"A proper weapon," quoth the laird. "I think you ought to give it to me."

"By no manner of means," returned the Coutts. "I trust I can use it as well as any of the Fleming name."

"Say'st so, friend; and what if I take it from you with my

mother's distaff?"

"Verily it shall be thine to have and to hold."

The little Fleming ran for his weapon, and the pass at arms commenced, and ended also, for one cunning hit, and the sword fell from the Coutts' hand, and passed out of his possession. It was handled to some purpose in the '45, you may believe. Prospere procede et regna." Oh! Little Fleming of Auchintoul !

And who a bonnier boy or braver lad of them all than Malcolm Durward of Mullach, a descendant of the famous Allan Mac Ian Dhorsair-'ic-Dhaulain. Malcolm, strong as the strongest, even as his forefather, and valiant among the men of war, joining the cunning of the serpent to the gentleness of the dove. Shall I commemorate his adventure when, returning home from the south with a lade of meal, during one of the hard years, and accompanied by a party of his countrymen, "late, late in the gloaming," he arrived at Brachly? There, then, was an hostelry. After all was done that man could do to rouse the inmates of the place that the wayfarers might refresh themselves, and all was done in vain, Malcolm loaded his garron again and prepared to depart. His companions persisted in remaining. They hoped for succour from within against hope.

"Friends," said Malcolm, "though I may not enjoy your company and the good cheer, if you are determined to get in, in you must get."

He seized a huge stone and hurled it against the door, which was shivered to pieces, and immediately bore away. This was the style in which landlords of the Forbes M'Kenzie order had their houses opened up to the public a hundred years ago. The friends of the Durward, you may well imagine, had an evil quarter of an hour to pass, when the hornets rushed out of their disturbed nest. Those same Gordons of Glenmuick, as narrated in the legend of the Invereys, were a vicious race.

"It fell upon a day, a bonnie summer day," that Malcolm, with his bosom friend, was travelling in the South. They felt tired and thirsty, wayworn and weary, and-evil-betide them—not a soul of a sinner of a lowland carle would sell or give them a bite or sup, and never an inn for miles and miles on their weary

way.

"I'll tell you what it is," broke from Malcolm, "here is a nice farm by the wayside before us, now you must get ill of the

small pox-very ill, indeed-and if I don't make something out of the indwellers, I wonder at the nature of men."

"Here I am, dead sick then, and not able to walk."

The Durward gathered his friend up in his arms like a baby, and walked towards the farmhouse door. A short distance from it he laid down his burden on the green, and gave a sounding knock. Two or three persons came forth.

"Here," said Malcolm, "is a man dying of small-pox' groans and contortions on the part of the sufferer" and I am so wearied and done out I cannot carry him farther."

Great stir, bustle, and confusion, and greater consternation among the farmers. Great commiseration and pity. They cannot receive a man ill of such a malady. They would give anything to the Durward to carry his friend to the next town. Accordingly they bring the best of good things to the door, stores of potatoes and beef, flagons of good ale, pitchers of milk, and multitudinous drams, and while our hero regaled himself, his friend writhed and groaned in fearful agony, doing the part of the sick man.

Just before starting he gave the poor fellow a drink. Once they had got some distance away again, his comrade began to complain grievously of unfair treatment.

"And what would you have, you ruffian? Who ever heard of a man dying of small-pox taking a full diet? Then the invention was mine, and I have carried you a good mile of road, and, by Odin, I won't stand any such nonsense. Down and walk, you villanous cheat."

By degrees Malcolm relented, and agreed to do the man dying of small-pox at the next farm they reached. The honest lads did not again want for good cheer during their journey.

In the Prony of Gairn lived Cattenach, and Cattenach was a warrior who had shed much blood-even Cattenach the Curst. Now, if anything vexed his spirit, it was the fame of the prowess of Malcolm, descended of Allan MacIan Dhorsair-'ic - Dhaulain. He girt on his arms, and thrusting a brace of loaded pistols into his pocket, marched away up to the Mullach.

"If he beats me, I'll just shoot him," was the beginning and end of his meditations by the way. He found Malcolm busy thrashing his corn, who, after hearing him out, replied:

"Well, well, if it must be a shake o' fa', e'en let us have it

out."

At the first twist, down went Cattenach.

"Hullo!" cried Malcolm, "what in the name of all the curst Cattenachs is this you have in your breast. It feels wickedly hard for a man to fall on, and you ought to be ashamed of such tricks."

He at the same time took the liberty of verifying "the hards," which came forth to day in the shape of the brace of pistols.

"Ah! well you may keep them," remarked the accursed. Had you not made the discovery, however, I intended to have shot you, provided, as has happened, I were defeated in the shake o' fa"."

"Well, never mind, Mr Cattenach; I am much obliged to you; good day to you. Capital articles they look; a person never knows how soon he may need such arms."

They were the best friends possible-Malcolm and the accursed-and went out, shoulder to shoulder, to Drummossie Moor.

Neither let me forget of the men of Gairn, Captain M'Grigor of Inverigny, the son of the notorious Calam of Balader and Tullich, who is treated of by the worthy and Rev. Jas. Robertson of the three united parishes, nor his relatives, the two captains M'Grigor of Torran and Richarkarie, sons of a father equally obnoxious to the same pious minister, as may be seen in the list of papists prefixed to Blakhal's narrative. [Spalding Club Publications.]

Conspicuous, too, among the men of Mar, stood Cattenach of the Bealachbuidh. What of him-do you ask mee-what of muckle Cattenach? Well, he was a stout lad about the time of Sheriffmuir-a brave man who has passed away-proud and high in his bearing, to be cowed by no laird or lord in the land. He had, naturally, his ill-wishers, and he was reported to the Earl of Mar as a reckless depredator on his moors and forests, and a great destroyer and hewer down of many noble trees. The Earl wrote him a letter, reproaching him for his behaviour, and citing him to appear before him on his first visit to Braemar. Cattenach preserved preciously the Earl's missive, little wotting its contents, for few could read or write in those times. One cold, wet day he had to pass at the ferry of Carn-a-chuimhne. The boatman's house was also a kind of tavern, and when Cattenach, on being ferried over, entered there he found a large crowd collected, abusing a priest whom they had taken prisoner.

"What the Devil's ado here?" inquired Cattenach. Then, addressing the priest, he added: "Come along with me, sir, come along with me.

"Oh!" replied he, in bad Gaelic, "these people won't let me."

"Rise, sir," returned Cattenach, "and let me see the man that will hinder you."

The fellows looked aghast: none of them cared to incur the anger of Him of Bealachbuidh, and they allowed the priest to go.

He was Alexander, one of the Glencat Gordons, and then priest on Gairnside. Having secured his aid and skill, our friend produced the Earl of Mar's letter, which Mr Gordon read. The contents put the mighty man into high dudgeon; but he said little.

"I would wager my head Invercauld is at the bottom of this, the miserable wretch."

Who the informer was is not clear. Cattenach was satisfied with his first conclusion, and determined to punish the laird. An opportunity to do so was not long a-coming. Farquharson had occasion to go to Aberdeen, and was to return home on some appointed day. Cattenach armed, and went over to the woods west of Inver, where, with loaded gun, he determined to await the laird's arrival. Happily Invercauld learnt what he might expect, and took the short cut through the hills by Philagie, to avoid the rencounter. His servant was instructed to proceed by the usual route to prevent suspicion. When he reached the spot where our hero lay, he beheld with terror and trepidation a gun levelled at his person; but, with great presence of mind, he raised himself well in his stirrups, and turned round as if to look for some one he expected to come up and join him. Cattenach allowed him to pass; but as he went on slowly he continually turned round, always looking back for the still non-approaching fellow-traveller.

"What want you, so often turning round in that way? y?" gruffly demanded Cattenach.

"I'm looking for the laird," replied the servant, “and I wonder what detains him."

But when he got beyond gunshot he struck the spurs into his horse, and quickly and cleverly gave Bealachbuidh a wide berth, depend upon it. Invercauld did not give his enemy another opportunity to put his designs into execution.

On the arrival of Mar in the country, he was told that his letter had enkindled Cattenach's anger, and that Cattenach was a very dangerous man. The earl, therefore, sent him a messenger, to say that he need not trouble himself to respond to the summons he had received; in fact the earl did not want to see him.

"Ah but," returned Cattenach, buckling on his sword, “I want to see the earl."

He forced his way into his lordship's presence, as he sat in the castle in consultation with a posse of the gentlemen of the country.

"My lord, it appears I have been accused of cutting down and wasting your wood. It is true I have taken a tree now and again, like others of your tenants; but, my lord, there are those

M

sitting there with you, who have bought lands with the profits made by cutting and selling your wood.”

Not a man spoke a word.

Perhaps," continued he, "you would find them far less ready to help you in a strait than Cattenach of the Bealachbuidh, on whom it is attempted to lay all the blame."

The earl adopted conciliatory measures. He made a friend of Cattenach, and restored peace between him and Invercauld; and Cattenach went out and distinguished himself under Mar at Perth in 1715.

No one was more obnoxious to the redcoats who came into the country to disarm the people after the suppression of that rising than Cattenach. He put them at defiance-often indeed making narrow escapes from their pursuit. On one occasion, at Bellastraid in Cromar, he killed an officer commanding a party of men from Aboyne, and fled to the woods of Inchmarnock. On another occasion the soldiers stole on him while asleep among the woods near his own house. One of them, his friend at heart, made some noise as they approached, for which he was afterwards severely taken to task. In spite of this warning twelve stout fellows had their hands on his gun I when he started up awake; but he held the butt-end with his left hand, and the whole twelve could not wrench it from him. More men, however, were approaching, and Cattenach, drawing his dirk, came a slash down the gun-barrel that effectually rid him for the time of his visitors.

The head officer finding force of no avail, and yet having the strictest orders to disarm every fighting man in the district, saw he must temporise. He sought out Cattenach, and explained to him what measures he must enforce.

"Now let us come to an understanding. I have a capital gun here, you see, and I make a present of it to you. You will, as a man of honour, return the favour, by coming to-morrow down to the Inver, and in public presenting me with yours."

The officer was a decent youth-he was not to blame for any harshness to the Highlanders, and Bealachbuidh did not wish to bring him into disgrace; so he accepted the gun, and on the morrow, as agreed, handed in his own at the Inver.

Cattenach also distinguished himself in an affair with the Kern. Acting with a body of the Braemar men in clearing the hills of these marauders, they fell in with a party of them on the Cairnwall. The captain, as tall, powerful, and handsome a man as the Highlands could boast, unable, from inferiority in point of numbers to cope with the Mar men, challenged their captain or any other among them to single combat. The sense of honour among the Highlanders would not permit Invercauld,