LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2515, 29 April 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE LAST ELM OF THE AVENUE. A Pitch dark night, rain falling in torrents, wind blowing gustily from every poio of tbs compass at onoe. Two or three oil lamps flickering feebly in the gloom on a struggling crowd of damp passengers, a chaotic mass of luggage, and—no porters. Such were my earilest impressions on being turned r.ut of the London down train at Westwood, the station for Chinqhaven, whither I and some half-dozen other officers were bound, to complete our education by a course of musketry instruction.

‘ '.Vhere’s Chinqhaven ?’ was my first vary natural inquiry; ‘ and how am 1 to get there ?’

Chinqhaven was ‘across there,’ a civil official replied, pointing over an expanse of ploughed fields in the direc'ion of the South Pole. The one omnibus had, it appeared, departed with a small selection from the impatient crowd of belated travellers, but would be back again directly. ‘ How soon ?’ I asked.

‘ Well, in about an hour or so.’ I thanked him, committed my belongings to his care, and with a benediction on my luck and the colonel who had sent mo there, plunged out into the night. Outside the station 1 found an officer with his party, a sergeant and some privates, about to march to Chinqhaven ; and gladly joined them. I took for granted some one knew the way. I didn’t. Such a night ! Bain pelting ns viciously, wind blowing out fragmentary attempts at conversation away into space. Finally, at a point where five roads met, and the wind and rain did their wickedest, we halted. Fire and candle-light streamed invitingly out of the unshuttered window of a low, white house; a sign creaked over our heads in the darkness, and, after brief debate, in wo all turned to the cosy kitchen of the Green Lion. V e were not unwilling to accept the landlady’s assurances that the storm would ‘ blow itself out’ in half an hour or less. She Invited us Into her own snag parlour, and here, for the first time, I got a good look at my companion. He was a tall, handsome fellow, with dark complexion, and curiously light eager eyes ; by name, I discovered, Captain Angns M’Leleh, of the 34th (Royal Cromarty) Highlanders, (Here I may introduce myself to my readers; Lieutenant Jones, Royal North Wales Militia.) Captain M’l.eish was rather stiff and high and mighty fit first, 1 thought—very much the Highland chieftain. * Laolchairn,’ or some such pretty name, was I found, hla correct designation. Still, we gradually warmed into sociability over the landlady’s blazing fire, and suoh refreshment as the Green Lion afforded. The landlady’s pred'o'.ion was verified in leas than the time mentioned. The storm blew over, the clouds parted, and a clear white moon shone out.

Half an hour's quick walking brought ns to the top of the hill, under which lay the little town of Chlnqhaven. Its red roofs looked pretty and picturesque In the moonlight beyond, and below us a row of lighted windows showed where the barracks stood. ‘That’s a welcome sight,’ said M Leish. ‘Were yon ever here before ? ’ I asked. * Never; I only heard of the place last week—ah 1 ’ —he stopped short. I looked round in amazement, He was standing upright and rigid, bis eyes fixed on some point in the road before us, hia forefinger extended. ‘ Why, what’s the matter ? ’ I asked, looking down the road—and seeing only a milestone standing out distinctly from the dark hedge. ‘ There !’

Hia eyes dilated with a fixed stare of horror, hia breath came short and quick, and at last, with a sharp cry. ha swayed forward, and fell insensible on tho path. I thought he tried to say something hut failed to understand him. The soldiers had halted, and two came running up, vociferating wildly in some unknown tongue. Thev knelt beside him and raised him, all stark and white, in the moonshine. I gave a few directions, to which they vouchsafed not the smallest attention ; bat somehow they contrived to support him between them, and we proceeded to the barracks, no great distance, fortunately. I questioned the sergeant, who had looked on meanwhile with undisturbed composure. He declined to commit himself to any opinion whatever.

The privates were ‘ Caolohairn’a ’ own people, pair ignorant Hieland bodies, who could hardly speak Engl sh. Could he understand Gaelic ? Weel, a word, or may ha twa.

What had Captain JM’Lelsa said as ho fell? It sounded like 'lnto my grave,’but he conldna be poeiteeve.

And here Sergeant Tnlloch’s communications came to an abrupt stop, and 1 could only extract, in addition, that the Highlanders knew best what to do with their chief, and that 1 he’d be a’ right the morn.’ So he was. He appeared on parade right enough. I found that he and 1 were in the same section ; also that, of all the sixty officers competing the ‘ course,’ ho was the only one with whom I had the slightest acquaintance. He was in the same position, 1 fancy—so we fraternise! to a certain extent—walked over to Boatstown together —the popular amusement of the period, and worked at the red book iu company. He was an odd young fellow, as etarchily re pellant as a Spanish Don one moment, and the next boyishly expansive and communicative. I thick he was really desperately shy—the result of home breeding. He gave me a description of his Highland home one day, with its mountain and moor, loch and forest, where the M’Lehhs lived in feudal state, naught appertaining to true dignity of a real Highland chieftian being lacking, from the pipers to the deadly feud. TheM’Leisha of Caolohairn, and the M’Lelshs of Tuohoran had killed, burned, betrayed, massacred and generally made themselves mutually unpleasant from time immemorial. The two branches of this amiable family sprang from twin brothers, and, according to tradition, were to carry ou tho same bloodthirsty relations till they baoame simultaneously extinct.

‘And may I ask how you and the repre santative of the other line conduct yourselves when you happen to meet in society now-a-days?’ I inquired. M'Laish laughed. ‘We don’t meet. Tuohoran waa sold generations ago and the M’Leish of that date died abroad. We have often tried to trace out hia descendants, but with only partial success. Perhaps It’s as well,’ he continued with an embarrassed laugh, ‘for they say that though wo don’t slay and plunder now a-days, the—the ourae la on ns yet. When one of each lice shell meet, there follows calamity.’ I looked as profoundly impressed as he could desire.

‘ Ten years a 7,0 a clergyman in the south chaplain to a hospital—wrote to my father to say his cousin, Fergus M’Lelab, lay dying —mortally injured in some discreditable brawl. My father, good man, started at onoe. He was in time to see the dying man and to promise to befriend his only son—a boy of about fourteen. Fergus M’Leieh died with his hand clasped in my father’s. It was their first and last meeting.’ * Well 1 No harm came of it, I suppose,’ ‘ My father never saw his home again. Ho was killed in the great railway accident on the Great Northern.’

‘ What became of the boy !’ I asked presently. ‘ Xoung Fergus ? He was an utter good-for-nothing. My mother gave the chaplain carte blanche, and he did hia ntmoat to reclaim him. It was no u»e. Ho was in and oat of prison half a dozen times, and at last we shipped him off to the colonies—bub I’m almost sure I met him last year at tho Derby.’ * How did you know him ?’ ‘By hia likeness to myself. It’s onrions’y strong. Also by another murk —a cut on one eyelid—that gives him a moat sinister look. The chaplain mentioned it to me.’ * Did anything happen ?’ I could not resist asking. M’Leish’s face grow dark. ‘Don’t ask me—enough to ruin my life, and make it littlo worth having from heneeforward. Hullo ! It’s seven o’clock. Do you dine at mess to night ?’ and ho left me to dress.

Still I got no nearer to [any explanation of the occurrence on the first night of our meeting. He always avoided the Westward road I noticed, and another peonliar fact which struck me was tho way in which hia ■ arvant Allstar—his foster-brother he to ! d me—kept us constantly in sight. It was as if he expected me to do hia master a mischief, One doy M’Leish came into my room

in great distress. An accident had happened In the town—a sovffold had fallen, and Aliater, who was pasting at the moment, had been knocked down and injured—some ironwork had struck his head, and it was feared had destroyed the sight of one eye ‘He must go np to town as so,in as he can travel- Everything that the best man can do for him shall be done. I'll trust him to no one here. My poor Alistor.’

I was able to assist in making arrangements for his stay In town, and both master and man were inordinately grateful. I went with M’Leish to see him off at Westwood. There had been an agonising scene when he heard that the oonlist would require him to be at least a month nnder treatment. He refused to go—wept, expostulated, Implored M’Leish on his knees not to send him away—at least, so I guessed, for the conversation was carried on in Gaelic. M’Ltlsh promised to go up and see him every week—argued, coaxtd, je ted, and at last ordered him sternly to be silent and obey, and the poor fellow submitted. Tears were in his one visible eye when he said good bye at the station, and he poured ont what seemed to be a flood of impassioned waning. M’Leish answered good humouredly, saying In English—--1 Yon will find me safe enough, you foolish fellow. Don’t yon think Mr Jones here can take as good care of me as you ?’ Alistor turned suddenly upon me, scanning my face with his sharp eye. ‘ Are you in truth his faithful friend ?’ I was too amazed to reply. ‘ Let all who wish well to Caolchairn stand by him now, for his dark hour is at hand.’

M’Leish hurried him Into the train, and I saw no more of him.

We walked back together down the memorable Westwood road.

‘Can you guess what he means?’ asked M’Leish, after a long silence. ‘ N«-t in the least,’ I replied. ‘ Do yon remember the night we came f * Perfectly,’ I answered. We turned a corner as I spoke, and the broad white road to Cicquaven sloped down the hill at our feet—with the milestone standing out white and distinct against the dark hedge. M’Leisb stopped. * There, by that atone, on that night, stood Fergus M’Leish ; 1 saw him as clearly as 1 see you now ; he held out his hand, and said, * Welcome ! we are waiting for you Caolchairn;’ bis face was clear in the moonlight; it was the face of a dead man.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ I said energetically, to assure myself I was not frightened, * Do as you please,’ said M'Leish coldly. ‘lt was evident,’ I reasoned, taking counsel with myself, ‘ that poor M’Leish’s brain had become diseased; living all his life in a bogie-ridden Highland stronghold, in an atmosphere of Gaelic tupe. stition ; he would be better without Alistor hovering about him and ministering to bis fancies, and I must do my best to drag him into society.’ ‘ Where’s the parade ? I’ve never seen it yet,’ he remarked. I marched him eastwards forthwith. It was half-past twelve on a bright autumn morning the sun was shining, the sea dancing, bevies of pretty children frolicking on the shingle, and three of the prettiest girls in Clnqhaven taking a brisk turn after bathing, The very prettiest bowed to me, and looked as if we might come and talk to her if we liked ; but all that M’Leish said was ; ‘ It was a bad place for working, and that he wanted to go into the town and buy some red ink !’

‘This way,’ I said ; ‘you don’t mean to say you’ve not been down the Lady’savenue ?’

We turned through a gate into the cool shade of some pollard elms, that made a bowery walk along some low-lying meadows to the town.

• Some dead and gone country lady—bless her considerate soul —planted this grove and bequathed it to the town ; it’s the prettiest thing in Cinqhaven. ’ {To be continued)