CHAPTER II.

His mother could for him as cradle set
Her husband's rusty iron corselet;
Whose jangling sound could hush her babe to rest,
That never plain'd of his uneasy nest;
Then did he dream of dreary wars at hand,
And woke, and fought, and won, ere he could stand.--HALL'S SATIRES

It was towards the close of a summer's evening, during the anxious
period which we have commemorated, that a young gentleman of quality,
well mounted and armed, and accompanied by two servants, one of whom led
a sumpter horse, rode slowly up one of those steep passes, by which the
Highlands are accessible from the Lowlands of Perthshire. [The beautiful
pass of Leny, near Callander, in Monteith, would, in some respects,
answer this description.] Their course had lain for some time along the
banks of a lake, whose deep waters reflected the crimson beams of the
western sun. The broken path which they pursued with some difficulty,
was in some places shaded by ancient birches and oak-trees, and in
others overhung by fragments of huge rock. Elsewhere, the hill, which
formed the northern side of this beautiful sheet of water, arose in
steep, but less precipitous acclivity, and was arrayed in heath of the
darkest purple. In the present times, a scene so romantic would have
been judged to possess the highest charms for the traveller; but
those who journey in days of doubt and dread, pay little attention to
picturesque scenery.

The master kept, as often as the wood permitted, abreast of one or both
of his domestics, and seemed earnestly to converse with them, probably
because the distinctions of rank are readily set aside among those who