I hope you are
well."] was the delighted reply, accompanied with a hearty shake of both
hands. He was from Snizort, in the Isle of Skye, and, though he had
attained competence in the land of his adoption, he mourned the absence of
his native heather. He asked me the usual Highland question, "Tell me the
news;" and I told him all that I could recollect of those with whom he was
familiar. He spoke of the Cuchullin Hills, and the stern beauty of Loch
Corruisk, with tears in his eyes. "Ah," he said, "I have no wish but to
see them once again. Who is the lady with you - the lily?" he asked, for he
spoke English imperfectly, and preferred his own poetical tongue. "May
your path be always bright, lady!" he said, as he shook my hand warmly at
parting; "and ye'll come and see me when ye come again, and bring me tales
from the old country." The simple wish of Donnuil Dhu has often recurred
to me in the midst of gayer scenes and companions. It brought to mind
memories of many a hearty welcome received in the old man's Highland home,
and of those whose eyes were then looking upon the Cuchullin Hills.
After this expedition, where so much kindness had been experienced,
Charlotte Town did not appear more delightful than before, and, though
sorry to take leave of many kind relatives and friends, I was glad that
only one more day remained to me in the island.
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