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"Ah, frantic Fear!
I see, I see thee near;
I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye!
Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly!
COLLINS.
In a remote district of country belonging to Lord Cassillis, between
Ayrshire and Galloway, about three hundred years ago, a moor of
apparently boundless extent stretched several miles along the road, and
wearied the eye of the traveller by the sameness and desolation of its
appearance; not a tree varied the prospect--not a shrub enlivened the
eye by its freshness--nor a native flower bloomed to adorn this
ungenial soil. One "lonesome desert" reached the horizon on every side,
with nothing to mark that any mortal had ever visited the scene before,
except a few rude huts that were scattered near its centre; and a road,
or rather pathway, for those whom business or necessity obliged to pass
in that direction. At length, deserted as this wild region had always
been, it became still more gloomy. Strange rumours arose, that the path
of unwary travellers had been beset on this "blasted heath," and that
treachery and murder had intercepted the solitary stranger as he
traversed its dreary extent. When several persons, who were known to
have passed that way, mysteriously disappeared, the inquiries of their
relatives led to a strict and anxious investigation; but though the
officers of justice were sent to scour the country, and examine the
inhabitants, not a trace could be obtained of the persons in question,
nor of any place of concealment which could be a refuge for the lawless
or desperate to horde in.
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