"I knew Sir Ronald Crawford, and thy valiant father," continued he, "O! had they lived to see this day! But the base murder of the one thou hast nobly avenged, and the honorable grave of the other, on Loudon Hill,** thou wilt cover with a monument of thine own glories.

Low are laid my own children, in this land of strife, but in thee I see a son of Scotland that is to dry all our tears." **Sir Malcolm Wallace, the father of Sir William Wallace, was killed in the year 1295, on Loudon Hill, in a battle with the English.
He embraced Wallace again and again; and, as the veteran's overflowing heart rendered him garrulous, he expatiated on the energy with which the young victor had pursued his conquests, and paralleled them with the brilliant actions he had seen in his youth.

While he thus discoursed, Wallace drew him toward the castle, and there presented to him the two nephews of the Earl of May.
He paid some warm compliments to Edwin on his early success in the career of glory; and then turning to Murray: "Ay!" said he, "it is joy to me to see the valiant house of Bothwell in the third generation.
Thy grandfather and myself were boys together at the coronation of Alexander the Second; and that is eighty years ago.

Since then, what have I not seen! the death of two noble Scottish kings! our blooming princes ravished from us by untimely fates! the throne sold to a coward, and at last seized by a foreign power! Then, in my own person, I have been the father of as brave and beauteous a family as ever blessed a parent's eye; but they are all torn from me.

Two of my sons sleep on the plains of Dunbar; my third, my dauntless William, since that fatal day, has been kept a prisoner in England.