CHAPTER II.
Oh, I'm come to the Low Country, Och, och, ohonochie, Without a penny in my pouch To buy a meal for me.
I was the proudest of my clan, Long, long may I repine; And Donald was the bravest man, And Donald he was mine.

OLD SONG.
Elspat had enjoyed happy days, though her age had sunk into hopeless and inconsolable sorrow and distress.

She was once the beautiful and happy wife of Hamish MacTavish, for whom his strength and feats of prowess had gained the title of MacTavish Mhor.

His life was turbulent and dangerous, his habits being of the old Highland stamp which esteemed it shame to want anything that could be had for the taking.

Those in the Lowland line who lay near him, and desired to enjoy their lives and property in quiet, were contented to pay him a small composition, in name of protection money, and comforted themselves with the old proverb that it was better to "fleech the deil than fight him." Others, who accounted such composition dishonourable, were often surprised by MacTavish Mhor and his associates and followers, who usually inflicted an adequate penalty, either in person or property, or both.