On being captured, he was bound, conveyed to prison, and a strong guard placed over him. On the following day, an elderly woman, dressed in the antique garb of her country--the Highlands--was seen walking up and down in front of the jail in which Macpherson was confined, and ever and anon casting a look of anxious inquiry towards the building. A nearer view of this person discovered that her eyes were red with weeping; but all her tears had been already shed, and the first excess of grief had passed away; for both her look and manner, though still expressive of deep sorrow, were grave, staid, and composed--nay, even stern. Occasionally, however, she might be seen, as she stood gazing on the prison-house of the unfortunate outlaw, rocking to and fro with that slow and silent motion so expressive of the intensity of mental suffering. Occasionally, too, a low murmuring of heart-rending anguish might be heard issuing from her thin parched lips. But she held communion with no one, and seemed heedless of the passers by. At length she crossed the street, and having knocked at the massive and well-studded outer-door of the prison, inquired if she might see the principal jailor. He was brought to her. On his appearing--
"The deer of the mountain," said his strange visiter, "is in the toils of the hunter. Oh! black and dismal day that that proud and gallant spirit that was wont to roam so wild and so free should be cooped up within the four stone walls of a loathsome dungeon--that those swift and manly limbs should be fettered with iron--and that the sword should be denied to that strong arm which was once so ready to defend the defenceless!"
"What mean ye, honest woman?" said the jailor, who was a good deal puzzled to discover a meaning in this address.
"What mean I?" exclaimed his visitor, sternly. "Do not I mean that the brave is the captive of the coward--that the strong has fallen before the weak--that the daring and fearless has been circumvented by the timid and the cunning? Do not I mean this?--and is it not true? Is not James Macpherson a prisoner within these walls, and are not you his keeper?"
"It is so," replied the astonished functionary.
"I know it," said his visitor. "Then will you convey this to him?" she said, bringing out a violin from beneath her plaid.