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Updated: June 28, 2025
Is there a Mary Callen dead, and a Mary Callen livin'? and did both of them love a man that went from Farcalladen Rise one wild night long ago? "'There's but one Mary Callen, said I, 'but the heart of me is dead, until I hear news that brings it to life again? "'And no man calls you wife? he asked.
"'A year ago! said I, sadly. "'I'm ashamed that I've been so long in comin' here, replied he; 'but, of course, he didn't know that you were alive, and I had been parted from a lady for years a lover's quarrel and I had to choose between courtin' her again and marryin' her, or comin' to Farcalladen Rise at once. Well, I went to the altar first.
One night at Farcalladen Rise there was a crack of arms and a clatter of fleeing hoofs, and he that I loved came to me and said a quick word of partin', and with a kiss it's burnin' on my lips yet askin' pardon, father, for speech of this to you and he was gone, an outlaw, to Australia. For a time word came from him.
"Oh, it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise, With the knees pressing hard to the saddle, my men; With the sparks from the hoofs giving light to the eyes, And our hearts beating hard as we rode to the glen! "And it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur, And it's back with the sun on the hill and the moor, And it's back is the thought sets my pulses astir!
Some having to do with the earliest days of his childhood; some with fighting on the Danube, before he left the army, impoverished and ashamed; some with idle hours in the North Tower in Stavely Castle; and one with the day he and his sister left the old castle, never to return, and looked back upon it from the top of Farcalladen Moor, waving a "God bless you" to it.
In his delirium he seemed to be always with Lawless: "'For it's down the long side of Farcalladen Rise' It's share and share even, Lawless, and ye'll ate the rest of it, or I'll lave ye Did ye say ye'd found water Lawless water!
And Shon, on his part, with fresh and hearty voice, touched here and there by a plaintive modulation, told about that ride on Farcalladen Rise; a tale of broken laws, and fight and fighting, and death and exile; and never a word of hatred in it all. "And the writer of the song, who was he"? asked the Honourable. "A gentleman after God's own heart.
Sure you're drinkin' none yourself I'll sing it again for you then 'And it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur' 'But burn all your ships behind you' 'I'll never go back to Farcalladen more!" Sir Duke's fingers had a trick of kindness, a suggestion of comfort, a sense of healing, that made his simple remedies do more than natural duty.
I never heard the song before." "No more you did. And I wish I could see the lad that wrote that song, livin' or dead. If one of ye's will tell me about your tobogan rides, I'll unfold about Farcalladen Rise." Prince Levis passed the liquor. Pretty Pierre, seated on a candle-box, with a glass in his delicate fingers, said: "Eh, well, the Honourable has much language.
"Did you ever live in a castle?" she asked eagerly. "Yes," he said, with a dry little laugh. Then, after a moment, with the half-abstracted manner of a man who is recalling a long-forgotten scene, he added: "I lived in the North Tower, looking out on Farcalladen Moor. When I wasn't riding to the hounds myself I could see them crossing to or from the meet.
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