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plaid; that he had heard one or the servants of an English !
fad; say, it belonged to her mistress, who had one in her bo- ' when she left home; and besides, added he, I knew he Here the haughty Mac Donald sum was a Mac Gregor, and interposed, and with one grasp of his powerful hand warned him into silence by intimating that there were more Mac Gre gors than one present. Here Douglass interfered and w ished to see the brooch in question. The stubborn highlander would not produce it, or say if he had it or not. His master then , took him aside and he related in the most simple manner, that ! be had seen it fall (on purpose, he thought,) into the bonnet of his master who stood very near Lucy, listening to the old ! man's music; that as his lord was hurrying across the cum mon, the brooch was dropped, and believing his master valu ed both it and the lady to whom it had belonged, he had se eured it, intending to give it to him the first opportunity, and was seeking him for that purpose, when these pitiful wretches seired him and charged him with the theft, and moreover cal led one of the Mac Gregors a liar, which could only be ob- j literated by blood. During this conference, Douglass had re- ! a turned to his sister to five her an account of this unpleasant [ , „ . * . . . . . . affair and to tell her that it was the practice in tne highlands ! tor every member of the clan .0 hold together, and that as h,s < men were the beginners of this quarrel, he must of course end it. She clung to his arm and would bave spoken, but could 1 Her color rose and soon she was " pale as onv lilj."— ■ agitation the door opened and Mac Don- j aid entered with a flushed countenance and stood betöre them. a i not. In this moment of Douglass eved him with a look of piercing ire, but this was a man who could and who did " return the chief his haughty stare." At last Lucy bursting into tears sobbed out, ah! my brother, can you excuse your Lucy for concealing a circum stance from your knowledge, which she trembled to unfold before; but now fear of awful consequences emboldens her to declare the brooch was loaned by me to Donald in return for , , , r . * . , , one he begged me to wear for him, until we met again at the kirk. I thought- You thought what!! that the sinter of, clan Ronald's chief should exchange gifts with a Mac Greg- | ? Oh! Lucy—why did 1 let your English prejudices pre- ; vent me from informing you of the deadly hatred between the ; head of that rebellious clan and every one that boasts the blood of Ronald. But it is time you should know it, and when wc arrive at the mansion my excellent aunt will tell you that it is our duty to hate the Mac Gregors. But all the bro ther's observations were rendered pointless by an imploring ■ look from the eloquently speaking eye of Mac Donald. She i suffered herself to be conducted home by her brother, secret ly determining not to be influenced by the strong prejudices of hor highland relative. The aflray at the inn was for the pres ent hushed up, but every bitter word then spoken, was treas ured by the eeparate members of each warlike clan. Nowit was that every loyal chieftain was called upon to join the roy al standard that waved in the camp of Wallace; and private animosities were sunk in the public good. The martial clans of Scotland favorable to the house of Stewart were called up on to exert themselves, and the heroic brother of Lucy would not stay behind. He sent oft' the main body of his retainers, intending to follow them immediately on his return from Eng land, as he had resolved to see his sister safe under the pater nal roof ere he joined the noble hero of his country. But the prayers, the tears of his aunt, caused him to alter his resolu tion, and leave his lovely sister with her to console her for his absence whilst performing his duty in camp. To this he re luctantly agreed; and the next day, with the remainder of his troop, joined the gallant train. Lucy now rarely went to the kirk, as her relation was an invalid; but one fine pleasant morning her aunt insisted on her riding there, for a little ehange of scene. She went and was returning down the steep pathway, followed by an old white-haired servant, when her attention was arrested by the peculiar beauty of a smiling lit tle page that seemed to gambol around her. At last he brush ed close by her and caused her to drop her handkerchief: this he returned so gracefully on one knee, that she w ished to con verse with him, when the old man hastily stepped up, and pointed to his tartans which were of the Mac Gregor plaid. She turned quickly away and pressing her handkerchief found the little page had very adroitly slipped a fold of paper there in. She could not read it then, for the old man was near her. or'. She was obliged to postpone it until her return home. Then she found that her own faithful Donald had obtained a lur lough from the army and would wait on the " western ridge of the mountains to communicate tidings of the utmost im portance to them both;" but the old lady was worse that I ! I I j j I could do; but he never sat down seriously to reflect ! night and she could not leave her. In the morniDg a little ' lad ran in, with horror depicted on his countenance, saying the chief of the Mac Grogora was found murdered within the precincts of their domain, on the western ridge of mountains. Lucy fainted—and when recovered from insensibility, her rea son had fled; and the beauteous English girl was returned to her parents a confirmed maniac. Often the valley of Che shire re-echoed w ith her raviugs. She saw the hand of her , brother lifted against him she loved—and a plaid of Mac ! Gregor's was her favorite mantle. Enfolded in this she bra ved the winter's snow, and the summer's rain, and the only ! pleasure she seemed to take in this dreary world, was vvarb ling a mournful Gaelic ditty she had learned in the Highlands, j •* The Indians themselves are becoming philologist" j ! a „ d gralmnar ; ans , a tld exciting the wonder of the [ , , . . world bv the invention ot letters, ! * , , , , , • . < he CI,crokee alphabet has excited the astonishment °I philosopher in this country and in Europe; 1 but os I have nut yet seen any satisfactory account of ■ the progress and history of this great effort of genius j of t ], e pregent J av , ( w ill stalc what 1 know of it, !,, ,. ,i" , i front the lips ol the inventor himself. In the w inter of 1028, a delegation of the Chero kccs visited the city of Washington, in order to make a treaty with the United States, and among them was Sec-qua-yah, the inventor of the Cherokee alphabet. His English liante was George Guess, he was a ltalf Thsodore. INVENTION OF INDIAN LETTERS. i From Knapp's Lectures on American Literature. The invention of , r , • . , blood, but had never, from his own account, spoken a 1 . ! s,n ^ e ' vord of I ' n S ,,sh U P fo tl,e »»mo of bis inven | nor since. Prompted by my own curiosity, artd ; urged by several literary friends, 1 applied to See-qua ; yah, through the medium of two interpreters — one a halt'-blood, Cnpt. Roger, and the other a full-blood ■ operations and all the Lets in his discovery, i cheerfully complied with my request, and gave very deliberate and satisfactory answers to every question, and was at the samc time careful to know from the chief, whose assumed English liante was John Maw, to relate to me, as minutely as possible, the mental He interpreter if I distinctly understood his answers.— No stoic could have been more grave in his demean or than was See-qua-yah ; he pondered, according to the Indian custom, for a considerable time after each question was put, before he made his reply, arid of ten took a whiff of Ins calumet, while reflecting on an answer. The details of the examination are too long for the closing paragraph of this lecture ; but the substance of it was this—That he, (See-qua-yah) was now about sixty-five years old, but could not pre cisely say—that in early life he was gay and talkative, and although lie never attempted to speak in council but once, yet was often, from the strength of Ins mem ory, his easy colloquial powers and ready command of his vernacular, a story-teller of the convivial party. His reputation for talents of every kind, gave him some distinction when lie was quite young so long ago as St. Cfair's defeat. In this campaign, or some one that soon followed it, a letter was found on the person of a prisoner, which was wrongly read by hint to the Indians. In some of their deliberations on this subject a question arose among them whether the myste rious power of '• the talking leaf," was the gift of the Great Spirit to the white man, or a discovery of the white man himself ? Most of his companions were of the former opinion, while he as strenuously maintained the latter. This frequently became a subject of temptation with him afterwards, as well as many other things which he knew, or had heard, that the white man con on the subject, until a swelling in his knee conlined him to his cabin, and which, at length, made him cripple for life, by shortening the diseased leg. I)e prived of the excitements of war and the pleasures of the chase, in the long night of his confinement his mind was again directed to the mystery of speaking by letters, the very name of which, of course, was not to be found in his language. From the cries of wild beasts, from the talents of the mocking bird, from the voices of his children and his companions, he knew that feelings and passions were conveyed by di rect sounds from one intelligent being to another,— The thought struck him to try to ascertain all the sounds in the Cherokee language. I lis own ear was not remarkably discriminating, and he called to his aid the more acute ears of his wife and children.— lie found great assistance from them. When he thought that he had distinguished all the different sounds in their language, he attempted to us« pictorial signs, images of birds and beasts, to convey those sounds to others or to mark them in ids own mind.— He soon dropped this method, as difficult or impossi ble, and tried arbitrary signs, without any regard to appearances, except such as might assist him in re collecting them, and distinguishing them from each oilier. At first these signs were very numerous ; and when lie got so far as to think his invention was near ly accomplished, he had about two hundred charac ters in his alphabet. By the aid of his daughter, who seemed to enter into the genius of his labors, he re duced them, at last, to eighty-six, the number lie now uses, lie then set to work to make these chararleis I more comely to the eye, and succeeded—as yet lie ! hud not the knowledge of the pen as an instrument ; I but made bis characters on a piece of hark, will) a I knife or nail. At this time he sent to the Indian a j gent, as some trader in the nation, for paper and pen. j His ink was easy made from some of the bark of the I forest trees, whose coloring properties he had previ ously known—and after seeing the construction of the pen, he soon learned to make one, but at first lie made it without a slit ; this inconvenience was, however, quickly removed by his sagacity. Ills next difficulty was to make his invention known to his countrymen ; for by this time he had become so abstracted from his tribe and their usual pursuits, that be was view ed with an eye of suspicion. His former companions passed his wigwam without entering it, and mentioned Ids name as one who was practising improper spells, for notoriety or mischievous purposes, and lie seems to think that he should have been hardly dealt with, il his docile and unambitious disposition bad not been so generally acknowledged by his tribe—at length he summoned some of the most distinguished of his na tion, in order to make his communication to them— and after giving the best explanation of his discovery that lie could, stripped it of all supernatural influ ence, he proceeded to demonstrate to them, in good earnest, that he had made a discovery, llis daughter, who was now his only pupil, was ordered to go out of hearing, while he requested his, friends to name a word or sentiment v'vhich he put down, and then she was called in and read it to them ; then the father re tired and the daughter wrote ; the Indians were won der-struck ; but not entirely satisfied. See qua-yuh then proposed that the tribe should select several youths from among their brightest young men, that lie might communicate the n yVtery to them. 'I his was at length agreed to, although there was some lurking suspicion of necromancy in the whole business.— John Maw, (his Indian name I have forgotten) a full' a j !