"Dunvegan, twenty-fourth July, 1780
"Dear Madam,
"I arrived at Inverness the third day after parting with you, in
good health and without any accidents, which I always dread; my
young 'squire continued always very obliging and attentive to me. I
stayed at Inverness for three days. I had the good-luck to meet with
a female companion from that to Skye. I was the fourth day, with
great difficulty, at Raasay, for my hands being so pained with the
riding.
"I arrived here a few days ago with my young daughter, who promises
to be a stout Highland dairg, quite overgrown of her age. Nanny and
her small family are well: her husband was not sailed the last
accounts she had from him.
"I have the pleasure to inform you, upon my arrival here, that I had
two letters from my husband; the latter dated tenth May. He was then
in very good health, and informs me that my son Charles has got the
command of a troop of horse in Lord Cathcart's regiment. But alas! I
have heard nothing since I left you about my son Sandy,[313] which
you may be sure gives me great uneasiness; but still hope for the
best.
"By public and private news, I hope we will soon have peace
re-established, to our great satisfaction: which, as it's a thing
long expected and wished for, will be for the utility of the whole
nation; especially to poor me, that has my all engaged,--fond to
hear news, and yet afraid to get it.
"I wait here till a favourable opportunity for the Long Island shall
offer itself.--As I am upon all occasions under the greatest
obligations to you, would you get a letter from my son Johny sooner
than I would get one from him, you would very much oblige me by
dropping me a few lines communicating to me the most material part
of his letter.
"I hope you and the ladies of your family will always accept of my
kindest respects; and I ever am, with esteem, dear madam, your
affectionate, humble servant,
"FLORA MACDONALD.
"Please direct to me, to Mrs. Macdonald, late of Kingsborrow, South
Uist, by Dunvegan."
Two years, it seems, elapsed, and the summer of 1782 arrived, and the
fate of Alexander Macdonald was still unknown; yet the mother's heart
still clung to hope, as it proved by the following letter. No murmurs
escape from one who seems to have sustained unrepiningly the sorrows
which reach the heart most truly; the wreck of fortune, not for
ourselves, but for our children, and the terrors of suspense. One source
of consolation she possessed: her surviving sons were brave, honourable,
and respected. But "Sandy" never returned.