fated rider still wears the same green cloak which covered him in his
last battle; and he is particularly distinguished by the small size of
his head, a peculiarity which, we suspect, the learned disciples of
Spurzheim have never yet had the sagacity to discover as indicative of an
extraordinary talent and incomparable perseverance in horsemanship.

It is now above three hundred years since Ewen-a-chin-vig (_Anglice_,
Hugh of the Little Head) fell in the field of honour; but neither the
vigour of the horse nor of the rider is yet diminished. His mournful
duty has always been to attend the dying moments of every member of his
own tribe, and to escort the departed spirit on its long and arduous
journey. He has been seen in the remotest of the Hebrides; and he has
found his way to Ireland on these occasions long before steam navigation
was invented. About a century ago he took a fancy for a young man of his
own race, and frequently did him the honour of placing him behind himself
on horseback. He entered into conversation with him, and foretold many
circumstances connected with the fate of his successors, which have
undoubtedly since come to pass.

Many a long winter night have I listened to the feats of Ewen-a-chin-vig,
the faithful and indefatigable guardian of his ancient family, in the
hour of their last and greatest trial, affording an example worthy the
imitation of every chief,--perhaps not beneath the notice of Glengarry
himself.

About a dozen years since some symptoms of Ewen's decay gave very general
alarm to his friends. He accosted one of his own people (indeed he never
has been known to notice any other), and, shaking him cordially by the
hand, he attempted to place him on the saddle behind him, but the
uncourteous dog declined the honour. Ewen struggled hard, but the clown