s 6 2120 7 T Western Meeting. 8 F Marlborough Races. 9 S Paisley Regatta. 10 Thirteenth Sun. aft. Trinity.s 6 26 18 11 M Cr.-Eng. v. Scot., Edinburgh. r 5 30 19 r 5 3321 9 13 s 6 17 22 9 50 r 5 3623 10 37 6 35 7 0 7 25 7 55 s 6 122411 35 8 40 9 25 Fourteenth Sun. aft, Trinity.r 5 3925 Morning 10 10 10 55 18 M Pontefract Races. 19 T Bedford Races. 20 W Leicester Races. 26 T Newmarket First October Meet. s 5 49 4 7 30 4 15 4 30 Barnet Fair ..................................... Western Meeting.. * 21 21 12 Newmarket F. O.... ... 26 13 | Chesterfield .............. 26 14 Walsall .................. 27 6 Pontefract ................ 18 Northallerton 7 Bedford .................. 19 Perth .................. 28 7 Leicester.................. 20 Monmouth................ 28 Rochester and Chatham.... 7 Manchester Autumn ...... 21 Limerick ................ 28 Weymouth THE BLACK STAG OF CORRIE-GARRAN. BY GREYBEARD. PART II. "There will be grand doings this day before noon," said Angus the hawk-eyed, as he strode up the hill in the early dawn, and talked merrily to his comrades about the coming sport. There's a bonny lad we know of, down bye at Maclure, and the Chief will give him all he can, from sport to earnest, my men,-and who but he?-when the white rose blooms in the garden, and the black-bird sings in the copse.” With which, metaphorical expression of his political sentiments, Angus snapped his fingers in true Highland merriment, and whistled the popular melody of "Carle now the King's come ?" The hillmen looked on each other in mute astonishment. For years Angus had scarce been seen to smile; nay, since the Chief's first feast in the halls of his ancestors, his foster-brother had been a moody, silent man; and now here he was, laughing, capering, and whistling Jacobite airs like a very boy-could he be "fey" as the Highlanders term it, signifying that state of mind the exact reverse of his usual character, which they believe precedes immediate death in a doomed man? Whatever might be his approaching destiny, Angus stepped merrily out, to marshal his party at the post they were to occupy when the grand drive should commence, and all the deer on the hills should be crowded into a narrow circle for the amusement of Maclure and his illustrious guest. Ah! in those days a Highland Chieftain was somebody, and his sports were those of a monarch in his own wild domains. When the Maclure signified his intention of amusing himself in his forest, the Clan rose far and wide, to obey the behests of their Lord. In the grey dawning they marshalled their numbers clad in tartans, aye and bristling with steel; for these gatherings, peaceful as might be their object, afforded no bad trial to the Chief of the numbers and efficiency of his "following." Breaking up into small parties, they spread themselves far and wide over the mountains, extending their line to a circle which should comprise an entire district, and so narrowing and narrowing, till every living object within its bounds should be hemmed in by a human wall from which there was no escape. The wild deer in the corrie rose from his lair, at the first sound of a step upon the heather, the first taint of his enemy on the beeeze. As he shook the night dews from his flank, and towered erect in his native majesty, turning his crowned head from side to side, a very monarch of his kind, he be "The black-bird" was a pass word by which his adherents signified the young Chevalier, as the white rose was the cognizance of his party. Alas that they should have dyed her scarlet in loyal blood! trayed no timid irresolution, no wild panic like the meaner animals: his seemed to be but the consciousness "Which showed a sense of danger nigh, But had no touch of fear," and anon snuffing the keen air, he stepped proudly and slowly after the hinds, already, with the instinct of their sex, flying headlong into the very arms of the enemy. But soon a distant shout was heard in the glen, and he paused once more to run over his tactics as it were, and determine on his course. Faintly answered, as by an echo, the noble animal's instinct seemed baffled, and neglecting the wind, he sought for a well-known refuge in some low-lying wood, or deep dark gully. Again the shout struck on his scared senses, and his keen eye could distinguish the tartans fluttering on the wind. He bounded to the mountain brow, and the glen below was dotted with men. He turned towards the loch, but yell and war-cry resounded from its borders. Hemmed in at all points, his native courage would return with the occasion, and placing himself at the head of a herd, the hinds and calves in the rear, the weaker harts in the centre, and the antlered champions in the front, he would make his charge where the foe seemed weakest, and strive to break gallantly through in a dash for life and freedom. Sometimes this would prove effective, and the clansmen would be obliged to throw themselves on their faces, and allow the whole herd to pass over their prostrate bodies; but more often the charging band were broke and scattered, and shot down, running hither and thither in aimless haste and confusion. Screened by a huge cairn of grey stones stood the Maclure and his principal retainers, their firelocks ready, themselves eagerly awaiting the game. A little in front of the group, and receiving their homage as one born to it, a tall fair young man leaned upon a beautifully-mounted Spanish fire-lock, and turned occasionally to his host, to exchange some pleasantry, not much connected with the business in hand. He seemed no keen sportsman ; perhaps he flew at higher game than even royal stags. He was obviously rallying the handsome Chieftain on some tender subject, and Maclure was blushing like a girl. "Patience, my friend," said the Chevalier; for it was indeed "The King of the Hieland Hearts-bonnie Prince Charlie," with his soft winning voice and half foreign accent. "She will not expect us yet." Ah! Maclure! you are in a narrower circle than all the game in your forest, shot through the heart like any stag of ten." The chain is but a lock of silken hair, yet is it strong as forged iron. But patience, my friend, what is an object without its difficulties? If a woman is worth having, is she not worth waiting for? Even as he spoke, a shadow stole over the Princes' brow; it was seldom long absent from that fair young forehead, though doomed never to ache beneath a crown. It may be fancy, but it seems to us that we can trace a presentiment of coming evil in the lineaments of all the house of Stuart. It stands forth boldly pourtrayed on the noble countenance of the martyr; and even his son, the Merry Monarch, albeit a sovereign of anything but melancholy temperament, bears in most of his portraits the seal of his ill-fated race. A physiognomist looking on any picture we have ever seen of Charles Edward, would say at the first glance "A sweet expression, denoting kindness of heart and an affectionate disposition;" at the second, "Weakness of temperament, vacillation of purpose, and an habitual foreboding of evil." But the trampling of the stags, as they rushed wildly up the glen, and the shouts of the retainers, warned Maclure of the approach of the game; and seizing the Prince's arm in the excitement of the moment, he intreated him to mark the finest harts as the victims of his own noble hand. "See, your Highness," he cried, while his eye brightened and his nostril dilated, "yon black stag, leading the parcel they have driven in from Corrie-Garran ;" mark him for your own, as well he should be, for by the spirit of Red John' he is royal to the tips of his antlers!" But the Prince could not see the Black Stag; and, indeed, none of the clan seemed to perceive him, save only Angus the hawkeyed, who was driving in the herd from Corrie-Garran, with a degree of excitement quite foreign to his usual staid and sullen demeanour. And now the affair became hot and confused. The victims rushed hither and thither-the stags lowering their antlers in savage despair. Shout on shout rose upon the breeze, and the sharp shots rang from rock and cairn, as stag after stag rolled over in his death-pang. The Prince killed several fine harts, the neighbouring chiefs and gentlemen were busily engaged in the work of slaughter, and Maclure was still marshalling his party and furthering the sport, when he was again aware of the Black Stag charging boldly up the pass; his head lowered, his eye red, and his nostril snorting defiance to his foes-what a prize! The Maclure was quick of eye and ready of hand. Rapidly as the animal sped by him, as rapidly his finger touched the trigger. A quick sharp report, a heavy dull sound, a smothered groan, and the Black Stag sped on through the circle unseen by all, save Maclure and one other now gasping out his life-blood on the heather. Angus the hawk-eyed, in his eagerness to drive the game towards his Chief, had got into the direct line of fire, and the bullet had done its errand only too effectually. "Loose the dogs," gulped the dying Hill-man, as the blood rose to his lungs and throat.' "I saw the daylight through him, and my Chief's weapon never fails. Oh Maclure! Maclure!" As he spoke these words in a tone of the most intense love and devotion, the vassal bent over his Chief's hand, vainly endeavouring to stanch his death-wound-kissed it-groaned once more, and died. Hawkeyed Angus! foster-brother to the Maclure! you thought it a little thing to load your soul with murder, and give your life on the hill-side in your prime, for him whose name you bore. Such was a vassal's devotion to his chief, little more than a hundred years ago. Such was the power for good and evil of the strong hearts of the North, in what we are now fain to call the Olden Time. The first part of Euchan's vision was fulfilled. Bran and Luath (himself and Angus) had passed to their account, through the portals of sudden and violent death. "Time works wonders," that which is worth having, as Prince Charlie said, is worth waiting for; and ere Maclure had reached the prime of manhood, difficulties had been smothered over, obstacles had vanished, and fair Helen Grahame was at length to be his bride. The attachment was of many years' standing, but the course of true love runs no smoother for a Highland Chief than for the rest of mankind, and Maclure had passed many a year of weary longing anxiety, ere he found himself at the goal which he had so eagerly striven to attain. Now-a-days all these matters are facilitated over much-boys and girls take their leap in the dark with the connivance of relatives and the congratulations of friends: perhaps when they are men and women they find out they have been too hasty. But in those stormy times, when political feelings were indulged to the extreme bounds of malevolence, when feudal hatred was cherished with rancorous animosity, many a loving couple were separated by barriers which wrath and prejudice rendered insurmountable, and faith, constancy, and true-heartedness were every-day qualities brought into play in real life, instead of being, as now, the vain illusions that make up the golden dream of Romance. Great were the rejoicings in Glen-Garran. Bonfires smoked upon the hills. The clan were mustered in their most gallant array; maidens gathered posies before every cottage and "shieling ;" stalwart hill-men danced and wrestled and made sport on the Castle-green; healths were shouted to the happy pair, and we may be sure the whisky was not spared at the wedding of Maclure. "All went merry as a marriage-bell," the pipers played and strutted in the van, as the procession wound its way back from the kirk to the Castle, and Maclure walked proudly by her side, for whose sake he would have gladly given up name and pomp and feudal power and wide possessions, nay, life itself. Helen was a pale fragile woman, yet was she beautiful exceedingly, with that beauty which springs direct from the soul, irrespective of features and colouring, and which is, of all others, the most fatal attribute, when man has once felt its force. The bright eye may grow dim, the rosy cheek may pale, the faultless face lose its power, with its perfection of outline and regularity of feature ; but the pure type of womanhood, the loving and loveable expression, sinks deeper and deeper into the heart, the longer and better it is known; and whilst those who are insensible to the charm mock and wonder at the infatuation, the worshipper himself yields up his freedom without a murmur, and hugs the chain that coils round him in links which time itself but rivets faster and more surely. Such is the spell signified by the fabulous cup of Circe-the mythical girdle of Venus: such is the face that haunts the wise man's dreams and breaks the strong man's heart. A proud and happy husband was Maclure, as his bride clung fondly to his arm, and looked up into his face; yet was not his happiness without a shadow, his pride without a pang of misgiving and alarm. We have most of us felt the same nameless dread when some great object has been attained, when life seems to have offered us all it has to bestow, and fortune has placed us at the very summit of her wheel. Is it an instinct of mortality to tell us how that wheel must ever keep revolving, and how the next must of necessity be a downward turn? Is it a warning of the mutability of life, the uncertainty of everything except the grave? or is it the sad conviction impressed on all, even the youngest of us, by the lessons of experience, that disappointment is one of the conditions of existence? Be it how it may, a shade crossed Maclure's handsome brow, as he pressed the arm that rested on his own, and thought how well he could bear to part with everything but her. So they walked on towards the Castle, and still |