A Legend of 'Forty-Five

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 132, 8 September 1871, Page 6

A Legend of 'Forty-Five

" I was in the nursery at the time, as you i can understand; but the chief person of < the tale was mj father's closest friend, and < he was my counsellor in some kittle passes \ of my life in after days. He never mentioned this business himself; but my i father, who knew the particulars brawly, Used to tell it to me often, and he be- , queathed the story to me as one of his most valuable legacies." The old man's face brightened, and his i voice became firmer as he proceeded. " You see yon picture hanging on the , left of your mother, Balquherrie?—that was your grandfather, Hu K h Outrarn. You see what a black-a-vice chiel he was, and I can tell you there was a fire in his e'en whiles that made some folks say he j had the gift of second sight. At any rate, he had the pith of a giant in his arms, and ; the courage of a lion in his heart. He | could love—like a mother; he could hate—like a jealous wife. My story is about him. " He courted Mistress Graham, of Esk- [ bank ; he followed her night and clay; he was devoted to her body and soul —in fact,; he was clean crack about her. But she was won by Corbet of Dowiemuir. When that became known, Hugh Outram shut himself up here in Balquherrie, and would have no speech with any living creature ■ for a while. "At last my father got speaking with I him, and showed him the duties he was neglecting because of a disappointment that could not be helped, but could be \ easily enough mended. Hugh stepped out | of his shell and took up the work that was appointed for him, in seeing after the wel-: fare of those dependent on him. When he was told that Mistress Corbet had been brought to bed of a daughter, he said, 'Lord smile on the bairn,' although he never could be brought to say that he forgave Corbet. "Prince Charlie raised his standard in Glenfinnan, and Corbet was the first to! place himself under it, with all whom he could influence. Hugh took arms for the Government within a few days after ; but my father, who served with him, was satis-1 fied that he decided on this course more because of his hate for the man who had won his lady than because of his regard; for the House of Hanover. No doubt, he < had his thought of meeting him in battle j j and once, at the mention of the possibilit S of it, my father was frightened by the fie* that flamed in Hugh's e'en. i " Be that as it may, he did his duty we]l I and bravely. He would have prevented | Cope marching like a stray goose into the North while the rebels were, unchecked, I marching on the South, but his word was not heeded at the time. The Prince made a brilliant ran over the country; and at length the Duke of Cumberland chased him back to Culloden, where the Stuart cause was drowned in blood. | " After the battle there were days and j Weeks of persistent pursuit of the fugitive ; rebels. The mercenary troops were piti-. less; and men of our own country consented to, or took part in, cruelties that will shame the victory so long as the memory of them lasts. But Hugh Outram was disappointed if he had been calculating on coming across Corbet. So far they had not met. "He had command of a company of Hessians —the most malignant, because the most indifferent, of all the pursuers —and he was in chase of a score of rebels who j were making their way to the West. My father had twenty-three lads left of forty j . whom he had led from Pitnafour, and he waa on the same track as his friend. He* "had been received that the scattered

fugitives were rendezvousing in Lochaber with the intention of making a stand yet in defence of the Stuart, in spite of what had happened. The Duke was mightily wroth at this, and was not likely to show mercy to those who fell into his hands, still less to those who failed in the discharge of the savage duty entrusted to them.

"As it happened, the companies of Outram and of my father met in Glendhu, within three miles of Dowiemuir. They encamped for the night, and the two friends slept together in a shepherd's shieling. In the cold grey of morning j they were aroused by a Hessian, who ac- i quainted them that he had traced a rebel officer to a farm-house, distant only half a mile. They marched instantly on the place, surrounded the house, and the search commenced, hot and furious. " Nobody appeared to offer them oppo- • sition, and the house was as quiet as if there were not a living creature in it. The officers renamed outside, and soon the fellow who had raised the halloo stepped out of the house, carrying a greeting bairn in his arms. After him walked a lady with hair and dress disarranged, and a face white as a line Holland sheet, but steady as a rock. "She pleaded with them piteously to spare the life of her bairn, and the soldiers threaiened to stick it on the points of their bayonets unless she confessed where the father lay hidden. " She begged them to spare the child, but would not answer the question. "The bayonets were fixed, the bairn raised high in the arms of a big rascal, as if holding it i*eady to be impaled. " Still the woman pleaded, and would not hoar the condition on which alone her prayer would be granted. i " They said tiny would count six, and , tin.n proceed to the execution if she did not yield. They to count; and riie did not iiiu'.: 1 ! ».in'i! sii.- observed Ouli-av;. who grimly ■•,. • (•:hirg wept passed. Th n she trembli-d to her he-ds and groaned, sinking on the ground, for she cunclud.d that there was neither pity nor mercy to expeet front him for the wife and infant of Corbet of Dowiemuir. ''lt was the !a-L h,,>eJt Ou:r>uu w:-< jloL-Jiiiig at; his en-my and ail thnfc weie ' j•:• clous to liim weiv at his nieicr. No mini linl ev-r a hurer opportuniiy of w.': aking a t civil le; on hi.* foe, ; without moving a ringer; he h.nd on]y to 'r-. u.ain silent, and lie was assured of the tih-'vist retaliation for v.hat-ever he might are suffer- d. j " He turned to my father, who was curious as to v.hat he would do: J "'You must command here,' he said, I with b<g sobs in h.is ihroa.'.-, audtur'iingVs I bpcic on the scene ; ' but >ave the bairn ' ;.-nd spare the woman.' "The child was placed on the ground beside its mother, who .'.joked vriiji wide staring eyes at her preserver, recognising his kindness and yet doubting him. She seemed to have lost the power of moving | or sputking; but whtn she .>aw the sol* ; diers set fire to .the house fit the four cor* i Tiers, she started, clutching the bai/n io her bosom, her bloodshot eyes leaping from her head in fright. "When she >aw the flames spring wo to the thatch, and heard the halving j. :sls cackle, she louped to her feet, rind walked straight over to Hugh Outram. " ' Sir,' she said, ' you were once my friend ; it was Heaven's will that I should lose your friendship—but ycu are a man, and I a woman nigh mad with pain. My j husband, he lies in there, sick and wounded I sore, so that he cannot move, and, without. help, must die in the flames. You are his foe, at home and in the field; but, sir, he is my husband and the father of my bairn, and — Hove him.' " Hugh Outran* stood glowering at the

blaze that was working out his worst spite. The devil bade him stand still; but he looked at the woman's face; he listened to the greeting bairn, and he made an* swer: " ' Madam, your husband was my worst foe, but that shall not make me the less your friend. He has taken from me my best hope, but he shall not take from me your respect or my own.' " She first stared at him, not knowing what he meant to do, and aye the house was burning, and the names grew bigger. "He cried to my father, • Turn your face another way, Pitna, that you may not see me. Call off the lads, haste down the glen with them, and I will deliver the traitor to you without fail.' " My father guessed what he was meaning, and in pity for the lady did not say a word to the contrary. He called the sol. i diers together, and making them believe' that the rebel had escaped down the glen, led them away in full chase. " Oulrain asked the lady where her nan was huJing; she feared to answer, for she had heard him promise to deliver the traitor. He pointed to the burning house, laying: : " ' Trust me.' "She told him what he required to know, and he marched into the house, the Dairies hissing at him and scorching his I clothes, the beams crackling above him and tumbling about him, the smoke fluffing in his face, choking and blinding him. But, in spite of flame and smolio, he made his May to the hiding place of the rebel, and found him lying as though he were ah-eady dead. Oulram lifted his enemy in his arms and carried him out from the fiery grave to the place where M'*tr : i ss C-i ,: >il w.-.s on her praying (.iod to ' •.-jp and shivid jtr true friend., '■ iie laid him down on the ground beside her. First she looked at her jrur'iiitui. txnd saw chat life was in him yer, and ii. x< she look, d up at, her iVsend; but />.e I •.-ou'id nol speak a word. She dawtl»«t. i e J hair vjv-; m\>r.iy burnt off his head, an-.; • 's j h ! fr h;»nd was scarred, so that it bor<- ».'■•»> ! ma-'-k until the day he died. She tore 3;er gown and tied a strip of it round his hand. Then she got water from the w<ll and ; icilJu'd her luau's head and face, vLile the I h: 1 !i'n was croud! in g oji his bre'.it. ! " Out Mm u- ; ,( H ho- se And convey d ;l:.em !i've i.iiles up the gion to a shepherd's i iv.'.'i- Locii Fey—he was . b!v;od ;.■» liold Corbet in the saddle the whole ; rosd ; and rJiere was no speech passed bc- , • ~,:e<: t : -.cru. | " Bui when he had seen them bestowe 1 jii ilie to! and was going away, the laJy i Uf.:e:! up her ba-i.n —a lassie, I ought to \'.:iv:? :v\d. you—and br:de hor kiss ■ The woe tiii':;:, put her arms round his n?c!c and candied h'm, and ' s i« tremb'cl hike a willow wand in a storm. JVJ'.V ■ -.?,

Ccrbec ioooc : dovrn, widi ii'ir.sin .' u e'en i:o\\: and kissed Jbis hai.d.

"' God wii! bloss yo;: ( sir,* was all iliai: she could say. " He went and looked at Co.hef; where :.e Jay, heipiess and M.s?nMJ)le, bnt b:-gln-ni.r:w to breathe in a natsral way. "'H? wili live,' said Out-raw, stepping to the door, ' and I hope you will be Imp. tj. Think on me whiles; I am paying a high p ice for a kind place in your nicino■y—and I am content.' " She did not understand then how hig.i fne price was that lie was preparvd to pay; but afterwards she heard it all from iny father. " To him Outram went as fast as he could, and found him at the place where they had camped during the night. " ' I promised to deliver the traitor to you, Pitna,' he said, as quietly as though there was notliiug out of the ordinary in what he was doing, ' ami I keep faith with you. I am he—there is jay sword.' " He laid the sword down, and my fa-

ther took it up, after staring at him a minute, fancying he was mad. " ' I understand you,' Fitna answered. 'I know what you have done, and —although it was rash and perilous—damn it, sir, I think you acted nobly. Take back your sword; I can keep a secret.' "' No,' said Outram, shaking his head, 4 that would involve you in the penalty for my treason.' " He went straight to Cumberland himself, and the Duke received him graciously enough ; for his repute was high. " 'What is the penalty, excellency, for an officer under your command who aids a rebel to escape ?' he asked. "♦Death!" cried the Duke, loud and fierce, "' Then I yield to my fate,' he said, and told what he had done. "His Grace was furious, andOuimm was arrested. But his past services pleaded for him; and the President Forbes, with other gentlemen of weight, and whose ad» hcrence to the Government was beyond doubt, joined in an appeal for clemency. The Duke had not the grace to appreciate ; Outram's conduct, but he had discretion enough not to proceed to extremity in such ; a case as this. So the only punishment inflicted on Outram was the canceling of ! Lis commission, and that he did not as any loss. He was liberated, and spent hi:j days usefully at home."