift Your all but lifeless form, And bear you (luickly fnuu u)y sight Away into the storm. God grant the sufl'erings of that hour I never more shall feel — Whate'er it was, whate'er the cause, (), Don, it seemed so real I " Now that you're with me safe and s(tund T know I nuist have slept, And o'er my sleeping fancy tlien These horrid visions crejit. Yet I cannot o'ercome the dread, It lingers like a chill, For, O, it seemed your life's blood streamed And left you pale and chill." -02- " Pray, calm yourself, tloar Miirion, And curb all needless fears, It tills my Houl with grief to see You shod those scalding tears ; Anxiety on my behalf Disturbs your dreams at night. Therefore, I pray you, chase away All phantoms of aflfright, " A truce has i)een j)roclaimed to day From pulpits far and near, To bring me from my wildwood hauntH In Winslow to api)ear ; Throe days of grace is granted me To meet my Highland friends — God willing, then, 1 11 see the men And Isarn what Mercier sends. " Those noble-minded gentlemen Are laboring for my good, I'll hearken to their counsel, And surrender as I should. Friends, tried and true, are languishing In prison now for me, I cannot bear to think them there, While I myself am free. -93— "Then, Marion, uiy own tnio l«»ve, Tliis night I must away, To learn the tidings divers brouj,'lit To Win8h)W yesterday. Vain Bissonnett's fierce bhiodhounds now May rest their panting sides, A truoe must ne'er be broken here — So honor's law provides." "Dear Donald," said the maiden, " You must still be on your guard Of wretches dead to honor. But alive to the reward. I earnestly implore you To be careful for my sake. Distrust the crew that look for you From Lingwick to the "Lake." " 1 tremble now to think of them - To think upon their quest — And how they thirst to capture you With avaricious zest. My words refer to those alone vVho seek to kill for pay ; They will abuse the boasted truce — Like Judas they'll betray. —94— "Then, Donukl, 1 implore you, ( )f these traitors to beware — That (jod may keep and guide you Js my earnest constant prayer ; His ami ah)ne can save you now, He only can defend. For dire reports, on lower courts, We cannot now depend. " Tliink of the farce enacted In our midst not long ago, When wealth and influence conspired '1\> lay stern justice low. 'Mid shouts of bartered eloquence Dishonest wiles succeed ; Where might is right 'tis vain to fight, Though innocency bleed ! " , While thus they spake, dark angry clouds Were rising in the East, And shadows deepened round them As the leaden mass increased ; The writhing, seething storm clouds seemed Like things endowed with life, O, forces grand 1 that guide, command This elemental strife I — un— ()l)liviou'. f>f the wiirning voico Tlirifc throuf^'h yon forest luojiii.s. The fiitod lovers still converse In sad and tender tonoH. The time is short, O lo^'e I how short For all that you would say ; Nor will it stand at thy command- Enjoy it while you may ! At length, as from a hlissful dream, They wake to outer things, And realise how time hath flown On swift and silent wings. "O, hasten, Donald," cried the maid, " The daylight quickly wanes ; Too long, 1 fear, we've tarried hero - Avaunt I ye selfish pains 1 "An urgent duty calls you forth To visit parents dear, A mother's heart for thee, her son. Is trembling now in fear. Whene'er the wilds reverberate The shots of randoai gun, The echoes seem to wail and stream ' Your son I it is your son 1 ' -96- N "Then, Donald, hasten to their side, You must no hinger stay, Your presence now will calm their minds And drive all fears away. And now again I beg, beseech, Let prudence point your road ; And O, I pray, that come what may. Your trust be still in God ! " See, see I the East is wrapped in gloom Dark clouds of ragged form In Avild fantastic motion fly Before the coming storm. What stillness reigns ! the very air Seems in a deathlike swoon ; Mogantic's brow is darkling now — The storm will strike us soon." 0, tender, tender words of love I She whispers now "good by," In trembling accents bids him hope As tears bedim her eye. Amid the st