doubtless, of his loving cousin, Allan Maclean-than he summoned all his clan, and sailed with them to Islay, which he wasted with fire and sword, regardless, of course, of his vows, and of the safety of his son and the seven other hostages. Sir Angus, hearing of this, came back with hot speed from Ireland, and (wonderful to say) disdaining to revenge himself on the helpless hostages, sailed for Mull, and did to the land of the Macleans what they had just been doing to the land of the Macdonalds. Meanwhile Sir Lachlan was not idle; for he had crossed from Islay to Cantire, where he ravaged and plundered his enemy's possessions. And thus, says Sir R. Gordon, for awhile they did continually vex one another with slaughter and outrages, to the destruction almost of their countries and people.' The Mac Neills, of the Island of Gigha, and many other clans, were also involved in these feuds, which kept the Southern Hebrides in a perpetual ferment, and again called for the King's interference. He demanded the obedience of the clans; and an Act of Parliament, called the "General Band,' or Bond,' was passed for maintaining good order in the Western Highlands and Isles. But the Macdonalds, Macleans, Mac Neills, and all the other Macs, great and small, treated the royal proclamation with contempt; and, refusing to have their private enjoyments interfered with, went on in their old cutting and hewing style. They even got a little foreign aid in their fighting; for the Macdonalds were assisted by a band of English mercenaries; and the Macleans had the help of a hundred Spanish soldiers, who had been on board the Florida,' when that vessel of the Armada was driven into the harbour of Tobermory, in Mull, where she was afterwards blown up by Sir Lachlan, who had successfully plotted to gain possession of her. For this deed he obtained a remission under the Privy Seal, the records of which are dated March 20, 1588-9.1 And here as is so commonly the case in the Western Highlands and Isles-the historical narrative is crossed by a story, that, on the face of it, is evidently a popular legend. To begin with, it ignores the Spanish Armada and the storm that blew a portion of Castile's black fleet' upon the coasts of Ireland and Scotland. This is the story, as told by the peasantry: There was a lovely Spanish princess, and, in her dreams, she saw a handsome man, with whom she fell violently in love. Nothing could appease her 1 Fragments of the 'Florida' have been washed ashore, frequently, within the present century. In the year 1688, Sacheverel, governor of the Isle of Man, rescued some of the treasure, by means of diving-bells, at the depth of ten fathoms. In 1740 Sir Archibald Grant and Captain Roe sent down miners, with machinery, and recovered some guns. When George IV. visited Edinburgh he was presented by Sir Walter Scott with some wood from the Florida.' A until she could meet, in real flesh and blood, with the person of whom she had seen the vision. She sought for him far and wide, through her father's dominions, but she could not find him. Then she determined to seek for him in foreign lands; and the King, her father, granted her a vessel for that purpose. She set sail from Spain, and in the course of her travels drew nigh to the shores of Scotland. A storm carried the ship to Tobermory, and she was landed on the island. A chieftain advanced to meet herit was Sir Lachlan Maclean, of Duart, and in him she recognised the hero of her dream. She told him of the object of her voyage, and confessed her romantic attachment. His wife got to know of it, and, in order to retain the affection of her husband, she laid a plot for the destruction of her rival. She caused the ship to be blown up, when the princess was on board, and thus secured her death, together with the loss of the vessel and many of the crew. But the body of the Spanish princess was washed ashore, and was laid in a stone coffin, in the burial-ground of Kiel-Colum-Kill, where it may be seen to this day, near to the tomb of Mac-MhicIan, who was shot dead with an arrow by Lochiel, at Leachd-namSaighid, or the "ledge of arrows." Such is the popular story, and as the tomb is pointed out, the tale thereby receives 'confirmation strong as Holy Writ.' Perhaps the legend may have had some slight aid from the popular old ballad of The Spanish Lady's Love,' where the Englishman is wooed by her, and has to confess that he has already, in England, 'a sweet woman to my wife;' an insurmountable impediment to the Spanish lady's designs. After the blowing-up of the Florida,' by Sir Lachlan Mor Maclean, the fighting between the clans of himself and his brotherin-law was continued, accompanied with such outrageous cruelties that the feeble interference of the King was once more brought in question. Though the monarch may have had one eye to justice, he had the other fixed upon the valuable herring fisheries; so, not wishing to injure his own revenues, he forgave the two brothersin-law on very easy terms. The patched-up truce did not continue long; they quarrelled and fought, and after various adventures and vicissitudes, which it would take too much space to speak of here in detail, the feud arose in which Dusith, the Fairy-man, played an important part. James Macdonald, the son of Sir Angus, had now grown to be twenty-two years of age, and it was high time, therefore, that he should distinguish himself by some deed that should harmonise with the customs of the day. The opportunity offered itself, and was promptly seized by him, of setting fire to the house, at Asko mill, on the north side of Campbelton Harbour, in which his father and mother were then staying. Sir Angus escaped, half-roasted, from the flames, and was promptly conveyed by his son, two miles off, to Smerbie, on Kilbrannon, where he was clapped in irons. Having thus duly cared for his father, he had leisure to attend to his uncle, Sir Lachlan, who, not content with taking possession of the Rinns, was desirous to drive all the Macdonalds out of Islay, and to get the whole island under his own sway. As this was rather a tough piece of business, the friends of both parties interfered, and proposed that the matter should be settled by a conference at Loch Gruinart, in Islay. Sir Lachlan was perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, provided only that the members of the conference would ratify his claim to the entire island; and, when they refused to do so, he said they would fight for it. Thereupon ensued the battle of Loch Gruinart (or Traigh Gruinart) fought on August 5, 1598. On the morning of the battle, the dwarf Dusith, the Fairy-man, came to Sir Lachlan and offered him his services. Maclean roughly spurned him, and bade him take his services elsewhere. The dwarf promptly did so, and went over to the enemy, and Macdonald gave him a friendly welcome. Then the battle began, and waged hotly with varying success for the space of some hours. The Macdonalds were getting the worst of it, when, opportunely, a band of their Cantire friends arrived, and turned the tide of battle in their favour. The Macleans rallied for a last tremendous effort; when Dusith, the dwarf, who had been creeping about, waiting his opportunity to avenge the insult of the morning, shot an arrow straight to the heart of Sir Lachlan. The Macleans, on seeing their chieftain fall dead, fled tumultuously and sought their own safety. A portion of them made good their escape to their galleys, and sailed away safely to Duart; but the rest took refuge in the church of Kilnave. Their opponents, disregarding the sanctity of the place, forthwith surrounded it, and fired the building, destroying every Maclean therein, with the exception of one, who-at least, so runs the traditionary tale-contrived to get through the roof and escape. The church was never restored, and its blackened walls remain to this day. Two hundred and eighty of the Macleans are said to have perished in the engagement and massacre; while Sir James Macdonald, who was himself severely wounded, had thirty of his followers killed, and sixty wounded. The body of Sir Lachlan was found among the slain, pierced by Dusith's arrow; and a woman of the Macleans took it on a car to the church of Kilchoman, in which sacred building the only son of The Lady of the Rock' was buried. Since then the church has been rebuilt, and its site has been partially changed, so that Sir Lachlan Mor Maclean's gravestone will now be found, not inside the church, but outside, close by the south-east corner. The local tradition runs, that as the woman conveyed her chieftain's corpse to the church his head was shaken to and fro by the jolting of the cart; at which her son, a youth of eighteen, who was driving the horse, made sport. This so enraged the woman that she endeavoured to stab her son for his misplaced levity. Another tradition relates how Sir Lachlan, before proceeding on his fatal expedition to Islay, consulted a witch, who-presumably without knowing who he was-warned him not to land on the island on a Thursday; not to drink of the water of a well near Gruinart; and that Maclean should be slain at Gruinart. The first warning he transgressed unwillingly, for he was driven by a tempest on the island on a Thursday; the second warning he disobeyed unwittingly, by drinking of the well before he knew that it was near to Gruinart; and the witch's prophecy was fulfilled by Sir Lachlan's death by the arrow of the Fairy-man. The Song of the Ship 'Argo.' TO-MORROW will be a morning of scorning, A lightsome, brightsome winter's day, 6 When Argo' plunges with sidelong lunges Through the waves, like a seal at play: When the clear cold wind, from its north-west home, To catch the waves, in their pride that tower, Of the smooth white hair, and with broad green breast 6 We will speed by his might, there is none may vex! B. MONTGOMERIE RANKING. 70 Thérèse Tietjens. BY MRS. CASHEL HOEY. In the summer of 1875, Mademoiselle Tietjens, who was then preparing for her visit to the United States, related to a friend the incidents of her artistic career which form the subject of the following sketch, whose only recommendation is its indisputable authenticity, and the fact that the notes from which it was composed were read by the writer to the great artist, so that she should correct any error which might have crept into them. The sketch written under these circumstances-it ended then with the anticipation of success for the gifted subject of it in the United States-was laid aside. It has been taken out of its portfolio for a purpose undreamed of at the time it was written, to record as a thing of the past the fame of Thérèse Tietjens; to have its hints of the future suppressed, and the bright home picture which the writer had ventured to draw-for the home of which the Queen of Song was the head and the heart, furnished ample materials for oneerased. So shorn and maimed, this brief sketch is offered to the public by whom Thérèse Tietjens was so truly appreciated, by whom she is so truly regretted, in the belief that it will be found interesting as what it is an exact record, the chronicle of her praises only excepted, of the story that was told by her own lips one summer day two years ago, in her pretty boudoir at her pleasant villa, when she was full of life and spirits and apparent health, and when the last fear that would have crossed the mind of her hearer was that the end of that story could be so near. Thérèse Tietjens was born at Hamburg. Her family belonged to the upper mercantile class, and her father was, at the time of her birth, a prosperous distiller. Thérèse was the youngest of eight children, and from her earliest infancy she gave indications of possessing musical talent and taste. Before she could speak she showed a preference for a certain tune (an air from Auber's Opera Fra Diavolo '), and would hum the opening notes when she wanted to have it sung to her. When a little toddling child she used to create great amusement by her efforts to sing and play, and was quite content to be allowed to wander among the instruments at a neighbouring pianoforte manufacturer's warerooms, and make music after her own fashion; music which was |