ive you flesh," was loudly re-echoed from their native glens. In
the language of the Highland bards, the war voice of Glengarry was
not silent; and the gathering tunes of other tribes could be plainly
distinguished, as they successively came up to the extremity of the
passes from which they were to descend into the plain.

"You see," said Argyle to his kinsmen, "it is as I said, we have only to
deal with our neighbours; James Grahame has not ventured to show us his
banner."

At this moment there resounded from the gorge of the pass a lively
flourish of trumpets, in that note with which it was the ancient
Scottish fashion to salute the royal standard.

"You may hear, my lord, from yonder signal," said Sir Duncan Campbell,
"that he who pretends to be the King's Lieutenant, must be in person
among these men."

"And has probably horse with him," said Auchenbreck, "which I could not
have anticipated. But shall we look pale for that, my lord, when we have
foes to fight, and wrongs to revenge?"

Argyle was silent, and looked upon his arm, which hung in a sash, owing
to a fall which he had sustained in a preceding march.

"It is true," interrupted Ardenvohr, eagerly, "my Lord of Argyle, you
are disabled from using either sword or pistol; you must retire on board
the galleys--your life is precious to us as a head--your hand cannot be
useful to us as a soldier."

"No," said Argyle, pride contending with irresolution, "it shall never
be said that I fled before Montrose; if I cannot fight, I will at least
die in the midst of my children."

Several other principal Chiefs of the Campbells, with one voice,
conjured and obtested their Chieftain to leave them for that day to the
leading of Ardenvohr and Auchenbreck, and to behold the conflict from a
distance and in safety.--We dare not stigmatize Argyle with poltroonery;
for, though his life was marked by no action of bravery, yet he behaved
with so much composure and dignity in the final and closing scene, that
his conduct upon the present and similar occasions, should be rather
imputed to indecision than to want of courage. But when the small still
voice within a man's own breast, which tells him that his life is of
consequence to himself, is seconded by that of numbers around him, who
assure him that it is of equal advantage to the public, history affords
many examples of men more habitually daring than Argyle, who have
consulted self-preservation when the temptations to it