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She sailed with a large crew, which was depleted to ninety on account of the number in charge of the prizes captured. Her commander was Captain Samuel C. Reid, born in Connecticut in 1783, and died in 1861. It was he who designed the accepted pattern of the United States flag, with its thirteen stripes and one star for each State.
Mackenzie got to his feet, his weariness gone on the surge of concern that thrilled him. Hector Hall had come to collect his outstanding account at last. And Reid was unarmed. Because of this he had been forced to flee before his enemy like a coward, against his nature, to his humiliation, Mackenzie knew.
"My name is Reid, the same as your landlord." "Then," said Jean, "are you a relative of his?" "A connection." It was not what he meant to say, but he said it. "How odd!" said Jean. She was trying to remember if she had said anything unbecoming of one relative to another. "Oh, here's Jock and Mhor," as two figures ran past the windows; "you must stay and have tea with us, Mr. Reid."
Mackenzie almost decided to go to the open door and speak to Reid, and learn whether he might be of assistance to him in his evident stress. He was ready to forgive much of what had passed between them, blaming it to Reid's chafing against the restraint that was whetting him down to a bone. Mackenzie felt now that he had not handled Reid in the right way.
In the meantime the Minister of Militia from Canada arrived and visited our camp, also several other eminent men, among them Mr. R. Reid, who represents the Province of Ontario in London. Our lay-out for camp was not as fine as at Valcartier.
The first of these letters refers to a dinner of welcome given to Sir Henry Irving. The last two to books by my mother and Richard, and which were published simultaneously. NEW YORK, November 27, 1893. DEAR MOTHER: The dinner was very fine. I was very glad I went. Whitelaw Reid sat on one side of Sir Henry Irving and Horace Porter on the other. Howells and Warner came next.
Peter Reid looked at the doctor as if he hardly understood. "Live?" he said. "Oh, in Prince's Gate. But that isn't home.... I'm going to Scotland." "Ah," said James Lauder, "now you're talking. What part of Scotland is 'home' to you?" "A place they call Priorsford. I was born there." "I know it. I've fished all round there. A fine countryside."
Having gone over the whole of the low-water works on the rock, the beacon, and lighthouse, and being satisfied that only the most untoward accident in the landing of the machinery could prevent the exhibition of the light in the course of the winter, Mr. John Reid, formerly of the floating light, was now put in charge of the lighthouse as principal keeper; Mr.
"I'll ride along with you," Reid offered; "I can't do him any good by going down to see him. Anybody gone for a doctor?" "Rabbit's the only doctor. I suppose she can do him as much good as anybody he'll die, anyhow." "He's not cut out for a sheepman," said Reid, ruminatively, shaking his head in depreciation.
John Reid, principal lightkeeper, who also acted as master of the floating light during the working months at the rock, described the appearance of the numerous lights situated so low in the water, when seen at the distance of two or three miles, as putting him in mind of Milton's description of the fiends in the lower regions, adding, "for it seems greatly to surpass Will-o'-the-wisp, or any of those earthly spectres of which we have so often heard."
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