floor in their hurry. Amidst this screeching and confusion I made my escape safely.
"The next on my list was attacking Alastair Gealtair—Alexr. the coward—nick-named so by his aversion to fire-arms or their reports. It was said of him when young and joining the militia, that he fell as if dead on the first platoon, and ever since he cannot bear a shot fired near him.
"On reconnoitering his boothy, I peeped through an aperture in the window, which was partly filled up with old clothes, and beheld to my satisfaction old Alastair directly opposite, and in the act of discussing a steaming dish of venison. His brawny sunburnt chest, as usual bare, and his better-half taking her seat at the end of the table. I supplied, or armed myself in this instance with an old blunderbuss, selected from the Governor's ancient armoury, and loaded with powder and a fresh piece of deer's liver. Resting my ordnance in the aperture, I took a deliberate aim at the exposed and expansive target, the freckled and carbuncled chest before me, and blazed away. You may guess the effect. The old Gealtair fell back with a terrible groan, exclaiming in Gaelic—'Trocair air manam!'—Mercy on my soul! When the smoke had cleared away a little, I beheld him lying on his back, on the bed where he had been sitting, as if dead, the liver spattered over his bare chest, and the old wife lamenting over him, wringing her hands and exclaiming—'Tha fuil a chri mach!' His heart's blood is out! Knowing well that the neighbours would soon be attracted to the scene of battle through her wailing, and that the old fellow was scatheless, save the fright, I withdrew my forces, and beat a hasty retreat to my garrison, where I am now penning my exploits, and which, you must confess, were brilliant, particularly my last sortie. Give us an account of your proceedings, and I shall report progress in return. Yours truly, John MacDonell,
The author of this strange production was a young man of the MacDonells, of Glengarry, and a fellow collegian of Charlie's. Although their dispositions differed very much, a close friendship sprung up between them at the University. John, although the most mischievous young Highland gentleman that ever breathed, was a good-hearted fellow at the bottom. His extraordinary inventive mind, and his expertness in personating others, in disguising his person and voice, astonished every one.
He was never easy but when playing some mischievous trick on some unfortunate dupe, and his witticism and satire gained for him the sobriquet of Iain Lom, the name of an ancient bard. However, as some of his pranks will come before the reader at intervals through this tale we shall not comment further on his character.
