Blair Collection > Celtic monthly > Volume 7, 1899

THE CELTIC MONTHLY.
145
FINLAY A. MACRAE, LONDON.
n. FINLAY ALEX-
ANDER MACRAE
''^ was born at the Free
Manse, Kilmorie, Arran, on
18th November, I808. His
father, the Rev. Donald Mac-
Rae, had been minister of the
parish of Poolewe, Ross-shire, which he left at
the Disruption, and was subsequently F.C.
minister of Tarbert, Loch Fyue, and for twenty-
three years of Kihnorie. His mother was a
daughter of the Rev. Alexander Russell, of
Gairloch, whose grandson is ex-Lord Provost
Sir James Russell, of Edinburgh.
On his father's death, the family removed to
Edinburgh, where Mr MacRae received his edu-
cation. Heservedfour years in agrain merchant's
office in Leith, thereafter removing to London,
where he has spent twenty years — the last ten
of wliich have been devoted to South
African business, in whicli his firm is largely
interested. On 24tli January, 189-'), at Crathie
Manse, he was married to Myra, thiid daughter
of the Rev. Colin F. Campbell, minister of
Lamlash parish, Arran.
Mr. MacRae's name has been closely identi-
fied with athletics for man\' years past ; indeed,
it ma}- be truly remarked that there are few
sports in which he has not engaged and excelled.
He has been successful on the running-path ;
and as a player of Rugby football he was
well known. In connection with cycling mattei-s
his name has always been prominent, having
acted in 1887-88 as general secretary for the
National Cyclists' Union. He has him.self been
a successful competitor in events from one mile
to a twenty-four hours' contest ; and for seven-
teen years represented his club (the London
Scottish B.C.) in the Union. He also acted for
five years as .secretary of the Records' Committee,
in connection with which body he organised the
system for checking road and path records.
This year Mr. MacRae has accepted a \ery
important appointment, which is at present re-
ceiving his serious attention. We refer tothehon.
secretaryship of the Scottish Gathering in Lon-
don. He became a member of committee in
1890, and has taken a keen interest in promoting
its success. This year, howe\ er, he has taken in
hand the organisation of the great gathering for
the 22nd of this month (Whit-Monday), and we
trust that our readers in London will not fail U<
attend, and give Mr. MacRae their support.
The ol)jeot is a most deserving one. Nearly
£1000 of the proceeds of the Gathering have
been distriViuted lietween the aged pensioners
(if the Scottish Hospital, the boys and girls of
the Caledonian Asylum, the West Highland
Relief Fund, aud other charitable institutions
Doubtless the MacRae and other tartans wil
be well represented at the gathering.
I S E AB A L.
^^^^SEABAL sat spinning in her lonely cottage,
li^ll> and as the wheel turned, thoughts of the
=1 news she had just heard came crowding
through her brain; Moina dying and Nial killed
in the war ! But what did it matter ? Wliat
was Nial to her, and was not Moina always a
weak puny creature, not like the other women
of the glen! Why had Nial married her? Was
it not Iseabal that all the glen had named as
Nial's wife, and was not she the only woman
Nial had ever looked at since the days wlicn
they were children pulling the blaeberries on
the heathery braes and weaving wreatb.s of red
rowans to crown Iseabal's dark curls t Then
came the year she had spent in Skye with her
mother's folk, and the news that came to her of
Nial's wedding with Moina ; and now iloina,
who had come between them with her childish
face and clinging ways, was dying, and her bal)V
only a week old.
Iseabal's wheel whirred on in tlie cheerful
glow of the lire. Outside the wind blew keen
and cold from the Fiith of Lorn and tiailed the
white mists across the mighty shoulder of Ben
Cruachan. Iseabal rose and looked out. It
was going to be a wild night, and Moina would
be alone, save for old Morag, who was stiff and
frail. The snow had begun to fall in soft
feathery flakes, and tlie wind was rising. As it
moaned round the house it sounded to Iseabal
like the plaintive sobbing of a little child.
Would Monia's child cry and would anyone
tend it, the little baby who would never know
a father's or mother's love 1 Darkness was
beginning to fall, but still Iseabal gazed at ti.e
snow as it drifted against the little window.
There she stood dry-eyed and stern looking; but
the heart within her breast was beating as if it
would burst. At last she turned from the
W'indow and did a strange thing. She tilled a
bottle with new milk, and put it in a basket
along with some bannocks; then, wrapping her-
self in her plaid, she passed out into the drifting
snow.
In the cottage by the loch side Moina lay
weak and listless, with her baby on her arm,
thinking bitter thoughts. Old Morag had fallen
asleep by the Are, and heeded not the rising
storm that blew the smoke of the tire down in
clouds which lazily curled upwards again to the
blackened rafters.
Moina started as a low knock game to the
door. Who could it be on such a night 2