nister, and Ellen trembled through fear at the idea of travelling armed. But Macbean knew his duty, and took care to have the pistols charged, and a sufficient quantity of powder and ball packed up.

"But you

do not go off to-night?"

said the minister.

"To-night, this very night, I go

off."

"But, by what boat will ye cross the ferry; or do ye go to Rothsay?"

"There is a boat to be ready for me a mile south of Mount Stuart." And though the minister had strong suspicions, that some smuggler was the master of this boat, the good man made no further enquiry.

Accordingly, taking leave of his friends, and employing none but his servant and Glass, who took each a portmanteau, St. Clyde (about halfpast eight) started for the place of ren

dezvous, and arrived just in time to witness the first signal of Whiggans. In about a minute it was answered by another a great way at sea, the second was answered by the second at sea, but visibly nearer land; the third of Whiggans was answered at such a distance as to make to be heard the monotonous and numbered chant of a Gaelic song, sung in a kind of a low recitative by the steersman. The dash of the oars, as they dipped in the slightly-ruffled deep, could be distinctly heard to be regulated by the notes of the song.

The words of the song Colin amused himself in translating.

Turn, warrior; in the western sky,

Is yon the moon o'er Iona's isle;

Gleaming in the wave, and flick'ring high
O'er the mouldering towers of the hoary pile?

No! round as Fingal's silver shield,

She sinks on Morven's gloomy hill;

But the light that gleams in the ocean field,
Is the holy saint of I-colm-kill.

In yonder isle, in steel-mail shroud,
A thousand warrior chieftains lie;
A thousand sceptered monarchs proud,
Sleep to the dirge of the sea-wave high!

Does the sun rise red on Carrick strand?
What flame streams wide and far?
'Tis the beacon led the Bruce's band,
O'er the midnight waves to war!

Still as death, save the rippling tide,
And the plash of the long-strained oar,
That desperate band to Albyn hied, ·
To win or to die on her shore.

And did they win?-Let Albyn light
Her patriot flame to the wave!
They're gone. But Iona still is bright
With glory on the hero's grave.

St. Clyde recollected the tradition, that on a certain night each year, St. Columba is seen on the ruins of Iona or I-colm-kill, counting the Hebridean islands; that in the monastery on this island the great lords of the isles, and the kings of Scotland, Ireland, and Norway, were buried: also the tradition, that when Robert Bruce, King

of Scotland, made his successful at tempt to regain his kingdom, there was seen from the Isle of Arran, where he had collected a few friends, a continued stream of light on the opposite shore, apparently on his own castle of Turnberry; taking this for a signal from his friends, or regarding it as a supernatural invitation, he sailed over in the night, and surprised the castle, from which time he had uninterrupted success; and, it is said, it was never known how the stream of light was raised but that was the age of superstition. And thus St. Clyde was occupied till Whiggans hailed the boat, which was rowed right into a creek; the men shipping their oars, the skiff entered to the very feet of Whiggans, by the impulse it had received, and three men sprung upon land with a nimbleness scarcely credible. It was the real tar hop-step-and-jump, that

brings his body curvated to a bow, and rocking almost from its equilibrium, to the post of duty, or out of harm's way. Only two of these fellows knew Colin, or had been at the action with the cutter.

"How far off is the vessel, Pringle ?" said Whiggans to the steersman.-"Not a mile, sir."" Then, as the boat is small, take the luggage and Mr. St. Clyde's man on board first, and come ashore again, only three men for Mr. St. Clyde and me."

Glass had occasionally fits of fear, and this night he had been particularly startled; for on coming through the avenues of the plantations round Mount Stuart house, the night being murkydark, and occasional livid flashes of lightning darting their forky beams through the trees; as Glass, who was in advance, was going on quite fearlessly, all on a sudden a flash of light