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and Hotspur, son of the Earl of Northumberland. On this occasion occurred a chivalric episode. Sir John Swinton, seeing the carnage made in the close Scottish ranks by the English bowmen, couched his lance and was about to charge. At that moment, Sir Adam de Gordon, who had long been at deadly feud with him, knelt at his feet, begged his forgiveness, and asked the honor of being knighted by so brave a leader. Swinton gave him the accolade and tenderly embraced him, then the two, at the head of their followers, dashed upon the English. Alas! their bravery was not followed up; they both fell, and the battle was lost.

Sir Adam, who was the son of Sir John Gordon mentioned above, was the last male of his line. By his wife, daughter of Sir William de Keith, Marischal of Scotland, he had an only daughter, Elizabeth. This lady married Alexander, second son of Sir William Seton, of Seton, and from that day to this the heads of the great house of Gordon have been Setons in the male line, these Setons being, like the Gordons themselves, descended from one of the Norman settlers planted in Scotland by King David I.

In right of his wife, Alexander Seton was known as Lord of Gordon and Huntly, and his son, another Alexander, assuming the name and arms of Gordon, and marrying a daughter of Lord Crichton, Chancellor of Scotland, was created Earl of Huntly by James II, in 1449. The Earl had been twice previously married, first to a granddaughter of the first Earl Marischal, by whom he acquired a great estate, but had no children, and secondly, to the heiress of Sir John Hay, of Tullibody, by whom he had a son, Sir Alexander Seton, who inherited his mother's estates and was ancestor of the Setons of Touch.

The Earl had in 1424 been one of the hostages sent to England as security for the ransom of James I, and his son, George, the second Earl, married the Princess Joanna, daughter of that king from whom all the later heads of the house have the royal Stewart blood in their veins. Earl George's second son, Adam, Lord of Aboyne, marrying Elizabeth, Countess of Sutherland, became Earl of Sutherland in her right, and ancestor of the great Sutherland family, while the third son, Sir William Gordon, became

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CHIEF OF THE GORDONS

The Most Honorable the Marquess of Huntley, P.C., LL.D., D.L., J.P.

being overruled, retired, like the Earl Marischal and other nobles, to his estate. Huntly nevertheless took part at Sauchieburn. Two years later he was appointed Lieutenant of James IV, north of the Water of Esk, and from this time the Gordon family figures as perhaps the most powerful in the north of Scotland.

Shortly afterwards occurred the curious episode of Perkin's Warbeck's visit to Scotland. This "Prince of England," as he was called, was received with royal honors by James VI, as one of the sons of Edward IV, slain by Richard III, in the Tower. The Scottish King addressed him as cousin, gave tournaments and other courtly entertainments in his honor, and bestowed upon him the hand of the Earl

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of Huntly's daughter, the beautiful Catherine Gordon, who was, through her mother, daughter of James I, of the royal blood of Scotland. It is of interest in this connection to note that when Perkin Warbeck was finally sent out of the kingdom, setting sail from Ayr in the ship of Robert Barton, he was accompanied by his beautiful wife, who remained faithfully by his side throughout all his future reverses of fortune. After his execution in 1498, she was kindly treated by Henry VII, who

placed her in charge of his queen, and gave her a pension. She was known by the English populace as the White Rose of Scotland, and afterward married Sir Matthew Craddock, ancestor of the Earls of Pembroke. Her tomb is still to be seen in the old church at Swansea.

When insurrection broke out in the Western Isles, in 1505, the Earl of Huntly was sent to quell the northern area, and he stormed and took Torquil McLeod's stronghold of Stornoway. Lastly, on Flod-

den's fatal field, Huntly along with the Earl of Home, led the Scottish vanguard, and opened the battle with the furious charge which routed the English van, the only part of the action in which the Scots were successful. Sir William, the Earl's younger brother, fell in the battle, but Lord Huntly himself survived till 1528. His eldest son, John, Lord Gordon, who died in 1517, married Margaret, natural daughter of James IV, and it was his elder son, George, who succeeded as fourth Earl.

This nobleman took an active part in the affairs of Scotland in the times of King James V, Mary of Lorraine and Mary Queen of Scots. He was made Chancellor of the kingdom in 1546. He also, two years later, obtained a grant of the Earldom of Moray, but the acquisition led to an act which has left a stain upon his name, and it ultimately for a time brought about the complete eclipse of his house. Among other things, the new earldom made him feudal superior of the Clan Mackintosh lands in Nairnshire, in addition to those he already controlled in Badenoch. Huntly appears to have endeavored to secure complete control of his feudal vassal by getting him to sign a bond of manrent, but the chief, William Mackintosh, refused to bind himself. The Earl then proceeded to deprive Mackintosh of his office of Deputy Lieutenant. Presently a certain Lachlan Malcolmson, who owed Mackintosh a grudge, saw in the difference between him and the Earl a means of possible profit and revenge. He accordingly brought a charge against the chief of conspiring to take Huntly's life. Mackintosh was forthwith seized, and thrown into a dungeon at Bog of Gight. Thence Huntly carried him to Aberdeen, tried him there in a court packed with his

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own followers, and had him condemned to forfeiture and execution. The provost, it is said, convened the town in arms to prevent the execution, and accordingly, Huntly carried his victim to his own castle of Strathbogie. There, it is said, he left him to his lady to deal with, and that ladyElizabeth, daughter of Robert, Lord Keith

promptly had him beheaded. This was in 1550. Sir Walter Scott and Skene in his Highlanders of Scotland give a highly picturesque account of this incident, but the fact as above stated appears to be authentic. Nemesis came to Huntly later. He was looked upon as the main champion of the Catholic faith. In this character his interests were opposed to those of the Queen's brother, James, and when Mary conferred upon the latter the northern earldoms, first of Mar and then of Moray, Huntly felt compelled to support his interest by force of arms. His grandfather had been made hereditary keeper of the castle of Inverness in 1495, and when Queen Mary went thither in the course of the royal progress which she undertook to establish her brother in his earldom, she found the gates of the castle closed in her face by Huntly's castelan. In the upshot the castle was taken and the castelan hanged, and Mary, marching eastward through Huntly's country, encountered him with her army on the slopes of Corrichie on Deeside. The struggle ended disastrously for the Gordons. The Earl, a stout and full-blooded man, having been taken prisoner, was set upon a horse before his captor, when he was suddenly seized with apoplexy and fell to the ground dead. His body, produced in Parliament in a mean sackcloth dress, was condemned to forfeiture of titles and estates. His son, Sir John Gordon, was butchered by a (Continued on page 522)

to Colonel Astor, Glendoe. It took over three hours of careful handling before being led to the gaff. It was the finest fish we have seen taken from Loch-Ness for many years.

The weather was milder on Saturday, and the sport showed an improvement. The baskets reported are: Mr. James Gordon, Glasgow, salmon, thirty-one pounds; Mr. Hughes, Glasgow, one of eighteen pounds; Mr. E. Graham Falcon, Bedford, two salmon, twenty pounds and twenty-one pounds; Mr. Hugh Ferguson, Govan, one, twenty-nine pounds. Average temperature, forty-two degrees. Inverness Courier.

When Moros Run Amuck

BY ARTHUR LLEWELLYN GRIFFITHS (For The Caledonian)

"What's that?" Instantly the conversation ceased. No one could tell who had asked the question first, for it had been on everyone's lips. For a moment our faces blanched. Life in Jolo was a succession of surprises. The sun never shone on a fairer spot on earth, and the moon never rose on a more dreadful one. The crashing of the explosions that had caused us all to spring to our feet burst in upon the tranquility of the tropic morning with a staccato sharpness accentuated by the otherwise plushy silence. Silence in the torrid zone is heavy.

"Why, it's the Chinese celebrating with firecrackers some holiday," I ejaculated. But before the words were out of my mouth a great doubt almost choked them. In the faces of my companions was written the fear none dared to suggest. Was it that the dread hour had arrived?

For weeks our life on the island of Sulu had been one of extreme tension. According to his agreement with the military officials, the Sultan of Sulu had sent in word to our diminutive walled town of Jolo that some more of the dreaded jouramentadoes had taken oath to die, if need be, killing Christians, and might be expected to appear at any time. The Sultan informed us that they were twelve in number.

The greatest number that had come in before at one time had been two.

"Run down stairs!" shouted one of our number, and I tumbled down the rough staircase in a rush. Out on to the hot, palm-roofed, coral-sanded street I ran, fearing lest I would find out that the noise that we had heard would prove to be what we hoped it would not be. As I reached the ground I was just in time to see the guard rushing by with rifles in hand and looks of determination on their faces. It was the day we had dreaded.

Up the stairs I rushed, touching only every other one. Panting for breath when I reached the top, I yet had sufficient energy remaining to shriek: "Juramentados, boys! Juramentados!" The rapidity with which revolver belts were tight

ened and that room emptied of human beings would have done credit to the most highly efficient fire brigade. When again I reached the street, everyone was running toward the main gate, through which the Moros were accustomed to enter the town to go to the market within the walls. The explosions we had heard and at first taken for firecrackers had been revolver shots.

Several times before, the Moros bent on running amuck, had come to Jolo to pursue their nefarious business, but they had not, up to that time, succeeded in killing any American. As I ran through the main gate past the sentry, at once my eyes swept to the left, whence the revolver shots had come. Instantly my heart went up in my throat, for there by the iron stables where the cavalry had been mounting for drill, were three prone human bodies. Someone yelled: "They've got some soldiers." If ever one experiences the sensation of the heart jumping into the throat, I experienced it then. My head swam. The dreaded runners amuck had at last gotten American victims.

We ran toward the prostrate forms and the concentrating squadron of troopers. The blazing sun forced its irresistible shafts through our clothing, and into our bodies, acting as a force pushing us backward. How we covered the distance between the great landward gate of Jolo and the cavalry sheds, we never knew. All we saw was that which held our eyes, the prostrate human beings.

"Look out! There are other Moros here!" screamed one of the excited troopers. Sure enough, in our hurry we had not noticed that other Moros, all armed with barongs or krises, were ominously stalking near. For the time we forgot to determine who were the victims. Then, while a cordon of cavalrymen kept off any other would-be assassins, we came to the horse sheds. The bodies were those of three Moros.

"Who are they?" I asked. "These are the three Moros who caused the trouble,

and they don't look as if they would cause any more." I looked at two of them, and one had thirteen and the other fourteen bullet holes in him, all above the breast.

A trooper hurried to me. "They came down the road like three ordinary Moros. We didn't notice them more than usual. We were harnessing our horses, and the Moros came up as if just from curiosity. Sergeant Pride was standing with his back. to them, calling to his trained horse to come to him. One of the Moros jumped at Pride, lit on his back, threw him down and raised his barong to decapitate him. As the Moro's arm was upraised to make the stroke, a bullet from one of our revolvers pierced the writ, and Pride was saved.

"A second Moro attacked Private Glen

denning, struck at him. Glendenning raised his arm to protect himself, and his wrist and arm bone were nearly cut through. This caused Glendenning to drop his revolver, which he had seized as his arm went upward. With great presence of mind, he seized it in his left hand, and shot the Moro. The third Moro was shot before he could do any damage."

After the excitement had somewhat abated, I went with some others back through the gate into Jolo. Then going to my room, I gathered my material together, and started to go out the gate again to my industrial school, which I had founded in the Moro village of BuzBuz, just east of the walls of Jolo. Surely, I had seen enough of tragedy for one day.

"Halt!" I had reached the landward gate, and the sentry stood before me in the attitude of present arms. I was nonplussed. Hundreds of times I had passed that sentry post, and I had never heard of an American being halted by an American sentry in broad daylight. Before I had time to speak, the sentry said: "You have on no side arms, sir." "Why, yes; I never wear them," I replied. "My safety has lain in my going unarmed among the Moros and showing no fear." The sentry saluted. "The commanding officer has given orders, sir, that no one be allowed outside the walls to-day without side arms. That is on account of the killing of the juramentados just now. They fear an uprising. The commanding officer especially gave orders that you be requested to put on your side arms, sir." There was nothing to do but to return

to my rooms, and strap on my heavy belt of cartridges and Colt's revolver. I did so. I wore khaki trousers and a blue flannel shirt, over which I wore a khaki Norfolk jacket. As I emerged from the gate and again looked toward the cavalry stables, I saw the men clearing up where the tragedy had occurred.

Turning to the east, walking down to the beach where lapped the limpid wavelets of the Sulu Sea, I passed a Moro or two. They eyed me sullenly. I had seen suspicion manifested before, but not that sullenness. But it made no impression on me, for I was accustomed to the changes in Moro moods.

The work among my scholars had progressed finely, so that they had made bamboo chairs, cocoanut fibre ropes and steamer buffers, pandanus mats and other salable articles. It was to enable slaves to purchase their freedom that the United States Philippine Commission had appointed me to establish industrial schools among the Moros of the Sulu Archipelago. Many armed Moros were accustomed to come in and see the school work.

That tragic morning I entered my school building as usual. The scholars and Molahah, my Moro assistant, awaited me. A spirit of restlessness was apparent, no doubt induced by the killings of the juramentados so shortly before. However, all but school matters shortly slipped from my mind.

While I was intent on directing the work of the youthful Moros, an adult Moro darkened the door, gazed within and leisurely entered. Without uttering a vocal sound, he crossed the room and sat on a bamboo chair recently made by the scholars. In the glance with which I searched him, I observed that he had the usual heavy barong thrust with its wooden scabbard through its gaily colored waist sash.

Our seats were not ten feet apart. With a rapid scrutiny he grasped in his vision the contents of the room. I gazed at the group of children directly in front of me on the floor. Leaning over toward the Moro, I pointed to direct the work of the children who were making cocoanut fibre rope. At that instant something seemed to pass in black before my eyes. It must have been a shadow of what my eyes met as I instantly glanced upward.

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