The company admitted the application was too close to be resisted; but the same sceptic (who, by-the-bye, was only a low country merchant, elevated by purchase to the dignity of a Highland laird) was seen to shrug his shoulders, and hear to make some sneering remarks on the days of second-sights and such superstitious nonsense being past.  This was instantly laid hold of; and amongst many others of the same sort, the truth of the following story was attested by one of the party, as having actually occurred in his family within his own remembrance.

“As Duncan M’Crae was one evening descending Benvoilloich, he perceived a funeral procession in the vale beneath.  He was greatly surprised, not having heard of any death in the country; and this appeared to be the burial of some person of consequence, from the number of the attendants.  He made all the haste he could to get down; and as he drew near the counted all the lairds of the country except my father, Sir Murdoch.  He was astonished at this, till he recollected that he was away to the low country to his cousin’s marriage; but he felt curious to know who it was, though some unaccountable feeling prevented him from mixing with the followers.  He therefore kept on the ridge of the hill, right over their heads, and near enough to hear them speak; but although he saw them move their lips, no sound reached his ear.  He kept along with the procession in this way till it reached the Castle Dochart burying-ground, and there it stopped.  The evening was close and warm, and a thick mist had gathered in the glen, while the tops of the hills shone like gold.  Not a breath of air was stirring, but the trees that grew round the burying-ground waved and soughed, and some withered leaves were swirled round and round, as if by the wind.  The company stood a while to rest, and then they proceeded to open the iron gates of the burying-ground; but the lock was rusted and would not open.  Then they began to pull down part of the wall, and Duncan thought how angry his master would be at this, and he raised his voice and shouted and hallooed to them, but to no purpose.  Nobody seemed to hear him.  At last the wall was taken down, and the coffin was lifted over, and just then the sun broke out, and glinted on a new-made grave; and as they were laying the coffin in it, it gave way, and disclosed Sir Murdoch himself in his dead clothes; and then the mist grew so thick, Duncan could see no more, and how to get home he knew not; but when he entered his own door he was bathed in sweat, and white as any corpse; and all that he could say was, that he had seen Castle Dochart’s burying.

“The following day,” continued the narrator, “he was more composed, and gave the account you have now heard; and three days after came the intelligence of my father’s death.  He had dropped down in a fit that very evening, when entertaining a large company in honour of his cousin’s marriage; and that day week his funeral passed through Glenvalloch exactly as described by Duncan M’Crae, with all the particulars:  The gates of the burying-ground could not he opened; part of the wall was taken down to admit the coffin, which received some injury, and gave way as they were placing it in the grave.”