too willingly have done anything in her power to make atonement for
the wrong that had been committed in the past. It was whilst almost
frenzied with thoughts of this distracting kind, that vague rumours
reached her ears of a great battle which had been fought, and ere long
this was followed by the news that the Pretender's forces had been
successful, and that he was about to be crowned at Scone. The shades
of evening were fast setting in as, overcome with the joyous prospect
of seeing her husband home again, she withdrew to her chamber, and,
flinging herself on her bed in a state of hysteric delight, fell
asleep. But her slumbers were broken, for at every sound she started,
mentally exclaiming "Can that be my husband?"

At last, the happy moment came when her poor overwrought brain made
sure it heard his footsteps. She listened, yes! they were his! Full of
feverish joy she was longing to see that long absent face, when, as
the door opened, to her horror and dismay, there entered a figure in
martial array without a head. It was enough--he was dead. And with an
agonizing scream she fell down in a swoon; and on becoming conscious
only lived to hear the true narrative of the battle of Sheriff-Muir,
which had brought to pass the Widow's Curse that there should be no
heir to the house of M'Alister.

This story reminds us of one told of Sir Richard Herbert, who, with
his brother, the Earl of Pembroke, pursuing a robber band in Anglesea,
had captured seven brothers, the ringleaders of "many mischiefs and
murders." The Earl of Pembroke determined to make an example of these
marauders, and, to root out so wretched a progeny, ordered them all to
be hanged. Upon this, the mother of the felons came to the Earl of
Pembroke, and upon her knees besought him to pardon two, or at least
one, of her sons, a request which was seconded by the Earl's brother,