as his singular bond to the world he would otherwise be keen to be
leaving, set me to chasten my dalliance with fate. Still and on, our
affection and its working on my prentice mind is nothing to dwell on
publicly. I've seen bearded men kiss each other in the France, a most
scandalous exhibition surely, one at any rate that I never gazed on
without some natural Highland shame, and I would as soon kiss my father
at high noon on the open street as dwell with paper and ink upon my
feeling to him.

We settled down to a few quiet weeks after the troops had gone. Rumours
came of skirmishes at Tippermuir and elsewhere. I am aware that the
fabulous Wishart makes out that our lads were defeated by Montrose at
every turning, claiming even Dundee, Crief, Strathbogie, Methven Wood,
Philiphaugh, Inverness, and Dunbeath. Let any one coldly calculate the
old rogue's narrative, and it will honestly appear that the winner was
more often Argile, though his lordship never followed up his advantage
with slaughter and massacre as did his foes at Aberdeen. All these
doings we heard of but vaguely, for few came back except an odd lad
wounded and cut off in the wilds of Athole from the main body.

Constant sentinels watched the land from the fort of Dunchuach, that
dominates every pass into our country, and outer guards took day and
night about on the remoter alleys of Aora and Shira Glens. South, east,
and west, we had friendly frontiers; only to the north were menace
and danger, and from the north came our scaith--the savage north and
jealous.

These considerations seemed, on the surface, little to affect Inneraora
and its adjacent parts. We slept soundly at night, knowing the warders
were alert; the women with absent husbands tempered their anxiety with
the philosophy that comes to a race ever bound to defend its own doors.

The common folks had _ceilidhs_ at night--gossip parties in each other's
houses, and in our own hall the herds and shepherds often convocat to
change stories, the tales of the Fingalians, Ossian and the Firme. The
burgh was a great place for suppers too, and never _ceilidh_ nor supper
went I to but the daughter of Provost Brown was there before me. She
took a dislike to me, I guessed at last, perhaps thinking I appeared too
often; and I was never fully convinced of this till I met her once with
some companions walking in the garden of the castle, that always stood
open for the world.

I was passing up the Dame's Pa