A TALE OF LOCH LOMOND.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 36, 6 September 1890, Page 7

A TALE OF LOCH LOMOND.

A CLOSE SHAVE.

r Q BOL T seventy years ago, as happened once I sll-w during the past decade, Loch Lomond was entirely frozen over one hard winter, and //TT great was the excitement among the Hectors 7 i an( l Humphreys, the Donalds and Ronalds, f ar an d near, as the thermometer fell lower q and lower, and night after night the frost set in more and more keenly. The upper end of the loch, which freezes more or less in most severe winters, was early bound ; but when towards mid December the whole lower part was one vast sheet of ice, engirt with snow-covered heights and torrent beds voiceless and motionless, the news Hew like wildfire all over the country, and down from the hillsides poured shepherds' lads and farmers’lasses, eager to tread upon the face of their sleeping beauty, and to treasure the thought of having done so through, all time to come. Scarce a man, woman, or child who, by hook or crook, could get on to the ice was content to abide on the mainland ; the echoes of the eagles’ haunts rang with the shouting, the cheering, the singing, and laughter of the gay bands, who yet looked but mere specks upon the vast expanse. Skating and curling divided the favours of the hardy ; children tore along on any rude sledges or rafts they could lash together ; while the aged, for whom the days of frolic was past, were not eager to walk from island to island, so that no one should ever be able to ‘ cast it up ’ to them that they had neglected to do so when they had the chance. One denizen of the district alone had been indifferent and unsympathetic from the outset. It happened that Miss Sarah Maitland Colquhoun had affairs of her own to think about at the time, and that she was rather put out than otherwise by all the hue and cry, turmoil and excitement going on around her. She did not care tor continual visitors storming her father’s mansion ; she was fretted by the continued demands made upon herself by the ‘ How far have you been ? What ! Not on the ice at all ?’ by which her ears were continually assailed. She ‘did not see why she should go ’ if she did not ‘ choose to go ’ (girls do occasionally ruffle their foolish plumes like this, we know), ami it ended in a little bit ot perversity on the point. At the expiry of ten days after the glassy surface of the lake had been pronounced ‘safe’ she was, as has been said, almost the only person on Loch Lomondside, who had not set foot upon it. It was not, however, any part of Miss Sarah’s programme to cut off her nose to spite her face ; her obstinacy only extended to doing what all the rest of the world was doing, not in their way, but in her own ; and, accordingly, one afternoon, just as a short light was beginning to wane —it was Christmas Day, but Christmas Day was not taken much account of in that Presbyterian house—the young Colquhoun lady suddenly made up her mind. She decided to go off alone for a walk on the ice, in the hope of causing some sensation at the dinner table, by announcing, ‘ I have been farther than any of you, after al).' She selected a distant isle as her goal, ami slyly slipped forth, unperceived by any one, and without a word to anybody. The bank below Rossdhu House is a secluded spot, no one was about, even when the young adventuress left the shore behind, and greatly did she exult in her success as she sped rapidly onward. She had dreaded to be interrogated ami congratulated, but none of the clan, nor yet any of their friends and companions, were to be seen. ‘They must all he on the Bal maha side,’ reflected she ; ‘ I shall have my walk, ami be back home, ami no one the wiser.’ At that moment a shout rang upon her ear. A faint mist, which had hung—as it commonly does- -over the ice since its formation, had thickened ; and though the shout sounded loud and clear through the sharp air, she could only dimly perceive a figure gliding away in an opposite direction. ‘'l'hat could not have been for me,’ she decided. It struck her that the ice was not so easy to walk upon as she had been led to believe. She wondered how old .Mis Mac This and Widow Mac That had managed to toddle along and just as she was wondering, down she came her self. The fall did not hurt her, but, to her annoyance, ere another few minutes had passed, she had another : ami yet again, another. It was nothing but falling; the ice was unconscionably slippery. With her last descent, moreover, a long thin crack Hew from the spot, ami she felt pleased to think that no one had been by to have observed how heavy must have been her weight. The ling of skaters approach* ing caused her to move hastily from the spot, ami tins time

it seemed as if the skaters themselves designed to elude observation. They were fleeing on the wings of the wind. They called to her, and waved their arms wildly in the direction of the shore as they shot past, ami were almost instantly lost to view. Site wondered what they wanted. Nevertheless, Sarah thought she would give up Inch 1.0-naig. naig. ‘ It is so very lonely,' she allowed, in spite of herself, ‘and I thought to have started sooner in the day ; I must con tent myself with Inch Tavanagh, and -oh ! what’s that ?' as another long, ominous (‘rack appeared «n the glittering, creaking floor heneath her feet. ‘ Oh, dear ! I wish I were a little nearer the shore.' thought she ; and at the moment of her so wishing, a shrill cry—an unearthly, agonised yell —broke upon her (‘ar. She turned round, not without difliculty, and could just perceive the tall pines of Inch Tavanagh looming through the mist, on the side she had least expected to lind them. She had nearly passed the island. Now she stood still : and as she stood she heard something which, to the eml of her life, she never forgot. The ice was cracking upon every side. Her heart gave one great throb and seemed to stand still. Then again there rang out the same shriek that had stat ted her before —a frantic shriek the shriek of one who knew not what the next moment may bring forth, and a hoarse, terrified man's voice followed—‘ Gae back gae back! Hand all*— hand afl' ! The ice is meltin' a' room! the island. Ye're no safe whaur ye stand. Be afl' whaur ye cam' frae.’ The speaker, under his breath, added in parenthesis ‘ The Lord help ye, whoever ye are !’ And now at last the whole horror of her frightful situation burst upon the wretched girl. Now she understood as by a flash of revelation why the ice had been so deserted, the loch so untenanted. She had waited till the thaw had set in, and had then, of her own mad folly, braved its dangers. A word, an inquiry, even an expression of her purpose would have saved her from this fearful fate; but she had hearkened to no one, confided in no one. And she was so young, so strong, and only a few moments before had been so careless and secure, dreaming not of danger, nor of fear. Death now stared her in the face. One false step, and no human aid in any shape could avail. Go back! Too well she knew she durst not go back. She could hear those sounds on every side that warned of awful doom in the attempt. Not a human being was near, except the dim shape frantic on the shore waving her back : but even had there been, it would have been but sharing her dark grave* with another. None could help. The cold drops stood upon her brow. ‘ I realised,’ she said thereafter, ‘ that I stood upon the brink of eternity.’ After enduring some minutes of such agony as could scarcely be surpassed in any human breast, the hapless girl was at length admonished to seek a landing on the northern shore of the island, where it was just possible the ice might not have been loosened round the edge. She did so with what feelings may be imagined—and mercifully found a place. ‘ I never thought to see her do it,’ said the kind forester who helped her up the bank; ‘ every minute I thocht to see her gae doon afore my vera een.’ He took her to his humble cottage, and there she had to remain, thankful for its shelter, ami for bis kindness and that of his gudewife, till all the ice had left Loch Lomond, ami every trace of her frightful pathway thither vanished. And all the uncertainty, the agony endured by the inmates of Rossdhu, all the throes they suffered during the long hours of that grim winter night, when no tidings came ami the worst was feared, till the morning brought its glad end to suspense and grief all of this is now a far, far-away memory in the dim past, though the tale of the terrible walk on Christmas Day may still be heard from some of the very old people on Loch Lomond side, as it is now told by a daughter of the house of Colquhoun, who had it from her father’s lips.