arms; place me in the great chair. That fellow shall never see me on a death-bed.” With this they complied, and he received his visitor with great civility. When the stranger had taken his leave, Rob Roy exclaimed, “It is all over now; put me to bed. Call in the piper. Let him play ‘Cha teill mi tuille,’ as long as I breathe.” He was faithfully obeyed, and calmly met his death, which took place at the farm of Inverlochlarigbig, among the braes of Balquhidder, in 1735. His relics repose in the church-yard of that parish, with no other escutcheon to mark his grave than a simple stone, on which some kindred spirit has carved a sword—the appropriate emblem of the man:—
“Clan Alpine’s omen and her aid.”
The funeral of Rob Roy was attended by all ranks of people within several miles of his residence, and so much was he beloved that universal regret seemed to pervade the whole company. An old man whom we have seen, although then young, attended the solemn occasion; and was present some time before, when Rob Roy fought Ardsheal.
