The guests being informed (or having overheard a part) of this rhapsody, instantly rose up with one accord to punish the contumely of the prophet.  Kenneth, though he foretold the fate of others, did not in any manner look into that of himself; for this reason, being doubtful of debating the propriety of his prediction upon such unequal terms, he fled with the greatest precipitation.  The M’Kenzies followed with infinite zeal; and more than one ball had whistled over the head of the seer before he reached Loch Ousie.  The consequences of this prediction so disgusted Kenneth with any further exercise of his prophetic calling, that, in the anguish of his flight, he solemnly renounced all communication with its power; and, as he ran along the margin of Loch Ousie, he took out the wonderful pebbles, and cast them in a fury into the water.  Whether his evil genius had now forsaken him, or his condition was better than that of his pursuers, is unknown, but certain it is, Kenneth, after the sacrifice of the pebbles, outstripped his enraged enemies, and never, so far as I have heard, made any attempt at prophecy from the hour of his escape.

Kenneth Oer had a son, who was called Ian Dubh Mac Coinnach (Black John, the son of Kenneth), and lived in the village of Miltoun, near Dingwall.  His chief occupation was brewing whisky; and he was killed in a fray at Miltoun, early in the present century.  His exit would not have formed the catastrophe of an epic poem, and appears to have been one of those events of which his father had no intelligence, for it happened in the following manner:—­

Having fallen into a dispute with a man with whom he had previously been on friendly terms, they proceeded to blows; in the scuffle, the boy, the son of Ian’s adversary, observing the two combatants locked in a close and firm gripe of eager contention, and being doubtful of the event, ran into the house and brought out the iron pot-crook, with which he saluted the head of the unfortunate Ian so severely, that he not only relinquished his combat, but departed this life on the ensuing morning.

ELPHIN IRVING.

   The fairies’ cupbearer.

   “The lady kilted her kirtle green
      A little aboon her knee,
   The lady snooded her yellow hair
      A little aboon her bree,
   And she’s gane to the good greenwood
      As fast as she could hie.

   And first she let the black steed pass,
      And syne she let the brown,
   And then she flew to the milk-white steed,
      And pulled the rider down: 
   Syne out then sang the queen o’ the fairies,
      Frae midst a bank of broom,
   She that has won him, young Tamlane,
      Has gotten a gallant groom.”

   Old Ballad.