e one of those names, when the time shall offer
for cutting them off! and it will come anon, for their own swords shall
devour each other, and those who are scattered shall fly to the Mist,
and perish by its Children. Once more, begone--shake the dust from thy
feet against the habitations of men, whether banded together for peace
or for war. Farewell, beloved! and mayst thou die like thy
forefathers, ere infirmity, disease, or age, shall break thy
spirit--Begone!--begone!--live free--requite kindness--avenge the
injuries of thy race!"

The young savage stooped, and kissed the brow of his dying parent; but
accustomed from infancy to suppress every exterior sign of emotion,
he parted without tear or adieu, and was soon far beyond the limits of
Montrose's camp.

Sir Dugald Dalgetty, who was present during the latter part of this
scene, was very little edified by the conduct of MacEagh upon the
occasion. "I cannot think, my friend Ranald," said he, "that you are in
the best possible road for a dying man. Storms, onslaughts, massacres,
the burning of suburbs, are indeed a soldier's daily work, and are
justified by the necessity of the case, seeing that they are done in the
course of duty; for burning of suburbs, in particular, it may be said
that they are traitors and cut-throats to all fortified towns. Hence it
is plain, that a soldier is a profession peculiarly favoured by Heaven,
seeing that we may hope for salvation, although we daily commit actions
of so great violence. But then, Ranald, in all services of Europe, it is
the custom of the dying soldier not to vaunt him of such doings, or
to recommend them to his fellows; but, on the contrary, to express
contrition for the same, and to repeat, or have repeated to him, some
comfortable prayer; which, if you please, I will intercede with his
Excellency's chaplain to prefer on your account. It is otherwise no
point of my duty to put you in mind of those things; only it may be for
the ease of your conscience to depart more like a Christian, and less
like a Turk, than you seem to be in a fair way of doing."

The only answer of the dying man--(for as such Ranald MacEagh might now
be considered)--was a request to be raised to such a position that he
might obtain a view from the window of the Castle. The deep frost mist,
which had long settled upon the top of the mountains, was now rolling
down each rugged glen and gully, where the craggy ridges showed their
black and irregula