CLAN-ALBYN, A National Tale. CHAPTER I. No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear, POPE. IN a dark and stormy night in November 17-, Ronald Macalbyn, a Scottish Highlander, left the hamlet of L- to cross the mountains to Glen-Albyn, a solitary and remote valley in the Western Highlands. In the person of Ronald were invested the various trades of blacksmith, farmer, distiller, and drover; and in the last capacity, he had just been attending a cattle fair, annually held at L- -, as agent for the little community to which he belonged. The leave of absence which Ronald had obtained from his wife was for one day; but at the fair he had met with many clansmen and old friends, and his social propensities were of the most ardent kind. It was on the evening of the third day that he reluctantly bent his way homeward, revolving some probable tale with which to appease the anticipated clamours of his help-mate. Like most of the procrastinating sons of mortality, Ronald had averted the evil day as long as possible. In the midst of his jollity, the idea of his wife had, indeed, intruded; but it still fled before the jests of Mr. Wingate, top-master to an English drover, and the pipe of Piper Hugh;" or was drowned amid the quaighs of Fairntosh with which he laboured to keep his spirits buoyant. It was now when alone, and exposed to the fury of the tempest, that all the terrors of the reception he expected congregated in dismal array before him; and the thunder* which broke on the surrounding mountains, rolling in long, deep peals through the * In the West Highlands thunder is very common in winter. heck on the stunned ear in awful reverberation, chod but Mit elka of the more dreaded moral thunders A thirty years experene had taught Ronald to anticipate. “H. & in hart of a Christian," thought Ronald, “let alone of a wins and namesita de culd not sold to-night;" and hẹ wild an add ma, wrapser round a fine plaid shawl which he had purchased at the dip as an amoring of peace. "Had Se the soul of a Macallyn, she would pity me." And the * sprota of Ronald's fancy appeared so like high treason seuns the powers that were, that he feared to give it a local habiforiem in his mind maà me to embody it in words; for the laws mogenised in his household, assimilating to those of the realm, made it death even to imagine evil of the supreme authority, The tempest rund with increasing violence; and Ronald, leaving his track to the steacity of his horse, continued to frame and reject ☛ thousand plans for palliating his conduct, or averting its punishment, as he skirted the mountains “I will intreat old Mocme to plead for me," he exclaimed at Tast; and, delighted with this idea, he was urging on his horse, when the animal suddenly stopped short and refused to advance. Ronald, who could have faced an opposing host of his own species with an unblanched check, and found courage in danger, felt all he national awe and dread of beings of a superior nature. Now, it was well known to Ronaid, that both horses and dogs can discover Spirits invisible to human ken-his wife had often assured him hat his nocturnal rambles would tempt some supernatural visitant he began to think his hour was come; and, in a voice that shook ith terror, demanded, "if any one stopped the way." No answer as returned. He again attempted to make his horse proceed, but Tie animal was rooted to the spot; and, to confirm his worst fears, 1 dog began to howl most piteously. Ronald, nearly distracted ith terror, shouted in a louder tone, and, mingled with the echoes f his own words, fancied he distinguished the faint murmurs of a male voice. His courage instantly revived, and, heartily ashamed his fears, he alighted, and leading his horse forward a few paces, 1iscovered a female leaning on a cliff by the side of the path. "Tis a sad night," said Ronald, in Gaelic. "Are you a stranger, ☛ a countrywoman? God help you! are you alone?" Ronald reived no intelligible answer; and he repeated his observation and terrogatory in the best English he was master of. Ronald inquired whither she was going. 66 voice; and To the next hamlet," she replied: "is it still far distant?" To Dunalbyn!" exclaimed Ronald; and if you can ride behind me, I give you a thousand welcomes." a tremulous voice the wandering female returned her thanks, then we shall go together; >at declined his offer. Ronald would strip off his slip-on, and con-->rt it into a pillion for her accommodation; this was likewise de-lined. "If she would ride alone, he would lead forward the horse." I cannot indeed," said she, earnestly; "when I have rested, I Zope I shall be able to go on." Half petted by her peremptory refusal, Ronald remounted, and slowly rode off. "It is a pitiful night for any Christian soul to be out and alone in the middle of Glenlenan," said Ronald, addressing his roughcoated steed; "and that a woman, a stranger too,-English, or Irish, or Lowland,—a soldier's wife, I warrant, crossing the countries, poor thing, to Fort- Well, women are all alike positive. It will be three in the morning before she gets through the glen; and then, a mighty likely thing that Mr. Daniel M'Pherson will open the New Inns to a soldier's wife: and then, the river to-night will be dreadfully swelled-the poor thing might be drowned." These probabilities smote the simple, but humane heart of Ronald. "I will return, and at least tell her of the stepping stones," thought he; "perhaps she is come to reason, and I will bring her home. She might be afraid to meet me in that lone place,-I will tell her whose husband I am." Ronald, besides the courteous hospitality of the national, and the kindness of the individual character, had a third motive for pressing the stranger to accompany him to his home. He knew that his wife, to a violent temper, united a generous disposition; and that her anxiety to welcome and accommodate the stranger would divert the displeasure his lengthened stay must have occasioned. He retraced his steps. "I am returned," cried Ronald, as he again approached the wandering female, "to tell you that the stepping-stones are now removed to the pebbly shallow, where the old willow dips into the stream, by 'the Cairn of the Hunter."" Ronald received no answer, but his ear caught a faint hollow moan, that seemed to announce the separation of body and spirit. He was instantly on his feet, and caught the unfortunate female in his arms, as she was sinking from an attempt to rise. "Don't be afraid, poor soul," said the kind-hearted Highlander, in a voice which instinctively softened to the expression of sympathy and encouragement; "don't be afraid of me, I shall take good care of you.-Don't you know that I am Ronald,-the smith's wife's husband?". "Ronald's wife's husband" received no answer; but in a short time he learned that his wretched companion was seized with the pangs of child-birth. 66 For the love of God, I pray thee, have me conveyed to the shelter of some roof, and to the care of some female; what a condition is mine!" and she shuddered with the mingled agony of body and spirit. Ronald placed her gently under the shelter of a projecting cliff, stripped off his upper garments, and wrapped them around her ;even the new shawl was put in requisition;—for Roland, forgetting that he was-"his wife's husband,"-only remembered that he was a man. The trampling of the horse's feet was the usual signal for Ronald's wife to commence her cannonade; but when she saw her husband, instead of his customary slow and hesitating mode of entrance, furiously dashing open the wattled door, she blessed |