good deal the worse for wear. Of his police, two had been killed in the first advance, and ten or a dozen in the fighting that followed the storming of the barricade, whilst one man had been shot dead and one stabbed by Grey Wolf in his last stand, and a score or so were suffering from knife or bullet wounds, five or six being pretty seriously injured. Still thirty or forty casualties was not a very stiff price for the capture of Grey Wolf and his band. The valley was now searched, and the property stolen from Liu-shou-ying recovered, and in addition a good deal more of valuable merchandise, the proceeds of other robberies. This was collected at Mang I's bivouac at the entrance to the valley, the prisoners, in spite of their wounds, being forced to carry it down and stack it. The next morning he marched to Sutschia and rounded up the inhabitants. Here he secured a dozen men who were said to have been Grey Wolf's spies, and who were added to the number of his captives. It may have been a coincidence that these were the most poverty-stricken of the village, whilst those who proved their innocence to his satisfaction were curiously eager to present him with a mark of their appreciation of hi valour in destroying this nest of evil-doers. Perhaps it should rather be taken as an apt illustration of our proverb, "Honesty is the best policy," for certainly those arrested had not prospered. They marched now by easy stages to Haicheng, Grey Wolf being carried in a large square cage, the sides formed of stout wooden bars, with a hole at the top through which his head protruded. The height of the cage was such that his feet barely touched the bottom boards, so that though he was spared the fatigue of walking, his journey can scarcely be described as an easy one. The roads were rough, and when his bearers stumbled. a not infrequent occurrence-he was swung off his feet, and was suspended by his head. At every village at which the procession halted he was a target for the small boys, so that he was a sorry-looking wreck when he reached the yamen at Haicheng. His trial may be said to have consisted of a sentence only, which was that he and his band were to be taken to Liu-shou-ying and executed on the scene of their crime. Over the details it were best to draw a veil, though it may be added that the Tao-tai kept his word to the two guides, who were set free after undergoing a flogging followed by a year's imprisonment, during which they frequently meditated with regret on Grey Wolf's end. E. F. KNOX, Lieut.-Col. BAGPIPE BALLADS. I. "MACLEOD'S LAMENT." ALLAN IAN OG MACLEOD of Raasay, Treasure of mine, lies yonder dead in Loos, Went so apparelled to the burial knowe, My grief! that Allan should depart so sadly, Who knew his history and spoke his tongue. Beside him, when he fell there in his beauty, With the dark girl Death. Oh Allan Ian Òg! Oh Allan aluinn! Sore is my heart remembering the past, It should have been the brave dead of the islands Gone like the mist the brave Macleods of Raasay, Their loves and memories ! II. "THE BRATTIE."1 The brattie for sweepin', the brattie for dirt! The mothers that bore us-the best ever stept! That the hame might be tidy, the children be spruce, Dirt will come down on ye, do what ye can, And cleanin' a steadin 's a task for a man, So we're up like our mothers at screioh o' the dawn, The thing to make Europe as clean as a whistle If ever we fight wi' true gentry again, We'll go in full tartan and meet them like men: But for muckin' a midden, and cleanin' out swine It were silly to dress in our Sunday array, So we'll dress like our work, as our mothers would say, 66 Drumore has a leash of daughters, and wants men for the three; 1 The brattie is the khaki apron of the Highland corps. Like a deer on the hill is Juliet, high breast and proud ocm mand; There's not a tree that's more composed, stands on her father's land; A lad might well surrender to that quick and tempting eye, With six milch-cows at pasture, and a fine strong mare forbye. There is not in all broad Albyn, no, nor in the realm of France, But there's something about Anna like a fine day in June, Though I cannot put the words to 't I could whistle 't to a tune; The king himself would cook his hat, and stop for to admire, Even if she were a gipsy by a roadside fire. Oh! cunning man is Cameron of Drumore, I know him well! It's the best bird of the clecking he would keep last to himsel'; Two-thirds of Patrick's family I would not have in gift; When he brings them to the market, I'll have Anna in her shift! IV. "FRASER'S FAREWELL.” Hail to thee and fare-thee-well! That kept me at your feet. I know now how the land beguiles, It was the magic of the isles The birken trees with sly intent Perfumes that from the moor arise, That voice so sweet on heathy ben Maternal Nature's petted child, Those very raptures I confessed, Were but the influence of the mist, Farewell! the bagpipe's battle air It summons from those isles to where For me there is no wizardry And steadfastness must ever be V. "LOCHABER NO MORE!" Farewell to Loohaber, farewell to the glen, The lad will return to Lochaber no more! O why should the hills last, that never were young, And he that was gallant be gone like a dream? But he will be silent who sang them the best; The dance will be waiting, the pipes will implore, But he will return to Lochaber no more! Child of the forest! profound is thy sleep, The valley that loved thee awakes but to weep; When our fires are rekindled at dawn of the morn, Our griefs burn afresh, and our prayers are forlorn; The night falls disconsolate, bringing no peace, No hope for our dreams, for our sighs no release; In vain come the true hearts and look from the door, For thou wilt return to Lochaber no more! NEIL MUNRO. |
