A Legend of Montrose | Page 9

I felt a natural desire, if possible, to correct what I
conceive to be a groundless imputation on the memory of my ancestor,
before it shall come to be considered as a matter of History. That he
was a man of violent passions and singular temper, I do not pretend to
deny, as many traditions still current in this country amply verify; but
that he was capable of forming a design to assassinate Montrose, the
whole tenor of his former conduct and principles contradict. That he
was obliged to join the opposite party, was merely a matter of safety,
while Kilpont had so many powerful friends and connexions able and
ready to avenge his death.
"I have only to add, that you have my full permission to make what use
of this communication you please, and either to reject it altogether, or
allow it such credit as you think it deserves; and I shall be ready at all
times to furnish you with any further information on this subject which
you may require, and which it may be in my power to afford.

"ARDVOIRLICH, 15TH JANUARY, 1830."
The publication of a statement so particular, and probably so correct, is
a debt due to the memory of James Stewart; the victim, it would seem,
of his own violent passions, but perhaps incapable of an act of
premeditated treachery.
ABBOTSFORD, 1ST AUGUST, 1830.
*
II. INTRODUCTION (Supplement).
Sergeant More M'Alpin was, during his residence among us, one of the
most honoured inhabitants of Gandercleugh. No one thought of
disputing his title to the great leathern chair on the "cosiest side of the
chimney," in the common room of the Wallace Arms, on a Saturday
evening. No less would our sexton, John Duirward, have held it an
unlicensed intrusion, to suffer any one to induct himself into the corner
of the left-hand pew nearest to the pulpit, which the Sergeant regularly
occupied on Sundays. There he sat, his blue invalid uniform brushed
with the most scrupulous accuracy. Two medals of merit displayed at
his button-hole, as well as the empty sleeve which should have been
occupied by his right arm, bore evidence of his hard and honourable
service. His weatherbeaten features, his grey hair tied in a thin queue in
the military fashion of former days, and the right side of his head a
little turned up, the better to catch the sound of the clergyman's voice,
were all marks of his profession and infirmities. Beside him sat his
sister Janet, a little neat old woman, with a Highland curch and tartan
plaid, watching the very looks of her brother, to her the greatest man
upon earth, and actively looking out for him, in his silver-clasped Bible,
the texts which the minister quoted or expounded.
I believe it was the respect that was universally paid to this worthy
veteran by all ranks in Gandercleugh which induced him to choose our
village for his residence, for such was by no means his original
intention.
He had risen to the rank of sergeant-major of artillery, by hard service
in various quarters of the world, and was reckoned one of the most tried
and trusty men of the Scotch Train. A ball, which shattered his arm in a
peninsular campaign, at length procured him an honourable discharge.
with an allowance from Chelsea, and a handsome gratuity from the
patriotic fund. Moreover, Sergeant More M'Alpin had been prudent as

well as valiant; and, from prize-money and savings, had become master
of a small sum in the three per cent consols.
He retired with the purpose of enjoying this income in the wild
Highland glen, in which, when a boy, he had herded black cattle and
goats, ere the roll of the drum had made him cock his bonnet an inch
higher, and follow its music for nearly forty years. To his recollection,
this retired spot was unparalleled in beauty by the richest scenes he had
visited in his wanderings. Even the Happy Valley of Rasselas would
have sunk into nothing upon the comparison. He came--he revisited the
loved scene; it was but a sterile glen, surrounded with rude crags, and
traversed by a northern torrent. This was not the worst. The fires had
been quenched upon thirty hearths--of the cottage of his fathers he
could but distinguish a few rude stones--the language was almost
extinguished--the ancient race from which he boasted his descent had
found a refuge beyond the Atlantic. One southland farmer, three
grey-plaided shepherds, and six dogs, now tenanted the whole glen,
which in his youth had maintained, in content, if not in competence,
upwards of two hundred inhabitants,
In the house of the new tenant, Sergeant M'Alpin found, however, an
unexpected source of pleasure, and a means of employing his social
affections. His sister Janet had