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proudly wear medals of their own winning, even if they do so side by side with those gained by their forefathers. Yes, those thousand picked men of that fine Imperial Contingent will have been so many Peace missionaries bringing back news of the loyalty as well as of the wealth and beauty of that fair England beyond the sea.
Not less emphatically will these tidings be endorsed by the welcome extended to their King's son and his gracious young wife when they too landed on those smiling shores a few months later. The message their Royal Highnesses brought was to the same effect, and received in the same spirit of love and gratitude. At all events it will not be our fault if our kinsmen beyond the sea, especially in the Islands of New Zealand, do not understand how we valued the splendid help they gave the Empire in its hour of need, and how grateful we are for it. I was reading a little while ago some of the evidence taken before the War Commission last year, and saw that one of the Generals was asked if he had, at any time, any of the many New Zealand Contingents under his command. 'I am sorry to say I had not,' was the reply, and I felt just as personally proud of the answer as though I were a New Zealander myself, and all for the sake of those dear distant days and the good friends who helped to make them so happy.
Ibam forte via sacrâ sicut meus est mos.-HOR. Sat. i. 9.
AT 5.10 on the 23rd of June,
Following my custom of an afternoon,
I strolled up Piccadilly towards the Row.
I found my arm 'pumphandled' up and down
By one I think the greatest Bore in town.
'My dear old chap,' the coarse-tongued idiot cried
I gulped this down, Heaven knows what I replied-
I seldom meet you now; like me, no doubt,
Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
As sings our Tennyson, you have marred good fare,
'Twas ill, but it is over; fare you well;
But quit the town from Hyde Park to Pall Mall;
To stir mild bloods, and that's the Dinner Table.'
'Do you write now? You know I always thought,
In spite of all the critics, you had caught
The day may come when some one I could name
'Where were you going when we met?' said he;
'Of course he did! Well, Pont Street's in my way;
And more than once has asked me to belong.
He funks, thought I, because he saw me grin;
Besides, those Romans were a feeble lot;
Their Emperor, too, was mad, which Blank is not.
So mused I; he went lying on alone
About great people he could scarce have known ;
VOL. XVI.-NO. 93, N.S.
Until-I very much at odds with fate-
Than she who sent the Mantuan to that wood
I blest my stars that Charles was not my name-
She was my Guardian Angel: quick as thought
E. H. PEMBER.
BY ANDREW LANG.
III. THE CASE OF ALLAN BRECK.
WHо killed the Red Fox? What was the secret that the Celts would not communicate to Mr. R. L. Stevenson, when he was writing 'Kidnapped'? Like William of Deloraine, I know but may not tell'; at least, I know all that the Celt knows. The great-grandfather and grandfather of a friend of mine were with James Stewart of the Glens, the victim of Hanoverian injustice, in a potato field, near the road from Ballachulish Ferry to Appin, when they heard a horse galloping at a break-neck pace. 'Whoever the rider is,' said poor James, 'he is not riding his own horse.' The galloper shouted, Glenure has been shot!'
'Well,' said James to his companion, 'whoever did it, I am the man that will hang for it.'
Hanged he was. The pit in which his gibbet stood is on the crest of a circular 'knowe,' or hummock, on the east side of the Ballachulish Hotel, overlooking the ferry across the narrows, where the tide runs like a great swift river.
I have had the secret from two sources; the secret which I may not tell. One informant received it from his brother, who, when he came to man's estate, was taken apart by his uncle. You are old enough to know now,' said that kinsman, and I tell you that it may not be forgotten.' The gist of the secret is merely what one might gather from the report of the trial, that though Allan Breck was concerned in the murder of Campbell of Glenure, he was not alone in it.
The truth is, according to tradition, that as Glenure rode on the fatal day from Fort William to his home in Appin, the way was lined with marksmen of the Camerons of Lochaber, lurking with their guns among the brushwood and behind the rocks. But their hearts failed them, no trigger was drawn, and when Glenure landed on the Appin side of the Ballachulish Ferry, he said, 'I am safe now that I am out of my mother's country,' his mother having been of clan Cameron. But he had to reckon with the man with the gun, who was lurking in the wood of Letter More ('the great Copyright, 1904, by Andrew Lang, in the United States of America.