Blair Collection > Celtic monthly > Volume 1, 1893

THE CELTIC MONTHLY.
old, and cannot go far from home. My old
man goes away the next morning, and I must
be there, but the two lads will stay with us
on Wednesday, and I will try to be a mother
to them."
On the Tuesday morning Rory's horse market
was held at Dai-Harold. He was on the ground
early, and as each group arrived with their
horses, Rory put the same question, " Will you
sell now, or chance the market?" If the
former, Rory offered a price, which was
generally accepted ; if the latter, he entered
the number of animals into his note-book,
and such was his character for honesty and
rectitude, that not even a voucher was neces-
sary. They knew that on his return, after
deducting a certain sum to cover expenses, he
would hand them every penny of the price, and
they were quite satisfied. Some had more than
a dozen horses to sell, some only one little pony
or foal, but Rory treated them all the same.
The sheep and cattle of the Strath had been
sent away two or three weeks before, in charge
of his son, they took such a long time to travel,
win ivas the ponies could cover thirty or forty
miles a day, and arrive at Falkirk in the best
of condition.
After giving the horses in charge to several
young men, who were on the ground for that
purpose, Rory rode off to Rhifail, where he
found a great gathering of young and old.
He had a hearty welcome from the master of
the house, who led him to his wife. She
received him with all the grace and courtesy
of a Highland lady, and leading the way they
adjourned to the barn, where tables had been
laid out for five hundred people.
There was no question of precedence ; except
that the young, in all cases, made way for the
old. Grey hair was the patent of nobility in
that large clan assemblage.
By the side of the lady of the house sat an
old man with a beautiful, benevolent face.
Twenty years before his two young sons joined
the British army ; fought, and were taken
prisoners by the French, and were starved to
death. The news killed their mother, and
broke their father's heart, bleached his hair, and
he wept for his boys till he became blind. Then
he took to playing the violin, and would give
vent to his sorrows in the most plaintive strains.
Sometimes, in the stillness of the night, his own
voice and that of his violin would echo through
the empty house, and ever the burden of his
song, like the psalmist of old, was the heart-
breaking cry :
" My sons, my sons, would God I had died
for them ! "
Now, however, he was as gentle and cheerful
as any one there. He raised his sightless eyes
to heaven, and asked a blessing on the good
things set betore them in a voice full of sweet-
ness and pathos, and every eve turned to the
gentle, noble face, and every heart was touched
with sympathy. Perhaps no one felt his pre-
sence and his sorrows as much as the good wife
of Rhifail, for the youngest son of William of
Aehool had been the lover of her youth, and
after twenty years of separation and death, her
heart turned to him still. The tables laid out
in the barn actually groaned under the burden
of good things — huge salmon, venison, game of
every description, curds and cream, oat cake,
butter, cheese, rich, brown home-brewed ale,
and mellow old whisky that made their hearts
glad. After they had eaten and drank, Rory
Ban rose in his place and said " I ask you to
drink to the health and success of our young
friends who are about to leave us. May their
career lie g 1 and glorious, worthy of the prom-
ise of their youth, and the fame of their fathers !"
This toast was drunk with Highland honours,
cheer followed cheer, till the rafters rung. Then
the pipers struck up the clan gathering, while
the tables were cleared, when dancing com-
menced, and was carried on with truly Highland
spirit until the day dawned.
William Aehool retired to rest at midnight,
and Rory Ban, after drinking "deoch an doruis,"
mounted his horse and started on his journey
homewards. Twenty miles of rough riding lay
before him, but he was quite accustomed to the
saddle, and did not care.
It was a lovely night, a full moon was shining
overhead and made everything light as day,
except where the hills threw deep long shadows
across the path. Suddenly, on emerging from
one of these shadows, Rory was aware that a
single horseman was riding about fifty yards in
front of him. He could see that the stranger
was an officer, for Ins helmet, buttons, and gold
lace glittered in the moonlight, and his sword
dangled by his side. Rory came to the con-
clusion that the rider was a Highland officer
returning from foreign service, that he probably
knew him, so he quickened his pace, but the
stranger, without any apparent effort, kept at
the same distance. Rory knew that his horse
was the best in the country, so he gave him his
head, and went along at the top of his speed,
but with the same result, and thus they careered
on for miles. Suddenly they came to the grave-
yard of Achness, which the strange horseman
entered, went straight to the burying place of
the Abrachs, and disappeared as if the earth had
swallowed him ! Rory's horse swerved, trembled,
and then tied. For a mile or two Rory could
only think of his own safety, as he completely