cousin Donald stood
again at his bedside, and again he heard the same appalling words:
_"Inverawe! Inverawe! blood has been shed. Shield not the murderer!"_
At break of day he hastened, in strange agitation, to the
cave; but it was empty, the stranger was gone. At night, as he
strove in vain to sleep, the vision appeared once more, ghastly
pale, but less stern of aspect than before. _"Farewell, Inverawe!"_
it said; _"Farewell, till we meet at TICONDEROGA!"_

The strange name dwelt in Campbell's memory. He had joined
the Black Watch, or Forty-second Regiment, then employed
in keeping order in the turbulent Highlands. In time he became
its major; and, a year or two after the war broke out, he went
with it to America. Here, to his horror, he learned that it was
ordered to the attack of Ticonderoga. His story was well known
among his brother officers. They combined among themselves to
disarm his fears; and when they reached the fatal spot they told
him on the eve of the battle, "This is not Ticonderoga; we are not
there yet; this is Fort George." But in the morning he came to
them with haggard looks. "I have seen him! You have deceived
me! He came to my tent last night! This is Ticonderoga! I shall
die to-day!" and his prediction was fulfilled.

Such is the tradition. The indisputable facts are that Major
Duncan Campbell of Inverawe, his arm shattered by a bullet,
was carried to Fort Edward, where, after amputation, he died and
was buried. (_Abercromby to Pitt_,19 _August_, 1758.) The stone
that marks his grave may still be seen, with this inscription: _"Here
lyes the Body of Duncan Campbell of Inverawe, Esq, Major to
the old Highland Regiment, aged 55 Years, who died on the 17th
July, 1758, of the Wounds he received in the Attack of the Retrenchment
of Ticonderoga or Carrillon, on the 8th July, 1758."_

His son, Lieutenant Alexander Campbell, was severely wounded
at the same time, but reached Scotland alive, and died in Glasgow.
Mr. Campbell, the present Inverawe, in the letter mentioned
above, says that forty-five years ago he knew an old man whose
grandfather was foster-brother to the slain major of the forty-second,
and who told him the following story while carrying a salmon for him
to an inn near Inverawe. The old man's grandfather was sleeping with his
son, then a lad, in the same room, but in another bed. This son,
father of the narrator, "was awakened," to borrow the words of
Mr. Campbell, "by some unaccustome