TALES OF THE 
 COVENANTERS 
 
 3Y ROBERT POLLOK 
 
 STRATED^BY 
 M-M-BROCK ^^ 
 
 Diversity of Californii 
 i Southern Regional 
 Library Facility
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE 
 
 OF 
 
 LOS 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 CALIFORNIA 
 ANGELES
 
 Tales of the Covenanters
 
 A LIGHTED MATCH WAS PLACED BETWEEN HER FINGERS. 
 Frontispiece. {Copyright by Oliphant Andrrson &> Ferrier, 1895.] See page 67.
 
 Tales 
 
 of 
 
 The Covenanters 
 
 BY ROBERT POLLOK, M.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME" 
 
 WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 OF THE AUTHOR 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. ANDREW THOMSON, D.D. 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 H. M. BROCK 
 
 1895
 
 "They lived unknown 
 Till persecution dragged them into fame, 
 
 And chased them up to heaven." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH.
 
 College 
 Librae/ 
 
 Preface to the New Edition 
 
 THE Tales of the Covenanters, written by Robert Pollok 
 when a student of divinity, upwards of seventy years 
 ago, were at once received with a popular favour, which 
 they have retained up to the present time. To the 
 Publishers it is a special pleasure to issue this new 
 Edition. The Illustrations are from original sketches 
 by Mr. H. M. Brock, and the value of the book is 
 enhanced by a chapter giving a general view of the 
 Characters, Literature, Aims, and Attained Objects of 
 the Covenanter, which, through the kindness of Messrs. 
 Gall & Inglis, they have been permitted to reprint from 
 the Rev. George Gilfillan's Martyrs and Heroes of the 
 Scottish Covenant.
 
 Contents 
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. . . 9 
 
 HELEN OF THE GLEN . 33 
 
 RALPH GEMMELL . ,. . . m 
 
 THE PERSECUTED FAMILY .^ . . .185 
 
 A GENERAL VIEW, ETC. ..... 261
 
 Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Sketch of the Life and Character of 
 Robert Pollok 
 
 THE pen of an affectionate brother has already given to 
 the world an elaborate memoir of Robert Pollok. We 
 should consider it alike indecent and presumptuous to lay 
 rude hands on that interesting tribute of fraternal regard, 
 or to attempt clothing in other language, those touch- 
 ing reminiscences of a brother's excellencies in which the 
 author has unconsciously disclosed his own. The task 
 assigned us may be far more briefly done. While not 
 inattentive to the order of time, our main endeavour shall 
 be, to select from the history of his too rapid course, 
 those events which appear to us to have exerted the most 
 powerful influence in the formation of his character and 
 development of his genius. 
 
 Robert Pollok was born on Friday the igth day of 
 October 1798, at North Moorhouse, in the parish of 
 Eaglesham, Renfrewshire. His father belonged to that 
 respectable class of small farmers, among whom we so 
 often trace the simple manners and rigid morality that 
 have grown, for ages, from that noble theology which 
 was restored to Scotland at the Reformation. His fore- 
 fathers appear for centuries before to have been tenants 
 of the soil in this district ; and it is interesting to notice,
 
 io *XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 that his ancestors, on the maternal side, were honoured 
 to suffer in those persecutions which desolated this part 
 of Scotland between 1660 and 1688 ; one having suffered 
 banishment ; another having not only been driven into 
 exile, but reduced to slavery, and a third apprehended by 
 a troop of dragoons and shot. This was a noble pedigree, 
 not without a manifest influence on Pollok's dispositions 
 and tastes. 
 
 His childhood, spent amid the simplicity and solitude 
 of these rural scenes, gave frequent indications of that 
 indomitable resoluteness and energy which, at a later 
 period, formed so prominent a feature of his character. 
 But two circumstances in his early youth deserve especial 
 notice, as exerting a permanent and salutary influence 
 in training the intellect and affections of the future 
 poet. 
 
 One of these was the instructions of a mother, who, 
 amid the cares of a numerous household, and the toils 
 imposed by circumstances which called for industry as 
 well as frugality, found time to imbue the minds of her 
 children with heavenly truth. "By her he was taught 
 to read the Bible, and made to commit to memory the 
 Shorter Catechism, with part of the Psalms of David." 
 The testimony of many of the excellent of the earth, from 
 the days of Timothy in the first century to those of 
 Richard Cecil in the nineteenth, might well vindicate us 
 from any suspicion of attaching too much importance to 
 the home education which Pollok enjoyed from this 
 woman of "unfeigned piety"; but we have his own 
 grateful testimony recorded long afterwards, when his 
 Course of Time had been given to the world, and his 
 ear had begun to drink in the voice of fame. Speaking 
 of the theology of his poem, he remarked to his 
 brother, " It has my mother's divinity, the divinity 
 that she taught me when I was a boy. I may have 
 amplified it from what I learned afterwards ; but in 
 writing the poem, I always found that hers formed the 
 groundwork, the point from which I set out. I always
 
 Robert Pollok KeX* n 
 
 drew on hers first, and I was never at a loss. This 
 shows," he added, with devout gratitude, " what kind of 
 a divine she was." 
 
 Nor in tracing the development of a mind of high 
 poetical susceptibility like Pollok's should we attach 
 small importance to the scenery around Mid-Moorhouse, 
 to which he removed with his parents in his seventh year. 
 The daily communion which he there held with nature 
 formed a large part of his education as a thinker and a 
 poet ; and few spots could have been better fitted for a 
 poet's sanctuary. It was his practice, from a very early 
 age, to ascend to the summit of Balagich, the highest 
 mountain in the neighbourhood, and there, seated on the 
 Crow Stone, which marked its loftiest point, he would 
 gaze for hours upon the scene of mingled beauty and wild 
 magnificence that spread itself before him. On the one 
 side there stretched a long range of moorland, with here 
 and there an ancient battlefield or martyr's grave, the 
 view terminated in the east by the far-off Tinto, and on 
 the south by Wardlaw and Cairntable, Cairnsmore of 
 Carsphairn, and Buchan of Galloway, classic hills 
 along whose sides the lonely Covenanter had often 
 glided, and in whose caves and masses a suffering 
 remnant of the faithful had often sung their midnight 
 psalm. On another side appeared "the green hills of 
 Carrick," "the grassy plains of Kyle and Cunningham " 
 sloping towards the Clyde, and, far beyond, the sublime 
 ridge of Goatfell, the solitary rock of Ailsa, and the blue 
 peaks of Jura rising in dim and misty grandeur to the 
 clouds. And then, turning in another direction, the eye 
 drank in the glories of another scene, the rich pasture 
 lands of Lanark and Renfrew embosoming vast cities, 
 and strewed with scattered villages ; and, rising now 
 gradually and now abruptly in the farther distance, the 
 hoary and rugged summits of the Grampian range, that 
 from creation's dawn till now, had stood the grim and 
 giant sentinels of the world beyond, Ben Lomond, Ben 
 Cruachan, Ben Voirlich, Ben Ledi, Ben Venue.
 
 12 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 From the age of seven to that of seventeen, Pollok 
 spent some of his happiest hours in the contemplation of 
 scenes like these, deriving from them impressions of 
 grandeur and images of beauty ; cherishing in his bosom 
 the instincts of freedom, and fanning a devotion which 
 was yet to find meet utterance in words that men would 
 not willingly let die. Foster has devoted one of those 
 fine essays of meditative philosophy, by which he has at 
 once enriched the English literature and instructed the 
 English mind, to illustrate the influence of scenery upon 
 thought and character. The poetry of Alfred Tennyson 
 might be adduced to confirm his principles. And Pollok 
 long afterwards, owned the same influence in the follow- 
 ing characteristic lines descriptive of his communion with 
 nature and with himself 
 
 Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot, 
 In the wide desert, where the view was large. 
 Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me 
 The solitude of vast extent, untouched 
 By hand of art, where Nature sowed herself, 
 And reaped her crops ; whose garments were the clouds ; 
 Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars ; 
 Whose organ-choir, the voice of many waters ; 
 Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ; 
 Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers ; 
 Whose orators, the thunderbolts of God ; 
 Whose palaces, the everlasting hills ; 
 Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue ; 
 And from whose rocky turrets, battled high, 
 Prospect immense spread out on all sides round, 
 Lost now between the welkin and the main, 
 Now walled with hills that slept above the storm. 
 
 Most fit was such a place for musing men, 
 Happiest, sometimes, when musing without aim. 
 It was, indeed, a wondrous sort of bliss 
 The lonely bard enjoyed, when forth he walked, 
 Unpurposed ; stood, and knew not why; sat down, 
 And knew not where ; arose, and knew not when ; 
 Had eyes, and saw not ; ears, and nothing heard ; 
 And sought sought neither heaven nor earth sought nought, 
 Nor meant to think ; but ran, meantime, through vast 
 Of visionary things, fairer than aught
 
 Robert Pollok KcX- 13 
 
 That was ; and saw the distant tops of thoughts, 
 Which men of common stature never saw, 
 Greater than aught the largest words could hold, 
 Or give idea of, to those who read. 
 
 While the elements of poetry were thus gathering 
 within him, a little incident occurred, which, however 
 unimportant it might seem in the lives of most men, must 
 be regarded as marking an important era in the mental 
 history of Robert Pollok, which it is the chief design 
 of these remarks to trace. While residing in the house 
 of an intelligent relative, two books fell into his hands, 
 which introduced him to his first acquaintance with 
 British poets. One of these was Pope's Essay on Man, 
 which charmed him with the exquisite harmony of its 
 versification, and led him to make some attempts in 
 rhyme. It could not be said of him, however, as of Pope, 
 that he "lisped in numbers, for the numbers came" ; 
 and it soon became evident that rhyme was not destined 
 to be the vehicle of his thoughts. But, soon after, 
 another book fell into his hands, which exerted a far 
 mightier influence over his character, not merely inform- 
 ing him in regard to the structure of poetry but unveil- 
 ing to him its essence, and haunting him with thoughts 
 which at length stirred within him, if not an equal, at 
 least a kindred flame. This was Milton's Paradise 
 Lost. 
 
 "He found a copy of it one day," says his brother, 
 "among some old books on the upper shelf of a wall- 
 press in the kitchen, where it had lain neglected for 
 years. Though he had never seen Paradise Lost before, 
 he had often heard of it, and he began to read it immedi- 
 ately. He was captivated with it at the very first ; and, 
 after that, as long as he stayed at Horsehill, he took it 
 up whenever he had the least opportunity, and read with 
 great eagerness. When he was leaving the place, his 
 uncle seeing him so fond of the book, gave it to him in a 
 present, and from that time Milton became his favourite 
 author, and, I may say, next to the Bible, his chief
 
 14 ^XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 companion. Henceforward he read more or less of him 
 almost every day, and used often to repeat aloud, in bed, 
 immediately before rising in the morning-, what was his 
 favourite passage in Paradise Lost the apostrophe to 
 Light in the beginning of the Third Book." From this 
 hour Pollok became the subject of a new impulse. The 
 vow of self-consecration to poetry was taken not the less 
 solemnly, that as yet it was unbreathed to mortal ear. 
 The strains of the bard of Paradise found congenial 
 echoes in his inmost soul, and in the spirit of that young 
 Themistocles who could not sleep in sight of the field of 
 Marathon and the trophies of Miltiades, he began to 
 "measure his soul severely" with bards of honourable 
 name, and ' ' search for theme deserving of immortal verse. " 
 At the age of nineteen we find Pollok entering as a 
 student at the University of Glasgow. Some years 
 before, he had solemnly dedicated himself to the work of 
 the Christian ministry, in connection with the United 
 Secession Church. That Church has, from the com- 
 mencement, wisely required of all aspirants to the 
 pastoral office in her communion, a lengthened prepara- 
 tory course of attendance at one of our Scottish univer- 
 sities, before entering on the systematic study of sacred 
 literature and divinity in her theological halls. And to 
 pass from the disturbed and undisciplined studies of 
 Moorhouse to the University was, on the part of Pollok, 
 not merely to discharge a duty but to gratify a passion. 
 To be an ambassador of grace to guilty men was an 
 office which he had been taught to regard as casting 
 dignity on the noblest human powers ; and now he had 
 taken the first formal step in that path of sacred ambi- 
 tion. But more than this, his love of knowledge and of 
 mental excellence had become intense, and, from the 
 first, he evidently set himself in good earnest to the 
 mastering of those various branches of literature and 
 philosophy which each session of his curriculum opened 
 before him. The rapid progress of his mind at this 
 period is visible in the numerous specimens of thought
 
 Robert Pollok KN, 15 
 
 and composition which his brother's affection has pre- 
 served. It would be wrong, however, to imagine that 
 the range of his thought was limited to the beaten path 
 of academic study his intellect was omnivorous it 
 " glanced from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven " ; 
 there was not only variety but eccentricity in its course ; 
 and we trace him now consciously, and oftener uncon- 
 sciously, gathering around him the materials and images 
 for that work which he had already vowed, in his inmost 
 bosom, to attempt and to achieve. 
 
 At the close of the session of 1822, Pollok finished his 
 course of study at the University of Glasgow, and left 
 behind him that venerable seminary, bearing with him a 
 degree in Master of Arts, and other more decided marks 
 of distinction. 
 
 In the autumn of the same year we find him entering 
 on the study of theology in the Hall of the Secession 
 Church, under the tuition of Dr. Dick, a professor whose 
 finely balanced powers fitted him not merely to occupy 
 but to adorn his office ; combining, as he did, in most 
 rare conjunction, independence of judgment, without 
 the silly affectation of originality or novelty ; solid learn- 
 ing, without pedantic display ; dignity, without reserve ; 
 and in whose academic instructions theology was beheld, 
 not in the ungainly dress of the schools but in the 
 beautiful and seemly garments of an elegant literature, 
 
 " Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose, 
 But musical as is Apollo's lute." 
 
 It was in the earlier part of Pollok's career as a* 
 student of theology that the Tales of the Covenanters 
 were produced. The immediate circumstance that 
 prompted their publication must not be unnoticed in a 
 sketch of his character. He was in straitened circum- 
 stances ; and yet, at the age he had now reached, he 
 could no longer brook the thought of being dependent on 
 a parent who had laboured up to his ability, yea and 
 beyond his ability, to secure for him and his brother the
 
 1 6 tX5"X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 privileges of a college life. What was to be done ? He 
 would write a tale a series of tales. And where could 
 a fitter theme than the days of the Covenant be found for 
 one whose earliest associations were interwoven with 
 stories of martyr and moss-trooper ? whose enthusiasm 
 had led him, in his earlier days, to institute an annual 
 pilgrimage of all the youth of the district to Lochgoin, 
 where John Howie penned the Scots Worthies, and 
 where a flag, a drum, and a pair of drumsticks, with 
 Captain Paton's sword and Bible, strange associates, 
 but all the fitter emblems of the times, are still pre- 
 served as venerable relics of the days when the Church 
 registered her second martyrology, and a second time 
 won her birthright. 
 
 The Tales were published, and realised a sum sufficient 
 to relieve the immediate wants of Pollok. It has been 
 said that they are hasty productions. No doubt they 
 are ; but it has been well answered, that they are the 
 hasty productions of a man of genius ; and, especially 
 in their descriptive parts, we can trace the germs of 
 some of the finest passages in The Course of Time. 
 For our own part we acknowledge, that, in their pre- 
 vading piety, in their fine moral tendency, in the 
 generous sympathy with suffering and love of liberty 
 which they express and excite, they go to enhance our 
 estimate of Pollok. And dark will be the day for 
 Scotland when the page that records the days of the 
 Covenant is turned from by its people with affected 
 grimace. Never is that page truly understood until it is 
 seen as recording, not merely the struggle of parties but 
 of principles, principles for the successful vindication of 
 which the best blood of Scotland was not too dearly 
 shed. The real contest of that hour was not between 
 opposing forms of religion, but between the mere form 
 and the life. And how shameless the injustice and 
 ingratitude of those who laugh at men goaded almost 
 to madness by persecution, because they did not study 
 all the proprieties of language, or display all the elegance
 
 Robert Pollok KeX* 17 
 
 and etiquette of courts ! And how narrow and intolerant 
 the spirit which would blame the martyrs and confessors 
 of the seventeenth century, because they did not possess 
 all the light and liberality of the nineteenth ! 
 
 But we now reach the most important era in the life 
 of Pollok, when with a mind braced by studious nights 
 and laborious days, girded by vows not rashly taken, 
 and by the study of ancient bards of honourable name, 
 with a heart sublimed and purified by the faith of the 
 truth, and no stranger to the hard lessons of adversity, 
 he set himself to that work which was to enrich the 
 English literature, to give at once expression and impulse 
 to the deep-toned piety of his native country, and to 
 earn for himself an early immortality. There are not 
 wanting indications that he had, more than once, been 
 in some danger of being seduced to those frivolous themes 
 which were the fashion of the hour, and of wandering 
 from that holy mount on which Milton and the ancient 
 prophets sat. But these temptations, like the ill-omened 
 birds that crossed the path of the seer, rather passed 
 before his mind than rested on it, and, when at length 
 he did consecrate his genius to a worthy theme, it was 
 with no lingering look to those more crowded regions 
 where poetry submits to be shorn of its strength, 
 and to make sport before the Philistines, when it 
 might have roused slumbering nations to life, and 
 sounded a note that would have been heard through 
 all time. 
 
 The mental struggle, terminating in entire devoted- 
 ness, has been described by himself in a passage of 
 uncommon moral interest, as well as poetic merit, and 
 which has been justly regarded as not merely describing 1 
 his struggle with temptation, and his victory over it, 
 but tracing the outlines of that inward moral revolution, 
 without which a man cannot enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. It will remind the reader of some of those 
 exquisite passages of autobiography which abound in 
 the pages of Cowper.
 
 1 8 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 One of this mood I do remember well : 
 
 We name him not, what now are earthly names ? 
 
 In humble dwelling born, retired, remote ; 
 
 In rural quietude, 'mong hills and streams, 
 
 And melancholy deserts, where the Sun 
 
 Saw, as he pass'd, a shepherd only, here 
 
 And there, watching his little flock, or heard 
 
 The ploughman talking to his steers ; his hopes, 
 
 His morning hopes, awoke before him, smiling, 
 
 Among the dews and holy mountain airs ; 
 
 And fancy coloured them with every hue 
 
 Of heavenly loveliness. But soon his dreams 
 
 Of childhood fled away those rainbow dreams 
 
 So innocent and fair that withered Age, 
 
 Even at the grave cleared up his dusty eye, 
 
 And passing all between, looked fondly back 
 
 To see them once again, ere he departed : 
 
 These fled away, and anxious thought, that wished 
 
 To go, yet whither knew not well to go, 
 
 Possessed his soul, and held it still awhile. 
 
 He listened, and heard from far the voice of fame, 
 
 Heard and was charmed : and deep and sudden vow 
 
 Of resolution made to be renowned ; 
 
 And deeper vowed again to keep his vow. 
 
 His parents saw, his parents whom God made 
 
 Of kindest heart, saw, and indulged his hope. 
 
 The ancient page, he turned, read much, thought 
 
 much, 
 
 And with old bards of honourable name 
 Measured his soul severely ; and looked up 
 To fame, ambitious of no second place. 
 Hope grew from inward faith, and promised fair, 
 And out before him opened many a path 
 Ascending, where the laurel highest waved 
 Her branch of endless green. He stood admiring ; 
 But stood, admired, not long. The harp he seized, 
 The harp he loved, loved better than his life, 
 The harp which uttered deepest notes, and held 
 The ear of thought a captive to its song. 
 He searched and meditated much, and whiles, 
 With rapturous hand, in secret touched the lyre, 
 Aiming at glorious strains ; and searched again 
 For theme deserving of immortal verse ; 
 Chose now, and now refused, unsatisfied ; 
 Pleased, then displeased, and hesitating still.
 
 Robert Pollok KeX* 19 
 
 Thus stood his mind, when round him came a cloud, 
 Slowly and heavily it came, a cloud 
 Of ills we mention not ; enough to say, 
 'Twas cold, and dead, impenetrable gloom. 
 He saw its dark approach, and saw his hopes, 
 One after one, put out, as nearer still 
 It drew his soul ; but fainted not at first, 
 Fainted not soon. He knew the lot of man 
 Was trouble, and prepared to bear the worst ; 
 Endure whate'er should come, without a sigh 
 Endure, and drink, even to the very dregs, 
 The bitterest cup, that time could measure out : 
 And, having done, look up, and ask for more. 
 
 He called philosophy, and with his heart 
 
 Reasoned. He called religion, too, but called 
 
 Reluctantly, and therefore was not heard. 
 
 Ashamed to be o'ermatched by earthly woes, 
 
 He sought, and sought with eye that dimmed apace, 
 
 To find some avenue to light, some place 
 
 On which to rest a hope ; but sought in vain. 
 
 Darker and darker still the darkness grew. 
 
 At length he sank, and Disappointment stood 
 
 His only comforter, and mournfully 
 
 Told all was past. His interest in life, 
 
 In being, ceased : and now he seemed to feel, 
 
 And shuddered as he felt, his powers of mind 
 
 Decaying in the spring-time of his day. 
 
 The vigorous, weak became ; the clear, obscure ; 
 
 Memory gave up her charge ; Decision reeled, 
 
 And from her flight, Fancy returned, returned 
 
 Because she found no nourishment abroad. 
 
 The blue heavens withered ; and the moon, and sun, 
 
 And all the stars, and the green earth, and morn 
 
 And evening, withered, and the eyes, and smiles, 
 
 And faces of all men and women, withered, 
 
 Withered to him ; and all the universe, 
 
 Like something which had been, appeared, but now 
 
 Was dead and mouldering fast away. He tried 
 
 No more to hope, wished to forget his vow, 
 
 Wished to forget his harp ; then ceased to wish ! 
 
 That was his last ; enjoyment now was done. 
 
 He had no hope, no wish, and scarce a fear, 
 
 Of being sensible, and sensible 
 
 Of loss, he as some atom seemed, which God 
 
 Had made superfluously, and needed not
 
 2O 
 
 To build creation with ; but back again 
 To nothing threw, and left it in the void, 
 With everlasting sense that once it was. 
 
 Oh ! who can tell what days, what nights he spent, 
 Of tideless, waveless, sailless, shoreless wo ! 
 And who can tell how many, glorious once, 
 To others and themselves of promise full, 
 Conducted to this pass of human thought, 
 This wilderness of intellectual death, 
 Wasted and pined, and vanished from the earth, 
 Leaving no vestige of memorial there ! 
 
 It was not so with him. When thus he lay, 
 
 Forlorn of heart, withered and desolate, 
 
 As leaf of Autumn, which the wolfish winds, 
 
 Selecting from its falling sisters, chase, 
 
 Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes, 
 
 And leave it there alone, to be forgotten 
 
 Eternally, God passed in mercy by 
 
 His praise be ever new ! and on him breathed, 
 
 And bade him live, and put into his hands 
 
 A holy harp, into his lips a song, 
 
 That rolled its numbers down the tide of Time. 
 
 Ambitious now but little to be praised 
 
 Of men alone ; ambitious most to be 
 
 Approved of God, the Judge of all ; and have 
 
 His name recorded in the Book of Life. 
 
 It was in this spirit of devout self-consecration that 
 Pollok entered on the composition of The Course of 
 Time, in the beginning of December 1824, and at the 
 age of twenty-seven. The first hint of his poem, we 
 learn from some interesting reminiscences by his brother, 
 was suggested by Byron's lines to Darkness, which he 
 took up one evening in a moment of great mental desola- 
 tion. While perusing those lines, he was led to think of 
 the Resurrection as a theme on which something new 
 might be written. He proceeded, and on the same 
 night finished a thousand verses, intending that the 
 subject of the poem should be the Resurrection. Mean- 
 while, thoughts and images crowded upon his mind, 
 which it would have been unnatural to introduce under
 
 Robert Pollok K^X, 21 
 
 such a theme ; when all at once the whole plan of his 
 work rose before him, with the completeness and the 
 vividness of a prophet's vision. " One night," says his 
 brother, "when he was sitting alone in Moorhouse' old 
 room, letting his mind wander back and forward over 
 things at large, in a moment, as if by an immediate 
 inspiration, the idea of the poem struck him, and the 
 plan of it, as it now stands, stretched out before him ; 
 so that at one glance he saw through it from end to end, 
 like an avenue, with the Resurrection as only part of the 
 scene. He never felt, he said, as he did then ; and he 
 shook from head to foot, overpowered with feeling ; 
 knowing that to pursue the subject was to have no 
 middle way between great success and great failure. 
 From this time, in selecting and arranging materials, he 
 saw through the plan so well that he knew to what 
 book, as he expressed it, the thoughts belonged whenever 
 they set up their heads." 
 
 From this time till the finishing of his poem, his whole 
 soul was on fire with his subject. In the old room at 
 Moorhouse, on the sublime path between Moorhouse 
 and Eaglesham, when hastening to join the worshippers 
 on the "hallowed morn," on the lofty summits of 
 Balagich, and, oftenest of all, when he communed with 
 his own heart upon his bed and was silent, he was 
 struggling with his great argument, and seeking to 
 give to the images of truth that moved before his spirit, 
 "immortal shape and form." Thoughts rushed upon 
 his mind as if, like the widow's cruse, it had been 
 supplied by miracle, and only the weariness and faint- 
 ings of his body seemed to clog the movements of a 
 spirit that, at this period, spurned repose. 
 
 In some poets, such as Pope, we trace the progress of the 
 composition, from the first rude and inharmonious sketch, 
 to the perfect verse ; but in Pollok some of his finest pass- 
 ages were thrown off at once ; they were not laboriously 
 beaten into shape, but, coming forth fused and molten, in 
 a moment took their appropriate and permanent form.
 
 22 
 
 There is one fact connected with this composition 
 which we have peculiar pleasure in recording. His 
 brother informs us that "he kept the Bible constantly 
 beside him, and read in different places of it, according 
 to the nature of what he was composing ; so that his 
 mind, it may be said, was all along regulated by the 
 Bible. Finally, he prayed to God daily, morning and 
 evening, for direction and assistance in the work." 
 The Course of Time is thus literally the fruit of prayer ; 
 the inspiration that dictated it was implored on bended 
 knees ; and those beautiful lines of his invocation are 
 not a mere compliance with the fashion of poets, but 
 the genuine "cardiphonia," the deep utterance of the 
 heart. 
 
 Hold my right hand, Almighty ! and me teach 
 To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes 
 Harmonious with the morning- stars, and pure 
 As those by sainted bards and angels sung, 
 Which wake the echoes of Eternity ; 
 That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise, 
 Instructed, listen of ages yet to come. 
 
 In the beginning of July 1826, Pollok brought the 
 writing of his great poem to a close. Nineteen months 
 had thus elapsed from the time of his commencing the 
 composition ; but enfeebled health and other influences 
 had created considerable pauses ; and we have his own 
 authority for believing, that the time in which he was 
 actually engaged in versification did not exceed eight 
 months. 
 
 The intense and protracted mental exertion imposed 
 by the composition of such a work, in so short a space 
 of time an exertion, compared with which he found the 
 study of the most difficult Greek and Roman classics to 
 be an amusement, and which, night after night, brought 
 him to the borders of fever may well be imagined to 
 have told unfavourably on a constitution which had 
 already been shaken by disease. The chariot-wheels 
 had indeed caught fire through the rapidity of their own
 
 Robert Pollok KcX* 23 
 
 motion, the consequence of which was, that, by the time 
 the poem was concluded, he appeared emaciated and 
 pale, and distressing fears were awakened, that in writ- 
 ing 1 The Course of Time he had been intwining a 
 splendid wreath to be laid upon an early grave. The 
 labours and anxieties connected with obtaining a pub- 
 lisher and carrying his poem through the press, served 
 to give the disease a deeper seat in his constitution, and 
 to bring out more unfavourable symptoms. 
 
 The consequence was, that when, in the spring of 
 1827, having been admitted a licentiate of the Secession 
 Church, he delivered his first public discourse in one of 
 the chapels of his own denomination in Edinburgh, the 
 practised eye of Dr. Belfrage of Slateford, a minister and 
 physician of the same religious body, detected in his 
 feeble appearance, and countenance alternately flushed 
 and wan, the inroads of pulmonary disease. This was 
 followed, on the part of the kind physician, by an invita- 
 tion to Slateford Manse, a lovely retreat, situated a few 
 miles from Edinburgh, at the base of the Pentland Hills, 
 where Pollok, in addition to the luxury of retirement, 
 could enjoy the double advantage of Dr Belfrage's 
 Christian friendship and medical skill. The invitation 
 was gratefully accepted, and from this sweet spot we 
 find Pollok soon after writing to his venerable father at 
 Moorhouse, in terms of high satisfaction both with his 
 host and with the scene. " I am still at Slateford," says 
 he; "my health is improving; but Dr. Belfrage insists 
 that two or three weeks more of medical treatment are 
 necessary, and he refuses to let me leave him. I am 
 therefore a prisoner, but it is in a paradise ; for every- 
 thing here looks as if our world had never fallen." 
 
 The growing voice of fame now began to reach him 
 from all quarters of the kingdom. Reviews of highest 
 authority sounded the praise of the young poet, who, all 
 at once, unpatronised and unprophesied, had ascended 
 to mid-heaven. From the very throne of criticism, 
 laurels were flung upon his path, and men of high
 
 24 cXfTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 authority, whose praise was fame, sought out the young 
 poet in his retreat to cheer him in his onward course. 
 Among these attentions, none gratified him so much as 
 the visits of the venerable Henry Mackenzie, author of 
 The Man of Feeling^ then in his eighty - fourth year. 
 " I felt his attention," says he, in a letter to his father, 
 "to be as if some literary patriarch had risen from the 
 grave to bless me and do me honour." 
 
 Still the insidious malady was secretly advancing, and 
 its progress was at once increased and betrayed by an 
 alarming illness which seized him in the month of June, 
 and greatly diminished his strength. It now became 
 evident to Dr. Belfrage, and other medical advisers of 
 first eminence, that removal to a foreign climate was in- 
 dispensable, and even this was tremblingly recommended, 
 as affording but faint hope that his sun would not go 
 down at noonday. 
 
 Italy was proposed, and especially the salubrious air 
 of Pisa, in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. In this pro- 
 posal Pollok cheerfully acquiesced : and it is with a 
 kind of sad interest that we behold the dying poet, under 
 the influence of that false hope with which consumption 
 dazzles her victims, indulging day-dreams of returning 
 health, to be devoted to yet higher achievements in 
 literature, when he returned laden with the classic 
 stores, and refreshed by the bright remembrances of 
 Italy. 
 
 Generous friends now hastened to provide a fund 
 sufficient for the respectable maintenance of the poet in a 
 foreign clime. Among these, honourable mention must 
 be made of Sir John Sinclair, Dr. John Brown, Dr. Bel- 
 frage, and Sir John Pirie, afterwards Lord Mayor of 
 London, whose prompt and thoughtful regard, not 
 exhausted in a few distant and splendid acts, displayed 
 all the tender earnestness of parental solicitude. 
 
 A short experimental voyage to Aberdeen and a sad 
 farewell to Moorhouse, in which, under the influence of 
 dark forebodings scarcely owned and yet impossible to
 
 Robert Poll ok KeX, 25 
 
 be repressed, every eye but his own was suffused with 
 tears, and every voice but his own faltered with emotion, 
 was followed by a speedy departure for London, whence 
 it was intended that he should now sail, with all dis- 
 patch, for Italy. Arrived in London, places were taken, 
 in a ship bound for Leghorn, for himself and a kind 
 sister, who was chosen to be the companion of his 
 voyage. 
 
 But it was destined that he should never see the 
 Italian shores. The ship not sailing on the appointed 
 day, he was visited by a distinguished physician in the 
 interval, who, perceiving that all hope of recovery was 
 now gone, soothingly but firmly discouraged his leaving 
 his native country. A residence in the south-west of 
 England was recommended, and the neighbourhood of 
 Southampton ultimately fixed upon. There, after a 
 journey of two days, most fatiguing to his fevered and 
 emaciated frame, we find him arriving on Saturday, ist 
 September ; in a few weeks more to " shake hands with 
 death, and smile that he was free." 
 
 He took up his abode in a neat cottage at Shirley 
 Common, about a mile from Southampton. The mild 
 air of that rich and lovely region helped to soothe his 
 chafed spirit. In a spacious garden adjoining the 
 cottage, where the air was so calm that " you could hear 
 the apples falling from the trees one after another," he 
 delighted to walk with his sister, and feel at times the 
 gentle breezes borne to him from the neighbouring sea, 
 and laden with autumnal incense ; and then sitting 
 down, at intervals, on a cushion which he had brought ' 
 with him from London, he would hear his sister read to 
 him from the Bible, which had now become his only 
 book. 
 
 But his weakness rapidly increasing, he was soon com- 
 pelled to abandon this congenial exercise, and to confine 
 himself entirely to bed. His faithful sister, whose deep 
 affection had so long made her "hope against hope," 
 now found it necessary to apprise him of the solemn
 
 26 eXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 prospect that "the earthly house of his tabernacle was 
 soon to be dissolved." This was done with all the 
 tender skill of a woman and a sister, and was received 
 by him in a manner worthy of the author of The Course of 
 Time. His mind was solemnised, but not saddened ; and 
 if, in the thought of soon entering on eternity, he knew 
 no raptures, neither did he know any fears. Once, and 
 only for a moment, did a shade of doubt obscure his 
 hopes, but it passed away, leaving him gazing upon the 
 unclouded truth. There have been men of genius who 
 have rushed into the arms of death mortified by the 
 world's ingratitude or neglect ; but Pollok, with the 
 voice of the world's praise swelling and deepening 
 around him, willingly heard the summons which called 
 him up to a nobler immortality. 
 
 Writing to his father, of whom he had frequently 
 spoken during his illness with great veneration, he thus 
 expressed himself: " My sister is often much distressed, 
 but we pray for one another, and take comfort in the 
 gracious promises of God. I hope I am prepared for the 
 issue of this trouble, whether life or death." 
 
 His growing weakness brought on frequent seasons of 
 drowsiness, the intervals between which were employed 
 by his sister, at his own request, in reading to him from 
 the Scriptures, especially from the Book of Psalms and 
 the Gospel of John, which he greatly relished. In this 
 manner several of his last days and nights were spent, 
 when at length, on the morning of Tuesday, September 
 18, 1827, he gently breathed his last, and entered into 
 the joy of his Lord. 
 
 His mortal remains were interred on the following 
 Friday in the churchyard of Millbrook, a quiet spot 
 remote from the din of cities and near to the sea. He 
 was buried according to the forms of the Church of 
 England, the Rev. Mr. Molesworth reading the burial- 
 service by the side of his grave. An elegant obelisk of 
 granite, reared by those admirers of his genius who had 
 sought to prolong his life, marks the last earthly resting-
 
 Robert Pollok KcX* 27 
 
 place of this highly-gifted man, and bears, with the dates 
 of his birth and death, the following simple inscription : 
 
 THF GRAVE OF 
 
 ROBERT POLLOK, A.M., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME." 
 
 HIS IMMORTAL POEM 
 
 IS HIS 
 MONUMENT. 
 
 Thus ended, at the early age of twenty-nine, the 
 earthly course of Robert Pollok a course too short 
 for hope, but not too short for immortality. There have 
 been small critics who, since his death, have sought, 
 with captious arrogance, to depreciate his poem by petty 
 and nibbling fault-finding ; and even one great man, in 
 an hour of conversational ease, let fall a remark which, 
 when taken at its real value, was more fitted to injure 
 his own fame than Pollok's. But that poem is not to 
 be lightly estimated which, in the rapidity and extent of 
 its circulation, has found no equal in modern times ; 
 parts of which, such men as John Wilson declared, would 
 compare to advantage with any thing in British literature, 
 and which the venerable James Montgomery, with the 
 generous admiration of a kindred spirit, has pronounced 
 to be one of the most extraordinary productions of the 
 age. 
 
 Had we any fears, indeed, for the permanent popularity 
 of The Course of Time they would be occasioned rather 
 by the exuberant and undistinguishing admiration of 
 that somewhat numerous class who, not content with 
 obtaining a high place for it in British literature, would 
 claim for it the first, and would encircle the name of 
 Robert Pollok with the unapproachable splendour of 
 him who sang 
 
 " Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
 Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
 Brought death into the world, and all our woe."
 
 28 <XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 But that Robert Pollok should sit on equal throne 
 with John Milton, is a demand whose rash presumption 
 is apt to provoke a vindictive dethroning of him, even 
 from his proper eminence. Far wiser was the estimate 
 which Pollok himself was wont to form of Milton, 
 when he spoke of him, compared with other bards, as 
 an "archangel in poetry, standing aloft like the star- 
 neighbouring Teneriffe among the little islands that 
 float on the Atlantic surge." 
 
 That there were features of close resemblance in the 
 genius of the two poets that there are passages in 
 The Course of Time which Milton would not have 
 disdained to own, and that these passages warrant 
 the belief that had Pollok lived to hold communion 
 with those choice spirits, to which the fame of his poem 
 had obtained him honourable passport, he would have 
 soared with higher and more sustained flight, hovering 
 around the very summits of the mount of song, is what 
 even the most grudging and reluctant criticism may not 
 shrink from conceding. But our business is with what 
 Pollok actually achieved ; and we conceive that nothing 
 but the blindest partiality would place him in equal rank 
 with him whose work was the fruit of ripened powers 
 sternly disciplined by long years of thought, enriched 
 by foreign travel, and tuned by foreign song, and who, 
 when at length he did strike his harp, made all litera- 
 ture and all climes do tribute to his verse, evoked a 
 new harmony from the English tongue, now vied with 
 the proudest names of Greek and Roman fame, and 
 outstripped them, and now sitting on the mount with 
 Hebrew prophets, seemed to share their inspiration, and 
 to feel the trembling consciousness that that celestial 
 hand was upon him which erst had "touched Isaiah's 
 hallowed lips with fire." 
 
 Other points of comparison apart, how much of the 
 merit of Paradise Lost consists in the characters that 
 move before us, from beginning to end, of that match- 
 less epic ; Adam and Eve while yet unfallen,
 
 Robert Pollok KcX> 29 
 
 " Godlike erect, with native honour clad 
 In native majesty 
 
 For contemplation he, and valour formed ; 
 For softness she, and sweet attractive grace ; " 
 
 and, above all, that wondrous conception, without 
 parallel in epic poetry, and yet so inimitably sustained 
 throughout the whole poem, of the fallen archangel, 
 whose 
 
 "form had not yet lost 
 All her original brightness, nor appear'd 
 Less than Archangel ruin'd, and th' excess 
 Of glory obscured." 
 
 But there are no characters in The Course oj Time, 
 except allegorical ones, and even its narrative resembles 
 rather the successive pictures of a panorama, slowly 
 moving before us to music, than the progress of events 
 leading on to some great result, which angels bend 
 from their thrones to witness, and on which hang the 
 fate of worlds. 
 
 While we have thus sought to qualify a too exuberant 
 praise, how much remains to justify the fame which has 
 already placed upon our poet's brow a crown set with 
 many gems ? 
 
 Where, in all poetry, shall we meet with a passage 
 of more high and varied excellence than the character 
 of Byron ? The almost fiendish pride, the almost angelic 
 power, the conscious misery retiring within itself in 
 sullen scorn, the affected contempt of his fellows, yet, 
 in the very utterance of that contempt, betraying that- 
 he would grieve to be forgotten, all this is described 
 with such perfection of moral anatomy, with such well- 
 chosen imagery, with such regretful sadness, with such 
 sustained power, that had it alone been preserved, it 
 would have established a claim for Pollok upon the 
 homage of all posterity. In the description of the 
 various tribes and nations of the millennium, he reminds 
 us of some of the noblest passages in Milton ; while, 
 in many parts of his Resurrection scene, his own soul
 
 30 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 seems stirred by the sound of that trump which is to 
 shake both earth and heaven. 
 
 In nothing does he more excel than in stripping man 
 of every outward appendage and ornament, and pre- 
 senting him "of all but moral character bereaved." 
 His love of nature is great, only excelled by his love 
 for the Bible 
 
 "that holy book 
 On every leaf bedewed with drops of love Divine," 
 
 from which God had taught him the divine secret of 
 extracting the bitterness from the cup of life, and of 
 relishing its innocent joys, without resting in them. 
 
 He has been compared to Kirke White, but he soared 
 on a far stronger pinion, his eye took in a far wider 
 range, and he could look far longer with unsealed vision 
 on the sun. 
 
 He has been likened to Young ; but what is there in 
 common between the two, save that they have both 
 written large poems, and both on religious subjects ? 
 There is often a false taste and a littleness in Young, 
 of which Pollok is incapable. Witness his description 
 of the last day, which he cannot introduce without two 
 courtly lines to " great Anna," when his whole soul should 
 have been trembling at the final conflagration in which 
 all human thrones and gorgeous palaces are to be dis- 
 solved, leaving not a rack behind. The one excels 
 in epigrammatic point and abruptness ; the other loves 
 to play with his subject, and to dilate on it ; besides, 
 there is, not unfrequently, a gloom about the Night 
 Thoughts that brings the churchyard before us, rather 
 than the church, while the light of the full-orbed gospel 
 which has fallen upon Pollok's own soul, pervades his 
 poem, and sheds its radiance upon the grave. 
 
 Throughout his work he appears before us as one 
 dealing with realities. There is an intense love of truth, 
 a profound sympathy with man's miseries, a faith and 
 hope awakened by drinking at the pure fount of revela-
 
 Robert Pollok KeX* 31 
 
 tion, and which make him anticipate, with eye un- 
 dimmed by present mystery and sorrow, the ultimate 
 return of that 
 
 "little orb 
 Attended by one moon, her lamp by night," 
 
 to the fair sisterhood of unfallen worlds. 
 
 He seems to feel throughout, not merely the fine 
 frenzy of the poet's fire, but the awful burden of the 
 prophet's mission, and in the profound devotion of 
 many parts we feel as if holding converse with a spirit 
 on which has fallen 
 
 "The sanctifying- dew 
 
 Coming unseen, unseen departing thence ; 
 
 Anew creating all, and yet not heard ; 
 
 Compelling, yet not felt ! " 
 
 His work was not " raised by the heat of youth or 
 the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from 
 the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury 
 of a rhyming parasite, nor to be obtained by the invoca- 
 tion of Dame Memory and her seven sisters, but by 
 devout prayers to that Eternal Spirit, who can enrich 
 with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his 
 seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch 
 and purify the lips of whom He pleases."
 
 Helen of the Glen
 
 Helen of the Glen 
 
 " One there is above all others, 
 Well deserves the name of Friend ! 
 His is love beyond a brother's, 
 Costly, free, and knows no end : 
 They who once His kindness prove, 
 Find it everlasting love ! " 
 
 DODDRIDGE. 
 
 IT is pleasant, young reader, to contemplate in our day 
 the peace of the Redeemer's kingdom in Scotland. The 
 Lord is indeed the glory in the midst of His Church, and 
 a wall of fire round about her. The still small voice of 
 the gospel is unrestrained by the menaces of power, and 
 its light unobscured by the clouds of bigotry and super- 
 stition. Our assemblies meet, and worship, and part in 
 peace. In our land the promise is fast accomplishing, 
 ' ' All thy children shall be taught of the Lord : and 
 great shall be the peace of thy children." The Church 
 in our land, like a well-watered garden, and like a 
 spring of waters, now sends forth her streams into the 
 dry and parched wilderness, and sheds her light on the 
 people that sit in darkness. Her voice, harmonising 
 with the invitations of infinite mercy, is now addressed 
 to all nations, inviting them to share in the same 
 heavenly blessings. 
 
 But it is right for us to remember, young reader, that 
 it was not always so in our beloved land. Only two 
 hundred years ago, persecution, and nakedness, and 
 
 36
 
 36 cXs"X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 cold, and hunger, were the lot of those who followed 
 the Lamb whithersoever He went. The sheep of the 
 Great Shepherd wandered upon the mountains, and the 
 hands of the men of power were defiled with their blood. 
 
 Such were the perilous and bloody days in which 
 Helen and William, the subjects of this story, were 
 ushered into life. Their father, James Thomson, although 
 born in the moorish districts of Ayrshire, removed early 
 in life to Glasgow, with Agnes Craig, his beloved wife. 
 Mr. Thomson was for some years prosperous enough in 
 business ; but the unsuspicious sincerity of his character 
 often met with duplicity, and his generous kindness with 
 ingratitude. Reduced by various losses to bankruptcy, 
 he was compelled to leave Scotland. To support him- 
 self, and send something, if possible, for the assistance 
 of his family, he entered the service of King Charles n., 
 followed the army to the Continent, and in a short time 
 after died in Holland, fighting bravely for his sovereign. 
 
 His farewell with his wife had been short and hurried. 
 He advised her to return with her little ones, Helen 
 and William, the former of whom was then four, and 
 the latter two years old, to her native place ; recom- 
 mended them to their Father in heaven ; and the last 
 words which Mrs. Thomson's ear caught from that voice, 
 which she was to hear no more, were these : Oh, my dear 
 Agnes, teach these little ones to know and remember 
 their Creator in the days of their youth, that if I see 
 you and them no more in this valley of tears, I may 
 meet you and them at last by the river of life, in the 
 paradise of God ! " 
 
 Immediately after this painful parting, Mrs. Thomson 
 returned to the place of her birth, in the neighbourhood 
 of Loudon Hill. I need not tell the young reader with 
 what feelings she crossed the little moor-streams, by 
 which she was wont to walk with her James. Now she 
 looked up the winding glen, where her ear had often 
 turned to his affectionate voice, or listened with still 
 more solid delight while he read a chapter from the
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 37 
 
 book of God to dissipate their fears, and strengthen 
 their hopes of eternal life, now, her eyes streaming at 
 once with joy and sorrow, fell back on her little William, 
 the dear miniature of his father. A steady habit of 
 industry ; the remembrance of a youth spent in religion ; 
 her two infants, and an unwavering trust in the kindness 
 of her Maker and Redeemer, were all the riches which 
 Mrs. Thomson brought home to the place of her nativity. 
 Her near relations, weeded away by the hand of disease, 
 or cut off by the sword of persecution, had left her 
 father's house desolate. George Paton, a man who had 
 been her father's shepherd, now possessed the farm. 
 He received the daughter of his former master kindly ; 
 assigned her a snug hut, in which, while a servant, he 
 had himself lived, and gave her a cow, that her infants 
 might not be without milk, which the old shepherd very 
 properly observed was the best liquid Scotland produced, 
 except water. 
 
 Cleughhead, the name of this little habitation, was 
 situated at the head of one of those solitary glens so 
 common in the wilder districts of Scotland. The walls 
 were built with rough granite ; the roof thatched with 
 the heath of the mountain, and the rushes of the brook ; 
 and the interior, where the peat burned on the hearth, 
 and the smoke rose up unconfined by any chimney, till 
 it escaped by a little hole in the roof, although very 
 unlike the abode Mrs. Thomson had left in Glasgow, 
 was soon rendered, by her own industry and native 
 cleanliness, and the ready assistance of the old farmer, 
 neat and comfortable. 
 
 Past the door of this humble dwelling feebly mur- 
 mured a mountain rill : as it rambled in frolicsome 
 meanders down the slope, now kissing the blooming 
 heath, now rippling among the green rushes, and again 
 playing with the shadow of the grey willow, its channel 
 deepened as the sides of the glen drew nearer one 
 another ; here the projecting rock and crooked hazel 
 on the one side, and the tall fern and stunted sloethorn
 
 38 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 on the other, mingled their dancing 1 shadows on the 
 torrent, which, loud and impetuous, forced its headlong 
 way, like the youth impatient for full manhood. Again 
 the glen gradually opened ; the spreading stream, giving 
 back the image of the sober ox and sportive lamb that 
 cropt the verdant herb and wild daisy by its side ; and 
 at length smoothing its surface, laying asleep every 
 turbulent wave, purifying its waters on the gravelly 
 sand of its course, and reflecting the heaven only from 
 its clear bosom, fell, like the dying Christian, without a 
 murmur into the current of the Irvine. The general 
 features of the surrounding scenery were impressed with 
 an air of solemn melancholy. To the north and east 
 extended level tracts of gloomy moorland, relieved here 
 and there by the smoke curling from the shepherd's 
 lonely hut, a straggling dwarf tree or two which grew 
 about his dwelling, and a little verdant meadow plot 
 redeemed from the dark waste which lay before his door. 
 At intervals, too, were to be seen a shepherd boy with 
 his dog ; and spreading around him, in little groups, 
 here and there scattered and solitary, the white-fleeced 
 sheep wandering on the brown heath. To the south 
 and south-west rose the unambitious hills of Dumfries 
 and Galloway ; and conspicuous among them, with its 
 round summit, the Twelve-hour hill, over whose head, 
 the shepherds of that country well know, the sun walks 
 at midday. Spread out to the west were the fertile, 
 but monotonous, districts of Ayrshire, watered by those 
 streams, delightfully romantic when you approach them, 
 Ayr, Irvine, and Doon, which carried the eve down their 
 course till it reposed on the glassy bosom of the Atlantic, 
 oftener in those days visited by the dreadful warship 
 than enlivened by the cheerful sail of the merchantman. 
 Terminating the view in this direction were the bold 
 elevations of Arran, on whose castle peaks the cloud 
 delights to sit, and from whose tops the sun of autumn 
 casts his last look of glory on the western districts of 
 Scotland.
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 39 
 
 In this humble dwelling, surrounded thus by the 
 chaste and solemn countenance of nature, did Mrs. 
 Thomson set herself diligently to educate her children ; 
 to imbue their minds early with habits of industry ; and 
 above all, to bring them up in the fear of the Lord, to 
 teach them to know and remember their Creator in the 
 days of their youth. Every morning and evening she 
 went, leading Helen in the one hand and William in 
 the other, to the farmhouse, and joined with the old 
 shepherd in worshipping the God of salvation. Early 
 on the dawn of every Sabbath was Agnes up, and pre- 
 pared not with the anointed hair and tinkling ornaments 
 which employ so much the thoughts of many females on 
 the morning of the Lord's day, but by communing with 
 her own heart, and by expostulating with her God in 
 private for setting out, often five, sometimes six, seven, 
 or eight miles, to hear preached the glad tidings of 
 eternal life. And in those days, surely you know, young 
 reader, it was no smooth road, no pleasure walk to the 
 house of God. Every one sat not then as we do now, 
 " under his own vine and fig-tree, having none to make 
 him afraid " ; but the solitary moor-hut, the glen of the 
 mountain, or the cave of the rock, were often the only 
 places in which the voice of the true servants of God, 
 the shepherds that shall never need to be ashamed, 
 could be heard. Even here the bloody fiend of persecu- 
 tion pursued them with fire and sword. The meetings, 
 or conventicles, as they were called, of these poor artless 
 Christians were often dispersed by the insolent and 
 merciless soldiers ; many were taken and sent, some to 
 the gibbet, some to dungeons, and many to the British 
 plantations abroad. And all this because they assembled 
 themselves to seek the Lord God of their fathers, in the 
 way which their consciences approved. 
 
 But with her daily attention to family worship at the 
 farmhouse, and meeting on as many Sabbaths as pos- 
 sible with the pious peasants around, Mrs. Thomson's 
 religious duties by no means terminated. Often would
 
 4O cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 she kneel down, with her son and daughter at her side, 
 by the streamlet that purled down her secluded glen, 
 and seek, with the fervency of a mother's heart which 
 trusts in God, that her Father in heaven would shed 
 down upon them that blessing which maketh rich and 
 bringeth no sorrow. And never did she unbend her 
 knee, or turn her eye from the heaven on which it 
 gazed, without watering her cheek with one drop in 
 behalf of her dear husband. "If," would she plead 
 aloud, as she kneeled by the heathy knoll or ferny 
 glen, and seen only by God and angels, " If, O gracious 
 Father, Thou should'st never give him to these arms, 
 nor bless these eyes with another sight of his counte- 
 nance in this world, oh, give him that faith in Christ 
 which shall open to him the gates of heaven ! If Thou 
 should'st lay his bones to rest in a foreign land, oh, may 
 I meet him at last without spot or wrinkle, or any such 
 thing, in that happy place where friends part no more." 
 Every day, too, she read a portion of the Bible, and 
 taught her children to read it taught them to under- 
 stand much of it ; and, above all, taught them, and 
 chiefly by her own example, to reverence and obey it. 
 
 Thus would she converse with Helen, for William 
 was yet too young to profit much by her instructions 
 "How great, my dear, is the love of God in Christ 
 Jesus ? You read in the Bible that we are all sinners ; 
 that is, we all naturally hate God, and God hates us 
 because we are not holy, nor willing to be made holy. 
 You read in the Bible, that in Adam all died, and 
 became liable to the wrath and curse of God ; and you 
 know that we sin every day against God ourselves. 
 The thoughts of our hearts are evil continually. This 
 is our condition, my dear Helen ; this is our sad condi- 
 tion by nature. Do you feel it to be sad ? Would you 
 like to be out of it? I love you, my dear, and I can 
 do much for you ; but I cannot take away your sins, I 
 cannot make your peace with God. None of your 
 friends no man in the world no angel in heaven can
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 41 
 
 pardon your sins. What then are you to do? How 
 great, as I said, is the mercy of God in Christ? In 
 your low and lost estate He remembers you with love. 
 When there was no other eye to pity no other hand 
 to help, God said, ' Deliver from going down to the 
 pit, from going down to hell, for I have found a 
 ransom.' This ransom is Jesus Christ, who came into 
 the world, and suffered and died that we might live. 
 You remember that He says, ' Suffer little children to 
 come unto me, and forbid them not.' If you come unto 
 Him if you believe that He died for .your sins, God 
 will pardon you, and be for ever at peace with you. 
 
 " But you will ask me, my dear, how you can believe 
 in Christ ? You must pray to God that you may have 
 this belief. You remember what our Saviour says Him- 
 self ' Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye 
 shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you.' The 
 Holy Spirit will help you to pray. Paul tells us that 
 ' the Holy Ghost maketh intercession for us, with 
 groanings that cannot be uttered.' 'Whatever ye ask 
 in my name,' says the kind Redeemer, 'it shall be 
 given you.' 
 
 "So great, my dear, is the lovingkindness of our 
 gracious and Heavenly Father ! And surely you will 
 love and obey so merciful a God. You love me, and 
 do all I wish you, because I love you, and am, as you 
 often tell me, good to you ; but you see that God loves 
 you far more, and has done far more good for you ; 
 you should love Him therefore more than me, or any 
 of your friends, or anything in the world and you are 
 to show your love to Him by living in His fear, by 
 keeping His commandments, and by doing all the good 
 you can, wherever you may be placed. 
 
 "Remember these things, my dear Helen," would 
 the pious and affectionate mother say in conclusion 
 "Remember these things. You know not how soon 
 you may die, or how soon you may lose your mother. 
 You hear of people dying every day in their beds, or
 
 42 <^X<>X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 of their lives being taken away by the cruel persecutors. 
 If I should be removed from you, your best instructor will 
 be your Bible. Read it, dear Helen, and read it often." 
 
 I repeat to you, young reader, Mrs. Thomson's 
 injunctions to her daughter "Read the Bible, and 
 read it often." 
 
 It is surprising to notice how this sacred book is 
 neglected by sinful men. The votaries of taste and 
 fashion will spend their days and nights poring over 
 the morbid pages of sensual and fictitious narrative ; 
 yet if their God was to ask them if they had read the 
 book which He sent them from heaven, where would 
 they look? How could they say that they had never 
 read the precious gift throughout? Wherever you go, 
 learn not of those. Take your Bible in your hand ; 
 make it the companion of your way. In the thirsty 
 desert of this world, it will supply you with the water 
 of life ; in the darkness of doubt and apprehen- 
 sion, it will cast a gleam of heaven over your path ; in 
 the struggle of temptation, and in the hour of afflic- 
 tion, it will lift up the voice of warning, encouragement, 
 and comfort. Never let the Bible lie by you unperused. 
 It is the only helm that can guide you through the ocean 
 of life, and bring you safely to the immortal shores. It 
 is the only star which leads the wandering sinner by 
 the rocks, and breakers, and fiery tempests of utter 
 destruction, and points him away to the heights of 
 everlasting blessedness. The Bible contains the only 
 food that can satisfy the hungerings of the soul ; it 
 presents us with the only laver in which we can wash 
 ourselves white and clean ; it alone tells .us of the 
 garments that are worn in the courts of heaven ; it is 
 from the Bible alone that we learn to prepare a torch 
 to conduct our footsteps through the valley of the 
 shadow of death ; and it is the Bible alone which can 
 introduce us at last to the glories of immortality ! 
 
 While Mrs. Thomson was thus teaching her children 
 habits of industry, and disclosing to their young minds
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 43 
 
 the hopes of a better life, she received the account of 
 her husband's death, mentioned above. The tears of 
 love and desolateness and religion mingled on her 
 cheek. Although Helen and William remembered little 
 of their father, yet so often had their mother told them 
 of all his kindness to her, and love to them ; so often 
 had she repeated to them his last advice and prayer ; 
 and so often had she told them that he would perhaps 
 come some day to their little hut, that they sobbed by 
 their mother's side in the same bitterness of grief as if 
 their father had died among them. But the good widow 
 sorrowed not as those who have no hope. The letter 
 which brought the painful account informed her that 
 her husband died a good soldier of Jesus Christ. He 
 was heard, on the bloody field of battle, recommending, 
 with his last breath, his widowed wife and fatherless 
 children to the God of the widow and the fatherless. 
 "And God will hear the sincere request," said the tender 
 mother, as she wiped her tears, and threw a gleam of 
 celestial hope and patient resignation on her weeping 
 children: "God is the widow's stay; He is the Father 
 of the fatherless : He forsakes none who put their trust 
 in Him. To wean us from our sins and earthly attach- 
 ments, He may afflict us for a moment ; but with an 
 everlasting love hath He loved us. Be comforted, my 
 dear children ; remember your Creator as your father 
 ever wished you to do, and you will meet him at last 
 in heaven, to be fatherless no more, to weep no more, 
 and to part no more for ever." 
 
 In Mrs. Thomson's outward circumstances, her 
 husband's death produced no difference. She often 
 assisted in the old farmer's dairy, and received in 
 return food, and home-made clothing for herself and 
 her children. Nor was her mind much altered. The 
 violence of her grief subsided into a firmer trust in 
 God, more fervent religion, and more heavenly-minded- 
 ness. Indeed, this event threw a thoughtfulness and 
 an unrepining melancholy over all her character, which
 
 44 eXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 expanded every sympathy of her nature, deepened every 
 feeling of her soul, and warmed every act of her 
 devotion, as the lingering- looks of day cast a 
 mellower softening and a richer grandeur over the 
 widely variegated landscape. 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 In solitudes like these 
 
 Thy persecuted children, Scotia, foiled 
 A tyrant's and a bigot's bloody laws ; 
 There, leaning on his spear, 
 
 The lyart veteran heard the word of God 
 
 By Cameron thundered, or by Renwick poured 
 
 In gentle stream : then rose the song, the loud 
 
 Acclaim of praise ; the wheeling plover ceased 
 
 Her plaint ; the solitary place was glad, 
 
 And on the distant cairns, the watcher's ear 
 
 Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note." 
 
 GRAHAME. 
 
 MEANWHILE, the rage and cruelty of persecution grew 
 every day more inveterate. Claverhouse, whose merci- 
 less sword widowed many a tender mother and orphaned 
 many a helpless infant, about this time was routed at 
 Loudon Hill by a party of the Covenanters, whose 
 sufferings had driven them to arms. This event stung 
 to the heart the proud, bold, and cruel Claverhouse. 
 Backed by soldiers imbued with his own spirit, he 
 neglected no opportunity, and spared no exertions, to 
 pursue, torture, and kill all who would not renounce 
 the service of their Father in heaven for the vassalage 
 of an earthly tyrant. Some time before this, military 
 trial was instituted in Scotland ; and all who refused 
 the wicked test were instantly shot by the soldiers. 
 The brutal dragoons plundered, tortured, murdered, and 
 committed every species of outrage at pleasure. At no 
 hour, in no place, whether in the house, the glen, or
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX* 45 
 
 the cave of the mountain, were the scattered sheep of 
 the Great Shepherd safe from the persevering search 
 and unrelenting cruelty of their persecutors. 
 
 "Every hour 
 
 They stood prepared to die, a people doom'd 
 
 To death ; old men, and youths, and simple maids." 
 
 It was thus in the western districts of Scotland, when, 
 on a fine Sabbath morning a little after midsummer, 
 Mrs. Thomson was early up, and preparing, as usual, 
 to hear the word of God, which was to be preached 
 that day two miles down the glen at the head of which 
 the widow's hut stood. She left William, yet only in 
 his sixth year, in the farmhouse, and, with Helen by 
 her side, took the little sheep-path down the glen. In 
 her hallowed imagination the sun coming up the rosy 
 east unclouded, threw a purer ray over the solitary 
 moorlands ; a clearer dew sparkled on the red heather- 
 bell ; the matin hymn of the skylark, the varied music 
 of the desert fowl, the bleating of the flocks that 
 answered from knoll to knoll, the minstrelsy of the 
 brook, and the gentle sigh of the zephyr that played 
 among the wild mountain flowers all assumed a chaster, 
 holier cadence, and seemed to confess the presence of 
 the blessed day. Here and there was seen over the 
 brown moor, like vessels scattered on the ocean, the 
 solitary peasant travelling towards the glen to meet 
 the servant of God. Little Helen, with a profusion of 
 fair ringlets already floating on her neck and shoulders, 
 now plucked the wild thyme, now looked to the playful 
 chases of the lambs, and anon listened to her mother, 
 while she admonished her to hear the gospel with 
 reverence and attention. 
 
 Thus engaged, they arrived at the place agreed on for 
 meeting with the faithful ambassador of Jesus. The 
 man of God was already there ; and his little congrega- 
 tion mostly gathered around him. The place chosen 
 for this day's worship of the Most High was hidden
 
 46 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 from the distant view by the sides of the glen ; one of 
 which, withdrawing five or six yards from the streamlet, 
 left a small green plain in the shape of a crescent. Here 
 rose a large grey stone, on which the minister rested the 
 holy book. Before him, on the rising ground, trode by 
 the sheep into paths rising one above another, resembling 
 a flight of stairs, sat his rustic audience, thirsting for the 
 water of life. On a knoll, at a small distance, watched 
 one of their friends, to give the alarm in case of the 
 appearance of the persecuting soldiers. The minister, to 
 whose church Mrs. Thomson, in her earlier days, often 
 walked with her father and mother, had been driven from 
 his flock and his family by violence ; and now, concealed 
 by the peasants who loved him, and fed by their kind- 
 ness, he took every opportunity which offered, in the 
 cave, the moor, or the sheep-cot, to distribute among the 
 poor hunted followers of the cross the bread and the 
 water of life. His figure was graceful, of the ordinary 
 size ; his countenance mild, full of resignation and 
 heavenly zeal. Time had left his forehead bare ; but 
 behind, and on each side, flowed down plentiful locks, 
 woolley, and white as the snow of the mountains. 
 
 The venerable man now threw a glance of fatherly com- 
 passion on his little flock, lifted the Bible from the grey 
 stone, opened it, and read these verses from that mournful 
 psalm, sung by the Israelitish captives at Babylon 
 
 " By Babel's streams we sat and wept, 
 
 When Sion we thought on ; 
 In midst thereof we hanged our harps 
 The willow trees upon. 
 
 " For there a song required they, 
 
 Who did us captive bring : 
 Our spoilers called for mirth, and said, 
 A song of Sion sing. 
 
 "O how the Lord's song shall we sing, 
 
 Within a foreign land? 
 If thee, Jerusalem, I forget, 
 Skill part from my right hand.
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 47 
 
 "My tongue to my mouth" s roof let cleave, 
 
 If I do thee forget, 
 Jerusalem, and thee above 
 My chief joy do not set." 
 
 To the wild plaintive notes of Old Martyr's this sweet 
 melody, from hearts full of gratitude and love and calm 
 resignation, ascended to the ear of the Eternal. The 
 psalm being ended, all arose, and the holy man, turning 
 an eye of faith to the heavens, led the congregation in a 
 prayer, humble, fervent, and appropriate. Again he 
 opened the Bible, and read his text from Proverbs ix. 10 
 and xxix. 25 : "The fear of man bringeth a snare ; but 
 the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." 
 
 The sermon, though perplexed with divisions, and 
 obscured occasionally by length of illustration, was 
 affectionate, impressive, and highly enriched with quota- 
 tions from the Holy Scriptures. The folly of fearing 
 men rather than God, the everlasting security of those 
 who fear and obey the Almighty, and the eternal confu- 
 sion of those who put His fear away from them, were 
 clearly proved, and strongly enforced by numberless 
 passages from the volume of inspiration. As he came to 
 the exhortation, generally the most useful part of 
 sermons, his voice elevated, his language glowed with a 
 deeper pathos, and seeming to forget the present 
 suffering of his audience, in the awful idea that there 
 might be some fearless sinner among them in jeopardy 
 of eternal wrath, he expostulated with them thus : 
 
 " Oh that I could so speak of the goodness and mercy 
 of God, manifested through the Saviour, as to win the 
 love and obedience of you that fear Him not ! Oh, that I 
 had the tongue of an angel, to tell you how much God 
 hath done for you, and how unwilling He is that you 
 should put His mercy away from you ! Do ye not know 
 that all your enjoyments come from God ? That those 
 lips which never praised Him sincerely, and those knees 
 which never bowed before Him reverently, are the work 
 of His hand : and that your memories that forget Him,
 
 48 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 and your reasons that despise Him, and your imagina- 
 tions that ever wander from Him, are the gifts of His 
 goodness ? Are ye ignorant that the clothes which warm 
 you, and the food which nourishes you, and the houses 
 which shelter you, come all from the God whom you 
 refuse to fear ? Do you not know that your sweet and 
 tender endearments of loves, and brotherhoods, and 
 friendships, that all which delights your eye, or soothes 
 your ear, or warms your heart, descend from the Father 
 of lights, whom ye will not honour ? And have ye not 
 heard that God hath not yet removed His mercy from 
 you ? Will ye believe it, the everlasting Jehovah, whom 
 ye daily offend, is yet beseeching you to accept of His 
 pardon, is yet waiting to be gracious, is yet lifting up 
 the voice of His mercy to win you from your wayward- 
 ness, and save you from the fierceness of His wrath ? 
 Will ye believe it, the God for whom ye have no rever- 
 ence is yet casting a fatherly eye upon you, offering His 
 own Son for your redemption, and inviting you up to the 
 land of life and glory ? Truly, the heart that is not won 
 by this is harder than the nether millstone, and deserves 
 the anguish that shall ring it. 
 
 " But if ye will not hear, and if ye will not consider : 
 if ye will harden your hearts, and not be persuaded to 
 the fear of the Lord by His love and His mercy, I dare not 
 leave you unwarned. I must ask you to look on God's 
 wrath, and measure your arms with the weapons of His 
 indignation. Are ye prepared for this, ye that fear not 
 the Almighty ? God is your Judge, and will ye not fear 
 Him ? Eternity is at His disposal, and will ye have no re- 
 verence for Him? Are ye afraid of death? The God whom 
 we counsel you to fear keeps the gates of immortality. 
 Have ye not heard, that there is a place where the fire is 
 not quenched, and where the worm dieth not ? Have ye 
 not heard, that in hell the devil believes and trembles ? 
 And have ye not known that it is God, even the God whom 
 ye will not fear, whose wrath kindles the everlasting 
 burnings, and whose frown thickens the eternal darkness?
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 49 
 
 Surely, ' the fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
 wisdom.' 
 
 ' ' You that fear God as ye ought and I trust there are 
 few of another character here," continued the herald of 
 heaven, "are safe from every evil. Your fear is a holy 
 fear ; it is the offspring of love ; it is a filial awe, accom- 
 panied by the trust, and the expectation, and the affec- 
 tion of children 'to a father, who shields your heart from 
 every alarm. You know that all your present afflictions 
 are but the chastisement of a Father who loves you with 
 an everlasting love. ' God so loved the world,' so loved 
 you, my dear friends, ' that He delivered up His Son 
 unto the death, that whosoever believeth in Him may 
 not perish but have everlasting life ; ' and if He has 
 given us his Son, His only and well-beloved Son, shall 
 He not with Him freely give us all things? Oh, the 
 breadth, and the length, and the height, and the depth 
 of the love of God ! it ' passeth understanding ' ; yea, the 
 response of your hearts is, It passeth understanding. 
 It is this love of God it is this love in your hearts which 
 rouses you to all duty, cheers you in every distress, and 
 supports you in every trial. Can you look upon the 
 tender mercy of God in Christ Jesus can you look upon 
 His everlasting love, and hesitate for a moment to prefer 
 His statutes, which are all holy, and just, and good, to 
 the laws of wicked and cruel men? Will you offend the 
 gracious God who hath all power in heaven and in earth, 
 who preserved Daniel in the lions' den, and the three 
 children in the midst of the burning fiery furnace, or your 
 persecutors who pass away as the wind, and are crushed 
 before the moth ? Will you fear to offend the God and 
 Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who loves you as a 
 father loves his children, who rests in His love to you, 
 who will never leave you nor forsake you ? or will you 
 fear to offend those who seek your life, and hate you 
 with a perfect hatred ? Verily, it is the answer of your 
 hearts, We will fear our God, for He hath loved us : we 
 love Him, and we will obey Him. We will follow Him 
 4
 
 50 cXfTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 through good and through bad report. Well done (may 
 I not say?) good and faithful servants, ye shall enter 
 into the joy of your Lord. Oh, ye that love and fear the 
 Lord ! here is comfort, and support, and safety to your 
 souls. God loves you the God of life and of death. 
 Why should your hearts be dismayed or disquieted with- 
 in you ? The Captain of your salvation hath overcome 
 the world : He hath vanquished death and hell, and He 
 hath gone to the Father to prepare mansions of peace, of 
 happiness, of immortality for your reception. If God be 
 for you, who can be against you ? He stands on your 
 right hand, and bids you fear no evil. In this hour of 
 trial and desolation, He puts His left hand under you, and 
 His right hand embraces you. When ye walk through 
 the fire, ye shall not be burned ; neither shall the flames 
 kindle upon you. Persecution and reproach, and death 
 and hell, are now banded against you ; but the God of 
 all your salvation, and all your desire, stands by your side, 
 and ye shall be more than conquerors. What shall 
 separate you that fear God from His everlasting love ? 
 Verily, it shall be neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor 
 principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things 
 to come. He regards you as the apple of his eye. In 
 your afflicted pilgrimage through this world He shall 
 hide you under the shadow of His wings ; He shall walk 
 with you through the dreariness of the valley of death ; 
 and set you down for ever at the banqueting table in the 
 heavens. This is the promise of God, of Him who is the 
 Amen, the faithful and the true Witness. As thy days are, 
 O Christian, so shall thy strength be. With this merci- 
 ful, this blessed assurance, may we not exclaim in the 
 midst of all our afflictions, gracious is the Lord and right- 
 eous ; yea, our God is merciful ! Return unto thy rest, 
 O my soul ! for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." 
 The sermon was just finished, and the minister again 
 offering up his heart's desire to God, when the sentinel 
 gave the alarm that a party of cavalry was approaching. 
 The venerable minister looked to his audience, then to
 
 SHE KNEELED BEFORE THEM, See page 53. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson & Ferrier, 1895.]
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX> 53 
 
 heaven ; and, in a tone of assurance and resignation, 
 pronounced these words : " Into Thy hands, O Lord, we 
 commit our immortal spirits." The congregation then 
 dispersed hurriedly. The good old servant of God 
 entreated them all to leave him, knowing that, as a price 
 had been set on his head, the pursuit after him would 
 be most eager. It happened as he thought. The 
 reverend pastor was taken placed on horseback his 
 hands tied behind his back and his ankles twisted with 
 ropes below the belly of the animal. In this position, 
 without refreshment, without being permitted once to 
 alight, he was driven to Edinburgh, a distance of fifty 
 miles, where, after much torture, he was executed at the 
 Grassmarket, praising his God, solacing his friends, and 
 forgiving his murderers, with his last breath. Surely 
 the latter end of the righteous man, whatever be his 
 external condition, is peace. 
 
 Mrs. Thomson and her daughter had fled up the glen, 
 and were now within a mile of their hut when two of 
 the troopers discovered them. As they approached with 
 their prancing steeds and gleaming armour, uttering 
 "strange oaths," Helen turned pale, and seized her 
 mother's hand. The soldiers appeared rather intoxicated, 
 and their whole aspect was fierce and cruel. One of 
 them, Duncan Wrathburn, a north countryman, full of 
 the merciless spirit of his master, Claverhouse, com- 
 manded Mrs. Thomson to take the test or the shot that 
 was in his carabine. She kneeled before them pleaded 
 with them not to force her to violate the dictates of her 
 conscience, and to renounce her allegiance to the King 
 of kings. " None of your canting," bawled Wrathburn, 
 and, with a terrible oath, commanded her again to take 
 the test, to abjure conventicles, or else he would blow 
 out her brains on the spot. "I will not abjure my 
 religion and my God," said Mrs. Thomson; "but, oh, 
 spare a poor widow spare me for the sake of my 
 husband, who died fighting for his king spare me for 
 the sake of that child and her little brother spare me,
 
 54 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 as you expect mercy at the judgment of the great day." 
 The good widow having refused again to violate her 
 conscience and dishonour her* Redeemer, by submitting 
 to their unlawful demands, Wrathburn, in a tone of 
 jeering and ridicule, said she had better pray and confess 
 herself quickly, as she had not a moment to live. It 
 was vain to entreat these men of Belial more. Mrs. 
 Thomson looked with a streaming eye on her daughter. 
 " They will kill your mother," she said; "you shall be 
 left helpless orphans," remembering William as she 
 spoke "you shall be left helpless orphans in the world ; 
 but God will be your Father never forsake Him, and He 
 will never forsake you. And O my dear Helen ! you 
 know something of the Christian religion ; instruct your 
 little brother, that I may receive you both at last into 
 the happy place." "Short, short," cried the cruel 
 dragoon, taking hold of his carabine. The poor widow 
 now turned her eyes to heaven, and commended her soul 
 into the hands of her Redeemer. The soldier who 
 accompanied Wrathburn, softened by the tears of the 
 mother and the shrieks of the daughter, urged him to 
 let the poor widow escape. But Wrathburn, steady in 
 his unmercifulness, levelled his carabine, and, as Mrs. 
 Thomson's eyes were turning again from heaven on her 
 dear child, fired the mortal shot. It took effect in her 
 left side, touched the heart, and passed fairly through 
 her body. Her head fell back heavily against the ground 
 she threw a dim look on her daughter seemed to 
 breathe the blessing she could not pronounce drew her 
 arms convulsively over her breast again they fell back 
 on the heath and her soul ascended up on high. 
 
 " Her blood be on her own head," cried the brutal 
 dragoon, as he turned his horse and galloped away, 
 unmoved by the expiring agonies of the mother, or 
 her little daughter, that swooned by her bloody corpse. 
 
 And, oh ! shall he need no mercy himself? When 
 disease shall lay its withering hand upon him, and cast 
 him on his last bed when every sublunary hold shall
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX> 5 5 
 
 deceive him and when hope shall take its leave of him 
 and when his desire shall fail, and the sun and the 
 light withdraw itself and the silver cord be loosed, and 
 the golden bowl broken and the wheel broken at the 
 cistern and the dimness, and dizziness, and terrors of 
 death fasten upon him shall he have no lack of the 
 smile of God's countenance ? Is he sure that he can enter 
 the gates of death alone, and take a fearless view of the 
 grim and ghastly visage of the king of terrors, and find 
 his unguided way through the valley of thick darkness ? 
 Shall he be stout-hearted enough to listen unalarmed to 
 the notes of the last trumpet and see the earth pass 
 away, and the sun darkened, and the stars falling, and 
 the moon turned into blood, and the heavens rolled up 
 like a scroll, and the Son of Man coming in the clouds 
 to judgment? When he hears the footsteps of the 
 summoning angels, and draws near the tribunal, and 
 sees the books opening, and the face of the Judge 
 frowning, and the sword of eternal justice flaming 
 shall he have no need of an Almighty Friend? Is he 
 prepared to take a last sight of God's mercy, and all 
 that is good, and all that is happy ? Is he prepared to 
 abide the unmitigated wrath of Jehovah, and take into 
 his bosom the worm that dieth not, and make his dwelling 
 in the fire that is not quenched, and converse with utter 
 despair and utter destruction, and hear the gates of hell 
 shut behind him, and the bolts of his fate driven deep 
 for ever and ever ? Ah ! cruel soldier, thou art not 
 prepared for this. 
 
 The old farmer's shepherd having heard the mortal 
 shot, came up to the place where the body of Mrs. 
 Thomson lay. Little Helen, recovered from her swoon, 
 clung to her mother's breast, and, with her arms clasped 
 about her neck, wept, and cried, " My mother, O my 
 mother ! will you speak to me no more ! will you lead 
 me no more by the hand, and tell me of my father, of 
 Christ, and of heaven ? " The shepherd endeavoured to 
 soothe the child "Your mother is gone," said he, "to
 
 56 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 meet your father, where Christ dwells. She is happy, 
 and wishes you to be comforted. And if you be a good 
 girl, you shall see her when you go to heaven, more 
 lovely, more kind than ever." 
 
 Talking in this way, the shepherd led Helen to the 
 farmhouse, and made known to the inmates the mourn- 
 ful story. The body of Mrs. Thomson was carried into 
 the house ; and it was indeed a day of mourning and 
 lamentation in the house of the old farmer. Every one 
 wept, as if they had lost a mother, so much was Mrs. 
 Thomson loved by young and old for her sober cheerful- 
 ness, modest piety, and kind instructions in righteousness. 
 Little William wept aloud ; and it was an affecting sight 
 to see Helen, while weeping herself, trying to soothe and 
 comfort her brother. It may be supposed that she could 
 not remember the whole of her mother's dying advice, 
 but her ear had caught these words, and they were 
 imprinted on her memory for ever : " Never forsake God, 
 and He will never forsake you. Instruct your little 
 brother, that I may receive you both at last into heaven." 
 "We shall go to our mother in the happy place," said 
 Helen to her little brother ; " I have heard her say, and 
 I have read in the Bible, that Christ loves little children 
 like us ; and if we be good, He will come and take us to 
 our mother." 
 
 While Helen talked thus, William would wipe his eyes, 
 and seem now to believe, now to mistrust her words. 
 Again would they remember the pale lips and motionless 
 eye of their mother, and burst into tears ; and again, the 
 hope of meeting her gleamed on their souls, as clasped 
 in one another's arms the two orphans wept themselves 
 fast asleep, while the darkness of night came down on 
 the untenanted hut of Cleughhead. 
 
 On the Tuesday following, the old farmer gathered 
 two or three of his friends, and the remains of Mrs. 
 Thomson were committed to the dust, near the spot (as 
 was frequently the case in those days) where she died 
 a martyr to the holy religion of Jesus.
 
 Helen of the Glen XeX* 57 
 
 How much ridicule soever, young reader, irreligion, 
 or misguided genius may throw on her memory, or the 
 memories of those like her, it is to her, and to those like 
 her, that we owe much of our civil liberty, and the 
 plentiful streams of the water of life which flow to-day 
 in the midst of our land. And shall the Christian take 
 up the books of those who deliberately laugh at their 
 memories, and laugh along with them ? Shall the 
 Christian hear their sufferings jeered at, their motives 
 misconstrued, and their doings misrepresented, and 
 yet give a smile of half approbation? Were our perse- 
 cuted ancestors robbed of their goods ? were they hunted 
 like the wild beasts of the mountains ? were they im- 
 prisoned ? were they tortured ? were they banished ? 
 were they murdered ? Did they eat the bread of affliction, 
 and drink the water of affliction, and watch at cold mid- 
 night, in the caves and the dens of the wilderness ? Did 
 they set their breasts of heavenly heroism to the floods 
 and the fires of hellish rage, that the manna of life 
 might never be driven from our native land ? Did their 
 blood flow on the scaffold, and their groans lament on 
 the desert, that we should drink in abundance the 
 streams of life, and listen unmolested to the glad tidings 
 of salvation ? Did they keep unslumbering watch on our 
 hills, when the storms, and the tempests, and the dark- 
 ness of hell howled and thickened over our beloved land, 
 that we might walk in the clear and peaceful day of the 
 Sun of Righteousness ? Were their patience, and forti- 
 tude, and faith, and suffering, and death, made a 
 spectacle to men and angels? Did the seraphim sing 
 them a higher note? Did God lean down from the 
 eternal heights, well pleased to behold them? And 
 shall we, their offspring, forget their memories, or 
 remember them with ridicule ? 
 
 While the pious peasants pressed the heathy turf on 
 the silent house, and mingled their tears with the stream- 
 let that seemed to lament down the glen, Helen and 
 William, holding one another by the hand, stood by the
 
 58 cX5~X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 grave and wept. "This shall be my church," said 
 Helen ; here will I read my Bible, here will I pray, 
 here will I repeat to you, William, our mother's last 
 advice." 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 "Ah! how unwise the busy fluttering- race, 
 Who, from themselves, to wanton tumults fly ; 
 Their reason lost in passion's thorny maze, 
 No ray divine beams through their troubled sky ; 
 A while they rave, and in their raving- die. 
 Ah ! there, my son's a waste of human woes ! 
 There lions prowl, and filthy harpies cry ; 
 There syrens lull the mind to cursed repose 
 But in this waste serene the soul is far from foes." 
 
 ANON. 
 
 AFTER the death of their mother, the old farmer took 
 Helen and William, the one now in her eighth and the 
 other in his sixth year, into his own family. Helen had 
 been taught by her mother to read, to knit, and to sew a 
 little. William could also read, though imperfectly. As 
 there was no school near the place, his sister, and the 
 woman of the house, frequently gave him lessons ; and 
 in the course of a twelvemonth he could read the Bible 
 fluently. Here the two orphans had the benefit of a 
 pious example ; and the sweetness of their tempers, and 
 ready obedience, procured them the affection of everyone 
 in the house. As they grew up, William was employed 
 in keeping his benefactor's cows, and Helen assisted in 
 the dairy. During their leisure hours they rambled 
 together by the rushy brooks and sunny hills, gathering 
 here the wild thyme and there the silky white down of 
 the cannach ; and never did they return home without 
 visiting their mother's grave, covered now, by the pious 
 care of the shepherds, with a smooth granite stone, on 
 which they had cut, in "uncouth letters," the name of 
 the inhabitant below. A grey willow, whose roots were
 
 Helen of the Glen KcD^ 59 
 
 nursed by the passing streamlet, spread its sweet-smell- 
 ing- leaves half-way over the grave, and by the other side 
 bloomed the heath, rustling on the edge of the stone, 
 while the breeze sighed over the moorland. Here would 
 Helen kneel down, and pray with her little brother that 
 God would be their father, their guardian, and their 
 friend, and take them at length to Himself, where they 
 would be orphans no more and here would she instruct 
 her brother in the fear of the Lord, and tell him all that 
 she remembered of their mother, while they lived in the 
 little hut and here, especially every Sabbath morning in 
 summer, early, while the dew yet sparkled on the wild 
 flowers, sat the orphan pair. Oh, how often did they sit 
 on this grey stone, unseen by all but heaven ! and while 
 the wild bee hummed its little note of gratitude, and 
 sipped its sweet food from the bosom of the heather-bell, 
 did they drink of the streams of life which flow from the 
 pure word of God ! On Helen's soul at least, young as 
 she was, the dawn of eternal day had already appeared. 
 She prayed in faith she trusted in her Saviour she 
 leaned on the Rock of Ages. She felt that her own heart 
 was ever ready to go astray she felt that she was 
 naturally polluted ; and she kept her eye on the Star of 
 Bethlehem, and went daily to wash in the fountain that 
 is ever open for sin and for uncleanness. 
 
 'Helen was remarkable for tender-heartedness. The 
 lamb forsaken or bereaved of its mother, the crippled 
 fowl, the dying sheep, received her ardent attention, and 
 often her tear. She would frequently watch the falcon 
 in chase of the lark or the moss-chirper ; and as the 
 little bird, now descending, now mounting above its fell 
 pursuer, struggled for life, she would exclaim, "Oh, would 
 it come to me ! " and once she enjoyed the luxury of 
 saving the little trembler in her bosom, while the dis- 
 appointed falcon swam away on the wind in search of 
 some less fortunate songster of the desert. She would 
 often, too, go out of her way, that she might not disturb 
 the nest of the lapwing, the snipe, or the plover. And
 
 60 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 when she happened in her thoughtful mood to cast her 
 eye down on the wild flower that seemed decaying, while 
 all around was verdant and lively, she would bathe it 
 with a tear, and say, " We must all die like thee, droop- 
 ing flower. The world will laugh and be gay when we 
 are gone, as the herbage that surrounds thy falling head. 
 Oh, that I may answer my end like thee ! Thou hast 
 grown up, spread thy bosom to the morning, shed thy 
 fragrance around thee, looked lovely very lovely, and 
 thy duty is complete. Oh, that I may so grow up, open- 
 ing my heart to the Sun of Righteousness, casting around 
 me a sweet savour of piety, shining in the white robes of 
 holiness, and falling at last without a murmur into the 
 grave ; secure that my soul shall have an everlasting 
 place by the fount of life." There was one rather odd 
 employment into which the tenderness of Helen's feelings 
 often led her, 
 
 Whoever has travelled over the moorish districts of 
 Scotland must' have observed the webs woven by a 
 large grey spider. They are to be seen in thousands, 
 suspended across the gullies and broken mosses, glitter- 
 ing in the morning dew. The insect generally fastens a 
 single thread to a stump of heath, on each side of the 
 gully, from the middle of which it weaves four or five 
 other threads, fixing them also to one side of the gully. 
 On these it spins a circular network, nine inches or a 
 foot in diameter, in the midst of which it crouches, like 
 death, in concealment, till the coming of the heedless fly. 
 
 In her idle hours, Helen would often take a bush of 
 heath in her hand, scramble among the broken mosses, 
 and sweep away hundreds of those frail toils, always 
 letting the spider escape, but disabling it for a time for 
 carrying on the work of destruction. 
 
 So far, young reader, is religion from destroying the 
 finer feelings of our nature ; so far from contracting our 
 sympathies, or souring our ordinary pleasures. Indeed, 
 how is it possible that the liker we become to our Father 
 in heaven, who cares for all His works, the solitary
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX* 61 
 
 flower of the desert as well as the seraphim in glory, 
 our regards for creation can be diminished ? Truly, the 
 more religious we are, whatever the mere sentimentalist 
 may say, the more kindly will we look on all the works 
 of God's hand. The flower of the field is pencilled by 
 Jehovah ; and the good man looks on it with an eye 
 of admiration. The lark is taught her song by the 
 Almighty ; and the Christian listens to it with delight. 
 The river spreads its bounties, and leads its meanderings 
 under the guidance of the God of Israel ; and the saint 
 tastes its waters, and gazes on its romantic banks and 
 devious course, with feelings of poetical rapture and 
 devotional gratitude. The Christian feels that he is heir 
 of all things ; and he looks to them all, thinks of them 
 all, and acts towards them all, as a son. There have 
 been Christians, and perhaps some of them may still be 
 found, who seem to despise the natural world, with all 
 its beauty and grandeur. They turn away their ear from 
 the music of the grove, as if God had not taught the 
 songster; they tread on the lily of the valley, as if God 
 had not arrayed it with glory. But this is a spot in their 
 character a sin which the blood of Christ must wash 
 out ; and far from being, as they would have us believe, 
 a denying of themselves. Dispositions such as theirs 
 have often caused the philosopher and the sentimentalist 
 to load our holy religion with the charge of extinguishing 
 the natural charities, and absorbing the finer sympathies 
 of our soul. Imitate them not, young reader. God 
 Himself demands your warmest love ; His tender mercy 
 in Christ your primest gratitude. But let all the works 
 of creation prove a mirror to your mind. Do the saints 
 in glory do the holy angels look on the moon and stars, 
 walking the paths of the midnight sky, without rapture ? 
 Do they hear the ocean lift up the voice of his waves, 
 and roar to break up his everlasting prison-doors ; or 
 the river roll down the massy wanderings of his 
 strength ; or the mountain forest shake the locks of his 
 majesty, without exclaiming, "Great and marvellous are
 
 62 cXfTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 thy works, Lord God Almighty ; just and true are all thy 
 ways, thou Creator of the ends of the earth ! " 
 
 Helen had now finished her fourteenth, and William 
 his twelfth year, when Mr. Hunter, a gentleman who 
 had been an acquaintance and friend of their father while 
 in Glasgow, came to pay them a visit. His manners 
 were kind and familiar, such as soon gain the confidence 
 of the youthful mind. William, who was never so well 
 contented with his situation as his sister, listened eagerly 
 while Mr. Hunter talked of Glasgow, the hurry of its 
 business, and the way of making money. Mr. Hunter, 
 pleased with* William's natural capacity, and observing 
 his dispositions, offered to take him along with him to 
 Glasgow, and initiate him into the principles of the 
 commercial concern, of which he was himself a partner. 
 William accepted the proposal with eagerness ; the old 
 farmer approved the more easily of his choice, as he 
 knew Mr. Hunter to be a sober, industrious gentleman, 
 and well in the world ; and the views of future independ- 
 ence and respectability to her brother, and his promises 
 never to forget religion, gained the consent of Helen. 
 
 It was a morning in autumn when William set out 
 with his new friend. And as the old shepherd, with 
 Helen, accompanied them a mile or two on their way 
 to Glasgow, he addressed William shortly after this 
 manner 
 
 " You are now going away, my son," for this was the 
 kind appellation the old farmer always gave him, "you 
 are going from the quietness and sobriety of our 
 sequestered glens. Vice and temptation will beset you 
 on every side. But trust in God, and He will uphold 
 you. Read your Bible; pray for. directions to your 
 Father in heaven ; attend as often as possible the 
 preaching of the gospel. Be obedient to your master, 
 constant at your business, and obliging to all. And, if 
 God shall prosper you, beware of pride and vanity : your 
 prosperity will last the longer. Observe the heath on 
 which we tread. It heeded not the first shower of
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 63 
 
 spring : it put not forth its buds till the frosty nights 
 were gone, and the steady heat of summer come in. 
 And see, it is still green and vigorous while the gaudy 
 flower, which rose and spread its painted leaves at the 
 first sunshine of the year, has already withered away, 
 and no trace of it is seen on the mountains. Remember 
 this short advice, my William, and the God of your 
 fathers be with you." 
 
 Helen held her brother by the hand, enforced the old 
 man's instructions, and repeated to him their mother's 
 last advice, with much tenderness and affection, " ' Never 
 forsake God, and He will never forsake you.' And, oh, 
 come to see us soon." The two orphans now embraced, 
 and with tears in their eyes bade each other farewell. 
 William took his way over the heath towards Glasgow ; 
 and Helen, often looking back on her brother, for she 
 loved him with the tenderness of a seraph, returned with 
 the old farmer to her home. 
 
 William, on his arrival in Glasgow, was much amused 
 with the busy scene. The houses, the streets, the 
 carriages were all new to him. As new were the habits 
 and manners of the inhabitants. But his natural pliancy 
 of manner, and aptness to learn, soon assimilated his 
 general character to his associates. Constant and 
 vigilant at his business, he gained his master's favour 
 and kind attention in return. He was taught writing 
 and accounts, and whatever might tend to accomplish a 
 young man designed for the activities of business. 
 
 During his first year's stay in Glasgow, the kind 
 advices of his sister and his old benefactor never left 
 his memory. He read his Bible, prayed in secret, and 
 went to church on the hallowed day. When he heard 
 the boy younger than himself utter horrid oaths, and 
 take the name of the Holy One in vain, or when he 
 heard the tongue of licentiousness and scandal, his soul 
 trembled within him. But vice is a dangerous neighbour. 
 Like the apples of Gomorrah, how rotten soever within, 
 it puts on a fair outside ; or, like the vampire of America,
 
 64 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 while it sucks away the life-blood of piety, it soothes and 
 flatters the repose of its victims. William's associates, 
 who were most careless of religion, and some of them 
 covertly addicted to the grosser vices, seemed cheerful, 
 free, and generous, and often ridiculed his seriousness 
 and scrupulous observance of the Lord's day. In his 
 master, William had no example of genuine religion. 
 Mr. Hunter, as we have observed, was sober, vigilant in 
 business, and knew well how to gain the world. But 
 his creed was of the easy and accommodating kind. In 
 these persecuting times, he shifted it, like too many of 
 his contemporaries, as best suited his personal safety 
 and worldly aggrandisement. His character was fair in 
 the eyes of his neighbours ; but the leprosy of sin was 
 at work in the darkness of his heart. In his house, 
 family-worship was neglected ; and his instructions to 
 William were oftener how to manage the fluctuations of 
 trade, and distance his fellows in the pursuit of wealth, 
 than how to avoid the snares of wickedness, and gain 
 " the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." 
 
 Thus removed from the kind instructions of his sister 
 and the old farmer, and exposed to the seducements of 
 temptation and vicious example, like the willow, from 
 whose roots the stream turns away its waters, and on 
 whose leaves come the blighting frosts, need we be 
 surprised if the beauty of William's piety began to wither 
 and decay? Now he would think of the gaiety of his 
 companions, who seemed happy in their neglect of 
 religion ; now he would question the utility of so much 
 attention to the well-being of his soul, and again, the 
 former admonitions of his friends awakened in his 
 memory, and his conscience trembled. By degrees, 
 however, he forgot his Bible, or read it heedlessly ; went 
 to sleep without committing himself to the care of his 
 Heavenly Father ; and arose in the morning without 
 thanking the God who had preserved him. The Sabbath, 
 instead of being spent in the house of prayer, or in 
 devotional meditation, was often profaned in pleasure-
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX* 65 
 
 walks, or in idle or licentious conversation. Still would 
 the parting" advice of Helen come like a warning" angel 
 to his soul, and stem, for a moment, the current of his 
 misdoings. His heart beat with fear when he thought 
 that his sister might hear of his dishonouring- the 
 Sabbath, or neglecting his devotions. 
 
 And had he no fear of God ? Will you, young reader, 
 stand in awe of your fellow-men ? Will you tremble at 
 the rebuke of the world ? Yes, you will grieve to wound 
 the heart of your earthly benefactor. You will stand pale 
 before the offended laws of your country. Shame will 
 blush on your face, when you violate the niceness of the 
 rules and customs of fashion. You will bow to the great 
 ones of the earth ; and look with alarm when the hand 
 of man's justice lifts the sword against you. The little 
 tyrant, who couches in the gloominess of his barricaded 
 fastnesses, although but a worm of God's footstool, can 
 make you tremble ; and will you not fear God, who can 
 cast both soul and body into hell fire ? Will you fear to 
 grieve your earthly benefactors, and will you have no 
 reverence to your Father in heaven ? Will ye tremble 
 to offend the laws of man, and blush to be seen in an 
 unfashionable suit of apparel ; and will ye trample under 
 foot the laws and the statutes of the God of hosts ; and 
 will ye not blush when He sees you stript of the white 
 robes of innocence, and refusing to put on the garments 
 that are worn in the courts of heaven ? Surely this is 
 folly. 
 
 One thing I shall observe here which may be useful to 
 parents, should this little piece happen to fall into any of 
 their hands. 
 
 Among the injunctions which the old farmer gave 
 William, you remember one was, that he should attend 
 the preaching of the gospel. But the good old man 
 forgot to specify what minister of religion he should 
 hear. Indeed, ifi those days, when the faithful servants 
 of God were mostly driven from their flocks by persecu- 
 tion, it was not easy to find, even in such a place as 
 5
 
 66 eX5~X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Glasgow, a minister who ventured to declare the whole 
 counsel of God. Those whom the iniquitous laws of the 
 time permitted to appear in the pulpits were dumb dogs 
 that could not bark : they prophesied lies, and announced 
 to their slumbering congregations, " Peace, peace, when 
 there was no peace." 
 
 Such was the priest under whose ministry Mr. Hunter 
 had placed himself, and William attended the same 
 church. Here he heard little of the original depravity of 
 man of his natural hatred to God, and all that is holy. 
 Little of the inflexibility of God's justice, and of His 
 jealous and immutable regard to the minutest require- 
 ment of His moral law. He was indeed told that he was 
 a sinner, and needed to be made holy, and just, and 
 good, before he could see God. He was enjoined to do 
 good, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with his God ; 
 to be kind and charitable to all, and to keep God's 
 commandments, as far as frail human nature would 
 permit. He was also reminded that, after all his pious 
 endeavours, much would be amiss ; but, that God was a 
 God of mercy, and delighted to forgive the repenting 
 sinner. But, alas ! he heard little of the great atonement 
 of God's mercy flowing to sinners, only through Him 
 of the quickening influences of the Holy Spirit of 
 man putting away from his trust all his own works, and 
 relying for salvation solely on the merits and propitiatory 
 death of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 The minister who concealed thus the essence of preach- 
 ing was called a minister of the gospel ; but, oh ! how 
 unlike a minister of the gospel of Christ ! Under him 
 William's conscience was flattered ; he became more 
 pleased with himself, and was glad to hear that he 
 might expect heaven at last with so little expense to 
 his natural desires and propensities. Thus, one who 
 called himself, and whom the world called, a servant of 
 God, joined with William's companions, and the deceit- 
 fulness of his own heart, in endeavouring the ruin of 
 his soul.
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 67 
 
 How careful should all be, then, who have the 
 guidance of youth, to place them under a true minister 
 of the gospel of the grace of God an able and a faithful 
 minister of the New Testament ! We are sorry to have 
 cause to say, that our pulpits are not yet wholly cleared 
 of false prophets. Let parents and guardians, therefore, 
 beware. Let them not make the omission of the old 
 farmer. Who knows how much William's pious resolu- 
 tions might have been strengthened, and his backsliding 
 prevented, by the weekly ministrations of a zealous, 
 heart-searching, faithful minister of the gospel of Christ ! 
 The state of the Church, as we have hinted, formed some 
 palliation for the conduct of the old farmer. But the 
 guardians of youth can have now no such excuse. Blessed 
 be God, faithful ministers of religion may now be found 
 in every part of the kingdom. 
 
 While William was thus, unknown to his friends, putting 
 away from him the fear of the Lord, Helen, far retired 
 from these busy scenes, was training her soul to virtue, 
 and assimilating her nature to those "who walk with 
 God, high in salvation, and the climes of bliss." The 
 mercy and holiness of God, as manifested in the sacrifice 
 of His Son, was the theme of her sweet and daily con- 
 templation she did good, and loved mercy, and walked 
 humbly with her God ; but she looked to Jesus Christ 
 alone as the author and finisher of her faith, as the 
 great and only means of her justification with God, and 
 to the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, for those 
 renewing and sanctifying influences which could alone 
 prepare her soul for an inheritance among the saints in 
 light. Helen had often fled from the violence of perse- 
 cution ; and young, inoffensive, and meek as she was, 
 suffered oftener than once from its cruelty. One time 
 in particular, a lighted match was placed between her 
 fingers by a soldier, to extort from her the discovery of 
 her old guardian. Helen knew, if the old man was taken, 
 immediate death would be his lot, for he had not only 
 been intercommuned himself, but his house was a noted
 
 68 <tX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 sheltering-place for the scattered flock of Christ. The 
 match burned between her fingers, but Helen, with a look 
 that might have softened the heart of the wolf, and a 
 voice that might have wrung a tear from the eye of the 
 tiger, said to her tormentor, that she could not discover 
 the old man, for he was to her as a father. The oaths 
 and menaces of the soldier made her tremble ; but look- 
 ing to heaven for strength, she endured the torture ; and 
 after her hand had been severely burned, the cruel 
 dragoon struck her tender neck with the flat of his sword, 
 and went off cursing her obstinacy, as he called her pious 
 and faithful firmness. 
 
 Meanwhile the arm of persecution was beginning to 
 weary in the slaughter. The instruments of torture, the 
 iron boot and the thumbkin, were nearly laid aside in 
 Scotland, and the children of God were less hunted by 
 the hounds of oppression. Helen neglected not the kind 
 interference of Providence. Every Sabbath she was 
 present in the house of God, where she sat with peculiar 
 delight. Every morning of the hallowed day she visited 
 the solitary grave of her mother, reading her Bible and 
 holding communion with the upper world. 
 
 To the affairs of the house, Helen was ever attentive ; 
 and her modesty, sensibility, and piety made her the 
 favourite of the sequestered few with whom she lived. 
 The troublous aspect of the times, and the severe bereave- 
 ments she had suffered, had thrown a seriousness and 
 sobriety over her character rather disproportioned to her 
 years. But she knew nothing of moroseness or melan- 
 choly. The fear of heaven dwelt in her bosom ; the 
 smile of content beamed in her face. She always took a 
 ready part in the simple and innocent amusements of her 
 rustic companions. Of music she was peculiarly fond. 
 Often would she sit on the grassy seat, by the house side, 
 and listen to the evening song of the shepherd boy, 
 winding down the glen from his laired flock. And often 
 in the winter evening the peat burning on the hearth, 
 and the wheel humming in the corner would the old
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 69 
 
 farmer lay the stocking at which he knitted on his knee, 
 and give his ear to Helen while she sung the sweet 
 melodies of Scotland. 
 
 Truly, young reader, religion is no dreary thing. Its 
 light casts a ray of cheerfulness . over all the character. 
 It is the Christian who possesses the merry heart. He 
 is on his way to his Father's house ; and why should he 
 be fretted or morose ? He sees no darkness on the 
 countenance of heaven ; and why should his face gather 
 blackness ? He knows that no frown rests on the face 
 of his reconciled Father ; and why should he offer Him 
 monastic sullenness ? 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 -" Horror and doubt distract 
 
 His troubled thoughts ; and from the bottom stir 
 The hell within him. ..... 
 
 Now conscience wakes despair, 
 
 That slumbered ; wakes the bitter memory 
 Of what he was, what is, and what must be 
 Worse ; of worse deeds, worse sufferings must endure." 
 ; MILTON. 
 
 THREE years and some months had now elapsed since 
 William went to business in Glasgow. He had hitherto 
 been prevented from visiting his sister, chiefly by the 
 tumult and danger of the times. But the bright morning 
 of the Revolution had now driven away from our land the 
 dark fiend of persecution. The laws were respected, 
 the country was eased of oppression, and the persons 
 and property of men safe from violence. 
 
 It was on a frosty morning in January that William 
 left Glasgow to pay a visit to Helen and the old farmer. 
 As he crossed the Clyde, the sun looked cold and red 
 through the smoky atmosphere of the town. But as he 
 left the city behind him, the fields and the sky brightened 
 in the splendid, though short, glare of the winter day. 
 The bird chirped on the brown and leafless hedgerow,
 
 Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 and the morning maid carried her pail from the well. 
 Amusing himself with the objects around him, William 
 crossed the cultivated parts of Renfrewshire, and drew 
 near to the moorlands. He now passed a small stream 
 that washed the north border of the parish of Eagles- 
 ham. This brook, called the Erne (as the swains on its 
 banks say, from a species of the eagle of that name 
 which lodged here while Scotland was yet covered with 
 woods), where William crossed it, leads its gentle 
 waters secluded among grassy hills and little green 
 holms, on which grow, in their seasons, the primrose, 
 the fern, the wild daisy, and the violet. As he ascended 
 the south bank, he noticed a small oval excavation, 
 called from its appearance the "Chamber's Braes." In 
 this sequestered hollow, during the hot day of persecu- 
 tion, the neighbouring swains, whose offspring still 
 possess the ground, often met to hear the joyful sound. 
 Here the psalm often rose on the breeze of the hallowed 
 morning, here the holy man of God lifted up the desires 
 of his people to the ear of the Eternal, and hither the 
 blessing descended from between the cherubim. 
 
 Proceeding on his way, he gained, an hour after mid- 
 day, the summit of Balagich, a hill about eleven miles 
 south of Glasgow, which in this place forms the boundary 
 between the heathy sheep grounds to the south and the 
 cultivated districts that slope gently down to the river 
 Clyde on the north. Tired with travelling, here he sat 
 down on some old grey stones, piled together by the 
 shepherds, and threw his eyes over the romantic 
 scenery. 
 
 To the east rose Tinto, watching the youthful ram- 
 blings of the Clyde ; and a little to the north, and 
 farther in the distance, Pentland Hills and Arthur's 
 Seat, whence the morning sun looks down on the towers 
 of Edinburgh. Beneath him, passing in his course the 
 spires of Glasgow dimly seen in the smoke, and leaving 
 the eye at the rock of Dumbarton Castle, the ancient 
 strength of Scotland, the Clyde watered his fertile
 
 Helen of the Glen XeX. 71 
 
 valley, surmounted on the north by the fells ot Campsie 
 and the wild mountains of the western Highlands. 
 Ben Ledi, or hill of God, where our pagan forefathers 
 worshipped their unknown gods, muffled its spiry top in 
 the clouds. Ben Lomond, from whose shoulders the 
 unsubdued sons of freedom rushed down on the Roman 
 invader, was clothed in his saintly robes of snow, and 
 the garments of the mist leaned on his head. Shooting 
 up far to the west were the rocky hills of Arran, on 
 whose rugged tops the spirit of the storm gathers the 
 rain and nurses the infant tempest. Round the rock of 
 Ailsa, hovering in the wave like the guardian angel of 
 the Frith, rolled the wintry billows of the Atlantic, and 
 straggling along its shores stood Saltcoats, Irvine, and 
 Ayr, looking up from the setting-sun on the plentiful 
 districts of Carrick, Coil, and Cunningham, scattered 
 with villages and farmhouses, and guarded in the 
 distance by the grassy hills of Galloway, from which the 
 sun gazes on the shepherd at midday. Rising out of 
 the brown level waste to the south was the little round 
 elevation of Loudon Hill, towards which William now 
 directed his course. 
 
 Silence reigned on the desert, save when it was broken 
 by the brown cock calling his mate, the bleating of 
 sheep, or the whistle of the shepherd, who seemed in 
 more than ordinary solicitude to gather his flocks. His 
 care was not unnecessary. Although William feared no 
 danger, the shepherds, who knew well the face of the 
 heavens, saw an approaching tempest. The sun veiled 
 his face, a heavy grey fog closed over the sky, the breeze 
 had left the heath, the little waterfalls were heard at a 
 distance, and a kind of general sighing prevailed over 
 nature. 
 
 William had proceeded through gullies and moor- 
 streams a few miles only, when the storm overtook 
 him. It was sudden and furious. The snow descended 
 so rapidly and closely that he saw not whither he went ; 
 and the four winds seemed to contend around his head
 
 72 0/C5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 which of them should drive the snow before it. Young 
 and vigorous, he struggled a while against the fierceness 
 of the tempest ; but every moment in danger of falling 
 into some bog or water-runnel, now choked up with the 
 snow, and not knowing what way to hold for safety, he 
 at length stood still, leaning on a hillock of heath. The 
 tempest grew still more violent, and he began to fear 
 for his life. No hope of assistance, or of outliving the 
 storm where he was, appeared. Nothing was heard on 
 the waste but the roaring of the wind ; and the driving 
 snow that beat against him, and blinding his eyes, 
 threatened to smother him outright. 
 
 It was then that William remembered that he had 
 profaned the Sabbaths, forgotten his Bible, and neglected 
 prayer. His conscience rose within him as the storm 
 increased without. The kind instructions of Helen 
 rushed on his mind. And "Oh, shall I never see her 
 again!" was the exclamation of his heart. "Deliver 
 me, O Lord, this time, and I will no more forget Thy 
 holy day and religion again ! " Struggling thus with 
 the tempest and the fears of death, which, young as 
 he was, he had already made terrible by his forgetful- 
 ness of Him who has conquered death, he shrunk down 
 to the ground benumbed and hopeless. The storm had 
 now rather abated ; but the darkness of night was 
 spreading over the moor, and William, unable to rise 
 or stir himself, felt the piercing frost rapidly fastening 
 on the functions of life. Another hour, and the wheel 
 at the cistern would have stood still for ever. But his 
 deliverer was at hand. 
 
 A shepherd's dog approached him, looked earnestly 
 in his face, and immediately ran off. William tried to 
 speak to it, but his tongue refused to obey. The dog 
 needed no entreaty. It found its master, and brought 
 him to where William lay. The shepherd raised him 
 up ; from his bosom took a bottle of sweet milk which 
 he carried for his own refreshment, and, giving him the 
 warm milk in small quantities, succeeded in restoring
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX- 73 
 
 him to proper animation and to a partial use of his 
 limbs. The kind peasant threw his own plaid round 
 William's shoulders, and supported him on his arm to 
 his master's house, a lonely hut situated in the midst 
 of the moor, about a mile from the spot where he had 
 fallen down overcome by the storm. In this humble 
 dwelling, which was a noted rendezvous of the people 
 of God in the time of persecution, he received the kindest 
 attention. The old man of the house, Who had often 
 fled before the cruel and insolent soldiers, dike the primi- 
 tive Christians, washed his feet with his own hands ; 
 one of his daughters wiped the snow from William's 
 clothes and hair, another prepared him something to 
 eat, while their mother warmed blankets for him before 
 the fire. The old man thanked God for making his 
 servant and his house the means of saving a fellow- 
 creature, and William went to bed and fell fast asleep, 
 remembering the shepherd's dog more than the provid- 
 ence of God that had sent it to deliver him. 
 
 In the morning William was roused from sleep by 
 a deep groan which proceeded from a bed in the same 
 apartment. The old man, who knitted stockings by the 
 fire, came to William's bedside and told him not to be 
 alarmed. "It is an old soldier," continued he, "who 
 lies there. He was brought in hither, feeble and ex- 
 hausted, two or three days ago. He has been seized 
 with a violent fever, and I fear he will not hear many 
 hours told. His name," added the old man, "is 
 Wrathburn, well known in the time of the late persecu- 
 tion for his inflexible cruelty, and especially for his cold- 
 blooded murder of the widow of Cleughhead." 
 
 At the name of Wrathburn and the widow of 
 Cleughhead, William started, and his face changed 
 colour. "What alarms you?" said the old man; 
 "the soldier can hurt no one now." "The widow of 
 Cleughhead was my mother," replied William, "and 
 I never hear the name of her murderer without 
 trembling. Discover me not to him," continued he,
 
 74 tXsTX Tales af the Covenanters 
 
 "it will make his last moments more bitter." "They 
 are bitter enough even now," said the old man; "he 
 refuses to be comforted." 
 
 Although the reader already knows something of 
 Wrathburn, it will be necessary here to make a short 
 pause in the narrative, and explain how he was brought 
 into his present situation. 
 
 The licentiousness and prodigality of the reign of 
 Charles n. spread from the Court over almost every 
 class of men in the kingdom. The soldiers especially, 
 who were the instruments of persecution in Scotland, 
 imitated their master in every species of riot and 
 drunkenness. Accustomed to plunder and massacre 
 the recusants, or people of God, at pleasure, they totally 
 lost every habit of temperance and every feeling of 
 humanity. The consequence was, that when disease 
 or old age disabled them for service, deprived of the 
 means but not of the propensities of dissipation, they 
 were reduced to poverty and wretchedness. And 
 hundreds of them, forgotten by the masters whose 
 cruelty they had served, wandered about, especially 
 after the persecution, begging their bread among those 
 very peasants whose lives they had pursued, whose 
 houses they had plundered, and whose relations they 
 had murdered. Of this sort was Wrathburn ; so 
 intrepid in cruelty, so inflexible to supplication, that 
 Claverhouse, the bitterest of all the persecutors, used 
 to send him on all his bloody errands, where his soldiers 
 were most apt to be turned aside from his orders by 
 the courage of the peasants, "or the tears of the women 
 and children. We have already seen one act of his 
 stubborn cruelty in the murder of Mrs. Thomson. 
 This was certainly the most abominable deed of his 
 life ! but there was scarcely a family in the moorish 
 districts of the shires of Lanark and Ayr that could 
 not bear witness against him for some act of torture 
 or insolent violence. Disabled at last in his sword arm, 
 by a wound received from the faithful sabre of Hackston
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX^ 75 
 
 at Bothwell Bridge, and worn out with old age and 
 disease, he had now begged his bread for several years. 
 He had been found, overcome with hunger and fatigue, 
 in the midst of the moors, by the same shepherd who 
 saved William ; and now he lay fevered, and on the 
 brink of death, as the old man described him. 
 
 As the snowstorm had been succeeded by a rapid 
 thaw, to leave the hut that day was impossible. William 
 had therefore an opportunity of seeing the end of this 
 man. He approached his bedside. The aspect of the 
 old sinner was indeed terrible. Down from his project- 
 ing cheek-bones hung the skin in withered foldings, 
 that had once been filled with flesh his head was bald 
 his beard long, and of a dirty grey a mouldering 
 stump or two appeared in his mouth, that gaped widely 
 for breath the violence of the distemper raised up his 
 eyeballs, now and then glaring from their large hollow 
 sockets the fiery darkness of despair. Hell and ever- 
 lasting wrath took hold of his imagination, and he would 
 often cry out furiously, ' ' Cut them down cut them 
 down to the last. The widow of Cleughhead she 
 pursues me see her daughter swoons by her corpse 
 that groan was her last it drives me to perdition 
 No mercy, no mercy ! " 
 
 In the short intervals of the fever, he would endeavour 
 to sit up on the bed. With his left arm he tried to sup- 
 port his head, but it was too heavy the feeble prop fell 
 down, and his right arm lay shrunk and withered by his 
 side. It was then that the good old man placed his 
 shoulder below the head of the dying wretch, pleaded 
 with God for him, and laboured to administer comfort. 
 
 "God's mercy is infinite," said the old man; "your 
 sin in disbelieving the all-sufficiency of His grace is 
 greater than that of your most wicked actions. Re- 
 member what the Bible says : ' The Lord is slow to 
 anger, and abundant in mercy. Come let us reason 
 together,' says the voice of His infinite goodness ; 
 ' though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white
 
 7 6 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall 
 be as wool. Jesus Christ came not to call the righteous, 
 but sinners to repentance. Whosoever believeth in 
 Him,' however guilty he may have been, 'shall not 
 perish, but have everlasting life. The blood of the 
 Redeemer cleanseth from all sin.' Oh, turn yourself 
 to prayer, ere it be too late. God hath ever an open 
 ear to those who call on Him in distress." 
 
 " No, no," with a voice of fury and despair, cried the 
 hopeless sinner; "I never prayed, and God will not 
 hear me now. I read not that Bible of which you speak 
 I despised that book, and them who read it. I will 
 not pray the blood of murder is on my hands the 
 gates of heaven are shut against me the sword of God's 
 vengeance hath gone into my heart the eternal fire 
 burns in my soul pray not for me talk not of mercy 
 Oh, for utter annihilation ; endless torment is on me 
 leave me leave me the widow of Cleughhead pursues 
 me that was the shriek of her daughter." 
 
 Oh ! how dreadful were the agonies of his soul ! 
 Conscience, that had been long disregarded, now put 
 on the terrors of eternal death ; and truly its voice was 
 heard. The bed on which he lay shook with the furious 
 convulsions of his body. The fever again took away his 
 senses, and nothing but heavy groans were heard. Again 
 a minute of ease returned, and the old man tried yet again 
 to administer some spiritual relief. 
 
 " Doubt not," said he, " of God's mercy ; He wishes not 
 that you should perish. Remember the thief who was saved 
 on the cross, and went to paradise. Remember Paul, 
 who was the most inveterate of persecutors, and yet he 
 found mercy. Try, oh, try to pray ! God may hear you." 
 
 "Away with mercy," cried the frantic wretch ; "it is 
 perdition to my soul. Hell calls for me the devil drags 
 me away the wrath of God is on me the widow of 
 Cleughhead pursues me that was the shriek of her 
 orphan daughter that is her blood on my hands hell 
 cannot burn it off ! "
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX> 77 
 
 Again the strong- disease fastened firmer upon him 
 the mighty strength of the king of terrors was in the pang. 
 The withered stump of the right arm made a convulsive 
 motion, as if to search for the sword ; again it fell back 
 another lurid gleam flashed from his hollow eye no bow 
 appeared on the cloud of eternal darkness a deep groan 
 shook his body it lay still for ever and his soul was 
 summoned away to that bar whence there is no appeal ! 
 
 Surely, oh man, it is a fearful thing to fall into the 
 hands of the living God ! This man showed no mercy : 
 he exceeded even the cruelty of his commission. The 
 tears and supplications of humble widowhood, the shriek- 
 ings and swoonings of fatherless childhood, melted not 
 the cruelty of his heart and how could he expect to find 
 mercy in the hour of need ? He hated God, and Christ, 
 and all that is holy and where could he find a stay ; 
 how could he see a guiding star in the valley of thick 
 darkness ? He despised the great Captain of Salvation 
 and how could he meet in battle with the king of 
 terrors? Truly "the fear of the wicked it shall come 
 upon him. Terrors take hold on him, as waters ; a 
 tempest stealeth him away in the night. The east wind 
 carrieth him away, and he departeth, and as a storm, 
 hurleth him out of his place. For God shall cast upon 
 him and not spare ; he would fain flee out of his hand. 
 Men shall clap their hands at him, and shall hiss him 
 out of his place." 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 -" With countenance as mild 
 
 As Mercy looking on Repentance' tear ; 
 Her eye of purity now darted up 
 To God's eternal throne, now humbly bent 
 Upon herself; and weeping- down her cheek 
 A tear, pure as the dews that fall in heaven." 
 
 ANON. 
 
 NIGHT had again shrouded all in darkness ; and it was a
 
 7 8 eX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 night of sadness and trembling- in the family of the moor. 
 The horrible expressions of the dying wretch were still 
 in their ears ; they still saw his last looks of despair ; 
 his last convulsions were still in their memories ; his 
 lifeless corpse lay on the bed, and the dark blast of 
 winter moaned over the waste. The old man exhorted 
 them to put their trust in God, and prayed that the 
 scene they had witnessed might be blessed for their 
 improvement. 
 
 William now went to bed, but sleep refused to visit 
 him. He thought still of the last looks and words of 
 Wrathburn. He resolved, and resolved again, never to 
 forget religion. Was it possible that his end might be 
 like this man's ? If he forsake God now, might not God 
 forsake him in the hour of desolation ? " Guide my feet, 
 O God, in the path of the just, that my end may be like 
 his," was the whisper of his fears and only of his fears. 
 
 As soon as morning appeared, William, glad to quit 
 the present scene, set forward for his sister's. Travel- 
 ling was extremely difficult. The snow had been mostly 
 dissolved, but the streams were swollen, and the swampy 
 grounds in many places covered with water. Resting 
 himself on a gentle height, about three miles from the 
 house he had left, he observed, coming out from it, five 
 or six men. They drove a horse with a car, and seemed 
 to hold towards a hamlet situated at the distance of six 
 or seven miles. 
 
 It was the funeral of Wrathburn. The very men 
 whom he had often chased with the sword, and whose 
 relations he had murdered, and whose memories many 
 now ridicule, were doing him the last office of humanity. 
 Through fens and bogs and over rills they carried him, 
 and in a corner of the village churchyard, at a small 
 distance from the ordinary place of graves, laid him 
 down in the narrow house, "far from the ashes of his 
 fathers." 
 
 Meanwhile, William, now skipping from hillock to 
 hillock, and now leaping the moor-runnels, made to-
 
 TELLING HER AND THE OLI> MAN WHATEVER HAD HAPPENED TO 
 
 HIM IN GLASGOW. See page 81. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson S* Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 79
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 81 
 
 wards the habitation of Helen. She had been watching 
 him making his way over the rough broken masses, like 
 a vessel holding for a difficult port ; and although his 
 appearance was considerably altered, she recognised him 
 at a short distance from .the house, ran out with all her 
 usual tenderness and embraced him, and led him into the 
 dwelling of the honest old farmer. The evening was 
 spent in kind inquiries and kind answers. Helen related, 
 with beautiful simplicity, any curious or entertaining 
 incident that had happened in the neighbourhood since 
 William's departure ; and William seemed unreserved in 
 telling her and the old man whatever had happened to 
 him in Glasgow ; but not a word dropt from him that 
 could give them the least intimation of his declining 
 piety. The story of Wrathburn made a deep impression 
 on the whole family: and " Oh ! " said Helen, the blood 
 leaving her cheek, and the tear starting in her eye, " was 
 there no hope ? Did he die uttering these horrid words ? 
 Did you not pray for him, William? I am sure my 
 mother forgave him. Why did he not seek the mercy of 
 God ? Oh ! did he die unforgiven ? " 
 
 Helen, perceiving no marks of decline in his religion, 
 was extremely pleased with her brother. William was 
 taller ; his glossy jet locks curled plentifully on his 
 healthy cheeks, which had now assumed that smoothness 
 and richness of colouring which precedes manhood ; his 
 black eye rolled more freely ; his dress was neater ; he 
 spoke better; and his whole appearance was more 
 graceful. 
 
 Nor had Helen grown up in the desert an unlovely 
 flower. Although seeing few but the old shepherd and 
 his servants (for his wife had now been dead for some 
 time, and he had no children), her native sweetness of 
 temper, her contentment, her sobriety of thought, gave 
 an expression and a dignity to her countenance superior" 
 to her situation in life. Her form was handsome ; the 
 loveliness and vigour of seventeen imparted animation to 
 every feature ; a profusion of sunny ringlets shaded her 
 6
 
 82 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 fair neck, and played on her shoulders ; and her soft blue 
 eye beamed with beauty. 
 
 Although William was by no means deficient in 
 natural talent and feeling 1 , in all that concerned religion 
 Helen was far his superior. Her understanding illumi- 
 nated by the divine truths of the Bible, her imagination 
 enlarged by the boldness of its poetry, and her heart 
 warmed by the pathos of its piety, she felt and spoke 
 of divine things in a style much above her years. Seldom 
 was she drawn into lengthened conversation on these 
 subjects ; but when the taste or interest of her associates 
 required it, having fully before her mind the awful im- 
 pression of eternal concerns, she entered into religious 
 converse with an eloquence, a warmth, and an energy 
 which surprised and often deeply impressed those with 
 whom she conversed. 
 
 Now gazing on one another, now talking of their days 
 of childhood, and now of their future prospects, the two 
 orphans spent that evening and the following day, the 
 wetness of which had kept them within doors, till 
 sunset ; and now they walked out to visit their mother's 
 grave. 
 
 " Does the lamb go with us ? " said William, noticing 
 one that skipped at Helen's side. " It is a foster lamb," 
 said Helen ; "it lost its mother, and I have brought it 
 up in the house. It follows me everywhere ; I have to 
 shut it up when I go to church. Poor thing ! I love its 
 white face. It will go along with us : often has it 
 accompanied me to my mother's grave." 
 
 The wind was hushed on the mountain ; the stream 
 purled down its glen ; in the water-spots, over the 
 brown waste, glittered the lamps of heaven ; the vesper 
 star looked solitarily from its hermitage in the west ; up 
 the east, rejoicing in the midst of her constellations, rode 
 the moon ; and the light cloud, passing at intervals over 
 her face, threw its wavy shadow on the heath. 
 
 The two orphans now approached the grave of their 
 mother. The grey willow dropped on the stone the
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX- 83 
 
 tears of evening-. William stooped down and read the 
 name ; Helen kneeled on the heath by its side ; the 
 lamb looked up in her face ; she pressed one hand to her 
 breast, lifted the other up to heaven, turned her blue eye 
 to the skies, and besought the blessing, even life that 
 shall never end, for her brother and herself. " Father 
 in heaven ! guide our feet in the paths of wisdom ; make 
 us white and clean in the blood of the Lamb, that our 
 dwelling-place may be in the house of God for ever." 
 
 The two orphans now shed the tear of natural affec- 
 tion on their mother's grave. Nor did they forget that 
 their father's dust mouldered in a distant land. The 
 sigh that heaved their breasts for the cruel death of 
 their mother, deepened as they recollected that their 
 father had gone before her. " Let us follow their 
 steps," said Helen to her brother, as they returned 
 home, " let us follow their steps, and we shall see them 
 in heaven. Remember, William, our mother's dying 
 advice, ' Never forsake God, and He will never forsake 
 you.' " 
 
 During William's stay with his sister, they were often 
 engaged in cheerful talk and innocent amusement. But 
 we mean to confine the narration here chiefly to their 
 private religious conversation. 
 
 Before the old farmer, William always demeaned 
 himself with the strictest propriety ; but sometimes he 
 betrayed a levity and a carelessness, when Helen spoke 
 of religion and its duties, which alarmed her, lest the 
 contagion of bad example had been sapping the roots of 
 his piety. Ever mindful of her mother's wish that she 
 should instruct and warn William, and ever anxious 
 herself for the welfare of his soul, she urged him to tell 
 her all that he felt and thought of religious concerns. 
 However, reluctant William might have been to speak 
 plainly on these subjects to any other, he could not resist 
 the entreaties of his sister. 
 
 One day, while sitting in the house alone, the pious 
 sister pressing her brother to speak to her just as he
 
 84 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 thought, the following conversation ensued William 
 disclosing the principles which he had learned from his 
 companions in Glasgow, and Helen endeavouring to 
 root them out of his mind, chiefly by the pure words of 
 inspiration. 
 
 " Some attention to religion, sister," said William, 
 "is surely very necessary. But I see some of my 
 companions are cheerful and happy as I, who trouble 
 themselves little about it. They attend to their business, 
 and are getting on in the world ; and yet they don't 
 seem to be always reading their Bible. I even hear 
 them swear and take the name of God in vain ; and yet 
 they are gay and prosperous." 
 
 "And is it not God, dear William, who gives them 
 health and prosperity ? " said Helen, gazing on William's 
 face. Oh, how did she gaze when she heard these expres- 
 sions ! "It is from God we receive all our blessings. 
 In Him we live, and move, and have our being. All 
 that is beautiful, or grand, or useful in nature ; all our 
 intellectual enjoyments ; and all that soothes or endears 
 in acquaintance or friendship, come from our God. Is it 
 any but God who giveth us the former and the latter 
 rain, and scatters the dews of heaven on the grassy 
 bosom of the earth ? Is it any but our Father in heaven 
 who loads the fields of autumn, and crowns the hopes of 
 the husbandman ? He spreads the table of plenty, and 
 bids all that live eat their fill. He giveth seed to. the 
 sower, and bread to the eater. He crowneth the year 
 with His goodness, and His paths drop fatness. They 
 drop upon the pastures of the wilderness ; and the little 
 hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed with 
 flocks ; the valleys also are covered with corn. They 
 shout for joy ; they also sing. Does God all this for us, 
 dear William, and shall we not fear Him with a holy fear ? 
 
 "And," continued she, her eye kindling with grati- 
 tude to God, and her voice softening in compassion for 
 William, "and has our gracious Father done no more 
 than this for His children ? Yes, He hath done more
 
 Helen of the Glen XcX 85 
 
 infinitely more. When we, by the transgressions of His 
 law and by our attachment to sin, had made ourselves 
 His enemies, and the enemies of all that is holy, and just, 
 and good when we had thus exposed ourselves to His 
 wrath and curse, to all manner of suffering in time, and 
 to inconceivable punishment in eternity, the gracious 
 voice of His mercy was heard, saying, "Deliver from 
 going down to the pit, for I have found a ransom." And 
 what was this ransom ? His own Son, who is Himself 
 the Almighty God, left the glories of heaven, assumed 
 our nature, and by His obedience in our room, satisfied 
 the law of God which we had violated ; and by His death 
 in .our stead, delivered us from that eternal death to 
 which we are exposed. And how did we receive this 
 Messenger of peace and love this Saviour of a self- 
 ruined world ? Did we welcome His coming as all our 
 salvation and all our desire ? Ah, no ! He was received 
 with reviling and reproach ; yet He turned not away His 
 love from us. He who was the brightness of His 
 Father's glory made Himself of no reputation, girt 
 Himself like a servant, went about doing good, preach- 
 ing peace, binding up the broken-hearted, and submitting 
 to every privation, and trying every endearment to win 
 us to Himself, and save us from the consequences of 
 our guilt. Nor was this the end of His love. The Son 
 of God bore our sins in His body on the tree, suffered 
 the wrath of God for our sake ; and on the hill of 
 Calvary, bowed His head and gave up the ghost. On 
 the third day He rose again, and ascended up into heaven, 
 where, in the presence of His Father, He pleads our 
 cause ; whence He sends the Comforter to purify our 
 hearts, to cheer and support us through the trials of 
 life ; and where He is preparing mansions to receive us, 
 that where He is, there we may be also holding com- 
 munion with our God for ever and ever. Hath God 
 done all this for us, William, and shall we not love Him ? 
 Hath Jesus Christ redeemed us by His own blood, and 
 shall we not fear to offend Him ? "
 
 86 eXiTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 William, although much moved with this address to 
 his feelings of gratitude, continued thus : "Dear sister, 
 we should certainly be grateful to Him of whom we hold 
 so much. But I have heard my companions say, that 
 God is all-merciful, He will not punish us for our 
 frailties." 
 
 " O William," resumed Helen, "that is the fairest 
 lure that vice spreads to entice its prey. God is indeed 
 all-merciful to them who believe in His Son. Jesus 
 Christ died for their sins, and rose again for their 
 justification. His justice has, therefore, no claims 
 against them. They are bought with a price. They are 
 dear to Him as the apple of His eye. They are His own 
 children, and every dispensation they meet with is the 
 dispensation of a Father full of mercy. He hath no 
 pleasure in the death even of the wicked. And He is 
 saying to them, ' Let the wicked forsake his way, and 
 the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return 
 unto the Lord, for He will have mercy upon him, and to 
 our God, for He will abundantly pardon.' Truly God is 
 long suffering and slow to wrath. But He will forget to 
 be gracious ; He will ease Himself of His adversaries ; 
 He will by no means clear the guilty ; He will at last 
 rise from His place, and scatter His enemies. And oh, 
 it will be a terrible day for the wicked man when God's 
 mercy leaves him for ever." 
 
 Again William tried to find refuge from the eloquence 
 which Helen drew from the word of God. "The 
 Almighty," said he, "will perhaps not punish so 
 severely as He has said. He will perhaps relent at 
 last." 
 
 " Dear brother," said Helen, weeping, when she heard 
 William speak in this manner "Dear brother, you 
 cannot think so. Oh ! where is your security for so frail 
 a reliance ? Hath God ever failed of His word ? ' The 
 mountains may depart, and the hills be removed out of 
 their place ; but the word of our God abideth for ever. 
 He is the fountain of truth.' The words of the Lord
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX* 87 
 
 are pure words. He knows the end from the beginning-, 
 and hath no need to change His purpose. He will not 
 be more merciful at the end of time than He was when 
 the morning stars first sang together. His justice, and 
 power, and truth, and holiness, stand pledged for the 
 fulfilment of what He hath spoken. He hath sworn by 
 Himself, that every word that proceeds from His mouth 
 shall be fulfilled. Seek in the book of the Lord, and see 
 if any of His purposes hath failed. The sentence of 
 death was pronounced against Adam if he disobeyed his 
 Maker ; and did it not take its effect ? The sword of 
 justice turned in between man and the tree of life. 
 Briars and thorns came up on the earth, and death was 
 turned loose on mankind. And is not the curse still 
 cleaving to our rebellious race ? The careworn counten- 
 ance, the feeble knees, the pale visage of disease, can 
 tell if God be faithful. The grave can tell if it has been 
 defrauded of its prey. Has not death swept away 
 generation after generation, and made the world a 
 burying-place ? Will the multitudes of those who 
 perished in the Deluge bear witness against God's faith- 
 fulness ? Will the ashes of Tyre and Jerusalem, or the 
 lake of Sodom and Gomorrah, speak against his ver- 
 acity? Or will the apostate spirit, and the departed 
 souls of the wicked, bring us the tidings that His wrath 
 is exhausted, and His decrees revoked ? 
 
 "But God has not been faithful to punish only," 
 continued the earnest pleader, her face brightening as 
 she beheld the tender mercies of God present in her 
 mind " He has been, and is faithful and mighty to save. 
 Since mercy placed the bow in the clouds, hath anyone 
 seen the waters come over the mountains, and smite 
 every living thing with a curse? Or hath anyone 
 observed seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, 
 and summer and winter, and day and night, cease from 
 the earth ? ' Hath He spoken it, and shall He not do it ? 
 Hath He said it, and shall He not bring it to pass ? ' 
 The Son of God will not say that the Father is not true.
 
 88 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 In Eden, the voice of God's truth and mercy was heard 
 saying, that ' the seed of the woman should bruise the 
 head of the serpent.' This was the most expressive pro- 
 mise that God ever gave to man. Yet no jot of it hath 
 failed. The veil of the temple rent in twain the earth 
 shook and trembled the sun shrouded himself in dark- 
 ness ; but the purpose of God stood fast. The Saviour 
 laid down His life, cast the serpent into everlasting 
 chains, and secured the redemption of man. Hath God 
 done this to accomplish His sayings ; and shall He not 
 give effect to His threatenings against those who fear 
 Him not, and trample on the blood of His Son? Trust 
 not, William, trust not, my dear brother, to refuges 
 of lies. Remember the deathbed scene you have 
 lately witnessed remember your mother's last advice 
 remember the goodness and wrath of God ; and oh, 
 think of the ingratitude and danger of offending 
 Him ! " 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 " Thrice happy they! that enter now the court 
 Heaven opens in their bosoms. But how rare ! 
 Ah me ! that magnanimity how rare ! 
 What hero like the man who stands himself; 
 Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
 Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 
 Resolved to silence future murmurs there? 
 The coward flies, and flying is undone ! " 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 BY those addresses, recorded in the preceding chapter, 
 which were more congenial to Helen's habits of thinking, 
 and better fitted to touch the heart of her brother, than 
 abstract argumentation, his objections to strict piety 
 were silenced, at least for the present. William seemed 
 to admit the claims of religion to his careful observance, 
 and promised to give his ear no more to such misrepre- 
 sentations of the immutable character of God. Helen
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX* 89 
 
 glanced a look of thankfulness to heaven, embraced her 
 brother, and shed on his breast a tear of joy. 
 
 From the good old farmer, William received many 
 kind advices ; one only of which I shall record here. 
 
 " Be faithful to your Father in heaven," said the pious 
 old man, "so you shall be happy. Be forgetful of His 
 commandments, so you shall be miserable. You have 
 seen a child set off confidently to catch the wild fowl that 
 sat on the neighbouring hillock ; you smiled at the 
 simplicity of the little one ; much more simple is he who 
 thinks to gather happiness from the frailties of earth. 
 You have heard of a man chasing a shadow, or the fabled 
 phantom of night ; you then heard of one pursuing 
 happiness among the frailties of earth. You have read 
 of those false reflected waters to which the thirsty 
 traveller, in the sandy deserts of the East, hastens to 
 drink, but finds them gone ; you then heard of one 
 making haste to draw happiness out of the frailties of 
 earth. You have seen the wildfire dancing on the 
 marsh ; it was beautiful, but you could not lay hold of 
 it. You have heard the echo of the glen ; her voice was 
 sweet, but you could not embrace her. You have 
 observed the evening star ; it was exceedingly bright, 
 but you could not reach it where you stood. Neither, 
 my son, shalt thou encompass true happiness, except the 
 peace of God dwell in thy heart. This happiness you 
 may attain, but religion is the only guide that can keep 
 your feet in the upward road, and direct your eye to her 
 habitation. Take hold of her hand, William, and she 
 will conduct you to happiness." 
 
 At William's second departure for Glasgow, Helen 
 shortly addressed him : "Your companions, dear William, 
 seek the honour and the preferment of this world ; but 
 oh, remember how frail they are ! They, fearless of God, 
 may flourish for a while. Their spring may have been 
 green, their summer vigorous, and their autumn peaceful. 
 But the dark winter comes ; and all our pride, our 
 vanity, and wealth, and honour, and earthly alliance, like
 
 90 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 the withered leaves of the grove, shall be driven away 
 before its first blast. But religion shall outlive the 
 withering breath ; and transplanted at last to a warmer 
 soil and kinder skies, she shall strike her roots by the 
 river of life, grow up under the everlasting smile of 
 God's countenance, bearing on her immortal branches all 
 our pious friendships and all our hallowed attachments." 
 
 For some time after William's return to Glasgow, his 
 narrow escape from perishing in the moor, the old 
 soldier's awful death, and the pious advices and instruc- 
 tions of Helen and the old farmer, made a deep impression 
 on his mind. He respected the Sabbath, read his Bible, 
 and remembered the duty of prayer. He determined to 
 persevere in duty, and defy the temptations of vice. But 
 his trust was too much in an arm of flesh. A ray from 
 heaven had not yet discovered to him the deceitfulness 
 of his own heart. 
 
 With the enticements, the ridicule, and the sophistical 
 reasonings of his vicious companions, he was again 
 assailed. He now wanted the natural timidity and 
 bashfulness which scared him awhile, at his first coming 
 to town, from the deformity of wickedness. Vice knew 
 the passes to his heart : and as the second attack is 
 almost always more feebly resisted than the first, it soon 
 brought him into captivity. Of his character in the eyes 
 of men, he was now indeed more careful than formerly. 
 He could now see how necessary a fair name was to his 
 worldly interest, and he took some means to preserve it. 
 He mingled not oaths with the language of his ordinary 
 business ; he laughed not at religion before the serioue ; 
 and he attended church, what is termed regularly, that 
 is, on the fore or afternoon of every Sabbath. To his 
 business he was generally attentive ; and his natural 
 shrewdness and observation never suffered an opportunity 
 in trade, as far as he was concerned, to escape un- 
 improved. He seemed, indeed, in the eye of the world 
 (and perhaps its eye saw the truth in this instance), to 
 be following the very footsteps of his respectable master ;
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX> 91 
 
 and Mr. Hunter loved and cherished him as a hopeful 
 and enterprising 1 son of commerce. Thus William stood 
 before the world. But we must bring him to another 
 examination ; we must take a view of him in the privacy 
 of chosen companionship. 
 
 It is a fact, that those who have been disciplined in the 
 strictest rules of virtue, if they are once enticed away 
 from its paths, become its bitterest enemies, and the 
 foremost abettors of vice. They have been servants to 
 religion, and they must deny it thrice ere their companions 
 believe them they know its defences, and where it is most 
 assailable, and they can direct the attack more skilfully 
 and more effectually against it. Their conscience is more 
 severe and more watchful, and it requires a deeper draught 
 of iniquity to silence its reproaches and lay it asleep. 
 
 It was so with William. His talents were superior to 
 those of any of his associates ; and, in the seclusion and 
 concealment of selected intimacy, they shone in ridiculing 
 the sobriety of religion, and heightening the luxuriousness 
 of sensuality. Vigorous of constitution, determined to 
 keep the fair word of men and push himself on in the 
 world, he seldom drank to intoxication, or deserted his 
 business for a single hour. But his vigour and steadiness 
 only fitted him the better for putting entirely away from 
 him the fear of the Lord. Under the shadow of night 
 even sometimes the night of the sacred day, seated by 
 the mantling bowl of conviviality, surrounded by willing 
 and congenial friendship, did William shine, the very 
 foremost in sporting with the pure words of Scripture, 
 and laughing at those religious duties he had been 
 taught to reverence. He heard the name of his father's 
 God taken in vain without trembling, and he took it in 
 vain himself. But God had not yet left him to utter 
 hardness of heart. The prayers of Helen, the former 
 supplications of his parents, were not forgotten. They 
 lay on the mercy-seat, and rose up before God, as a sweet 
 memorial in behalf of this only son, who seemed treading 
 firmly on in the path to ruin. There were moments,
 
 92 eXoX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 amidst all the obscurity of night, the encompassment of 
 gay and cordial friendship, and the mirthfulness of 
 wanton pleasure, when the bitterness of reflection came 
 back on his soul, and the darkness of futurity stood 
 before him. His early education, the instructions especi- 
 ally of his sister, reminded him he was wrong, and the 
 deathbed of Wrathburn threatened him with the dreadful 
 consequences. Remorse, that forlorn hope which heaven 
 often places on the brink of perdition to drive back the 
 hardy sinner from utter destruction, frequently lifted up 
 its voice within him, and made him hesitate in the midst 
 of his profane joviality. Had a minister of religion, or 
 a pious Christian, glanced on him in the chosen sociality 
 of his hidden wickedness, the profane word would have 
 turned back on his tongue, and the licentious look fled 
 from his face. 
 
 Think, oh think, young reader, how weak and incon- 
 sistent such conduct is. Will the cautious and calcu- 
 lating sinner fear the look of man ; and will he vent his 
 licentiousness, and jeer at the Scriptures, and utter the 
 language of cursing and detraction and malice, in the 
 presence of Jehovah ? Will he creep under the shadow 
 of night, to veil his crimes and his wickedness from the 
 sight of his fellow-men ; and has he no fear of Him who 
 slumbers not nor sleeps ? Shall the scorn of the world 
 make him try every means to cover his deceitfulness ; to 
 put a colouring of truth on his lying ; to hide from the 
 search of his fellow-men the false measure and the unjust 
 balance ; to overshadow his extortion and oppression, 
 his robbing of the poor, and the widow, and the father- 
 less ; to gloss over; his knavery by the wresting and 
 misapplication of human laws ? Shall he do all this to 
 present what he calls a fair character to the eyes of men, 
 and will he have no fear of that God who has the decision 
 of his eternal destiny who destroys them that speak 
 lies, and abhors the bloody and deceitful man who hates 
 the unjust measure and the false balance who is the 
 avenger of the widow and the fatherless who will
 
 Helen of the Glen KeK. 93 
 
 uncover all his perjuries, and develop all his crafty 
 devices, and bring him before that tribunal where his 
 false witnesses, and his briberies, and his interest, and 
 his splendid name, shall be of no avail ? 
 
 William, as we have observed, lacked not that kind- 
 ness and warmness of heart which forbid us to forget 
 our friends and relations. Helen was the only relation 
 he had in the world ; and during" his cautious career of 
 irreligion in Glasgow, he sometimes remembered her 
 pious advices, but oftener her sisterly relationship and 
 native loveliness. His constant design and ardent desire 
 was to bring her to Glasgow, to keep house with him, as 
 soon as his circumstances would admit, persuading 
 himself that the gaiety of the town and acquaintance 
 with the world would soften the~severity of her piety, or 
 at least render her more heedless of his own carelessness 
 about religion. The conveyance of letters to her remote 
 situation was difficult. Sometimes, however, he wrote, 
 and his letters generally informed his sister of his health, 
 Mr. Hunter's kindness, his hopes of success in business, 
 and his desire of bringing her, as soon as possible, to 
 live with him. Indeed, all William's plans and hopes of 
 advancing himself in the world were ever mingled with 
 the worthy intention, and ever stimulated by the strong 
 desire, of raising Helen along with him. To see his kind 
 and lovely sister by his side, decorated in the attire of 
 fashion, and assimilated to the manners of the town, was 
 the ardent wish of his brotherly affection, and the constant 
 promise of his hopes. Two years had now elapsed since 
 William's return to Glasgow. Although he had only com- 
 pleted his seventeenth year, his steadiness and watchful 
 attention induced Mr. Hunter to give him a small share in 
 the business. Ambitious of wealth and the gaudiness of 
 fortune, he now set himself with renovated activity to the 
 management of trade, depending for success entirely on 
 his dexterity and perseverance. Although as forgetful 
 of religion as ever, and as fond of hidden iniquity, his 
 character was fair before men ; and looking as little as
 
 94 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 possible into his own heart, and driving from his mind, 
 by the hurry of business or the gaiety of pleasure, the 
 unwelcome thought of his everlasting interests, he had 
 nearly succeeded in securing to himself, as far as religion 
 was concerned, that listlessness, that slumber of soul, 
 which so often presses its eyelids till awakened by the 
 voice of death, when an event occurred which gave a new 
 colouring to his life. 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 "Just knew, and knew no more, her Bible true, 
 A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew ; 
 And in that charter read, with sparkling eyes, 
 Her title to a treasure in the skies. 
 The light she walked by, kindled from above, 
 Showed her the shortest way to life and love : 
 She, never checked by what impedes the wise, 
 Believed, rushed forward, and possessed the prize." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 ONE afternoon, in the month of May, as William walked 
 the street with a gay companion, he observed a boy, in 
 the homely garb of the country, pacing slowly along the 
 causeway, and gazing eagerly on the sign-boards. 
 William, who was ever ready to assist and befriend 
 countrymen, who are but too often scorned and laughed 
 at in the town, approached him. It was the shepherd- 
 boy of the old farmer. "What brought you hither?" 
 said William, surprised at the unexpected encounter. 
 There was a meaning in the eye of the simple boy which 
 half told the tale. "Helen is ill," said he ; " she was 
 seized with a severe cold some months ago : she is now 
 confined to her bed, and the surgeon is doubtful of her 
 recovery." "Is she ill? Is she very ill?" exclaimed 
 William, fearing the worst, and bringing his handkerchief 
 over his eyes. " Let us make haste," continued he ; "I 
 will take a surgeon with me from town." But we cannot
 
 Helen of the Glen .KeX 95 
 
 reach home to-night," said the boy ; " the sun is nearly 
 set." "True," said William, "true, we must be off 
 early in the morning 1 ." 
 
 William now conducted the boy to his lodgings, 
 informed Mr. Hunter of his sister's illness, and that he 
 would set out at daybreak to see her, sent a message to a 
 skilful surgeon to have himself in readiness at the dawn 
 of next morning, and then retired to his room. 
 
 Again and again he questioned the boy of Helen's 
 trouble. " Does she sleep much ? Has she much pain ? 
 Does she think herself dying? " " She has little hope of 
 recovery," said the boy, almost weeping aloud, when he 
 saw the sorrowfulness of William's countenance, and 
 remembered all Helen's kindness and pious instructions 
 to himself. "She says she is dying, and wishes for 
 nothing but to see you. Oh, how she charged me to bring 
 you quickly ! " " Has she heard anything of me lately ? " 
 said William eagerly. The boy looked down. "She 
 has heard something," said William; "she has heard 
 that I have neglected some of her kind advices." The 
 boy wiped his eyes, and gave an assenting look. " Who 
 carried the information?" resumed William; "did it 
 hurt her spirits? " "A travelling merchant who knows 
 you," said the shepherd, "came our way the other day" 
 "And what did he say of me? You must tell me 
 freely." " He said," replied the boy bashfully, " that he 
 thought you pay more attention to your worldly interests 
 than your religious concerns." " It is too true ; it is too 
 true," said William, his conscience taking advantage of 
 the present state of his feelings. " But has the informa- 
 tion hurt her ? It would hurt her ; she is all tenderness ; 
 she loves me like an angel." " It was only yesterday 
 that she heard of you," answered the boy, " but she has 
 never rested since. The servant girl heard her name you 
 last night about twelve, while she waited on her by the 
 bedside." " She prayed for me, I know she prayed for 
 me," said William, all her kindness to him coming over 
 his soul. "What did the girl hear? Tell me, good
 
 96 =XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 boy." " She heard your sister say," replied the lad, 
 " Blot not out my dear brother's name, O kind Redeemer, 
 blot not my dear brother's name out of the book of 
 life!" "When shall it be morning-?" said William, 
 weeping 1 abundantly ; " this night shall be a long" one." 
 
 The shepherd was now conducted to bed, and William 
 went to his own, but not to sleep. He thought not of 
 wealth he planned not the trade of to-morrow, the 
 gaiety of pleasure had fled from his imagination. Would 
 the superior skilfulness of a city surgeon not recover his 
 sister ? Had the disease taken hold of the seats of life ? 
 Had the report of his impiety made her worse ? Did she 
 now struggle with disease, and pray for him again at 
 midnight ? Would all his cherished hopes of seeing her 
 comfortable and accomplished with him in Glasgow be 
 disappointed ? Would he be -left without a relation in 
 the world ? All her native loveliness and tenderness, 
 all her kind warnings and instructions, came over his 
 mind. He remembered their wanderings by the glen in 
 the days of childhood he saw the innocence and fond- 
 ness of his sister's look he heard the sweetness of her 
 voice he remembered their visits to their mother's 
 grave he remembered how often she had repeated to 
 him their mother's dying advice he remembered that 
 they were orphans in the world. All his ambition, all his 
 connections in Glasgow, broke away from his mind. He 
 thought of Helen only his soul was present at her bed. 
 
 The first glance of day saw William and the surgeon 
 mounted on horseback and on their way to the old 
 farmer's, taking with them whatever medicine the 
 shepherd's account of Helen induced them to think might 
 be useful. The country over which they had to travel 
 was rough and difficult. But the droughtiness of the 
 May days had dried up the morasses, and rendered all 
 the streamlets passable by the horses. At ten o'clock in 
 the forenoon they alighted before the door of Helen's 
 habitation. How did William's heart beat as he entered ! 
 How would his sister be altered ! The surgeon remained
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX> 97 
 
 in the kitchen, and William hastened into the room or 
 spence, as it was called, where Helen lay. Oh ! how did 
 he gaze on her countenance ! It was sweeter than ever 
 her eye was purer but there was a hollowness in her 
 face that withered every hope of recovery. 
 
 Helen raised herself on her bed, threw her arms round 
 William's neck, who now stooped over her, and kissed 
 him without speaking" a word. " Are you ill, dear 
 sister ? " said William ; " oh, I see you are ill." " Not 
 ill, my dear brother," said Helen, a gleam of unspeakable 
 kindness issuing from her eyes. " Not ill ; but I have 
 had fears for you." " Oh that the Lord would enable me 
 never to forget your kind advices again ! " said William. 
 From his future life this aspiration, breathed in the 
 sincerity of his heart, proved to be the prayer of faith. 
 Then were his parent's prayers, that had lain long on the 
 mercy-seat, then were Helen's supplications in behalf of 
 him answered. Helen saw the sincerity of the look, and 
 kissed her brother again. " I have brought a surgeon 
 with me," said William: "shall I bring him in?" 
 "You are very kind," replied Helen, "but I fear he can 
 do me no good." 
 
 The surgeon was now brought into the room. His 
 skilful eye saw that his art would be unavailing. Helen 
 was hastening to the close of a rapid decay. Every 
 morning found her weaker than the .preceding night, and 
 every night than the morning before. Helen thanked 
 the surgeon for his kindness in coming so far to see her, 
 and said, " If you can do no good to me, you will comfort 
 my brother." William turned himself away when he 
 saw the surgeon's face, for it was a face of meaning, and 
 wept plentifully. 
 
 As Helen complained of no pain, the surgeon could do 
 little but instruct the servant girl how she might best 
 prepare her cordials. 
 
 William now led the surgeon out of the room, and they 
 retired together into a small garden behind the house. 
 "I need not ask your opinion of my sister," said 
 7
 
 Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 William ; "there is no hope. Do you think there is no 
 hope ? " "I will not deceive you," replied the surgeon ; 
 "but I shall wait till to-morrow, and endeavour fully to 
 understand her disease. I will leave you just now, and 
 make some inquiries of the servant girl ; for your sister 
 is not able to talk much herself." 
 
 William was now left alone in the garden. He threw 
 himself down beneath an old hawthorn that spread its 
 blossoms over him disregarded. This was the moment 
 of the bitterness of his soul. A gleam from heaven, we 
 have said, had lighted up the darkness of his heart. He 
 was convinced of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. 
 The holiness, and justice, and omnipotence of God, broke 
 in on his soul. He felt the deceitfulness of his hesfi-t, he 
 remembered his pious education, his narrow deliverance 
 from death in the snowstorm, he thought of the warn- 
 ing scene of the soldier, and his ingratitude for so much 
 kindness oppressed his spirit. The destruction, out of 
 whose jaws he scarcely yet felt himself, made him tremble. 
 But the bow appeared spanning the mount of Calvary ; 
 he saw the everlasting hand of mercy stretched down 
 over the cross, he heard the everlasting voice of love 
 inviting him to lay hold of it, and he had now no other 
 stay. Oh, how did the greatness of God's mercy in Christ 
 then overwhelm his soul ! How, in this moment, did 
 Helen's kind advices and instructions, and all her loveli- 
 ness and tenderness, and her pale countenance, dart 
 across his thoughts ! She had been the means, he felt, 
 the persevering means of saving him. 
 
 If any gentle reader should ever happen to come this 
 way, that has been long in raptures with the gallant hero 
 of romance, whose honour ever bears him out, whose 
 heart is always good, and whose conscience never re- 
 proaches him, he will perhaps not be likely to esteem 
 William much here. I cannot help it. This was a time 
 of superior joy in heaven ; the angels had watched 
 seventeen years for this moment, and a fuller note now 
 floated from their harps through the mansions of heaven.
 
 Helen of the Glen KS^ 99 
 
 While William was thus engaged in the garden, a 
 short conversation happened between his sister and the 
 old farmer, which we shall record here, chiefly to show 
 what sustained Helen's hopes on a bed of languishing, 
 and allayed her fears in the prospect of death that last 
 enemy which we must all meet. 
 
 Immediately after William and the surgeon left Helen's 
 apartment, the old farmer entered, anxious to know the 
 result of the surgeon's visit. From this he could gather 
 little hope ; and although the good old man had often 
 asked Helen how she possessed her soul, he now urged 
 the question with more than his wonted earnestness. 
 
 " How is it with you, my daughter," said he, " how is 
 it with you ? Do you feel your peace with God as secure 
 as ever? " 
 
 "Yes, my dear father," replied the young saint, "I 
 feel that God loves me with an everlasting love. You 
 know I have had moments of fear and doubting in the 
 expression of death ; but the nearer I approach the end 
 of my days, it hath pleased my kind Redeemer to give 
 me brighter views of the King in His beauty, and the land 
 that is afar off. My flesh indeed doth faint and fail ; but 
 while I am weak, then am I strong. In the Lord 
 Jehovah is everlasting strength. This is my comfort, 
 ' there is now 'no condemnation to them which are in 
 Christ Jesus.' It is on Him alone that I rely for salva- 
 tion. Every day have I sinned against Him ; and all my 
 righteousnesses are as filthy rags. I have often read in 
 the Bible, and you have told me, that nothing but the 
 blood of Christ could wash away our sins, but I never 
 felt the truth of this so powerfully as now. When I look 
 back on my life, I see little, I see nothing in my own 
 doings, but cause of repentance ; when I look to my 
 Saviour, I see nothing but strength, and hope, and 
 salvation. I know He hath satisfied the law, and 
 brought in an everlasting righteousness. I know He 
 hath unstinged death, and vanished the grave, and 
 though I die, yet shall I live ; for my Redeemer
 
 zoo cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 liveth, and I shall live to praise Him with the spirits 
 of the just made perfect. God is all my salvation 
 and all my desire. I rest on His mercy in Christ. 
 Oh how great is His goodness ! Thanks be unto Him for 
 the unspeakable gift which hath brought life and im- 
 mortality to light. ' O death, where now is thy sting ? 
 O grave, where is thy victory ? Thanks be unto God 
 who giveth me the victory through Jesus Christ my 
 Lord ! ' " 
 
 " Thanks be unto God," exclaimed the old man, " that 
 He hath given you these hopes of eternal life. I came 
 to comfort you, but you comfort me. Your comfort is 
 in God, your hope in the Holy One of Israel. Oh how 
 sweet this hope on the bed of death ! How sweet to you, 
 my daughter, and how solacing to me and all your 
 friends ! " 
 
 William having breathed a prayer of gratitude, and of 
 fervent supplication for his sister, endeavoured to com- 
 pose his spirits, and returned to Helen's room. The old 
 farmer sat by her bedside. The lamb (for it was still 
 called the lamb, although now three years old) stood 
 and looked up in her face. "This is my lamb," said 
 Helen, observing William rather surprised at its presence ; 
 " you recollect of it going with us to our mother's grave ; 
 it takes every opportunity of coming into the room. 
 Poor thing ! it will attend me to the last. Take good 
 care of it," continued she, addressing the old man, 
 " take good care of it when I am gone, it is an innocent 
 little thing." 
 
 The old farmer now withdrew, and Helen and her 
 brother were left together. William related his thoughts 
 in the garden. While he spake, every look of Helen was 
 a gleam from heaven every sigh the essence of prayer. 
 " You have been the means of saving me," said William, 
 " Oh how good you have been ! " Helen clasped his neck, 
 kissed him again and again with the warmth of intensest 
 love, her eye glanced a look of perfect enjoyment, and 
 she exclaimed, " I am happy now, O kind Redeemer ! I
 
 HELEN CLASPED HIS NECK. See page IOO. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson &* Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 101
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX 103 
 
 come to Thee. My dear brother will soon be with me." 
 It was too much for Helen. Her hands loosed from 
 William's neck, the quivering" hectic forsook her cheek, 
 she gave a gentle sigh on her brother's bosom, it was the 
 last of nature, the wheel stood still at the cistern, and her 
 soul ascended up into heaven. 
 
 I shall leave the scene of this evening- to the kind 
 reader. The old farmer, the shepherd boy, the servant 
 girl, the surgeon, wept with William ; and the lamb 
 looked up wistfully in their faces. The good old man at 
 length opened the Bible ; and they sang together these 
 verses from the iO3rd Psalm 
 
 "Such pity as a father hath 
 
 Unto his children dear, 
 Like pity shows the Lord to such 
 As worship Him in fear. 
 
 " For He remembers we are dust, 
 And He our frame well knows, 
 Frail man, his days are like the grass 
 As flower in field he grows ; 
 
 "For over it the wind doth pass, 
 
 And it away is gone 
 And of the place where once it was 
 It shall no more be known. 
 
 "But unto them that do Him fear 
 
 God's mercy never ends ; 
 And to their children's children still 
 His righteousness extends." 
 
 The second morning after Helen's death saw her 
 funeral moving slowly over the heath. The day was 
 bright and lovely, but no one heeded its looks. The 
 lamb followed after the mournful procession. "Shall I 
 turn it back ? " said the shepherd boy to the old farmer. 
 "No, poor thing," answered George, "it loved Helen, 
 and it will see her laid in her grave." About five miles 
 distant was the village churchyard. The sexton waited 
 at the gate, and conducted them to the newly-opened
 
 IO4 X5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 grave, the pall was removed, William let down his 
 sister's head, the cold clay fell from the sexton's shovel 
 sadly on the coffin, the shepherd boy wept aloud, a tear 
 ran down the wrinkled cheek of the old farmer, the 
 lamb bleated mournfully by his side, William heard the 
 clods of dust fall on the coffin, he looked into the grave, 
 turned away and wiped his eyes ; again the clay fell, he 
 looked back into the tomb, and wept bitterly. " I shall 
 go to her, but she shall not return unto me ! " was the 
 sigh of his heart. 
 
 The green turf was now laid on the silent house of 
 rest, over which William afterwards caused a modest 
 stone to be placed, on which was engraved his sister's 
 name, with these words of our Saviour below it : " WEEP 
 
 NOT FOR ME, BUT WEEP FOR YOURSELVES." 
 
 Farewell, Helen ! Perhaps thou dost not hear me ; 
 but I shall pronounce thy funeral service. Thou hast done 
 well. Thou didst look with delight and gratitude on the 
 scenery of creation. Thou rejoiced with that which 
 rejoiced, and wept with that which wept. Thy face was 
 the home of the sober smile and the cheerfulness of 
 content. This was well. But it was merely like the 
 sentimentalist and the philosopher, to possess a natural 
 charity, and cherish an affection for the lower wofks of 
 the Creator. But thou hast done more. Ic was thy 
 belief in Jesus Christ, as the Author and Finisher of thy 
 Faith, which gave all thy enjoyments a supernal relish. 
 Thou hadst no hope in thy own works in the tenderness 
 of thy heart, or in the general mercy of the Creator. It 
 was the mercy of God in Christ, reconciling the world 
 unto Himself, on which rested all thy faith of eternal 
 life. It was the Spirit of God to which thou trusted for 
 progress in holiness and complete sanctification. It was 
 this love of God dwelling in thy heart, this undivided 
 trust in the atonement, that excited all thy praise, and 
 sustained, and comforted, and secured thee in the hour 
 of dissolution. Nor did this love of God this trust in 
 the Saviour this looking for the hallowing influences of
 
 Helen of the Glen KcX. 105 
 
 the Spirit, relax thy own endeavours of well-doing. 
 These were wings to thy feet, and a light in thy path of 
 duty. Thou didst remember thy mother's advice thy 
 Bible was open in thy hand. Thy heart forgave the 
 soldier thy faithfulness and gratitude would not dis- 
 cover thy old friend to his Enemies. Thou wast the 
 means of persuading one soul at least into the straight 
 path. Thy love to thy brother was great ; he will talk 
 of it to thy father and mother in the New Jerusalem. 
 Thou wast not much spoken of on earth. Thy tear of 
 sympathy, thy humility and fervour of devotion, were 
 noticed little by the world. This is thy praise : Thou 
 wast well known in heaven. Thy name was familiar 
 among those who stand, with white palms in their hands, 
 before the eternal throne. God loved thee, and took 
 thee to dwell with Him for ever. Farewell ! 
 
 Young reader, the same dwelling-place is open for 
 thee. If thou hast not secured the entrance, I counsel 
 thee to make no delay, for thou knowest not what 
 an hour may bring forth. 
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 " Turned from the reed, that breaking- disappoints 
 The fool that takes it for the oak ; and leaning 
 On the arm, by which suspended worlds hang 
 Innumerous ; and eye upturn'd to where 
 The sun ne'er sets, where flows the font of life, 
 Beneath the throne of God, unshaken he stood 
 By all that earth could do." 
 
 PERHAPS the reader wishes to know something of the 
 future fortunes of those few friends Helen left behind 
 her. We shall satisfy him in a very few words. 
 
 In his ninety-fifth year, the old farmer was peacefully 
 gathered to his fathers. The shepherd boy, who was 
 the old farmer's nephew, and to whom he left the most
 
 106 cXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 of his substance, succeeded him in the farm, and married 
 the servant girl who attended Helen in her last moments. 
 And often did they tell their children, as they sat by the 
 blazing hearth, in the winter evenings, the simple story 
 that I have now related. 
 
 When William returned to Glasgow, his companions 
 were surprised at the change which they noticed in his 
 manners and conversation ; and we think it will not be 
 unuseful to state briefly, both what means they employed 
 to draw him back to his former habits, and how he set 
 himself to resist the arguments and temptations by 
 which he was assailed. 
 
 His wit and talents had rendered his company pecu- 
 liarly acceptable to his irreligious companions. They 
 had imitated and caressed him, and showed him all those 
 flattering marks of distinction of which young minds 
 are peculiarly fond. They regretted the change which 
 they remarked in his habits, and tried every means to 
 allure him into his former ways. They pressed him, by 
 invitation after invitation, to join in their parties of 
 unhallowed pleasure they represented to him the un- 
 fashionableness and joylessness of a retired and religious 
 life they asked him if he meant to spend that part of 
 his days, which nature had evidently designed for plea- 
 sure, in hearing sermons, and reading dull books of 
 piety they inquired what had become of his ambi- 
 tion, and his love of gaiety and splendour and they 
 wondered what had so blinded his reason, as to make 
 him refrain from those pleasures which fitted his age, 
 and to practise those gloomy duties which were despised 
 by all but the weak and visionary, and which he himself 
 had formerly treated with ridicule and contempt. They 
 talked of the religious companions, with whom they now 
 saw him associating, as men of weak and superstitious 
 minds, and unfit for the company of one of his talents. 
 It was unmanly in him, they said, to play the hypocrite ; 
 for they were sure that one of his understanding could 
 never believe in those absurdities which bigots call re-
 
 Helen of the Glen XcX IO 7 
 
 ligion. Not satisfied with their own arts of persuasion, 
 they put into his hands books which represented the 
 Bible as full of inconsistencies, and Christianity as an 
 irrational superstition, unbecoming- men of enlightened 
 minds ; and the authors of these books they extolled 
 as men of great intellectual reach, who had risen far 
 above the common prejudices of mankind, and nobly 
 shown that those who follow reason and nature 
 live the' most happy, and best fulfil the end of their 
 being. 
 
 William had now to deny himself all the praise and 
 admiration of his companions ; he had now to resist all 
 their enticements and arguments, and he had now to 
 abide their taunting and ridicule. This was no easy 
 task'. To renounce the society and friendship of those 
 by whom he had been treated with such flattering 
 marks of distinction, to become the butt of their profane 
 wit, and to be regarded by them as fallen into a weak 
 and visionary man, whose reason had sustained a shock 
 this was a hard trial. Nor was it easy to resist these 
 weapons of false dispute, which in fact he himself had 
 taught many of them to wield. But he had an enemy 
 within still more powerful than these a dreadful and 
 corrupt heart. The sinful habits which he had acquired 
 were strong, and not easily broken away from. While 
 his companions plied him with every sort of persuasion, 
 the vicious inclinations which he had formerly indulged 
 gave greedy ear to any wicked suggestion, and urged 
 him to those pleasures which he had once relished so 
 much. 
 
 But William had now seen the exceeding sinfulness 
 of sin, and was determined, through the grace of God, 
 to abstain from all appearance of evil. He did not now, 
 as he had formerly done, think of resisting the enemies of 
 his soul by his own strength. He had tried this when 
 he first came to town, and he saw how he had failed. 
 The weakness of his own resolutions, he had now dis- 
 covered, was no match for the power of an alluring
 
 io8 : XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 world, and the deceit of a wicked heart. But if William 
 had thus learned to distrust himself, he had learned also, 
 that in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength ; and he 
 went humbly and fervently to the throne of His grace, 
 asking the guidance of that Divine Spirit which renews 
 and invigorates the pious energies of the soul, and pours 
 the lights of heaven on the eyes of the understanding. 
 He had been convinced that the wrath of God shall at 
 last lawfully fall on the finally impenitent. He knew 
 that none of his wicked friends could stand by him in 
 death, and shield him from the fear of its terrors. And 
 above all, his soul had now tasted that God is gracious. 
 His lips had now got a taste of the sweetness of im- 
 mortality, his eye had seen the purity of heaven, and his 
 heart felt the joy of peace with God, and he had thus 
 learned rightly to estimate the value of his own soul. 
 The unspeakable love of God, which he now saw mani- 
 fested in the redemption of man by his Son, filled his 
 heart with love and gratitude, and constrained him to 
 run in the way of His commandments. His soul recoiled 
 at the thought of dishonouring that Redeemer, who, he 
 was now convinced, had died to save him from utter ruin. 
 With the love of God thus warming his heart, with the 
 light of His wisdom illuminating his understanding, 
 and with the power of His grace exerted on his will, he 
 now felt the meaning of that saying " When I am weak, 
 then I am strong." He was now indeed to lose the praise 
 of men, but he felt he had got in exchange for it the 
 praise of God. He had withdrawn his dependence from 
 human strength, which is weakness ; lost the honour of 
 wicked men, which is disgrace ; given up those pleasures 
 which never satisfy, and which lead to ruin ; and 
 abandoned those gaudy hopes, whose promises are false, 
 for the equipment of Almighty power, the approbation of 
 the God of truth, those enjoyments which are pure and 
 never end ; and those sure expectations, which, because 
 they are founded on the promises of God, shall be all 
 fulfilled.
 
 Helen of the Glen KeX 109 
 
 It was thus that William was now prepared for 
 entering" on the Christian warfare. And he found that 
 he was complete in God. Knowing- that to shun evil 
 company is the best way of escaping- the influence and 
 contagion of their manners, he avoided, as much as his 
 necessary business would permit, the society of his 
 former irreligious companions ; and when he was com- 
 pelled to associate with them, he maintained a serious 
 deportment amidst the unhallowed sportings of their 
 profanity. He bore the shafts of their wit with patience, 
 and when he was pressed by their reasoning's, he was 
 not averse sometimes to give them a reason of the 
 hope that was within him. He asked them to look 
 attentively into their own hearts, and they would most 
 certainly find that their conduct, which they foolishly 
 believed to be sanctioned by reason, was in reality 
 dictated only by wicked passions. He urged them to 
 read the Bible with humility and attention, and to 
 compare their own hearts with it, and they would be 
 convinced that it was indeed a revelation from God. 
 And further, he silenced their reproaches by calling 
 them to remember their own professions of liberality 
 of opinion. If they ridiculed him for maintaining his 
 sentiments, if they treated him as a hypocrite or a 
 visionary, they had all that bigotry, and all those pre- 
 judices, which they so freely ascribed to him. By such 
 conversation as this he gained some ; others forsook 
 his company ; and as he advanced in life, he attained 
 that high and enviable religious character which all the 
 good love and revere, which men in general respect, 
 and which the most abandoned fear rather than hate. 
 With such happy results were the early instruc- 
 tions of an affectionate mother, and the kind and 
 watchful care of a tender-hearted and pious sister, 
 rewarded. "Verily the righteous shall not labour in 
 vain." 
 
 In business, William was prosperous, shedding, in 
 all his intercourse with the world, the holy influence
 
 no eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 of a pious example around him. And during the whole 
 of his life he was peculiarly careful of the morals of 
 young" men from the country, whom Providence threw 
 in his way. He never married. Every summer, as 
 long as he lived, he visited the graves of his mother 
 and sister stayed a week or two with the shepherd 
 boy, now become farmer and it was from this place 
 that he was at last carried to his grave, like a shock 
 of corn fully ripe.
 
 4 
 
 Ralph Gemmell
 
 Ralph Gemmell 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine 
 own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He 
 shall direct thy steps." SOLOMON. 
 
 THERE is no truth in the Bible better confirmed, or 
 more fully illustrated by the experience of the saints 
 whose lives it records, or by the plain declarations of 
 the Holy Spirit, than that God will never leave nor 
 forsake those who put their trust in Him. Yet there 
 is no truth in that sacred book which the young- Christian 
 is oftener tempted to doubt. The veteran soldier of 
 Jesus Christ, who had fought long under the banners 
 of the Most High, sees in his own history so many 
 dangers escaped, so many temptations resisted, so many 
 trials endured, and so many battles with the devil, the 
 world, and the flesh, fought and won, that he feels little 
 dismay in the most trying and threatening circumstances. 
 Although, like the children of Jacob of old, the sea be 
 before him, and pathless mountains on the right hand 
 and on the left, and the shout of his enemy behind him, 
 he can exclaim, in the language of faith, "Verily, the 
 Lord sendeth none a warfare on his own charges. He 
 hath delivered me out of six troubles, and in seven He 
 will not forsake me." But when the young Christian 
 is left to experience poverty, and contempt, and shame ; 
 when he is tried by temptations, which he feels too per- 
 suasive ; and when he meets with enemies too formid- 
 able for his single arm ; little acquainted with the 
 8
 
 114 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 experience of others, and little assisted by his own ; 
 he is ready to take up the unbelieving- complaint, " Hath 
 God forgotten to be gracious ? Is His mercy clean gone 
 for ever? Doth His promise fail for evermore?" 
 
 It is a pity, young reader, that a child of grace should 
 ever thus complain, and charge God foolishly. And that 
 you may be cautioned against thus dishonouring the 
 veracity of the God of truth, I request your attention 
 to the following story : 
 
 Ralph Gemmell, the subject of the following narrative, 
 was born in the year of our Lord 1669, a period when 
 persecution for religious opinions raged in our country. 
 His father, George Gemmell, possessed, from a long 
 line of ancestors, the small but fertile estate of Craigfoot, 
 situated on the banks of the Irvine, near to where that 
 river pours itself into the Atlantic. From time im- 
 memorial, the younger sons of this family had generally 
 devoted their lives to the service of their sovereign, 
 while the eldest son farmed the estate, related the 
 gallant actions of his kinsmen, and boasted the steady 
 loyalty of his house to the reigning prince. And to 
 Craigfoot, in the evening of their lives, had their war- 
 like relations often returned, bringing with them many 
 a story of deeds done in the field of battle, of dangers 
 braved, and honours received. From generation to 
 generation, the castle of Craigfoot had thus been like 
 a garrison of disabled soldiers, where the ever loyal 
 toast, the fearless attack, the hair-breadth escape, the 
 profane jest, the unchaste song, and the daring oath, 
 make their constant rounds. Within its walls was 
 heard neither the humble voice of prayer nor the sweet 
 melody of sacred praise. 
 
 But of all the masters of this house, none ever proved 
 himself so careless "of religion, or so blindly devoted to 
 his prince, as the father of Ralph. In those troublous 
 and cruel times, when the Church of our land was driven 
 to the wilderness, and when its scattered members hung
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX* 1 1 5 
 
 their harps on the willows of Scotland's wildest streams, 
 zealously did he embrace every measure of Lauderdale's 
 wicked administration to overthrow and destroy the 
 Presbyterians. Every Sabbath he attended the curate's 
 church, not to worship God, but to evince his loyal 
 attachment to the Crown, and his hearty approbation 
 of all the iniquitous and tyrannical measures its ministers 
 were then carrying on in Scotland. Sharpe himself was 
 not more eager to detect and suppress conventicles than 
 George Gemmell. And in his rancour against the per- 
 secuted party, he had been often heard to say, that he 
 would rather see the waters of the ocean come up over 
 his lands than one of those fanatic rebels (for so the 
 Covenanters were called) set a foot on it. 
 
 Such was the character of Ralph's father. But his 
 mother, Isabella Mitchell, of a respectable family of 
 that name in Ayrshire, was of a very different temper. 
 She had read her Bible with attention and humility, 
 before the commencement of the persecution under 
 which the Church was then suffering ; she had listened 
 to the pulpit ministrations of a faithful servant of God ; 
 and she had held communion with her heavenly Father, 
 through the peace-making blood of His Son. She sighed 
 for the desolation of Zion, and would willingly have 
 gone to the mountains in search of that heavenly manna 
 which no longer dropped from the lips of those who 
 ministered in the pulpits ; but she feared her husband, 
 with whom she had been unequally yoked, and chose 
 rather to weep and pray in secret, than provoke his 
 anger and resentment by an open avowal of attach- 
 ment to the interests of the Covenanters. Indeed, 
 although she had often violated her own conscience to 
 please him, and thus sinfully regarded him more than 
 her Maker, her serious cast of mind had frequently been 
 the subject of his ridicule ; and her sympathy with the 
 suffering Church, which she could not conceal, had many 
 a time provoked his anger, and drawn upon her his 
 severe reproach. But although Mrs. Gemmell had thus
 
 1 1 6 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 yielded too much for the sake of domestic peace, she 
 had seen, as we have intimated, the vanity of time and 
 its honours, the importance of eternity and its glories ; 
 and she wished to impress on the minds of her children, 
 Ralph and Edward, the importance of religious duty. 
 Ralph, the elder of the two, listened to her instructions 
 with attention, and seemed peculiarly interested when 
 she told him of the nature of sin and its punishment, 
 of the love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, and of 
 faith and its everlasting reward. But Edward was 
 happier when mounted on his little pony and riding 
 by his father's side, along with the soldiers, in quest 
 of our persecuted ancestors, whose torture and martyr- 
 dom he was taught to deride. Nothing could prevail 
 on Ralph, however, even at the early age at which we 
 are speaking of him, to mock at the sufferings of his 
 fellow - creatures ; and often when he saw men and 
 women tortured by the merciless servants of despotism, 
 he incurred his father's displeasure by entreating him 
 to interfere and relieve them. 
 
 " He will be like his mother," his father would say, 
 "ever weeping for those seditious wretches ; but Edward 
 is a true scion of the old stock of Craigfoot ; I see loyalty 
 and soldier-like bravery in his face." 
 
 Their tutor, a young man recommended to Mr. 
 Gemmell by the curate of the parish, was entirely 
 devoted to the wicked government, as on his interest 
 with men in power rested all his hopes of preferment. 
 What Mr. Gemmell approved, therefore, he approved ; 
 what the former condemned, so did the latter ; what 
 the one practised, the other imitated. From a man 
 whose creed was ever ready thus to be adjusted to the 
 suggestions of worldly interest, and whose practice 
 was ever formed to the humour of those on whom he 
 depended, Ralph and Edward could imbibe little that 
 was valuable, either of morality or of religion. Although 
 Ralph was far superior to his brother, both in the 
 strength of his understanding and in the kinder feelings
 
 RALPH LISTENED TO HER INSTRUCTIONS WITH ATTENTION. 
 
 See page 116. 
 Copyright by Oliphant Anderson & Ferrier, 1895.]
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 119 
 
 of his heart, Edward, because he was the father's 
 favourite, was represented by the tutor as possessing 
 a vigorous understanding, a sound and clear judgment, 
 and a ready and tenacious memory ; while it was hinted, 
 that, indeed, Ralph might have sometimes more per- 
 severance at his tasks, and more gentleness in his 
 manners, but that his mental endowments were rather 
 inferior, and seemed capable of little reach of improve- 
 ment. Neglected by his father, Ralph was despised 
 by the tutor and his brother. When Edward was 
 invited forth to the sports of the field, or to attend 
 the savage military in search of conventicles, he was 
 left at home to pass the day with his mother and the 
 servants. Happy it was for him that he was thus 
 despised and left at home ; it was then that his mother 
 had an opportunity of freely setting before him the 
 importance of a religious life, and it was then that 
 first dawned on his soul the hopes and the glories of 
 immortality. 
 
 " Dear Ralph," said his mother to him, one day when 
 they were left alone, "you are now arrived at your 
 thirteenth year. I have already often endeavoured to 
 explain to you the Christian religion. Do you under- 
 stand it ? have you felt its influence on your heart ? are 
 you cheered by its hopes ? do you thirst after its glorious 
 rewards ? At all times, my son, the Christian has need 
 to be well acquainted with the revealed truths on which 
 he founds his hopes for eternity. At all times he has 
 need to have the proofs of the divine origin of his religion 
 so felt on his heart, as to enable him to gainsay the 
 adversary, and hold fast the profession of his faith with- 
 out wavering. But in these troublous and trying days, 
 when the followers of the Lamb are hunted like the 
 wild beasts of the field, persecuted, and everywhere 
 spoken against, you have tenfold more need to acquaint 
 yourself with religion, with its doctrines, its comforts, 
 its hopes, and its rewards. Dear Ralph, have you 
 considered these things ? "
 
 I2O X5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 " I have often thought of them, dear mother," 
 answerd Ralph, " but I like to hear you speak of them. 
 I am never happier than when you speak to me about 
 religion." 
 
 "And I am never happier," replied his mother, " than 
 when I see you attentive to my instructions, and storing 
 your mind with those truths which the Bible reveals. 
 Listen, then, my son ; and may the Spirit of grace and 
 of wisdom be present in our hearts while I speak. 
 
 " We learn, dear Ralph, from the works of nature, 
 that there is a God of infinite power, wisdom, and good- 
 ness ; but we cannot discern, by all that is around us, 
 our relation to Him. Our own hearts, as well as the 
 unjust actions we commit every day, inform us that we 
 are sinners, and that we have need of a Saviour. But 
 of this Saviour the works of nature give us no intimation. 
 It is the Bible that reveals God to man, as a God of 
 mercy, willing to be reconciled to us through His own 
 Son. It is the Bible that teaches us our duty to our 
 God and to our fellow-creatures what we ought to do 
 in time, and what we ought to expect in eternity. There 
 we learn that God is not only all-powerful and all-wise, 
 but also infinite, holy, and just ; hating all manner of 
 sin, and bound, by His own word, to punish every 
 transgression of His holy law. There we learn, too, 
 that we are great sinners, have broken His law and 
 have exposed ourselves to everlasting punishment ; that 
 we are dead in trespasses and sins, totally unable either 
 to keep His law or to ransom ourselves from its curse. 
 But the Bible does not, you know, leave us in this hope- 
 less state. It tells us, that our God is merciful ; that 
 He so loved the world as to send Jesus Christ, His well- 
 beloved Son, into it, to fulfil the law for us, to suffer and 
 die for us. Jesus, you know, had no sin of His own : 
 He was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from 
 sinners. But He died for our sins, and rose again, and 
 ascended up into heaven to plead for us in the presence 
 of His Father to plead, that through His merits our
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 121 
 
 sins may be forgiven, and that we may be received, in 
 due time, into those mansions of happiness which He is 
 preparing" for us. 
 
 "Do you, then, dear Ralph, know and feel yourself 
 to be a sinner, guilty in the sight of God's law, and 
 utterly undone for ever, unless Jesus Christ clothe you in 
 His righteousness, and plead with His Father that your 
 sins may be forgiven through His own blood ? Do you 
 believe on this Saviour ? Do you think He is able and 
 willing to save you ? Have you placed all your hope for 
 time and eternity on Him alone ? Alas ! kind as our 
 Saviour is, able and willing as He is to save to the 
 uttermost all who believe on Him, many will not listen 
 to the invitations of His mercy, nor accept of His offered 
 pardon ! So much hath sin darkened the human mind 
 to its own best interests, that none can believe on Him 
 until the understanding is enlightened by the Spirit of 
 God, and the heart made willing in the day of His power. 
 | Pray, then, my son, pray that this Holy Spirit may come 
 into your heart, and abide in it for ever. This is the 
 promise of God to all His children : ' Ask, and it- shall 
 be given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and all 
 the treasures of free grace shall be opened up to you.' 
 Place at all times your faith and your hope on the 
 Saviour, this Rock of Ages, and you have no need to 
 fear the troubles of life. These troubles you must not 
 expect to escape. It is through many tribulations that 
 the Christian is taken to heaven. It is through fire and 
 water that he is brought into the wealthy place. But 
 your Saviour will be present with you in every trial ; and 
 He will never suffer you to be overcome. In the darkest 
 night of trouble and affliction, your hopes shall have rest 
 in heaven ; and in your bosom shall dwell that peace 
 which passeth understanding. In death, too, He shall 
 be your friend and deliverer ; and after death He shall 
 receive you into that happy place, where you shall be 
 for ever rewarded with the smiles of His countenance." 
 "I wish to be religious," said Ralph; "but when
 
 122 eXoX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Edward laughs at my seriousness, and my father en- 
 courages him to do it, I am ashamed, and sometimes 
 determine to be like them." 
 
 "Your situation, my dear," continued his mother, 
 " is certainly difficult. It is hard to resist the bad 
 example, and bear the mockery of those who are ever 
 about you. But, my son, remember this ; put your 
 trust in God, and He will never leave nor forsake you. 
 He will make you strong- to resist all evil, and to set at 
 nought all the revilings of the wicked. Persevere in 
 religion, for it is happiness. Edward heeds none of my 
 advice, and his father commends him for his foolishness, 
 and teaches him to despise religious instruction. I fear 
 he will go far astray ; but I hope that you, through the 
 grace of God, will resist bad example, and, by persever- 
 ing in the service of your God, secure not only your own 
 peace and happiness, but perhaps yet be the means of 
 saving your brother." 
 
 Young reader, I repeat to you what this excellent lady 
 said to her son : Persevere in religion, for it is happiness. 
 Is not religion just a trusting in God who cannot lie, a 
 renouncing of the vain speculations and opinions and 
 surmises of erring men, and a placing of our faith on 
 the words, promises, and appointments of an all-wise 
 and all-ordering God ? Is it not just a withdrawing of 
 our confidence from the frailty and weakness of human 
 power, and a leaning on the Lord Jehovah, in whom is 
 everlasting strength ? Is it not just a coming forth from 
 a land of darkness, ignorance, and slavery, and an enter- 
 ing into the fair regions of light, knowledge, and liberty ? 
 What is it but a leaving of those pleasures which debase 
 and cannot satisfy, of those hopes which promise but to 
 deceive, and of those schemings and reasonings which 
 perplex but give no certainty ; and a taking of ourselves 
 up with those enjoyments which dignify and exalt us, 
 while they never satiate with those hopes which promise 
 all that is really valuable, and give us all they promise 
 with those truths which are sanctioned by God, and
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX* 123 
 
 which, therefore, are immutable and with those plans 
 which took their origin in eternal wisdom, and which, 
 therefore, can never miscarry? Religion is a coming 
 forth from all that is impure and abominable in 'the 
 world, from the prison of guilt and anxiety and hope- 
 lessness, and forming an alliance with all that is pure, 
 and holy, and happy. It is a putting away from us that 
 which is empty and fleeting and perishing, and a laying 
 fast hold of that which is substantial, satisfying, and 
 eternal. It is an escape from the terrors of death, and 
 the wrath of the Great Judge of all, into the bosom of 
 our God into the dwellings of peace, and love, and 
 immortality. This is religion. These are the trust and 
 the doings, the hopes and rewards, of the Christian. 
 
 Sometimes exposed to the taunts of his relations, and 
 the unholy influence of the unrestrained dissipation and 
 hardened wickedness of the times, but oftener employed 
 in listening to his mother's instructions, in reading his 
 Bible, or in storing his mind from other books of useful 
 knowledge, Ralph reached his fifteenth year. About 
 this time he lost his mother. A lingering illness, oc- 
 casioned by her grief for the distressed state of the 
 persecuted Church, and by the hard-hearted severity and 
 wickedness of her husband, deprived him of that loving 
 parent and kind monitor. Her dying advice to Ralph 
 was short and simple 
 
 " I have often violated my conscience, dear Ralph," 
 said she, as he stood by her bedside only a few hours 
 before her death," I have often violated my conscience 
 for the sake of domestic peace. I should have been 
 more resolute and more public in serving my God and 
 Redeemer. But I know He will be merciful to my 
 unrighteousness ; and my sins and iniquities He will 
 remember no more. I shall see Him, because He loved 
 me. I shall enter into His presence, because Christ 
 died for me. But I wish not you to follow that part of 
 my example which I now lament. You will have the 
 same difficulties to encounter, the same reproach to
 
 124 <X5>X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 bear ; and if you take a more decided part than I have 
 done in the interests of the suffering Church, and a more 
 open and avowed path in the service of God, which I 
 earnestly wish you may, you will have more trials to 
 endure, and more obloquy to withstand. But, dear 
 Ralph, that which the word of God and your own con- 
 science testify to be your duty, choose and do. Regard 
 not the consequences the reproach of relations, the 
 malignity of enemies, the sneers of careless dissipation : 
 these, under the guidance of a kind Providence, will 
 work together for your good. Remember what the 
 Bible says, and what I have often repeated to you : Put 
 your trust in God, and He will never leave nor forsake 
 you. Protected by His power, you shall be safe, for it 
 is almighty ; led by His wisdom, you shall not go astray, 
 for it never errs ; hoping in His Son, you shall not be 
 deceived, for He shall appear at last in His Father's 
 presence, bringing with Him all who have put their 
 trust in Him. And while you walk thus in the strength 
 of your God, ever seek to be useful to your fellow- 
 creatures ; and oh, seek especially the spiritual welfare 
 of your father and brother. I have often prayed for 
 them. It hath not yet pleased God to answer my 
 prayers ; but you may live to see them answered, and 
 your own piety rewarded, by the happy conversion of 
 your father and brother. Now, my son, remember, when 
 I am gone, that this was the soundest advice and the 
 sweetest comfort that your dying mother could give 
 you: 'Put your trust in God, and He will never leave 
 nor forsake you.' " 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not ; walk not thou 
 in the way with them ; refrain thy foot from their path, that thou 
 maycst walk in the way of good men, and keep the path of the 
 righteous." SOLOMON. 
 
 RALPH, after the death of his mother, experienced little
 
 Ralph Gemmell K^X, 125 
 
 comfort in his father's house. Edward, as we have 
 observed, was taught to ridicule his seriousness ; his 
 father was daily telling him that he would be a disgrace 
 to his name ; and the servants, following the example of 
 their master, regarded him as a kind of outcast, and took 
 every opportunity to insult and deride him. 
 
 From the curate, whom he still attended on Sabbath, 
 he could gather little either to enlighten his mind or 
 strengthen his piety. His sermons chiefly inculcated 
 submission to the unjust measures of government, 
 activity in suppressing those whose opinions differed 
 from that of the then existing ecclesiastical establishment, 
 and zeal in supporting the heirarchy to which he 
 belonged. These were the chief doctrines which Ralph 
 heard at church, and he was not satisfied. He wished 
 to hear more of Christ, the great Head of the Church ; 
 more of belief in Him who is the way, the truth, 
 and the life ; and more of holiness, without which none 
 can see God. He had diligently contemplated the 
 features of the times ; he had examined the creed, 
 opinions, and life of the persecuted party ; he had like- 
 wise examined the principles, as well as the conduct, of 
 those who persecuted them ; and, young as he was, he 
 could easily see that the former were suffering for hold- 
 ing opinions founded on the word of God, and sanctioned 
 by their own consciences, for their highest privileges as 
 men and their dearest rights as Christians ; and the 
 latter oppressing, torturing, and murdering, for non- 
 submission to institutions which their own selfishness 
 had suggested, and which they were ever ready to change 
 for any other that might promise more gain to their 
 avarice or more indulgence to their vicious dispositions. 
 Impressed by these opinions, it was little wonder that 
 Ralph, alive as he was to the dictates of conscience and 
 the calls of religion, had a strong inclination to join the 
 Covenanters. But in doing this, he must submit to per- 
 secution and reproach, forsake his father's house, lay 
 down all hopes of honour and preferment, abide the
 
 126 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 contempt and the hate of his nearest kinsmen, and 
 experience the rigorous discipline of cold, and hunger, 
 and cheerless wandering-. Surely, young reader, this 
 was no very agreeable reflection. It was enough to 
 make a more experienced Christian than Ralph halt 
 between two opinions. 
 
 More than three months after his mother's death he 
 passed in this uneasy state of mind ; now resolving to 
 leave all and follow Christ, now looking forward to the 
 dreariness of a life of suffering, and again, back on. that 
 old paternal castle and those fertile fields which might 
 one day be all his own. And verily, were it in man that 
 walketh to direct his steps were it not God that 
 chooseth his way, it is very probable that Ralph would' 
 have turned away from the sufferings he saw before him, 
 and taken up with the ease, and the plenty, and the 
 honour which the world promised him. But God 
 knoweth His own, and it is as certain that He will pro- 
 vide the means of enlightening them in the knowledge of 
 Himself, and of confirming them in His service, as that 
 He will for ever protect and uphold them. 
 
 One Sabbath, after returning home as- usual from the 
 unprofitable discourse of the curate, Ralph went out at the 
 evening-tide to meditate. It was in the end of autumn. 
 And as he walked along the banks of the Irvine towards 
 the sea, the wild flower, with scarcely its withered stalk 
 remaining, which he had seen in the early year painted 
 with all the colours of beauty the shrub naked and 
 blasted, which was lately vested . in a thick foliage of 
 healthy green the aged leaf, which fell rustling from its 
 fellows the stream, which was ever running on to be 
 lost in the ocean and the light, which faded dimly away 
 on the indistinct summits of Arran ; all had a tendency 
 to draw him into serious musing, and especially to remind 
 him of the short duration and sure decay of all earthly 
 things. .- 
 
 "As for man," said he to himself, "his days are as 
 grass ; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth ; for the
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 127 
 
 wind passeth over it and it is gone ; and the place there- 
 of shall know it no more. As the waters of this river run 
 for a little, and then fall into the ocean, so shall time be 
 with me ; so suddenly shall I pass into eternity. As the 
 light dieth away on yonder mountains, so speedily shall 
 the sun of my days set for ever. What, then, should I 
 do ? Should I fear the reproach and persecution of man, 
 which cannot long annoy me ? Should I take the honours 
 and the pleasures which he can give me, which, short as 
 life is, may wither and die long before me, and will, at any 
 rate, slip from my grasp when I go down into the other 
 graVe ? or should 1 serve my God, whose almighty power 
 can protect me from every thing that would really hurt 
 me in time, and whose lovingkindness and tender mercy 
 will provide for me after death an inheritance incor- 
 ruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away ? Surely 
 the wisdom of man is foolishness. Why should I listen 
 to it ? Oh that God would direct my steps, and enable me 
 to put my trust in Him alone ! " 
 
 Thus did the merciful Creator make the contemplation 
 of His works subservient to strengthen the piety of the 
 young Christian. Musing on such thoughts as these, 
 Ralph wandered on to the seashore. Agreeably to those 
 sudden changes which happen so often in our climate 
 towards the end of autumn, night, which at its coming 
 on had been calm and serene, was now wrapt in the 
 clouds of his thick darkness the winds came in the 
 swiftness of their fury the ocean lifted up his voice, and 
 roared in the pride of his strength and athwart- the 
 gloom at intervals gleamed the lightnings of God, 
 awfully displaying the features' of the 'storm. As it did 
 not yet rain, however, Ralph walked on. The awful 
 majesty of nature had something in it which pleased him, 
 and sanctioned the reflections he had just made some- 
 thing which reminded him of the littleness of man and 
 the greatness of the Creator. " How dreadful," thought 
 he, "to have that God our enemy, who walketh on the 
 wings of the wind, and biddeth the storm do His pleasure !
 
 128 cXFX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 who setteth His foot on the sea, and holdeth the waters 
 in the hollow of His hands, who sendeth the lightning, 
 and they say unto Him, Here we are ! " 
 
 Thus contemplating-, he was walking along the coast, 
 when his ear was attracted by the following words : 
 
 " How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost Thou not 
 avenge the blood of thy servants ! Thy holy city is a 
 wilderness : Zion is a wilderness ; Jerusalem a desolation. 
 Be not wroth very sore, neither remember iniquity for 
 ever. Behold, we beseech Thee ; we are Thy people. 
 Oh, visit Zion in Thy mercy ! Let not the weapon that 
 is formed against her prosper ; and the tongue that is 
 raised against her in judgment do Thou condemn. 
 We know that Thy Church is graven on the palms of 
 Thy hands, and Thou wilt bring her out of the deep 
 waters. But, gracious Father ! give us, poor helpless 
 sinners, patience and resignation to wait till Thy time 
 come. Give us that abiding faith in our Saviour, and 
 that inextinguishable love, which, in all our trials, will 
 make us more than conquerors. Yea, our eyes are unto 
 Thee, O God, the Lord ; in Thee is our trust : leave not 
 our souls destitute : keep us from the snares which are 
 laid for us, and the gins of the workers of iniquity." 
 
 After these breathings of holy fervour had ascended up 
 into the throne of God, Ralph heard proceeding from the 
 same place the sweet melody of praise ; and now it was 
 lost in the loud voice of the storm, and again, in the in- 
 tervals of partial calm, it came forth on the ear like the 
 music of heaven. Ralph walked up to the place whence 
 the sounds proceeded ; and among the rugged cliffs, by 
 the very side of the sea, did he find ten or twelve of those 
 Christian heroes whom persecution had compelled to 
 choose that secluded place, and that hour, to them of 
 favourable darkness, to hear the word of life, and adore 
 and praise the God and Redeemer of mankind. 
 
 At Ralph's approach, they seemed somewhat alarmed, 
 for they knew well, though in so retired a place and 
 under the wing of night, they were not safe from the
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX* 129 
 
 vigilant persecution of their enemies. They feared, 
 therefore, that Ralph might be a guide to a party of 
 dragoons. But as some of those present had been but 
 lately tenants of his father, he was soon recognised. 
 They had heard it reported that he favoured their party, 
 and that he had for several years suffered little less from 
 his wicked relations at home than they had endured in 
 their flights and wanderings. He was, therefore, gladly 
 received amongst them. The reverend old minister, 
 part of whose prayer he had just heard, and who had 
 once been his mother's spiritual guide and dear friend, 
 was especially interested at his appearance. Ever 
 zealous in his Master's work, and remembering how 
 desirous Mrs. Gemmell had been that her sons might be 
 true fearers of God, he invited Ralph to sit down by his 
 side on the shelvy rock, and entered into conversation 
 with him. With fatherly tenderness the venerable 
 pastor encouraged the youth to describe the circum- 
 stances in which he was placed, and lay open the state 
 of his mind. This was the first time that Ralph had had 
 an opportunity of conversing with a faithful servant of 
 the Most High. And truly his heart burned within him, 
 as the good old man thus concluded a long and tender 
 advice to him. 
 
 " Now, my son," for so tenderly did he address him, 
 "now I know the difficulty of your circumstances. I 
 know how hard it is to leave father, and brother, and 
 houses, and lands, and goods, and plenty, and honour ; 
 and to be hated of those of whose love you are most de- 
 sirous, and to be despised of those in whose eyes you most 
 wish to appear honourable. We can promise you little 
 but trial and suffering. We have been driven from our 
 houses and possessions. Our families are left to wander 
 and weep in poverty, exposed to contempt, and subjected 
 to the insults of a brutal soldiery. Torture, imprison- 
 ment, and banishment are prepared for us. A price is 
 set on our heads, and our lives are every day sought 
 for. We are cut off from all the comforts of life, and 
 9
 
 130 <Xf>X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 are exposed to almost all the ills which this world can 
 muster up against the people of God. Now, my son, if 
 you will take up your cross and follow Christ, you must 
 be prepared to meet similar trials. But remember that 
 you have His promise, that if you forsake father and 
 mother, and houses and lands, for His sake, He will 
 give you an hundredfold of spiritual blessings in this 
 world, and eternal life in that which is to come. Re- 
 member what Christ has suffered for you. All that the 
 wickedness of men could invent, and all that the offended 
 justice of His Father required, He endured for you ; so 
 ardent was His love for you ; so inexhaustible His 
 mercy ! 
 
 " If you are resolved to put your trust in Christ, and 
 follow Him through good and through bad report, 
 although we can promise you none of this world's 
 comforts or honours, we can promise you, that, although 
 you be perplexed, you shall never be in despair ; 
 although you are persecuted, you shall never be for- 
 saken ; although you are cast down, you shall never 
 be destroyed. 
 
 "Are you afraid to put your whole trust in God? 
 Look around you and see. Is there anything on earth 
 or in hell that can snatch you out of the hand of His 
 omnipotence? Is there any power that can effectually 
 hurt you, if ye abide under the shadow of the Almighty? 
 He walketh on the sea, and His path is in the great 
 waters ; and He can say to the raging of that vast ocean, 
 Peace, be still ! He walketh on the wings of the winds, 
 and He can bid them, when He will, away to their place. 
 He sitteth on the circuit of the earth, and the inhabitants 
 thereof are as grasshoppers. These lightnings which 
 you see gleaming through the darkness of the night, go 
 abroad at His word, and would, if He commanded, in 
 the twinkling of an eye, lay the boasting of human 
 strength and the pride of human greatness in a heap of 
 burning desolation. Are you afraid to put your trust in 
 this God ? Are you afraid to meet the fury of man's
 
 Ralph Gemmell XcX 131 
 
 battle, if He be on your side ? Only put your trust in 
 Him, and you are safe. His love and His mercy will 
 never forsake you. Love your Saviour and serve Him, 
 and you may say, in the darkest night of human calamity, 
 I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep ; for Thou, 
 O Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." 
 
 As the minister concluded these instructions, the 
 gloom began to disperse, and the moon and stars, look- 
 ing through the clouds, cast their silvery light on the 
 majestic scenery around. Then did Ralph observe the 
 countenances of those about him. Twenty years had 
 the old pastor wandered among the mountains of 
 Scotland, subjected to every hardship, and separated 
 from every earthly comfort. Often had he made the 
 narrowest escapes from his persecutors ; and often, 
 exposed as he was this night to the fierceness of the 
 storm, had he met, in the wildest glens and most forlorn 
 caves of our country, with the few who had forsaken all 
 to follow Christ, to instruct, comfort, and animate them ; 
 and yet, when Ralph looked on his face, he could see 
 nothing in it but the composure of peace and the sweet- 
 ness of contentment. The few that were around him, 
 although some of them bore the marks of suffering, their 
 clothes being worn to tatters and their bodies emaciated 
 by fatigue, had all of them in their countenances the 
 meekness of resignation and the fortitude of Christian 
 faith ; so powerful is the grace of God so sure the 
 comforts of religion. 
 
 After appointing where to meet with the minister next 
 Sabbath, Ralph left him and returned home. It was 
 late when he arrived ; but as it was customary for him 
 to retire every Sabbath evening from the idle and 
 profane conversation of his relations, his late return 
 excited no surprise. During the week he reflected much 
 on what he had heard. The instructions, arguments, 
 and advice of the old minister had a powerful influence 
 in determining him to keep his appointment next 
 Sabbath. But especially when he considered how many
 
 132 cXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 trials the aged pastor and his friends had gone through, 
 and yet how little they regarded them ; how many 
 privations they were enduring, and yet how constant 
 they were ; how many calamities were threatening them, 
 and yet how calmly they looked forward, resting their 
 confidence and their hope in the all-sufficiency of their 
 Saviour he determined to hesitate no longer, but to 
 meet with them on the coming Sabbath, and to cast in 
 his lot with theirs. 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 " He shall lean upon his house, but it shall not stand ; he shall hold 
 it fast, but it shall not endure." 
 
 EARLY on the Sabbath morning Ralph left home, and in 
 the barn of a farmhouse, about three miles distant, met, 
 according to appointment, with the old minister, and 
 twelve or fifteen people who had assembled to hear the 
 gospel. Scarcely were the psalm and prayer concluded, 
 however, when an alarm was given by one who watched 
 at a little distance, that a party of dragoons were riding 
 towards the house. One of those wicked men, who in 
 those days were well paid by the abettors of tyranny 
 and persecution for bringing information against the 
 Covenanters, during the preceding week had found means 
 of discovering the place and hour of the present meeting ; 
 and now, like Judas of old, he came the leader of that 
 savage soldiery who took delight in shedding the blood 
 of the saints. 
 
 When the old minister heard that the dragoons were 
 at hand, he recommended all present to God, the pre- 
 server of men, and earnestly begged that they would 
 leave him, and take every possible measure for their own 
 safety. But this they would by no means do. He had 
 been the spiritual father, the comforter, and friend of 
 most of those present, from their earliest youth. He 
 had grown grey in the service of his heavenly Master ;
 
 Ralph Gemmell XoK> 133 
 
 and his little flock seemed more anxious to save him 
 than themselves. 
 
 " Can you not hide him," said a boy, a son of the farmer 
 to whom the house belonged "can you not hide him in 
 the hole below the kitchen floor, where Mr. M'Coll once 
 hid himself when the dragoons were here before ? " 
 
 "Thank you, my good boy," said his father; "the 
 alarm and danger had driven that place from my re- 
 collection. He may be safe there. It has sheltered 
 many a worthy Christian from the bloodhounds of 
 persecution." 
 
 Under the kitchen floor had been dug a cavity suffi- 
 ciently large to hold two or three persons. The entrance 
 to it was covered by a thin flag, so light that a single 
 person could remove it, which, when closed, had such a 
 complete likeness to the rest of the floor that it could 
 create no suspicion of any retreat below. 
 
 Into this place the old minister was persuaded to 
 descend ; and both because he was afraid that Ralph 
 had too little experience in the Christian warfare, and 
 because he had been the immediate instrument of bringing 
 him into the present danger, he invited the youth to 
 conceal himself in the same place. This, however, 
 Ralph refused. He was young, he said, and able to 
 endure hardships ; but there were those present, with 
 hoary heads, who could ill bear the insolent and cruel 
 treatment to which they should be exposed if they fell 
 into the hands of their persecutors. There was no time 
 for dispute. The owner of the house, and another old 
 man, went into the cave along with the minister, and 
 the flag was instantly returned to its place. Thus, 
 young reader, had our Christian ancestors to hide them- 
 selves for their attachment to religion and to their God. 
 
 Scarcely were these three old men concealed, when 
 the dragoons, about twenty in number, arrived. They 
 consisted mostly of Highlanders from the wildest districts 
 of the North. Their countenances were fierce and cruel ; 
 and they seemed in general only to understand so much
 
 134 tX5"X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 English as to be able, in that language, to curse their 
 fellow-men and blaspheme their Maker. 
 
 The Covenanters, aware that escape by flight was 
 impossible, and knowing that, unarmed as they were, 
 resistance would be vain, peaceably allowed themselves 
 to be made prisoners. Their arms were pinioned to 
 their bodies with cords, which the soldiers had brought 
 with them for that purpose ; and while they were thus 
 bound as the vilest traitors, they were upbraided with 
 the worst of names, and insulted with the most insolent 
 and most contemptuous mockery. After some of them 
 had been tortured in vain, to make them discover the 
 owner of the house and the old minister, they were all 
 conducted to Irvine. As persecution was then in the 
 heat of its rage, I need not tell you what their fate was. 
 Ralph was saved from that death to which the rest were 
 doomed, only by the influence of his father. 
 
 Mr. Gemmell was just passing to the curate's church 
 when the prisoners were guarded through the town to 
 gaol. We have already mentioned his violent hatred to 
 the persecuted party, and his displeasure at Ralph's 
 serious and religious cast of mind ; but paternal feelings, 
 which cannot be easily overcome, compelled him to 
 interfere for the safety of his son. To a man whose 
 house had been long friendly to the governing party, and 
 who had attested his own attachment to the present 
 despotism, by the most diligent suppression, so far as it 
 was in his power, of every movement against it, this was 
 no difficult task. It was necessary, however, before 
 Ralph's pardon and liberty could be granted, that his 
 father should promise that his son's future conduct 
 would be agreeable to government ; and further, that 
 Ralph himself should take what was called the test a 
 kind of oath by which the parties swearing engaged to 
 renounce all communications with the Covenanters, to 
 abjure all opinions not consonant with the institutions 
 then established, and to defend every measure of govern- 
 ment, however wicked or tyrannical.
 
 ~->fZ-33f 
 
 WENT INTO THE CAVE ALONG WITH THE MINISTER. Seepage 133. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson & Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 135
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX* 137 
 
 And did Ralph swear this oath ? Did he forget so 
 soon the lessons of the old minister ? Did he forget so 
 soon his mother's last injunctions ? injunctions supported 
 by the word of God, to abide by his duty, regardless of 
 the consequences ; to put his trust in God, and to despise 
 the threatening of men ? He forgot none of these ; but 
 he had leaned too much to the strength of his own arm. 
 He had not yet rested his unhesitating confidence on the 
 Rock of Ages. His impressions of religious duty had 
 been strong ; and he had not yet fully recognised his own 
 weakness, and his ever-present need of Almighty grace. 
 And now, when he was threatened with imprisonment 
 and death ; when he was reproached by a father with 
 dishonouring his family, and assailed on every side by 
 entreaties or ridicule ; although his tongue faltered, and 
 every limb of his body trembled while he took the oath 
 he did take it. He engaged to assist in extirpating that 
 form of religious worship which he thought most agree- 
 able to the word of God, and which his own conscience 
 therefore approved. 
 
 Let us pause here, young reader, and ask ourselves 
 how we are prepared for meeting the threatenings of 
 power and the solicitations of sinful pleasure? True, 
 you are not menaced with the instruments of torture, 
 with dungeons, and exile. You see not the sword of 
 persecution laid to your neck, nor the heads and hands of 
 the people of God nailed to the gates of the towns of our 
 country. You have no occasion to fly from your dwel- 
 ling at cold midnight, and seek refuge in the solitudes of 
 nature. You can go forward in the track of Christian 
 duty, certain that nothing in the shape of external force 
 will meet you to force you out of it. You may put on the 
 uniform of a soldier of Jesus, and march forth to the 
 Christian warfare secure that no band of warriors, with 
 sword and buckler, will set the battle in array against 
 you, with the determined purpose of dragging you away 
 from under the banners of the Most High. But are you 
 safer on this account ? Have you less need of leaning on
 
 138 <=X*>X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 an Almighty arm ? Pause and consider ! Are there not 
 waiting- you, at every footstep of your journey, unlawful 
 pleasures, inviting- you, with tongues of sweetest persua- 
 sion, to turn aside from the upright path, and promising 
 to entertain you in the gay and flowery fields of unwither- 
 ing delight ? And have you not in your own bosom a 
 set of treacherous inclinations which have an ever-greedy 
 ear to every delusive voice, and which are ever willing to 
 wander from the steep ascent of virtue, and to take 
 themselves up with the indulgent offers of present enjoy- 
 ment ? Are not the reasonings of a sophistical philosophy 
 and the misrepresentations of a false religion ever casting 
 their doubts in your way, to turn you out of it, and draw 
 you into a labyrinth of inextricable difficulties ? Will you 
 not meet avarice tempting you with his gold, and ambi- 
 tion directing you away to the gaudy heights of human 
 glory ? Will you not, at every step of your Christian 
 progress, have to set your face against the mockery of 
 wanton dissipation, and the studied and pointed ridicule 
 of veteran wickedness ? Will you not be solicited by the 
 flattering words and decoying speeches of polished 
 libertinism, which will introduce themselves to your ear 
 with all the warmth of disinterested friendship, and all 
 the gentleness of practised courtesy ? Truly, you will find 
 these more dangerous foes, more frequent in their inroads, 
 and more varied and persevering in their attacks, than 
 the most violent of open and avowed enemies. 
 
 When the sword of persecution is unsheathed, and 
 when it is plainly seen that something serious is deter- 
 mined against us, we put ourselves on our guard, advance 
 with caution, examine every step we take, canvas every 
 intelligence, and suspect every fair pretender of wishing 
 to decoy us into the snares of the enemy. Besides, 
 when we are beset by external violence, we are assisted 
 in repelling it by that principle of our nature which 
 rejects compulsion, and which will not comply with those 
 who will have us their own way, whether we will or not, 
 however agreeable to us their paths might otherwise be.
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX* 139 
 
 But when vice comes in the guise of seeming 1 zeal for our 
 good, which infidel philosophy often assumes or with 
 the wanton jest and immoral illusion, which polished 
 licentiousness is ever dropping from his tongue ; or with 
 the witty sarcasm and grave ridicule, which flow so pro- 
 fusely from the lips of irreligious genius ; or when it tells 
 us of riches, and honours, and preferments, and whispers 
 in our ears, that if we stubbornly abide by the dictates of 
 honesty, we shall probably die poor ; then, young reader, 
 it is that your enemy is the strongest, and that you have 
 most need to call into service all the energies of your 
 religion. Instead of any natural principle coming to 
 your assistance against foes like these, you have many of 
 their friends in your own breast, wishing every moment 
 to betray you, and labouring with all their might to 
 hasten your defeat and complete your ruin. 
 
 Beware, then, young reader, of trusting to yourself; 
 for if you do so but for a single step, at that step you 
 will fall. Christ hath overcome the world ; put your 
 trust in Him, and you shall overcome it too. 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 "The Lord is with you, while you be with Him : and if ye seek 
 Him, He will be found of you : if ye forsake Him, He will forsake 
 you." CHRONICLES. 
 
 " In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but 
 with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord, 
 thy Redeemer." ISAIAH. 
 
 ON Ralph's return home, after thus renouncing his 
 religion, his father at first assailed him with the most 
 severe and indignant reproof. He reproached him not 
 only for disgracing a family which had long boasted of 
 its honour, but, as he was answerable for the conduct of 
 his family, for exposing him, if government should exact 
 it, to heavy penalties. And besides, he was told he had
 
 140 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 thrown an indelible stigma on his character by associ- 
 ating with fanatics and traitors ; for such was the light 
 in which Mr. Gemmell viewed the Covenanters. And 
 further, he was assured, if ever he ventured again to 
 attend their meetings, or at any future period should show 
 them the least countenance, the paternal estate would be 
 given to his brother, and he disinherited and disowned 
 for ever. 
 
 But, as Mr. Gemmell was really concerned for the 
 honour, as he thought it, of his son, he did not leave him 
 with reproach and censure. He assumed a gentler mood, 
 and represented to him how much his disobedience and 
 folly had grieved his heart ; promised, if his future con- 
 duct were agreeable to his wishes, to pay him the most 
 fatherly attention ; to make him his companion in all his 
 visitings and amusements, and to introduce him to the 
 notice of men of the first rank and highest honour in the 
 country assuring him, at the same time, that by pursu- 
 ing the course which he himself had done, he would live 
 in ease and happiness, would be respected and honoured 
 by the nobles of the nation, and would add another 
 worthy name to the dignity of his family. 
 
 These last arguments had a powerful effect on Ralph's 
 mind. He had seldom heard his father speak kindly 
 to him, and he was entirely overcome by the present 
 tenderness. His conscience, no doubt, still told him he 
 was wrong ; but he had the sanction of a father, and he 
 tried to silence its complaining. He rode out with his 
 relations in quest of conventicles ; he laughed at his own 
 adventure with the Covenanters ; he endeavoured to 
 appear unconcerned about their sufferings ; he took a 
 share in whatever licentious conversation offered itself, 
 and imitated the profane scoff and wicked ribaldry of his 
 companions. His father rejoiced in the change, and 
 every day showed him more kindness and respect ; and 
 all his relations caressed and complimented him as a 
 worthy heir of so respectable a house. So much more 
 were his circumstances easy and agreeable than formerly
 
 Ralph Gemmell Kc>o 141 
 
 and so much were his pride and vanity flattered by the 
 attentions and commendation he met with on all hands, 
 that, to the eye of mortal penetration, he seemed to have 
 made final shipwreck of his religion, and to have allied 
 himself, by a league that could never be broken, with the 
 world which lieth in wickedness. But God seeth not as 
 man seeth. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so 
 are his thoughts than man's thoughts. 
 
 Ralph, as we have hinted, although pleased and 
 dazzled with his present condition, was not satisfied. 
 His conscience often condemned him ; and as it corres- 
 ponded to the word of God, he knew its condemnations 
 were just. Oft, in the merriment of light-hearted excur- 
 sion and the mirthfulness of wanton conversation, did 
 its reproaches sting bis soul and suddenly sadden his 
 mind with the bitterness of remorse. But especially 
 when he withdrew to repose, in the darkness and loneli- 
 ness of midnight, did this censor within, directed by the 
 Spirit of Grace, set his sins in order before him, and 
 point to the awful consequences. 
 
 One night, after having taken more than a usual share 
 in the unholy mirth and licentious revelry which were so 
 common in those times, and nowhere more so than in his 
 father's house, he retired to bed, and had almost dropt 
 asleep, when he was quickly alarmed by one of those 
 sudden starts which are caused by a momentary cessation 
 of the pulsation of the heart. Thousands have been thus 
 alarmed at the beginnings of their first slumbers, have 
 felt a moment's uneasiness, laid their head again on the 
 pillow, and slept soundly. But it was not so with Ralph. 
 He thought he felt something like the visitation of death 
 about him ; a cold sweat suffused his body, and he durst 
 scarcely lay his head down on the pillow. Quick as the 
 lightning's flash did his mind traverse the field of his past 
 doings. The many instructions, advices, and warnings 
 he had received from an affectionate mother ; the know- 
 ledge he had acquired of the will of God in the Bible ; 
 the conversation that had passed between him and the
 
 142 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 old minister ; the resolutions which he had so often 
 formed to be religious ; the promises which he had made 
 to God never to forsake his duty ; all stood up as a strong 
 witness against him. And his renouncing his religion 
 when he knew he was doing wrong ; his seeking the 
 praise of men rather than the praise of God ; his coun- 
 tenancing the endeavour to extirpate that faith which his 
 own conscience approved of; his mingling in profane 
 conversation when the voice within had bidden him with- 
 draw ; his love to the indulgences of wickedness when he 
 was aware that he should have hated them ; these, like 
 so many spirits of darkness, gathered around his soul, 
 and for a moment involved him in the gloom of despair. 
 The anguish of his mind affected his body ; he shivered, 
 trembled, and still imagined he felt death laying his hand 
 upon him. He thought God had forsaken him, and had 
 left him to try what support or comfort the friendship of 
 wicked men could give him in the moment of dissolution. 
 And truly then did he feel how helpless, how insignificant 
 a thing he was ! how unequal to tread the darkness of 
 death alone ! how weak, how deceitful, and how despic- 
 able the pride of human strength and the flattering of 
 human honours ! He felt that all things below the sun 
 are indeed vanity of vanities ; that the soul cannot lean 
 on any of them when shaken by the hand of death ; and 
 that man is really dependent on his Maker. For a 
 moment did the terrors of despair convulse his spirit. 
 He saw no smile from heaven ; and in that moment he 
 felt a bitterness of anguish which he would have will- 
 ingly exchanged for a whole lifetime of poverty, and 
 shame, and bodily suffering. So will you feel, young 
 reader, if ever you be threatened with death when as ill 
 prepared for meeting it as Ralph was. 
 
 But this was only the hiding of his Heavenly Father's 
 countenance only one of those kind chastisements by 
 which He convinces His children of their own helplessness 
 of the weakness of human strength and of the mean- 
 ness of this world's glory ; and by which He teaches
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX/ 143 
 
 them repentance and humility, and the necessity of put- 
 ting their trust in Him alone, for time and eternity. 
 Ralph was not long left in this state of utter hopeless- 
 ness : that holy, that watchful, that comforting Spirit, 
 which never loses sight of any whom the Lord hath 
 chosen for His own, came into his soul. Then was his 
 mind turned to the contemplation of that blood which 
 cleanseth from all sin. He wept the tear of true repent- 
 ance, and prayed in the language of faith, " Lord be 
 merciful to me a sinner ! " He now saw himself more 
 guilty in the sight of God than ever ; but he saw, also, 
 God willing to be reconciled to him through Jesus Christ, 
 and he felt a holy peace and confidence in his Redeemer, 
 to which he had been formerly an utter stranger. So 
 much weakness had he discovered in his own strength, 
 that he durst no longer put the least trust in it ; and so 
 much deceit in his own heart, that he durst not promise 
 future obedience. But humbly did he wish to be enabled 
 by the Holy Spirit to make the will of God and His glory 
 the aim of all his future actions. And humbly did he 
 pray that the same Divine Spirit would ever keep present 
 on his mind the impressions which it had received of its 
 own frailty and the world's deceitfulness ; that He would 
 ever give him to put an undivided trust in his Saviour, 
 and that He would, by His counsel, ever guide his feet in 
 the way of everlasting life. Such are the feelings of the 
 true child of God, to whom He saith, " I will never leave 
 thee nor forsake thee." 
 
 Solaced by these thoughts, and committing himself to 
 the protection of his God, Ralph soon sunk into sweet 
 repose.
 
 144 tXoX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 " Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, 
 and say all manner of evil falsely against you for my sake. Rejoice, 
 and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven." ST. 
 MATTHEW. 
 
 NEXT morning' Ralph arose, and resolved, since he could 
 not stay at home without sharing" in the wickedness of 
 the house, or exposing himself anew to reproach and 
 ridicule, to spend the day in a solitary walk, and to 
 engage himself in serious thought how to conduct his 
 future life. 
 
 He took his favourite walk down the banks of the 
 Irvine. It was the last month of spring. The beams of 
 the morning sun threw an air of sprightliness and gaiety 
 over nature, that smiled around him in the loveliness 
 and vigour of youth. The fields had clothed themselves 
 in their mantle of green, and the singing of birds was 
 heard in the woods. And although he knew how many 
 of Scotland's best friends and most faithful servants of 
 God were that morning wandering in poverty, immured 
 in dungeons, or appointed to immediate death ; and 
 although he looked forward to all these evils as embattled 
 against himself, yet, so entire was his resignation to the 
 will of God so confiding his trust in the all-sufficiency 
 of divine grace, that his heart took in the joy of nature ; 
 and the breathings of its love and thankfulness ascended 
 up to heaven with the universal anthem of nature's 
 gratitude. 
 
 " Why should I be sad ? " thought the young Christian, 
 " or why should my soul be cast down ? The flocks that 
 sport on yonder hills, and the herds that browse on 
 yonder meadow, seem grateful for their day of short 
 enjoyment that will soon end for ever. The songsters of 
 the wood warble their song of praise, although they must 
 soon perish utterly ; and why should not I be glad ? 
 Why should not I, too, join the happy melody? What
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX=> 145 
 
 are this world's sufferings to me ? What is all that the 
 wickedness of man can do ? Is not my soul immortal ? 
 When this body decays, have I not a tabernacle, not 
 made with hands, eternal in the heavens ? Are there not 
 rivers of pleasure at the right hand of God, secured to 
 me by my Saviour's death ? And when the loveliness of 
 this world's scenery and the mirthfulness of its irrational 
 inhabitants shall not be seen nor heard any more, shall 
 not I, if I trust in my Redeemer and keep His command- 
 ments, stand in the presence of God and the Lamb, and 
 sing the song of the Lamb in eternity ? " 
 
 Employed with such thoughts as these, Ralph had 
 nearly reached the seashore, when he was suddenly 
 roused from his meditations by the sound of the military 
 drum and the tumult of a mixed multitude of soldiers, 
 king's officers, magistrates, and others, leading, from the 
 town of Irvine to the side of the sea, a female, who, by 
 her looks, appeared to be in her eighteenth or nineteenth 
 year. This young woman, when an infant, had lost her 
 mother, and she had seen her father, only a few weeks 
 before the time of which we speak, torn from her arms 
 and dragged to the gibbet. But the cruelty of persecu- 
 tion is as insatiable as the grave. The poor orphan girl 
 had been apprehended on the preceding Sabbath at one 
 of those field -meetings, whither she had resorted to 
 worship God as her conscience directed her ; and because 
 neither entreaties nor threatenings could prevail on her 
 to take the test which we formerly explained, she had 
 been sentenced to be put to death by drowning a kind 
 of death to which several females were condemned in 
 those days. 
 
 In the channel of the sea, from which the waves retired 
 at low water, was fixed a stake, whither, between two 
 ruffian soldiers, the helpless girl was led, and her arms 
 bound to her body with ropes. In the meantime, she 
 was again promised her life and freedom if she would 
 take the test. But with a holy indignation she replied, 
 "Seek ye the life of my soul by promising me a few 
 10
 
 146 
 
 Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 years more of earthly existence ? Begone, ye that would 
 tempt me to violate my conscience and deny my S v aviour. 
 I trust in my God. I know in whom I have believed. 
 And I know that He will not forsake me." 
 
 SHE WAS SOON SURROUNDED WITH THE WAVES. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson &* Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 The tide now began to flow, and she was soon sur- 
 rounded with the waves, before which the crowd retired. 
 As the water gradually deepened about her she seemed 
 engaged in prayer ; and, when it reached her waist, as 
 the day was calm, she was heard to say, " Farewell, my
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX* H7 
 
 friends farewell, my enemies thou sun, and thou earth, 
 farewell ! Come, ye waters ; why come ye so slowly ? 
 come and waft my soul to the bosom of my God ! " Here 
 her voice was lost in the sound of the drums that were 
 beat to prevent her from being- heard. Her eyes looked 
 up to heaven, and a calm tranquillity settled on her face, 
 while every succeeding- wave advanced farther up her 
 body, till at last the waters rolled over her head and hid 
 her from the eyes of the spectators. 
 
 You will perhaps ask me, young reader, why I 
 introduce you to a scene like this? why I shock your 
 feeling's by the relation of such cruelties, and oppress 
 your sympathies by the recital of such sufferings ? Truly, 
 I am not fond of the tale of distress ; nor would I 
 willingly sadden your countenance, did I not hope to 
 make your heart better by it. And I think your best 
 interests may be much promoted by thus reviewing the 
 cruelties and sufferings of our ancestors. Thus we learn 
 to what horrible transactions sin leads those who abandon 
 themselves to its tyrannical guidance. How avarice, 
 and ambition, and pride, if harboured and nourished in 
 our bosoms, eradicate all that is amiable in man, and 
 carry him forward into barbarity and wickedness, which 
 place him far beneath the beasts that perish. And hence 
 we gather the strongest proofs of the divine origin of our 
 religion, and how well adapted it is to bear the Christian 
 out through the darkest night of the world's distresses. 
 We hear evil spoken of him ; we see him hunted from 
 place to place, and tortured, and murdered ; but still 
 we see the grace of God sufficient for him. We see him 
 placed on the Rock of Ages, putting away from him, as 
 things of nought, the waves, and storms, and fierceness 
 of this earth's most angry assault ; and, calmly reclining 
 his hope on the promise of his God, looking with a 
 grateful heart and an eye of brightening gladness to the 
 land beyond the grave the land of his Father, and his 
 everlasting home. Hence, too, we learn how much we 
 are indebted to the heaven -supported stand which our
 
 148 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 forefathers made against the inroads of civic despotism, 
 and the domination of a secular priesthood ; and thus we 
 are led to revere their memory, which has, especially in 
 late years, been loaded with contempt. And, above all, 
 in reviewing 1 such scenes as these, we cannot help being 
 filled with gratitude to God that He hath now brought 
 his Church back from the wilderness, and permitted us 
 to worship within her walls in peace and safety. 
 
 Some of these reflections Ralph made while this work 
 of wickedness was going on before him. For, although 
 he had already resolved, through the help of divine 
 grace, to give no countenance to the persecutors, and to 
 ally himself to that scattered few whom he thought 
 sincere in serving their Heavenly Master ; and the murder 
 of this helpless female this outrage done both to 
 humanity and religion, excited within him a greater 
 hatred to sin, and a firmer reliance on the grace of God, 
 which he had seen so fully manifested, in supporting, 
 consoling, and cheering this young woman in the last 
 and severest trial to which the Christian can be exposed. 
 
 " If these be your doings," thought he, as he wandered 
 slowly along the coast after witnessing this horrible 
 spectacle, "if these be your doings, ye men of power 
 and this world's honour, let not my soul come into your 
 secret ; unto your assembly, mine honour, be not thou 
 united. Surely the Lord will visit you for these things ; 
 and then He will laugh at your calamity, and mock when 
 your fear cometh : when your fear cometh as desolation, 
 and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind. Oh, my 
 Father in heaven ! Thou knowest my heart. It is sinful, 
 it is deceitful, ever deceiving me, taken up with lying 
 vanities, ever leading me astray ; but in Thy great mercy, 
 for the sake of Him who died that I might live, do Thou 
 deliver me from its vain imaginations from the snares of 
 an alluring world from the fear of its threatenings and 
 from the flattery of its promises. And, oh give me, for 
 Thou hast all power in heaven and in earth, give me 
 strength and resolution to forsake all that is sinful, and
 
 Ralph Gemmell XcX 149 
 
 follow all that is holy ; to forsake those friends who would 
 ruin my soul, and those possessions which, in a few years 
 at any rate, must be left for ever ; and to follow my 
 Saviour, that friend who sticketh closer than a brother 
 that friend who will never forsake me who will 
 stand by me in death, and secure me from the fear of 
 its terrors, who, by His own blood, hath won for me an 
 inheritance valuable as the riches of divine grace 
 durable as the ages of eternity." 
 
 After uttering these pious ejaculations, Ralph began 
 to consider whither to betake himself. To return home 
 was to put himself in the way of all that reproach, 
 ridicule, and alluring temptation, which he had already 
 found himself unable to resist ; and to throw himself 
 into the society of the Covenanters was to deprive 
 himself of every comfort of life, and to expose himself 
 to the severest sufferings. For the present, however, 
 he thought the last his duty. Trusting, therefore, to 
 God, the all-powerful and the all-wise, he took his way 
 to the farmhouse where he was formerly apprehended. 
 When he arrived, the old farmer, whom we formerly 
 mentioned, took him by the hand and said, "You were 
 once our friend, will you tell us if the soldiers are coming 
 hither ; for we have heard that you are now taking part 
 with our enemies ? " 
 
 " I did take part with your enemies and mine," replied 
 Ralph, " but I have now left them ; and I hope that my 
 Saviour will never leave me to go so far astray again. I 
 come to seek a night's shelter under your roof, and to be 
 instructed by your experience." 
 
 " I cannot promise you an hour's safety in my house," 
 said the old man, "but to what shelter it affords, you 
 are welcome ; and what of meat and drink our oppressors 
 have left, my children shall divide with you. Come in ; 
 there is, at this moment, a minister in my house whom 
 you formerly saw here. He will be glad to see you ; 
 for often have I heard him speak of your mother, and 
 often has he lamented over you since you saw him last."
 
 150 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 After a conversation with the old minister, in which 
 Ralph related what had happened to him since their 
 last interview, the venerable pastor asked him if he had 
 ever joined in the celebration of the Lord's Supper. He 
 replied in the negative ; and added, that it was his in- 
 tention to take the first opportunity of publicly com- 
 memorating- his Redeemer's death. 
 
 "You may soon have an opportunity," said the 
 minister. " I am to dispense the sacrament of the 
 Lord's Supper to-morrow, if it so please God, in a 
 retired place about five miles up the country, and you 
 may go along with me." 
 
 "I would most willingly go," replied Ralph, "but 
 I fear I am not prepared for an ordinance so solemn. 
 It was but yesterday that I was giving myself up to 
 profane conversation, and taking part with those who 
 know not God." 
 
 "There are none of us well enough prepared," said 
 the minister, "but that is no reason why we should 
 neglect this ordinance. Indeed, if we thought ourselves 
 fully prepared, it would be a sign that we saw ourselves 
 not as God sees us ; that we flattered our own hearts, 
 and were really ill fitted for approaching the holy table 
 of God. If you were lately putting the fear of God 
 away from you, and breaking His commandments, you 
 have more need to approach the throne of grace in 
 the sacrament of the Supper, that there you may mani- 
 fest your return to His service, and receive a large 
 supply of His grace, that you may not again fall into 
 temptation and sin against Him. We do not eat 
 and drink the Lord's Supper unworthily because we are 
 sinners, but because we refuse to put on the wedding 
 garment of Christ's righteousness. Arrayed in this 
 righteousness, the guiltiest sinner shall then be welcomed 
 and honoured by the God of holiness. If you see your- 
 self to be naturally poor, and naked, and blind, and 
 miserable, exposed to the curse of God's law, and 
 unable of yourself to fulfil any of its demands ; if you
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX* 151 
 
 put all your hope of salvation in the mercy of God 
 through His Son, sincerely desirous to love, honour, 
 and obey your Saviour, to trust in Him to be humbly 
 taug-ht by His word to hate sin to avoid every appear- 
 ance of it to love holiness and to be for ever holy ; 
 if you have a sincere desire thus to love and thus to 
 hate what God loves and hates ; if you can fall down 
 on your knees before that God whose eye searcheth 
 the heart, and pray to Him that you may so love and 
 so hate, however guilty you may have been, however 
 sinful you still are, you are called by your Redeemer 
 to sit down at His table, and you are assured that He 
 will meet you there in the kindness of His love. Ex- 
 amine yourself, my young friend, by these marks ; and 
 may the great High Priest of the upper sanctuary give 
 you that preparation which we all need." 
 
 Thus instructed, Ralph spent the remainder of the 
 evening in prayer and self- examination ; and after a 
 short repose, set out early on the Sabbath morning, 
 with his reverend friend and the old farmer, to the 
 place agreed on for worshipping God and celebrating 
 the death of His Son. When they reached the spot, 
 which, that it might not be easily discovered, they 
 had been induced to choose in the bosom of a thick 
 wood, there were a considerable number assembled. 
 The bread and wine to be used in his holy festival had 
 been brought by some peasants from the nearest town. 
 And as soon as the little flock was fully gathered around 
 him, the worthy old minister proceeded with the solem- 
 nities of the day. After sermon, and an address to those 
 who were to be engaged in the celebration of the Supper, 
 the communicants, among whom was Ralph, arranged 
 themselves together on the grassy turf, and prepared 
 themselves for receiving the bread and wine. 
 
 Let us pause here, young reader, and think for a 
 moment on this scene. The celebration of the Lord's 
 Supper is so common among us we have so often 
 seen it from our earliest years, that, whether we are
 
 152 cX5"X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 engaged in it or are merely spectators it makes but 
 too little impression on our minds. But let us reflect 
 upon it for a little ; and is it not the most solemn, the 
 most interesting, and the most honourable work in 
 which man engages in this world ? It is not obedience 
 to the call of some noble friend, who hath raised us 
 from poverty to some place of ease and distinction : 
 it is a compliance with the invitations of our Saviour, 
 who hath delivered us from the wrath to come, and 
 secured to us an everlasting place in the presence of 
 God. It is not the anniversary of a mortal's birthday 
 or death, who will in time be forgotten : it is a calling 
 to lively remembrance the death of our Redeemer, whose 
 praise will constitute the anthem of eternity. It is not 
 sitting down at the table of a prince : it is sitting down 
 at a table spread by God, at the expense of Messiah's 
 blood ; and it is our Saviour Himself who welcomes 
 the guests. It is not a token of some king's favour : 
 it is a pledge of the love of God, of His wonderful love 
 to man. It is not a banquet to regale our bodies : it 
 is a feast that fills the hungry soul with eternal life. 
 And should you then, young reader, be backward or 
 ashamed to sit down at this table, because the men of 
 this world will laugh at you ? Should you be afraid 
 to tell, in the presence of the universe, that God is your 
 friend, and that you are His friend? Truly, none will 
 be ashamed to have this to tell on that great and terrible 
 day when this world shall be judged. But, alas ! those 
 who are ashamed of Christ now, those who deny Him 
 before men, will He deny before His Father and the 
 holy angels. 
 
 After an address to the communicants, the old 
 minister, who, as we formerly observed, amidst all his 
 sufferings, had a look of peculiar peacefulness and 
 contentment, dispensed the elements ; and, resuming 
 his discourse, thus concluded 
 
 "Now, my friends, if you have eaten of this bread 
 and drunk of this cup worthily, as I hope you have
 
 Ralph Gemmell XcX 153 
 
 done, you are the honourable ones of the earth, the 
 wisest, the best, the happiest. God is your friend, 
 and He is the fountain of all honour. He delights to 
 honour you. Your garments shall be ever white : your 
 crowns are sure : He will Himself place them on your 
 heads ; and no being can ever wrest them from you. 
 You are the wisest ; for God is your instructor, and 
 He is the source of all wisdom. His word is a light 
 to your feet, and a lamp to your path. He hath led 
 your minds into all necessary truth. He hath made 
 you wise unto salvation. You are the best ; for you 
 are likest God, who is holy, and just, and good. You 
 are vested in His righteousness. His spirit is in your 
 souls, assimilating them to His own image, warming 
 them with love to God and man, to all that is pure in 
 heaven and on earth. You are the happiest ; for all 
 your desires shall be satisfied. With God as your friend, 
 there is enough and to spare. You need but to ask, and 
 ye shall receive to seek, and ye shall find to knock, 
 and all His fulness shall be opened unto you. And, in 
 the treasures of His grace, how much more is laid up 
 than you can exhaust in time or eternity ! 
 
 "It is true, my friends, that we are now hunted from 
 mountain to mountain, and from solitude to solitude ; 
 now reviled and persecuted ; now in want, in danger, 
 in affliction ; now menaced with bonds, with torture, 
 with death. But is it not enough to make you patiently 
 endure present calamity, and boldly face the future, 
 that you this moment sit at the table of an Almighty 
 Saviour, who, to replenish it for you, laid down His 
 life? Will He who loved you so much, suffer aught 
 really to hurt you ? Verily, no. I believe, my friends, 
 and I trust you believe also, that we shall be more than 
 conquerors through Him that loved us. He will never 
 leave us, nor forsake us. These are His own words, 
 the words of Him who cannot lie. What, then, have 
 we to fear ? Our Saviour is with us. The God of love, 
 the God of all worlds, the God of time and eternity, hath
 
 154 X5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 taken us under His care ; let us then go through this 
 world, unmindful of its honours and careless of its 
 revilings. Let us go, singing songs of praise to Him 
 who goeth with us to Him who will go with us 
 through the darkness of death to Him who will lead 
 us to Mount Zion, to the city and temple of our God, 
 where we shall sigh and weep no more ; where we shall 
 be entirely holy, as we shall be completely happy." 
 
 After the services of the day were over the little 
 congregation dispersed, with more true gladness in 
 their hearts than the wicked have when their corn 
 and their wine are increased. 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 "Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou dis- 
 quieted in me ? Hope thou in^God ; for I shall yet praise him for 
 the help of his countenance. In the night his song shall be with 
 me, and my prayer to the God of my life." PSALMS. 
 
 I SHOULD have mentioned in the last chapter, that, as 
 soon as Ralph resolved to leave home, he wrote the 
 following letter to his father : 
 
 "DEAR FATHER, I know what I am now to com- 
 municate to you will subject me to your displeasure. I 
 wish I could both please you and obey my God. I tried 
 that kind of life which you approve of. You then 
 caressed and indulged me, and showed me all the kind- 
 ness I could expect from a tender father. But still in 
 every moment of reflection, I was miserable. I cannot 
 be an enemy to God's people ; I cannot live with 
 those who persecute them ; I dare not deny my 
 Saviour before men, lest He deny me also before His 
 Father at the day of judgment. Pardon, therefore, dear 
 father, my disobedience. Since I have determined to 
 associate with the persecuted party, and as I cannot at 
 the same time make your house my home without ex-
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX> 155 
 
 posing you to the visitations of Government, I have 
 resolved to leave you for some time. I may have to 
 labour for my bread I may have to beg it I may have 
 to encounter many a hardship ; but I put myself under 
 the protection of a kind and watchful Providence, and I 
 fear not the frowning of the world. Perhaps the time 
 may soon come when the party with whom I am now to 
 associate will no longer be counted traitors, and when I 
 might live at home without exposing you to any penalties. 
 If that time come, and if my present conduct do not so 
 much offend you as to induce you to abandon me alto- 
 gether, I will be glad to return and live with you. Do 
 not be offended with me, dear father, for obeying the 
 dictates of my own conscience. Forgive me for what I 
 have done ; and be assured that I am still your 
 aifectionate son. RALPH GEMMELL." 
 
 You may imagine, young reader, how a man like Mr. 
 Gemmell would receive Ralph's letter. He stamped the 
 ground with his foot, and gnashed his teeth with indigna- 
 tion. He regarded his son as a mad irreclaimable 
 fanatic a dishonour to his family unworthy to be any 
 longer remembered by him and, without a moment's 
 deliberation, sat down and wrote the following letter : 
 
 " RALPH, Return home and live with me ! No, 
 never ; my door shall be forever shut against you ; I will 
 even tear your remembrance from my heart. You have 
 not only disregarded my injunctions ; you have not only 
 rejected my kindness and disappointed my hopes ; you 
 have allied yourself to the vilest and guiltiest traitors ; 
 you have disgraced my name and my house. I blush to 
 think that you are my son. But you shall no longer be 
 recognised as such by me. I shall leave all that I have 
 to Edward. And I hereby charge you never to let me 
 again see your face never to presume to write to me, or 
 to say that I am your father. GEORGE GEMMELL." 
 
 When Mr. Gemmell had finished this letter he gave it
 
 156 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 to Edward, and said, " Go early to-morrow morning 1 ," 
 for it was on the Sabbath evening he received Ralph's 
 letter, "go and deliver that letter to Ralph, who is no 
 longer worthy to be called your brother. You will find 
 him perhaps at the house where he was formerly appre- 
 hended. If not, you will probably learn there where you 
 will find him. Go ; put that letter into his hand, and 
 stop not to hear a word from him." 
 
 Ralph had just walked out from the old farmer's (for 
 he had returned thither on the Sabbath evening), to enjoy 
 the freshness of the morning, when he observed his 
 brother riding towards the house. Edward came up to 
 him, put the letter into his hand, and turned his horse 
 and rode off happy that he had now got fairly quit of a 
 brother he never loved, and had the clear prospect of 
 inheriting all the possessions -and honours of his father. 
 
 Ralph read the letter. He expected something of the 
 kind, yet he was not prepared for so much. All the 
 feelings which a lost home and a lost father could excite 
 rushed bitterly upon his soul. It was hard to be forever 
 forbidden a home where he had spent his childhood with 
 the tenderest of mothers ; it was hard to be disowned 
 and hated by a father whom he had often endeavoured 
 to please, even against his own conscience. He felt all 
 this ; and, to use the language of Scriptures, " he fell down 
 on his face, and wept bitterly." For a moment he 
 almost wished that, like Edward, he had been content to 
 live as his father wished him. But this was only the 
 passing thought of a moment. He remembered the 
 stings of conscience, the anguish of remorse, and the 
 fears of death, which he had so lately felt. He remem- 
 bered the love of his Heavenly Father, the love of his 
 Saviour ; and although he continued still to weep, it was 
 not for what he himself had done it was not for what he 
 had lost ; it was, that he had a father and a brother of 
 whose eternal welfare he had every reason to doubt. 
 But soon he betook himself to the never-failing comfort 
 of the Christian. He addressed himself to a throne of
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 157 
 
 grace, and besought his God that He would yet have 
 mercy on his relations, and turn them from the evil of 
 their ways, and yet magnify His grace by saving them 
 from the wrath to come. After this fervent prayer to 
 God for the salvation of those whom he still loved, how- 
 ever much they hated and despised him, peace returned 
 to his mind. He knew, that although he was disowned 
 of an earthly father, he had a Father in heaven who would 
 never disown him ; although he was despised of his 
 brother, he had an Elder Brother who loved him and 
 would love him to the end ; and although he had lost an 
 earthly inheritance, he had treasures secured for him in 
 heaven infinitely more valuable. These are the reflec- 
 tions, young reader, which fill the Christian's mind with 
 that peace which the world can neither give nor take 
 away. 
 
 We have seen, in this passage of Ralph's history, how 
 well adapted the promises of the gospel are to the wants 
 of the Christian how securely he leans on the arm of his 
 Saviour, and reposes his hope on those fair and un- 
 troubled regions beyond the grave, when the deceitful 
 rod of this world's strength breaks under him, and the 
 clouds of adversity darken his earthly prospects. But 
 where, in the day of sore trouble where, at the hour of 
 death, shall the sinner look ? who shall comfort him at 
 that awful crisis, when no earthly friends shall be of any 
 avail ? Who shall guide his steps through the valley of 
 thick darkness, and where shall his spirit find rest, when 
 it shall be driven away for ever from the presence of its 
 God ? The latter reflections have been suggested by a 
 scene which Ralph witnessed soon after his banishment 
 from his father's house. 
 
 Naturally of a thoughtful and contemplative turn of 
 mind, and rendered still more so by the adverse circum- 
 stances of his life, Ralph loved to withdraw himself from 
 the eye of human observation, and to soothe his feelings 
 and nourish his virtues in solitary meditation. 
 
 One evening, following this propensity, he left a
 
 158 oXoX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 shepherd's hut, in which he had spent a few days, and 
 wandered forth amidst the peaceful scenery which 
 surrounded it. 
 
 " These sheep," said Ralph, as he passed a flock that 
 lay on the heath, " these sheep rest in peace ; they have 
 spent the day in gathering their food, and now their 
 slumbers are sweet. And why is it that man eateth the 
 bread and drinketh the water of affliction, and lieth down 
 in sorrow ? Why does rest depart from his eyes, and 
 slumber from his eyelids ? Why does he so often say, 
 when it is night, ' When shall it be morning ? ' and when 
 it is morning, ' When shall it be night ? ' Must he alone, 
 of all earthly beings, waste the day in sadness, and water 
 his nightly couch with the tears of bitterness ? Is God 
 more merciful to the beasts of the field than to man, on 
 whose soul He once impressed His own image? No, 
 Holy Father!" the young man exclaimed, "Thou art 
 not more merciful to the beasts of the field than Thou art 
 to man. Thou hast made him only a little lower than 
 the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. 
 Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of 
 Thy hands, and hast put all things under his feet. But 
 he hath rebelled against Thee, and therefore he wandereth 
 without a guide ; he refuses to be reconciled to Thee, and 
 therefore he hath no comforter ; he hath himself planted 
 his couch with thorns, and therefore rest fleeth far away. 
 Gracious God ! let it not be so with me ; teach me to 
 submit myself to Thy government to accept of the 
 offered Saviour as the great atonement for my sin. Then 
 shall I spend the day in cheerfulness, for Thou shalt teach 
 me to do my duty ; and the night in peaceful repose, for 
 I shall rest under the shadow of Thy wings. 
 
 "Just and Holy One ! I know that thou afflictest not 
 willingly the children of men. It is sin, that abominable 
 thing which Thou hatest, which infuses into the cup of 
 life every drop of its gall. It is sin which embitters re- 
 flection and darkens the prospects of hope. It is sin 
 which makes this world a valley of tears and the next,
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 159 
 
 to him who hath not been redeemed from its conse- 
 quences, a place of weeping, and wailing, and gnashing 
 of teeth. All the holy are happy. As that moon, which 
 clothes the earth in silvery radiance, walks for ever 
 peacefully and serenely amidst her attendant stars, un- 
 troubled by the noise of the tempest, while it carries 
 desolation over the face of this lower world ; so, O 
 Father ! if I trust in my Saviour, and keep His command- 
 ments, shalt Thou enable me to possess my soul in peace, 
 amidst all the troubles of life and all the terrors of death." 
 
 Ralph was thus engaged in holy communion with his 
 God, when his attention was attracted by a loud shriek, 
 which seemed to be uttered by some person in great 
 distress. He turned towards the direction whence he 
 imagined the cry proceeded, and, by the light of the 
 moon, observed two men carrying or dragging a third 
 along with them. As they approached him, he dis- 
 covered that they were soldiers, and that one of them, 
 who was an officer, had received a wound that same day 
 in an affray with a party of Covenanters. A few of those 
 dauntless and intrepid sons of civil and religious liberty 
 had assembled in the desert moorlands, to hear a sermon 
 from one of those ministers who were then driven to 
 the wilderness. Sermon had no sooner commenced, 
 however, than the little congregation was surprised and 
 attacked by a party of soldiers. As they were mostly 
 unarmed, they at first made no resistance, and would 
 certainly have suffered themselves to have been led 
 quietly to the nearest gaol, had not the following occur- 
 rence roused their indignation, and impelled them to set 
 the arms of the soldiers at defiance. 
 
 The officer whom we have noticed, having used some 
 unbecoming liberties with a young woman who was 
 among the prisoners, was reprehended by her father, who 
 was also present. Instead of desisting from his im- 
 proper conduct, however, he struck the father on the left 
 shoulder with his sword, and became still more insolent 
 towards his daughter.
 
 160 sXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 " Thou shalt not be misused in my presence," said the 
 indignant father to his daughter, while he drew from 
 under a loose greatcoat the short and rusty, but. tried 
 and faithful, sword of his forefathers, and bringing a 
 sudden and unexpected stroke, disabled the sword-arm 
 of the officer, and wounded him mortally in the left side. 
 In a moment the engagement became general. Some of 
 the peasants with clubs, others with swords, which they 
 had concealed about their clothes, fell violently on the 
 soldiers. And as they were imflamed with rage, and 
 greatly superior in number, they soon put the soldiers to 
 flight. Two of them, however, leaving the rest to fight 
 as they could with the Covenanters, supported their 
 wounded officer, and, after the dispersion of their fellows, 
 were suffered to carry him away without molestation. 
 
 This was the man whose shriek had attracted Ralph's 
 attention, and who, as the exhausted soldiers laid him 
 down on the heath, asking if there were any hut near in 
 which they might be sheltered for the night, exclaimed, 
 in the faltering accents of one near dissolution, 
 
 " You shall carry me no farther. I will die here. 
 But, oh ! where am I going ? What shall become of 
 my soul ? " 
 
 "You shall go to heaven," said one of the soldiers, 
 wishing to comfort the poor wretch. 
 
 " My life has made God my enemy," replied the officer. 
 " I have no hope ! I have no hope ! " 
 
 " If you must die, die like a man," said the other 
 soldier; "you have done your duty to your king, and 
 you have nothing to fear." 
 
 "The blood of innocence is on my hands," replied the 
 dying sinner ; " I have no hope ! no hope ! " 
 
 Ralph, although struck with horror at the despairing 
 and ghastly visage of the man, stood near, and tried to 
 comfort him. 
 
 "You ought not," said the young Christian, "to 
 despair, because you have been a great sinner. Jesus 
 Christ came not to call the righteous, but sinners to
 
 Ralph Gemmell .KeX 161 
 
 repentance. His blood cleanseth from all sin the 
 greatest as well as the least. Persecutors have been 
 saved, thieves and robbers have been saved, murderers 
 have been saved. Repent, and seek the pardon of your 
 sins through Jesus Christ. God will hear you for His 
 sake, and save your soul from death." 
 
 These words fell on the ear of the poor dying sinner 
 without yielding him any comfort. They were, indeed, 
 like savoury meat placed in the sight of a hungry person 
 who is unable to stretch out his hand and partake of it. 
 They made him feel with double anguish the wrath of 
 God, which now lay heavy upon him ; and he exclaimed, 
 in the fearful tone of despair, " I cannot repent God 
 hath left me no hope ! no hope ! " 
 
 While he uttered these words of despair, his face grew 
 pale as the moonbeams that fell upon it the shadows of 
 death closed over his eyes the last agonies of nature 
 shook his body it lay still on the heath and his soul 
 was summoned away to the tribunal of its God. 
 
 Let us pause for a moment and reflect on this scene. 
 The man whose hopeless death we have just recorded 
 was born of Christian parents, baptized in the name of 
 the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ; and thus, at 
 his entrance into life, dedicated to the service of God. 
 But early in youth he gave signs of aversion to religion, 
 by swearing, breaking the Sabbath, neglecting to read 
 his Bible, and eagerly joining himself with the company 
 of the profane. Conscience at first told him he was 
 wrong, and for some time rendered him miserable by its 
 upbraidings. But the farther we advance over the line 
 that forms the limit of virtue, the voice of conscience 
 becomes weaker and weaker, till it is at last almost lost 
 amidst the noise and revelry of unhallowed pleasures. 
 
 So it was with the poor wretch whose lifeless body 
 now lay on the heath. After treading for a while in the 
 dark and ruinous paths of vice, his ear became deaf to 
 the calls of religion, his heart hard as the nether mill- 
 stone, and his conscience seared as with a hot iron, 
 ii
 
 1 62 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 And when the voice of death, that speaks in the ear of 
 conscience like the thunders of God, awoke him with the 
 awful tidings that he must instantly appear before his 
 God, he could not pray, he could not repent, because 
 God, in His righteous displeasure, had left him to the 
 hardness of his wicked heart. All his life he despised 
 the Bible, and, at the hour of need, his own wicked heart 
 rendered him incapable of drawing comfort from its 
 promises. The Holy Spirit, long resisted, at last 
 ceased to make intercession for him. The Saviour, long 
 despised and rejected, withdrew from between him and 
 offended justice. And God the Father, the entreaties of 
 whose love and whose mercy he had long disregarded, 
 took away from him the light of His countenance, and 
 left him to the consequences of that sin from which he 
 refused to be separated. 
 
 Thus it is the very nature of sin to harden the heart, 
 and bring upon its miserable victims that punishment 
 which is denounced against it. Every sin we commit 
 stamps another stain on the soul, and renders it less 
 capable than it was the moment before of relishing the 
 beauties of holiness. Every step we take in the path of 
 vice carries us not only farther away from virtue, but 
 weakens our desire of returning to it. Every draught 
 we take of the cup of iniquity, not only increases our un- 
 hallowed thirst, but quenches some spark of heavenly 
 fire in the soul. And when the soul is completely defiled, 
 and every desire of returning to holiness entirely rooted 
 out, and every spark of the Spirit's kindling utterly 
 quenched in the heart, what is there to stand any longer 
 between the sinner and the punishment of his sins ? 
 -What is there that will turn aside from his soul the sword 
 of vindictive justice? What is there that will snatch the 
 wretched victim out of the grasp of eternal death ? And 
 who* can tell what his sufferings shall be in that place 
 where the wonm dieth not, and where the fire is not 
 quenched ? 
 Think on the danger of sin. You do not know how
 
 Ralph Gemmell KHX 163 
 
 soon your heart may become hard, and your conscience 
 deaf, and God may leave you to the fearful consequences 
 of your iniquity. 
 
 Although the two succeeding years of Ralph's life 
 might afford many interesting and useful incidents, the 
 bounds which we have prescribed for this narrative oblige 
 us to pass over them with a very short and general 
 account. We shall only say, that his sufferings during 
 this time were great. He often laboured in the fields 
 with the peasants who sheltered him. Unaccustomed as 
 he had been to poverty, want, or toil, they were now 
 almost his constant companions. With clothes that 
 could ill protect him from the severity of the cold, he had 
 frequently, in the depth of winter and the darkness of 
 night, to seek a hiding-place in the dens and caves of the 
 mountains ; and sometimes he was compelled by hunger 
 to beg a morsel of bread. His life, like that. of all his 
 associates, was every day sought, and he often made the 
 narrowest escapes from those who sought it. Yet, 
 instead of repining at his lot, instead of imagining that 
 God had forsaken him, he had the Christian's peace in 
 his mind, the .Christian's hope ever brightening before 
 him, and the truth of the promises of God every day 
 ratified in his bosom. Through all his tribulations he 
 pressed forward with joy for the prize of the high calling of 
 God in Christ Jesus. And truly he felt that his Saviour's 
 words are true, that " Whosoever put their trust in Him, 
 He will never leave nor forsake." 
 
 He had often, as we have observed, escaped the search 
 and pursuit of his persecutors. The time was now 
 arrived, however, when they were to be permitted to take 
 him. 
 
 On a Sabbath afternoon, about midsummer, as Ralph 
 was hearing sermon in one of the- moorish glens in the 
 upper part of Renfrewshire, he and the little congregation 
 with whom he was worshipping were suddenly sur- 
 rounded by a troop of dragoons, and apprehended. 
 Some of the soldiers, as they had then that power given
 
 164 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 them by Government, were for putting" them instantly to 
 death, others were for sending- them to Edinburgh, there 
 to be sentenced and executed. This last proposal was 
 adopted ; and the prisoners were accordingly conducted 
 to Edinburgh. On their arrival there, they were loaded 
 with irons, and thrown into the gloomiest cells of the old 
 prison. After two days' confinement they were brought 
 to trial, and all, excepting one or two who took the test, 
 condemned to be executed next day, and their heads and 
 hands affixed to the city gates. As soon as this sentence 
 was read to them, they were remitted to prison, and shut 
 up in separate cells. 
 
 You can often talk about death, young reader, with 
 little alarm. You are not sure when it shall come, and 
 your youth, your health, and your attachment to the 
 world, when you begin to fear it, whisper in your ear 
 that it is yet far distant. But to be assured that you 
 were to die to-morrow would indeed bring the terrors of 
 death near to your mind. Could you look on them with- 
 out trembling? Are you sure that you would have a 
 friend to stand by you, stronger than death ? a friend 
 who could effectually support you in the conflict with 
 your last enemy ? To be assured that we should die to- 
 morrow would really be a serious thing, a trying situa- 
 tion ; and, in this situation, was Ralph placed. 
 
 Once before, you remember, he thought he was dying ; 
 now he was sentenced to be executed on the morrow. 
 Let us reflect on his external circumstances and inward 
 feelings in the former instance, and let us observe these 
 also in the present. When formerly he imagined he was 
 instantly to die, and appear at the tribunal of God, he 
 was in his father's house, surrounded with this world's 
 wealth and flattered with its honours ; adjudged to no 
 ignominious death, but in his own bed, called, as every 
 one must sooner or later be, to pay the last debt of nature 
 and assured of a tender remembrance in the bosom of his 
 friends, and of his name being ever mentioned with the 
 highest respect. Thus was he then situated, and yet
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX> 165 
 
 how did he feel ? He had not then put his whole trust 
 in God. He had been living in sin, and trying to banish 
 every good impression from his heart. He thought, as 
 he well might, that God was his enemy : and he saw no 
 man that was able to protect him from the terrors of 
 death, or from the wrath of the Judge before whom he 
 was to appear. How did he then feel ? The anguish of 
 that moment was so insufferable, that he would have 
 willingly exchanged it for a whole lifetime of the severest 
 trials. Now the young man was cast out from his 
 father's house, become the curse and the hissing of all 
 his relations,, forgotten by his acquaintances who once 
 honoured him, or if remembered, only remembered as a 
 silly headstrong fanatic, whose sufferings deserved noth- 
 ing but ridicule ; oppressed with irons like a murderer ; 
 locked up in the darkness of a dungeon, without a friend 
 to solace him ; sentenced by the law to die as a traitor, 
 and to have his head and hands nailed up before the 
 public gaze, as an attestation to the vileness of his 
 character. What were his thoughts now in this situa- 
 tion ? Still death was awful to him. To be cut off in the 
 midst of his days, in the vigour and healthfulness of youth 
 to break away from every earthly association ; to leave 
 the light of day for the darkness of the grave, and the 
 voice of men for the silence of death ; to have his body, 
 now so pleasant to him, made a meal for worms, and a 
 prey to foul corruption. These were unwelcome thoughts. 
 And he felt that death had still power to accomplish 
 these things against him. But he now beheld the 
 gloomy king shorn of his substantial terrors ; a guilty 
 conscience, the wrath of God, eternal punishment, these 
 are the real terrors of death, the weapons with which he 
 wounds the soul and destroys it. But Ralph knew that 
 his Saviour had taken these weapons from his enemy ; 
 and he could look him in the face, and say, " O death ! 
 where is thy sting? O grave ! where is thy victory ? 
 Thanks be unto God who giveth me the victory through 
 Jesus Christ my Lord. Though I walk through the
 
 1 66 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for 
 Thou art with me ; and Thy rod and Thy staff, they shall 
 comfort me." Thus did God give the young- Christian a 
 song in the night, in the darkest and stormiest night 
 which the wickedness of this world could gather about 
 him. So true it is that God is a present help in the time 
 of need ; that He will never leave nor forsake any who 
 put their trust in Him. 
 
 Young reader, think on death. It will come ; and you 
 know not how soon. Are you prepared to meet it ? 
 Are you sure you have a friend secured who will not 
 desert you at that hour ? Pause and consider. There is 
 no friend but one who can then effectually help you. 
 This is your God your Saviour. Be prepared, as Ralph 
 was, by putting all your trust in Him. And come your 
 last moment when it may, you are safe. Your Saviour 
 will deliver you also from the terrors of death. 
 
 When morning came, Ralph awoke from a refreshing 
 sleep in which he had spent part of the night, and had 
 just kneeled down in prayer to God, when he heard some 
 person turning the lock of his cell door ; and he now 
 expected to be instantly led forth to execution. The 
 door opened, and the gaoler ushered into the cell an 
 uncle of Ralph. 
 
 "Young 1 man," said the soldier, " I have come a long 
 way this morning to save your life. I have already got 
 your sentence turned into banishment ; and I have even 
 the promise of your liberty, if you will promise that your 
 future conduct shall be agreeable to the wishes of Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 "A thousand thanks to you, my dear uncle," said 
 Ralph, " for your kindness to me. But how did you know 
 that I was here ? " 
 
 " That will I soon explain, nephew. One of the 
 soldiers who was at your apprehension had frequently 
 seen you when you lived with your father. He recog- 
 nised you ; and, because he had served under me when I 
 was a captain in the army, had a kindness for the family,
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX> 167 
 
 and sent us word immediately that you were taken. 
 Your father, although he seemed somewhat concerned, 
 said he would by no means meddle in the affair ; and I 
 could not bear the thought that any one of my family 
 should be beheaded, or hanged like a dog. So off I 
 came, old as I am, pleaded the loyalty of our house, and 
 my own services, in your favour ; and you see how I 
 have succeeded. Now, I am sure you have had enough 
 of these madmen, the Covenanters ; you will now take the 
 test. What is it ? I could swear a dozen such oaths in 
 the hour, and be an honest man too. Come, I will intro- 
 duce you to the minister. You shall be set at liberty ; 
 and I will do all that I can to make matters up between 
 you and your father. Come, my boy, fling away that 
 foolishness, and learn to be a man." Thus did the old 
 soldier talk ; and certainly Ralph found it no easy task to 
 reject any of the kindness of a man who had taken so 
 much interest in him ? but he had not so learned Christ 
 as to be drawn from His service by the promises and 
 kindnesses of sinful men. After a moment's deliberation, 
 he made the following reply to his uncle : 
 
 "Dear uncle, be assured that I shall ever feel myself 
 your debtor for the interest you have taken in me. You 
 have already saved my life. This is enough of kindness ; 
 more than I can ever repay. Do not concern yourself 
 further about me. Banishment and slavery are by no 
 means pleasant ; but I dare not try to escape them by 
 violating my conscience, and breaking the command- 
 ments of my Saviour. I know you will think me foolish 
 thus to choose exile and captivity, when I might, by 
 your influence, be set at liberty, and perhaps restored to 
 my father. But you will not be offended with me for 
 persevering firmly in what I consider to be my duty to 
 God. I have never found Him a hard master. He has 
 supported, and will support me, in every time of need. 
 I have always found His yoke easy and His burden 
 light. On the contrary, when I have forsaken His love, 
 and given myself up to the guidance of this world's
 
 1 68 cXsX Tales cf the Covenanters 
 
 wisdom, and the sinful desires of my own heart, I could 
 see no one that could sufficiently befriend me in the hour 
 of affliction and death. Advise me not then, dear uncle, 
 to do anything" against my own conscience ; but accept 
 my gratitude and love for the great instance of your 
 kindness I have already received." 
 
 " Well, well," said his uncle, when he saw Ralph thus 
 resolved, "you may do as you please for me. You will 
 not find it very agreeable to labour under the heat of a 
 burning sun. But I wish you a good voyage ; and I 
 hope you will have learned more sense when you return." 
 With this short reply, the old soldier quitted the cell, 
 and Ralph was left to his own meditations. 
 
 Gratitude to God was now his master feeling ; for He 
 had stirred up this old man, who in fact cared nothing 
 for religion, to be the instrument of saving his life. He 
 had thus given him a new token of His lovingkindness, 
 and a new pledge that He would never leave nor forsake 
 him. He had given him a new prospect of serving Him 
 in the land of the living ; of further storing his mind 
 with new proofs of his Saviour's love, and faithfulness, 
 and all-sufficiency ; and thus of being better prepared 
 when the hour of death should certainly come. 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 " Many are the afflictions of the righteous : but the Lord de- 
 livered him out of them all." PSALMS. 
 
 HAVING remained two or three weeks in prison, Ralph, 
 with a number more, was put on board a vessel at Leith, 
 to be transported to the English plantations in Jamaica. 
 It is almost needless to relate the severe treatment they 
 met with during the passage. The captain, to whose 
 charge the captives were committed, was a man who 
 had never thought of religion, and who had little sym- 
 pathy with human suffering. The prisoners, crowded
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX> 169 
 
 together, were shut up in the hold of the vessel, under 
 an iron grating. Their food was bread and water, and 
 even that was but sparingly given them. Thus situated, 
 with nothing to cheer them but the hopes of a better life, 
 where their sins, being finally forsaken, would no more 
 subject them to calamity, they sailed from their native 
 land in the month of July. The weather was favourable, 
 and their passage prosperous enough, till they came in 
 sight of the island of Jamaica. It was near night, in the 
 month of September, a very stormy time in these 
 latitudes, when the ship drew towards the land. The 
 wind, at this time, however, was fair, the sky serene, 
 and every one expected to be ashore in the course of a 
 few hours, when suddenly a dead calm ensued the 
 heavens grew dark the sea was troubled and in less 
 than half an hour the fury of the tempest came. The 
 winds blew so violently, and the tumult of the waves 
 was so great, that to manage the ship became impos- 
 sible. The rocky shore was before them, and the 
 mighty strength of a stormy sea was driving them 
 quickly towards it. In the midst of this danger, the 
 prisoners entreated the captain to relieve them from their 
 confinement, that they might have a chance of saving 
 themselves if the vessel foundered. This request, how- 
 ever, he refused ; declaring that he would rather see 
 them all drowned than give them an opportunity of 
 escaping from his hands. In the meantime the vessel 
 ran aground, a very little off the land, and was so 
 damaged by the shock that she made water rapidly, 
 while the waves were every moment breaking over 
 deck. Still, however, the captain refused to release the 
 prisoners. But he did not forget to provide for his own 
 safety. Expecting that the vessel would be instantly 
 wrecked, he ordered the long boat to be manned, into 
 which he threw himself, with all the hands on board, 
 except the mate and two or three sailors, who refused to 
 leave the vessel. Thus he thought to save himself, care- 
 less of the fate of Ralph and his companions. But God,
 
 170 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 who holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand, and 
 bringeth to nought the counsel of men, had not so 
 determined it. The boat had not proceeded many yards 
 from the ship when it was upset by the force of two 
 mighty billows, and the cruel captain, and all who were 
 with him, instantly perished in the waters. 
 
 When the mate observed this he immediately released 
 the prisoners ; and they, with the few seamen who 
 remained on board, laboured incessantly at the pumps to 
 keep. the vessel from filling with water. But, notwith- 
 standing all they could do, the water still increased on 
 them ; the storm was as violent as ever ; and they 
 thought every moment would be their last. 
 
 And how did Ralph behave himself then ? Where did 
 he turn for help? He trusted, as he had done before, 
 in that Saviour who walks upon the sea, and who can 
 say to the raging of its billows, "Peace, be still!" 
 And he cried to Him that He would yet spare him. All 
 his companions also lifted up their voices to God ; and it 
 pleased Him to hear and answer their cry. He made the 
 storm a calm by His command ; and every man that 
 remained on board safely reached the shore in the small 
 boats. The mate now took charge of the prisoners, and 
 conducted them to the governor of the island, who 
 afterwards disposed of them to the planters. 
 
 For a free-born and enlightened man to submit to 
 slavery, as Ralph now did, is the hardest task which 
 can be proposed to a human being. In some respects 
 it is worse than death itself. To die is the lot of 
 all. The rich man, as well as the poor, must go the 
 way appointed for all living ; and, therefore, no one can 
 think himself peculiarly degraded by being subject to 
 what every other person is. But to be in vassalage to a 
 fellow-creature ; to be bought and sold like the beasts of 
 the field or the produce of the ground ; to be subjected 
 to toil without even the hope of a recompense ; and to 
 be exposed to the lash of a capricious and tyrannical 
 master, without daring to defend ourselves, and without
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX 171 
 
 any opportunity of having our injuries redressed is a 
 descent so far below the common rights of our nature, 
 so far below the common condition of mankind, and 
 therefore so peculiarly degrading-, that to stoop to it for 
 the sake of conscience, requires the greatest devotedness 
 to religion, the strongest trust in the promises and grace 
 of God, and the liveliest hope of a sure reward in the 
 mansions of eternal freedom. In this state of servitude, 
 however, severe as it was, Ralph was now doomed to 
 live for a time. The master under whom he and two or 
 three of his fellow-sufferers were placed, treated them 
 with nearly the same severity as the negroes with whom 
 they laboured. To Ralph, this treatment was peculiarly 
 galling. His infancy had been tenderly nursed : he had 
 been brought up, to the age of fifteen, as the expectant 
 of a considerable estate. But now he was compelled to 
 labour daily, from morning till night, under the scourge 
 of a cruel taskmaster, breathing a sultry air, and exposed 
 to the heat of a burning sun. 
 
 This, young reader, was a hard and painful condition, 
 peculiarly degrading and revolting to human nature. 
 But if you are doing what Ralph, to save himself from 
 this state, might have done ; if you are disobeying the 
 commandments of God, and giving yourself up to the 
 guidance of sinful passions, you are the willing victim of 
 a slavery infinitely more debasing and severe. Ralph 
 was compelled to his bondage by the wickedness of his 
 fellow-men : you willingly subject yourself to the 
 dominion of your passions, and the vassalage of the 
 devil. He had the approbation of his own conscience, 
 and the smile of his Saviour's countenance : you are 
 providing for yourself remorse and the anger of your 
 Maker. He submitted to slavery for love to God and 
 holiness : you are selling yourself for what is unclean 
 and abominable. He was degraded in the sight of sinful 
 men only : you are rendering yourself vile in the pure 
 eyes of God and every holy being. He was sustained by 
 the hope "of eternal life : your wages are eternal death.
 
 iy 2 =X5~X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 His servitude was that of the body only : yours is the 
 bondage of the soul. His could endure for only a few 
 years : yours, if you break not from it, will continue with 
 increasing severity through eternity. In this dreadful 
 slavery, you and all men are by nature. You cannot 
 ransom yourself from it. No man can redeem his 
 brother from this captivity. Christ only can make you 
 free. Examine yourselves, then, and see that you are 
 His freemen that you have obtained the glorious liberty 
 of the sons of God. If you have, you will not be sur- 
 prised that Ralph submitted to slavery for love to his 
 Saviour. 
 
 In this land of bondage the young man had no minister 
 to counsel and comfort him. On the Sabbath, however, 
 he was not required to labour, and he hailed its dawn 
 with a rapture of holy delight. The former part of the 
 day he spent alone reading his Bible, the only book he 
 had taken with him from Scotland, enriching and 
 solacing his mind with its precious truths, examining 
 himself, lamenting his past transgressions, weeping over 
 the sins that still remained in his heart, and lifting up 
 his soul in prayer to God, for a heart to serve Him better 
 and love Him more. In the afternoon he met regularly 
 with his companions who were under the same master. 
 Their place of meeting (for they generally met in the 
 same place) was under a large plantain tree, whose 
 foliage screened them from the scorching rays of the 
 sun. Here they prayed together read a portion of the 
 Scriptures sang a song of praise to their God and 
 Saviour ; here they conversed of the great love of God 
 displayed through Christ Jesus ; cheered and comforted 
 one another with the promises of the gospel and the 
 hopes of eternal life ; and here, too, did they find the 
 truth of the saying, that wherever two or three are met 
 together in God's name, there will He be in the midst of 
 them to bless them ; and here did they often experience, 
 in near communion with God, in the joy of the Holy 
 Ghost, in ardent anticipation of heaven, the strongest
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeK 173 
 
 proofs of that truth which we are so desirous to set 
 before you, that whosoever putteth his trust in God, He 
 will never-leave nor forsake. 
 
 That this truth may be the better rooted in the mind 
 of the young reader, I shall relate here a conversation 
 which happened one Sabbath evening between Ralph and 
 one of his companions. 
 
 "You seem," said Ralph to him, "very melancholy 
 to-day. May I be permitted to ask the cause of your 
 sadness ? " 
 
 "I have been troubled for some time," replied his 
 friend, "with the thought that we are deceiving our- 
 selves. In our own country we were persecuted and 
 condemned by the law to banishment ; here we are in 
 slavery, degraded from the rank of human beings, and 
 without the hope of liberty : surely the Lord hath for- 
 saken us, else He would never permit so many evils to 
 come upon us." 
 
 "Beware of such thoughts," said Ralph; "it is the 
 adversary of God and man who suggests them. He tries 
 to make you weary in the service of God, by persuading 
 you that it is unprofitable. And if Satan or your own 
 heart once persuade you of this, your obedience to God 
 will be no longer sincere, and therefore you will have no 
 right to expect the joy of His presence. But we have no 
 reason to suppose that God hath forgotten to be gracious 
 to us, because we are left to prove our sincerity by 
 severe and long-continued suffering, even slavery itself. 
 Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and He scourgeth 
 every son whom He receiveth. It is through much 
 tribulation that we are to enter the kingdom of heaven. 
 But the wicked, you know, the Bible says, prosper every 
 day ; they grow up and flourish like the green bay-tree, 
 and are not troubled as other men. Prosperity in this 
 world, therefore, is no proof of God's favour, nor is 
 adversity any token of His displeasure. It is the feeling 
 in our own bosom that makes us happy or miserable. 
 The poor slave may have a peace of mind, and a hope
 
 174 eXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 in the life to come, which will be an ever-present reward 
 for all his sufferings ; while his rich master may have 
 within him the gnawings of remorse, and those fearful 
 forebodings which shall hinder him from enjoying his 
 wealth, and embitter his very existence. You know, my 
 friend, that I tried the pleasures of sin myself. I had 
 then all that I wanted. I was surrounded by friends who 
 respected and loved me, and I was flattered by the hopes 
 of future honours ; but whenever I thought of death and 
 a world to come, I was miserable. Then I was prosper- 
 ous, and deemed happy by men ; but then I had for- 
 saken God, and was indeed forsaken by Him. Now I am 
 as poor and degraded in the eyes of the world as a human 
 being can be ; but I believe in my Saviour I trust in 
 God and I am happy. It is only when I indulge sin in 
 my heart that God leaves me a moment to mourn. 
 Doubt not, my friend, the truth of God's promises. Our 
 sufferings are indeed long and severe ; but if we are 
 rightly exercised under them they will all work together 
 for our good ; and if we are faithful to the death, we 
 shall receive a crown of life." 
 
 ''You speak truth, my friend," replied his companion. 
 " I am convinced. I am comforted. Let us fall down 
 on our knees, and pray to God that we may have grace 
 given us to resist every suggestion of evil, to believe 
 more and more in the promises of the gospel, knowing 
 that He is faithful who hath promised, and will bring to 
 pass the desire of our hearts." 
 
 Ralph had now endured this bondage nearly two 
 years. His body, although naturally robust, subjected to 
 severe toil in a climate noxious to Europeans, was be- 
 ginning to decay ; and he hoped that death would soon 
 deliver him from his thraldom. But God had yet in 
 reserve for him many days of peace and happiness in 
 the land of the living.
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX> 175 
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 " Everyone that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or 
 father, or mother, or wife or children, or lands for My name's sake 
 shall receive an hundredfold, and shall "inherit everlasting life." 
 ST. MATTHEW. 
 
 ONE day as Ralph and his companions were labouring in 
 the fields, their master approached them, and saluting 
 them pleasantly said: "The year of jubilee is come. 
 You are no longer my servants. A revolution has hap- 
 pened in Britain. A new king is placed on the throne ; 
 and he has sent orders hither, that all who were banished 
 and enslaved for their religious opinions under the pre- 
 ceding Government, are to be immediately set at liberty. 
 Vessels await you on the coast to convey you to your 
 native land." 
 
 "Our native land!" they all cried, with one voice. 
 "Praised be God! hath He at last delivered it from 
 oppression ! O Scotland ! Scotland ! shall we yet see 
 thee ! " And they embraced one another, and shouted 
 for gladness of heart. 
 
 In a few days after the announcement of these glad 
 tidings, Ralph, with many more exiles, embarked in a 
 vessel for Greenock. The wind was favourable ; the 
 passage quick and prosperous. And how did his heart 
 leap for joy when the white rocks and blue mountains of 
 his native country rose on his view ! With the flow of 
 spirits which his releasement produced, and the change 
 of air, his health was completely restored ; and he forgot 
 for a while that he was disinherited and forbidden his 
 father's house. And now the well-known cliffs of Arran, 
 the rock of Ailsa, and the shores of Carrick, welcomed 
 his eye ; and now he could see Irvine, and the old castle of 
 Craigfoot ; and the joy of his childhood beat at his heart. 
 
 As Ralph and two or three other passengers wished to 
 land at Irvine, the vessel drew near the harbour, and 
 they were put ashore in the small boat. But who would
 
 176 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 attempt to tell the joy of Ralph's soul when he set foot 
 on the land of his birth? It was a feeling of delight 
 sufficient to repay years of toil. He fell down on his 
 knees and thanked God, who had preserved him through 
 so many trials, and restored him in health and strength 
 to his beloved country. "So may God bring me," said 
 the young man, " when the trials of life have passed 
 away, to the land beyond death and the grave." 
 
 It was in the beginning of summer, on a Sabbath, 
 about midday, that he landed. The inhabitants of 
 Irvine were just gathering to the afternoon's sermon. It 
 was a pleasant sight to Ralph. He could observe many, 
 of whose sufferings he had shared in the time of persecu- 
 tion, this day peacefully walking to the house of God, 
 having none to make them afraid. He entered the church, 
 and was both surprised and delighted when he saw the 
 pulpit filled with the venerable old pastor who, after his 
 mother's death, had first instructed him in the ways of 
 righteousness. This worthy minister, having been ejected 
 from his pastoral charge in Irvine at the commencement 
 of the persecution, had, for twenty-eight years, wandered 
 up and down his native country, doing what he could to 
 instruct and comfort the suffering Church ; and now, after 
 having undergone innumerable hardships, after having 
 often made the narrowest escapes from his enemies, and 
 after having seen them entirely overthrown, he was 
 restored to the arms of his flock, to his home and his 
 family. Age had rendered him so infirm, that he was 
 compelled to address his people sitting in the pulpit. 
 When he began his sermon, Ralph listened to every 
 word, as it had come from the tongue of an angel And 
 it is no wonder that he listened with delight ; for the 
 whole discourse was an offering of thanks to God for the 
 deliverance of His Church. No wonder that the tear of 
 holy joy flowed down his cheek, while the good old man 
 prayed that all those who had been banished from their 
 native land for conscience' sake might be safely con- 
 ducted home, to glorify and praise their God.
 
 Ralph Gemmell KeX* 177 
 
 After sermon, Ralph, who had not been observed in 
 church by the minister, called at his house. Although 
 he was much altered, the old man instantly recognised 
 him/ and, to use the language of Scripture, " fell on his 
 neck and kissed him." 
 
 As soon as this happy salutation was past, Ralph 
 asked the minister if he had heard anything of his father 
 lately. 
 
 " You shall lodge with me to-night," said the minister, 
 " and I will introduce you to your father to-morrow." 
 
 "And is he indeed reconciled to me?" said Ralph. 
 " And is he well ? Is Edward well ? " 
 
 " Edward is well," said the minister, " but your father 
 has been complaining for some time. Yesterday he sent 
 for me. I had not been in his house for nearly thirty 
 years, and I was surprised at the invitation." 
 
 "You might be well surprised," said Ralph ; "surely 
 hejs greatly changed ! " 
 
 "Yes, he is greatly changed," said the old man; 
 "for he thinks he has wronged both you and me, and 
 his own soul too. He says he is dying, but knows not 
 what is to become of his immortal spirit." 
 
 "I will go to him this moment," said Ralph, "it 
 may be that God will comfort him through me." 
 
 "Nay, but I will go too," said the affectionate old 
 minister ; "I like to see meetings of forgiveness and 
 love. Your father wished me also to visit him to-day ; 
 but, being fatigued with the duties of the Sabbath, I 
 meant to defer my visit till to-morrow. Since you will 
 go, however, we will go together. By the time we 
 have taken some refreshment the cart will be ready, 
 for I cannot walk now." 
 
 On their arrival at Craigfoot, Ralph, although he 
 had not been there for nearly six years, was recognised 
 by some of the old servants. 
 
 "Here is Ralph!" they shouted; "here is Ralph! 
 his father will now die in peace." And they ran and 
 told his father that Ralph was come home.
 
 178 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 "Bring him hither!" exclaimed his father, "bring 
 him hither quickly ! " 
 
 The old minister now approached Mr. Gemmell's 
 bedside, leading Ralph in his hand. " I have wronged 
 thee, my son ! I have deeply wronged thee ! " exclaimed 
 Mr. Gemmell, as he reached his hand over his bed, and 
 drew his son forward to his embrace. "Canst thou 
 forgive me ? Will God forgive me for my iniquities to 
 thee ? " 
 
 " I have forgiven you already," said Ralph, while 
 he wept over his father's breast, "and God is willing 
 to forgive you too." 
 
 Here the good old servant of God gave one hand to 
 the son and another to the father, and offered up his 
 heart's desire unto God. After this he exhorted Mr. 
 Gemmell to put his trust in God ; entreated him to 
 believe in the promises of the gospel, which, he assured 
 him, were given to the chief of sinners ; and then took 
 his leave and returned home. 
 
 "You look very ill," said Ralph to his father, when 
 they were left alone. "I am fast dying," replied his 
 father ; " I caught a cold last winter, it has never left 
 me ; and I am now so weak, I cannot stir from my bed. 
 But where have you been wandering all this while, my 
 son ? I need not ask ; I know what you have suffered. 
 I have been a cruel father to you. I wished you to 
 live like myself, careless of religion ; and because you 
 could not do this, I drove you from my house. Your 
 grievances, however, I can in some measure redress. 
 I have destroyed the former will which I rashly made, 
 and restored you to your proper rights ; and thrice 
 happy am I that you have returned to heir that estate 
 you so well deserve." 
 
 Here Mr. Gemmell was interrupted by Edward coming 
 into the room. "Here is your brother," said his father 
 to him. "You know how much I have wronged him 
 how much I have taught you to wrong him." 
 
 " But Ralph will forgive me," said Edward ; for he
 
 APPROACHED MR. GEMMELL'S BEDSIDE LEADING RALPH IN 
 
 HIS HAND. See page 178. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson & Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 179
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 181 
 
 knew the tenderness of his brother's heart, " Ralph will 
 forgive me. You have often seen me weep, father, 
 when we talked about him since you turned ill." 
 
 "My dear brother," said Ralph, "you are indeed 
 forgiven." And the two brothers warmly embraced one 
 another. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Gemmell, raising himself up on 
 his bed, when he saw his sons weep for gladness in 
 each other's arms, "now I am happy as far as this 
 world is concerned. You are both well provided for ; 
 and you will be kind to one another. But, oh, Ralph ! 
 I am not yet prepared for death. I have sinned griev- 
 ously I have been a curse to my own family I have 
 persecuted the people of God I am the vilest of sinners 
 and I fear that God in His anger may cast me off for 
 ever. Yesterday I sent for the good old minister (so 
 kindly did Mr. Gemmell now speak of those men whom 
 he had once scorned as the offscourings of the earth), 
 and he gave me some comfort. He displayed the way 
 of salvation through Jesus Christ, and encouraged me 
 to believe in Him. I do wish to believe in Him. I see 
 no other way of escaping the wrath to come. But I 
 fear my heinous sins have provoked Him to leave me 
 for ever." 
 
 Can you imagine, young reader, with what feelings 
 Ralph heard his father talk thus, or with what eager- 
 ness and anxious love he began to comfort him ? 
 
 " Dear father," he said, "Christ loves us the better, 
 the more we hate ourselves ; and we do Him wrong, 
 when we think that the greatness of our sins will 
 hinder us from being accepted of God through Him. 
 It is not because we are sinners that God will not 
 accept of us ; for if this were true, no man could be 
 saved. It is because we will not believe in Christ, nor 
 repent, nor forsake our sins that He will not save us. 
 This is the saying of God to every man, even to the 
 chief of sinners : ' Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and thou shalt be saved.' He died for our sins, and
 
 1 82 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 rose again for our justification. His grace is sufficient 
 for us : He perfects His strength in our weakness. Is 
 not the blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, sufficient 
 to wash out the vilest sin from our souls ? The blood 
 of Christ cleanseth from all sin. God is well pleased 
 with us, that is, with all who believe in Christ, for His 
 righteousness' sake. If, then, we are willing to believe 
 in Christ, if we are willing to forsake our sins, and to 
 be made holy, we have the word of God witnessing to 
 us that Christ is willing to plead His suffering and death 
 in our behalf, to sanctify us by His Spirit, and to present 
 us at lasj: to His Father, without spot, or wrinkle, or 
 any such thing." 
 
 "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" exclaimed his 
 father, when Ralph had done speaking. And again he 
 cried, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" Ralph 
 saw by his look and difficulty of breathing that death 
 was at hand. He fell down on his knees, with Edward 
 by the bedside, and prayed for his father. It was a 
 fervent, effectual prayer, and it was heard. 
 
 Ralph now asked his father if he felt his trust any 
 stronger in his Saviour. "He hath come to me at the 
 eleventh hour," said his father. " I hope all is well. 
 Oh, the love of God in Christ Jesus ! " He could utter 
 no more, but casting a look of ineffable affection on his 
 son, he fell back on his bed and expired. 
 
 To have been the means of saving a soul from death, 
 will be to every one who has been so honoured a 
 thought of sweetest delight throughout eternity ; but 
 what infinite joy of heart must it be to have the conscious 
 feeling that we have been instrumental in accomplishing 
 the salvation of a father or a mother, a brother or a 
 sister ! This feeling was now Ralph's reward. It was 
 his zealous perseverance in obedience to God, against 
 so much opposition, that first led his father to think 
 seriously of his own conduct. He was, as we have 
 seen, the means of enlightening and comforting him in 
 his last moments ; and he received from him a look of
 
 Ralph Gemmell KcX 183 
 
 affection and gratitude which recompensed him more 
 than a hundredfold for all his past afflictions. By his 
 example and instruction, Edward, too, forsook the error 
 of his ways ; and he had the satisfaction of seeing him, 
 after having devoted himself several years to study, 
 become a faithful and zealous minister of the gospel of 
 Christ. 
 
 At his father's death, Ralph succeeded to the paternal 
 inheritance ; and we deem it unnecessary to say more 
 of his future life, than that in prosperity, as he had done 
 in adversity, he put his whole trust in his Saviour, 
 walked in the way of His commandments, and to the 
 end of his days experienced it to be a true saying that 
 God will never leave nor forsake those who put their 
 trust in Him. 
 
 Young reader, before I take my leave of you, let us 
 reflect a little on the history of Ralph. You have seen 
 him in childhood reading his Bible, and listening to the 
 instructions of his mother. You have seen him, after 
 her death, trusting too much to himself breaking his 
 pious resolutions renouncing his religion and walking 
 in that way in which sinners go. Then, you remember, 
 he had all that his heart could desire of this world's 
 bounties. He was beloved and caressed by his friends, 
 honoured by his acquaintances, and filled with the hope 
 of a life of ease and prosperity. And what was then 
 the sum of his happiness ? His conscience condemned 
 him ; remorse embittered all his pleasure ; and when he 
 thought he was dying, he shook with the terrors of 
 despair ; for he had secured no Almighty Friend to 
 stand by him at that last hour when the help of man 
 is vain. So shall you be overcome by the threatenings 
 and allurements of the world, if you seek not continually 
 the guidance of the Holy Spirit if you rely not wholly 
 on the grace of your Saviour. And if you continue to 
 live in sin, so shall the bitterness of remorse come upon 
 you, and so shall you find yourself friendless and in
 
 184 tXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 despair at the approach of death. Again, you have 
 seen him awakened to his duty by the grace of God, 
 while at the same time he was forbidden his father's 
 house despised by his friends wandering in poverty 
 labouring in the field or begging his bread now with 
 the immediate prospect of an ignominious and untimely 
 death before him and now in banishment and slavery ; 
 and what was then the sum of his happiness ? In the 
 severest moment of his sufferings, he had that peace of 
 mind which passeth all understanding he had the hope 
 of eternal life he had the smile of God's countenance, 
 and the assurance that He would never forsake him. 
 This was his happiness. It will be yours too, young 
 reader, if you so serve God, so resist the world, and 
 so take up your cross and follow Christ. We cannot 
 promise you the same wealth in the world as that which 
 fell to the share of Ralph ; but if you persevere, like 
 him, in well-doing, you may be the means of saving 
 some near relation or dear friend ; and we can promise 
 you, on the authority of God, that in poverty He will 
 enrich you in suffering He will solace you in tempta- 
 tion He will strengthen you in sickness He will be 
 your health in death your rod and your staff and after 
 death your everlasting reward. Persevere, then, my 
 young friend, in well-doing ; put thy trust in God, and 
 thou shalt find Him, in life and death, in time and 
 eternity, thy ever-present and all-sufficient friend.
 
 The Persecuted Family
 
 The Persecuted Family 
 
 Introductory Note 
 
 THE lives and memories of our Christian ancestors, who 
 suffered so much for the blessings of that civil and 
 religious liberty which the inhabitants of Britain now 
 enjoy, ought, one would think, to be peculiarly interest- 
 ing and sacred to us, their posterity. Yet it so happens 
 that while the warrior, who has drained his own country 
 of its wealth, and emptied it of its bravest people, to 
 carry devastation and ruin over other nations, attracts 
 the historic pen minutely to record his deeds, and the 
 genius of poetry, in lofty verse, to sing his praise, those 
 glorious sufferers who exposed themselves to the fury of 
 persecution, and, like the true soldiers of Jesus Christ, 
 patient, persevering, and zealous, fought in behalf of all 
 that is dear to man, are wholly forgotten by many their 
 characters ridiculed, and their actions misrepresented by 
 others, and the courage with which they suffered for our 
 good too little admired by all. The patriot, who takes 
 the sword in his hand and, at the head of his country- 
 men, makes extraordinary efforts to repel the invasion of 
 an enemy, or to shake the guilty despot from the strong- 
 holds of his tyranny, becomes, as he deserves, the 
 subject of warmest eulogy ; and there is not a passage 
 in his history which the young and old of his country 
 cannot relate. But if the patriot, who has saved his 
 country from an enemy or rid it of oppression, is 
 worthy of his laurels, is he less worthy who abandons 
 the comforts of plenty, submits to every privation, and 
 offers himself to every trial, that he may do his duty to 
 
 187
 
 1 88 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 God while he lives and hand down religion in its purity 
 to after generations ? With more pomp, indeed, are the 
 steps of the patriot soldier attended ; but the sufferings 
 of the persecuted Christian bring more glory to God and 
 more good to man. The one fights, that he may secure 
 our possessions from plunder and our bodies from 
 slavery : the other suffers, that he may preserve for us an 
 inheritance which fadeth not away a peace which 
 passeth understanding a liberty which is spiritual and 
 a life which is eternal. The one fights for the reputation 
 of his country, and our rights as men : the other suffers 
 for the glory of God, and our privileges as immortal 
 beings. Every sigh, we know, of our persecuted 
 ancestors is recorded in heaven ; every tear which they 
 shed is preserved in the bottle of God. Why, then, 
 should their memories not be dear to us, for whom they 
 bled and for whom they died ? 
 
 But it is not only that we may pay them our debt of 
 gratitude that we ought to acquaint ourselves with their 
 lives ; it is that we may gather humility from their 
 lowliness, faith from their trust in God, courage from 
 their heaven-sustained fortitude, warmth from the flame 
 of their devotion, and hope from their glorious success. 
 In this age of peace to the Church, the love of many hath 
 waxed cold. Because God requires less hard service of 
 us than He did of our forefathers, we seem to grudge the 
 performance of it. To rekindle the dying embers of zeal 
 and warm the heart of coldness, we know nothing better 
 than to peruse the lives of those who suffered so much, 
 and with such willingness of heart, for those religious 
 privileges which we now enjoy in peace and security. 
 Youth, especially, have need to make themselves well 
 acquainted with their lives ; for they can scarcely fail to 
 meet with books in which heedless genius has held them 
 forth to laughter ; and if they are not taught to revere 
 them, they will soon be taught to hold them in ridicule. 
 Many of their lives, however, are either written in so 
 antiquated and ungainly a phraseology as to be noways
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 189 
 
 inviting" to the youthful mind, or are blended with cir- 
 cumstances so extraordinary as to discredit and destroy 
 the effect of what is true. It is a belief of this which has 
 induced me to lay before the public the following 
 narrative, the different parts of which, although I do not 
 pretend to say they happened in the very same relation 
 which I have given them, are all severally true, and such 
 as require no credence in those miracles which have so 
 hurt and discredited the character and actions of our 
 persecuted ancestors. 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 "There stands the messenger of truth ; there stands 
 The legate of the skies ! His theme divine, 
 His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
 In doctrine uncorrupt : in language plain, 
 And plain in manner : decent, solemn, chaste, 
 And natural in gesture ; much impressed 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it too. Affectionate in look, 
 And tender in address, as well becomes 
 A messenger of grace to guilty men." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 THE REVEREND Mr. JAMES BRUCE, the head of that family 
 whose lives we are briefly to record, was the youngest 
 son of a very respectable gentleman in the upper district 
 of Lanarkshire. In his boyhood he gave such indications 
 of superior talent and love of piety and learning as in- 
 duced his father to educate him for the ministry. Dur- 
 ing the course of his studies in the University of Glasgow, 
 James applied himself to the various branches of educa- 
 tion which were then taught, with an assiduity and 
 success which proved that his father was noways wrong 
 in the profession he had chosen for his son. In divine 
 literature, to which the pious bent of his mind, as well as 
 his future views, directed him chiefly, his progress was
 
 190 <XrX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 extremely rapid, and his acquirements solid and extensive. 
 Of controversial theology he was by no means ignorant ; 
 although his mild and peaceful mind delighted itself 
 especially in contemplating the plain truths of the Bible, 
 and how they might be impressed with the happiest 
 effects on the souls of men. The New Testament he read 
 continually ; and his heart was warmed with its love, 
 and his soul fashioned to its precepts. As his judgment 
 was sound, so his feelings were strong. The history 
 of our Saviour's life, and sufferings, and death, made 
 a most extraordinary impression on his mind ; and 
 while he read, and loved, and adored, his soul took 
 on the likeness of the great Testator, in the holy sim- 
 plicity of his character, in resignation to the will of God, 
 in devotion to the duties of religion, and in love to 
 mankind. To those acquirements, without which a mini- 
 ster is ill fitted for his office, he added a pretty exten- 
 sive knowledge of philosophy and books of taste ; and 
 withal he was not an unsuccessful student of the human 
 heart. 
 
 The romantic scenery amidst which his childhood had 
 been nursed had strongly imaged on his mind the pure 
 objects of nature ; and following his own propensity, as 
 well as imitating the writers of the Bible, he made ample 
 use of them, in summoning them forth to bear witness to 
 God's power, and wisdom, and goodness, and in illustrat- 
 ing by them the doctrines of the gospel. 
 
 With a mind thus prepared, in his twenty-sixth year, 
 
 Mr. Bruce received a call from the inhabitants of S 
 
 (a small village on the water of Ayr) and its neighbour- 
 hood to be their minister. The call, as every minister 
 of sincere heart would wish, was cordial and unanimous. 
 The situation of the village, although this was only a 
 secondary consideration with Mr. Bruce, was such as 
 peculiarly concorded with his feelings and desires. 
 Placed in a sequestered hollow, through which the Ayr 
 led its stream, winding pleasantly, covered with hills 
 which rose abruptly on every side, giving root to the
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 191 
 
 beech, the oak, and the birch, which interwove their 
 varied robes in Nature's taste, the little village seemed 
 to be the very home of pensive goodness and holy 
 meditation. These things urged him to accept the call. 
 Above all, that he might be like his Saviour, continually 
 engaged in his Heavenly Father's work, instructing the 
 ignorant and training immortal spirits for heaven, he 
 gladly complied with the invitation, and was accordingly 
 settled among them. 
 
 Soon after this settlement he married Miss Eliza 
 Inglis, the daughter of a gentleman who lived in the 
 neighbourhood of Mr. Bruce's father. This marriage 
 was the result of a long-nourished affection, founded on 
 like tastes and like desires. As they had spent their 
 childhood and youth near one another, they became 
 early acquainted, and early attached to each other. 
 Miss Inglis, as she -grew up, added to a handsome 
 person and an engaging countenance, the prudence and 
 industry of domestic management, as well as some of 
 those more liberal acquirements fitted to render her a 
 proper companion for a person of learning and taste. 
 But what had attached Mr. Bruce to her, and what was 
 still the charm that bound his heart closer and closer to 
 hers, was the natural tenderness of her soul, and the 
 meek loveliness of her piety. It was this holy kind- 
 heartedness, this simplicity of nature, added to the 
 humility of the Christian, that threw enchantment into 
 her look, and made her the more beloved the more she 
 was known. 
 
 Such was the young lady whom, in her twenty-fourth 
 year, Mr. Bruce made the partner of his life. Her good 
 report had reached the village before her, and she was 
 received with joy. The meekness and innocence of her 
 countenance was a passport to the hearts of all with 
 whom she conversed ; and the young as well as the old, 
 the rich as well as the poor, applauded Mr. Bruce's 
 prudent choice ; and, no doubt, conscious as he was of 
 this world's vanity, he pictured to himself a long per-
 
 192 <X5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 spective of the purest and sweetest of earthly felicity. 
 And, indeed, if youth and health, the comforts of plenty, 
 wedded affection, mutually and fondly cherished, founded 
 on the best of motives, and strengthened and tempered 
 by the influences of religion together with the esteem 
 and love of neighbours, and peace with ourself and our 
 Maker, could warrant any man to hope for much and 
 long-lasting happiness under the sun, surely Mr. Bruce 
 might well entertain this hope. 
 
 In the pulpit, Mr. Bruce was truly the messenger of 
 God. He knew the dignity of his office and its awful 
 responsibility ; and, regardless of the face of man, with 
 an earnestness which was of the heart, and with a voice, 
 and look, and gesture, which suited themselves at all 
 times to his subject, he made known the momentous 
 commandments with which his Master had entrusted 
 him, and enforced the practise of them. Although he 
 was by no means remiss in setting before his flock the 
 terrors of God's wrath, which shall awfully fall on the 
 finally impenitent, his natural mildness of disposition 
 rather led him to enlarge on the eternal love of God, 
 manifested in the scheme of redemption ; and to allure 
 his people from the evil of their ways, by painting the 
 beauties of holiness, bringing home to their minds the 
 joy of peace with God, and pointing their eye away to 
 the rewards of immortality. He rather drew his flock 
 after him, as with the suasive of irresistible melody, than 
 drove them into the straight path by the frownings 
 of offended justice and the threatenings of coming 
 vengeance. 
 
 The abstract doctrines of Christianity he did not 
 leave untaught ; but he urged incessantly the practise 
 of heartfelt godliness, faith in Jesus Christ, love to God, 
 and charity to man. He never thought of wasting 
 time, and defrauding his hearers, by heaping together 
 numberless meanings for one passage of Scripture, or 
 proving what no one ever doubted, or in endeavouring 
 to bring to the level of human capacity those truths of
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX^ 193 
 
 revelation which Infinity alone can fully understand, 
 and which we are rather commanded to believe than 
 comprehend. He did not so much give reason after 
 reason to prove why God had a right to enjoin this or 
 that duty, because he knew that few doubted this right, 
 as he set himself to persuade his flock to the doing of it. 
 What is practical in Christianity, he exhorted his people 
 to practise ; what is subject of credence merely, he 
 believed, and taught others the reasonableness of believ- 
 ing it, and its influence on the heart and life ; and instead 
 of bewildering himself, and producing doubt and dark- 
 ness in the minds of his auditors, by entering boldly, 
 like many divines, on the explanation of what is in 
 itself incomprehensible, he stood still, and believed, 
 and adored, and took from it a lesson of humility. 
 
 But what, in his public ministrations, drew every ear 
 into attention, and, through the blessing of God, pro- 
 duced such effects on the heart, was not more the 
 soundness of his doctrines than the earnestness of his 
 persuasions. His was not the cold-hearted address of 
 formality, which suits so ill a servant of the ever-earnest 
 Jesus. He seemed to know the worth of an immortal 
 soul, and the- value of eternal happiness ; and he pleaded 
 for God and truth for man's welfare here and hereafter, 
 as one would plead for the life of an only son. He 
 taught, he warned, he rebuked, he comforted, with his 
 whole heart ; and was not ashamed that, like his great 
 Master, the tears of love and holy sorrow should be 
 sometimes seen weeping down his cheek. 
 
 His daily manners suited his character in the pulpit. 
 He was grave, decorous, and affable ; dignified without 
 loftiness, and familiar without meanness. He disgusted 
 not the old by levity, nor terrified the young by austerity. 
 Regarding himself as the spiritual father of his flock, 
 and naturally kind, he made the interest of all his own. 
 The child, as well as the man of grey hairs, found in 
 him a cheerful friend and a pleasant instructor. Mr. 
 Bruce spent much of his time in visiting from house to 
 13
 
 194 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 house ; a duty enjoined by the Bible, which the ministers 
 of the seventeenth century seem to have recognised, or 
 at least practised, better than those of the nineteenth. 
 Although his learning and cultivated manners made him 
 noways disagreeable to the higher circles, and his duty 
 sometimes called him to mingle with them, yet you 
 would not always have seen him in the train of the 
 wealthy, or seated by the table of luxury. He went 
 about comforting the broken-hearted, infusing the balm 
 of heavenly comfort into the wounded soul, and ad- 
 ministering here and there, out of his little income, to 
 the wants of the needy. He entered into the hut of 
 widowed loneliness, and took his station by the bed of 
 poverty in distress. The dying saint saw him enter his 
 chamber, and caught brighter views of the land beyond 
 the grave from his conversation, and felt his faith 
 increase in the earnestness of his prayers. Nor did he 
 pass by the house where the wicked man lay on the bed 
 of death ; but drew near his couch, and laboured, with 
 admonition, with prayer, with entreaty, to turn the 
 sinner's eye to the cross of Christ, and save his soul 
 from death. His character was indeed a model which 
 his parishioners might have imitated with as much safety 
 as they obeyed the doctrines which he taught. He 
 never thought of preaching humility, and yet walking in 
 the stately steps of pride ; of recommending purity of 
 heart, and yet indulging in the pleasures of sense ; of 
 eulogising and enforcing charity, and yet shutting his 
 own ear to the cry of want. 
 
 While Mr. Bruce was thus engaged, feeding his flock 
 and endearing himself to them by his constant vigilance 
 for their welfare, he enjoyed the utmost domestic peace 
 and happiness. Mrs. Bruce's prudent management 
 saved him from all trouble with household affairs. His 
 stipend was small, but she regulated her expenses 
 accordingly. His manse, like many of the clergymen's 
 houses in those days, was, when he came to it, a very 
 inconvenient and dull-looking building ; and had been
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX> 195 
 
 suffered, besides, to fall into sad disrepair by the former 
 incumbent, who had lived a single life, and, although 
 peculiarly careful of his charge, had minded little about 
 the comforts of his own house. The rain found its way 
 plentifully through the ragged roof; the windows had, 
 in many instances, exchanged their glass panes for 
 boards, or something still less befitting, and were nearly 
 darkened by the honeysuckle and rose-trees, which had 
 been left to spread at will. Up the walls, too, clambered 
 the dock and the nettle ; and the little plot, which gently 
 sloped from the door to the river, was so overgrown 
 with brushwood and weeds of every description, that the 
 passage to the stream in that direction was almost 
 shut up. The inside of the house was in no better state. 
 The cornice and plaster, in many places, had fallen from 
 the walls ; the floor was so decayed as to endanger the 
 fall of those who walked on it ; and in the closets and 
 bedrooms, spiders and other vermin had long taken up 
 their abode. 
 
 As Mr. Bruce was generally beloved, the heritors, of 
 their own accord, agreed to repair his house ; and, under 
 Mrs. Bruce's care, everything about the manse soon 
 assumed a livelier and more handsome appearance. 
 The vermin were driven from their settlements, the 
 windows filled with glass, and everything within assorted 
 with taste and elegance. The improvement was not less 
 conspicuous without. The little plot before the house 
 was cleared of its brambles and weeds, and assumed the 
 smoothness of a bowling-green ; the dock and nettle 
 were uprooted ; and the rose and honeysuckle, although 
 preserved with care, were now taught to bend their 
 branches in subordination to taste and usefulness. The 
 broad stone which lay immediately before the front door, 
 and which had been hid under a thick coat of dirt, was 
 cleaned and washed ; and, indeed, all without looked so 
 cheerful, orderly, and comfortable, as well bespoke the 
 peace, and concord, and happiness that dwelt within. 
 So inviting the old dwelling looked, that the traveller
 
 196 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 would not have passed it without wishing to see its 
 inhabitants ; and the weary wanderer would have ap- 
 proached the door in confidence of a kind welcome to 
 nourishment and repose. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, as we have observed, as he had no need, 
 gave himself no trouble about household affairs. His 
 hours of leisure, which were indeed but few, were there- 
 fore spent in some innocent amusement. At these times 
 Mrs. Bruce was always ready to attend him. Her con- 
 versation, cheerful and varied, never failed to refresh his 
 mind when it had been exhausted by study, and to restore 
 it to tranquillity when it had been disturbed by any un- 
 pleasing occurrence. Mr. Bruce was very fond of the 
 simple songs of his country ; and although his wife's 
 voice was not surprisingly fine, or her management of it 
 very tasteful, her singing would have pleased any one 
 who admired simplicity and feeling. But her husband 
 was delighted ; for he gazed on her with eyes of the 
 tenderest affection while she sung to him the sweet 
 melodies of Scotland. Sometimes they read together 
 in some useful and entertaining book sometimes they 
 walked by the banks of the Ayr, enjoying the loveliness 
 of nature, and giving audience to the song of the thrush 
 and the blackbird, which from the birch or hawthorn 
 joined their minstrelsy to the mellow pipe of the wind 
 and the purling voice of the stream. 
 
 To all these enjoyments were added, first a son and 
 afterwards a daughter : the one, Andrew, as everybody 
 said, the very image of his father ; the other, Mary, no 
 less the likeness of her mother. Eager to instruct all, 
 Mr. Bruce was doubly so with regard to his own children. 
 He observed, with a father's and Christian's eye, the 
 opening of their infant faculties, and at an early hour 
 shed upon them the light of truth, and spared no pains 
 to warm their young and tender hearts with love to God 
 and religion. He taught them betimes the way to heaven, 
 setting their faces thitherward : and it pleased God to 
 bless his teaching, and render it effectual. He taught
 
 The Persecuted Family KeX* 197 
 
 them love to one another and to their fellow-creatures ; 
 and he turned the attention of their minds to those pleas- 
 ing- and sublime ideas which the objects of nature are 
 fitted to produce. 
 
 Andrew, who seemed to resemble his father in his 
 mental as well as corporeal parts, was early designed for 
 the ministry. His education was, therefore, conducted 
 chiefly under his father's eye ; while Mary learned the 
 more gentle and delicate accomplishments, befitting her 
 character, from her mother ; and never had parents more 
 comfort in instructing and watching over their offspring. 
 They loved their parents, and did everything to please 
 them : they loved each other, feared God, and deligfhted 
 in obeying His will. They increased daily in knowledge 
 and stature, growing up like well-watered plants which 
 the Lord hath blessed. The rose of health bloomed on 
 their cheeks, and the sacred spirit of religion looked 
 already from their eyes. 
 
 Religion ! thou art happiness. Thou infusest the 
 calm of heaven into the bosom of man, and pourest into 
 his heart the sweetness of celestial enjoyment. Thou hast, 
 indeed, special rewards to give in the land of glory. 
 There thou openest the arms of everlasting felicity to 
 receive all thy followers at last, into the fulness of its 
 embrace there thou securest them a place by the font 
 of original life. But thou art even here infinitely superior 
 to every other thing in the purity and sweetness of thy 
 enjoyments. Thou art thyself fair as the light of God ; 
 and thou stampest on all the pleasures of thy sons the 
 imagery of heaven, and minglest them with the relishes 
 of immortality. Woe unto him that seeketh his happi- 
 ness apart from thee ! He shall be miserably dis- 
 appointed.
 
 Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 " Unpractised he to fawn or seek for power 
 By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 
 Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
 More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. 
 To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 
 But all his serious thoughts had vent in heaven. 
 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head." 
 
 FOURTEEN years had passed over this happy family, when 
 the Restoration threatened the overthrow of the Scottish 
 Church. Charles, advised by his English and Irish 
 ministers, Clarendon and Ormond, and latterly by 
 Lauderdale, Secretary for Scotland, introduced the epis- 
 copal form of worship into Scotland. Patronage was 
 renewed, and the clergy required to procure a presentation 
 from their patrons, and collation from their bishops, to ac- 
 knowledge their authority and the spiritual supremacy of 
 the king. The clergy in the northern districts complied 
 without hesitation ; but their more pious and zealous 
 brethren in the west, however willing they might be to 
 submit to and support the civil authority of the king, re- 
 jected his spiritual supremacy, refused submission to the 
 Episcopalian judicatories, and preferred rather to suffer 
 the extremity of persecution than to sacrifice what they 
 deemed the truth and their duty to God. The people 
 were no less averse to this encroachment on their re- 
 ligious privileges, and resolved to imitate their pastors, 
 whose engaging familiarity and sanctity of manners had 
 gained them the esteem and love of their flocks. 
 
 But if they had determined to suffer rather than re- 
 nounce the Covenant and their beloved presbytery, the 
 bishops, who had now got all power in Scotland into 
 their hands, determined no less than the destruction of 
 both. Burnet, Archbishop of Glasgow, and the apostate
 
 The Persecuted Family KeX^ 199 
 
 Sharp, Primate of St. Andrews, with a cruelty little be- 
 coming mitred heads, prepared to carry this into effect. 
 Ambulatory courts were established, on the principles of 
 the Inquisition, in which the bishops were the judges of 
 those whom they wished to destroy. No regard was had 
 to remonstrance or entreaty, or even to evidence. To these 
 courts the military were subordinate, and instructed to 
 carry their resolutions, which were often formed in the 
 midst of riot and drunkenness, into execution. By this 
 procedure three hundred and fifty clergymen were ejected 
 from their livings in the severity of winter, and driven, 
 with their families, to seek shelter among the peasants. 
 The most ignorant and vicious of their northern brethren, 
 who scrupled at no compliance, were thrust, by the 
 strong hand of power, into their places. The ignorance 
 and shameful lives of these apostates from the covenant, 
 who were now metamorphosed into curates, disgusted 
 the people on whom they had been forced. Their doc- 
 trines had none of that heavenly relish which suited the 
 taste of those who had been formerly taught by the best 
 and most affectionate of men. Their churches were 
 deserted ; and the people went into the mountains in 
 search of that water of life which no longer flowed from 
 the pulpits. 
 
 But this was only the beginning of their trials. Their 
 pastors were soon forbidden to preach even in the fields, or 
 to approach within twenty miles of their former charges ; 
 and all the people, as well as their pastors, who were not 
 prepared to abjure their dearest rights, and to submit to 
 the most galling and iniquitous civil and religious des- 
 potism, were denounced as traitors, and doomed to 
 capital punishment. To admit any one who refused com- 
 pliance into shelter to favour his escape, or not to 
 assist in apprehending him subjected the person so con- 
 victed to the same punishment. To this, military per- 
 secution succeeded. The soldiers were both the judges 
 and the executioners. The very forms of justice were 
 now wholly abandoned. Gentlemen, and peasants, and
 
 2oo cXETX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 ministers were driven out to wander among the morasses 
 and mountains of the country were crowded into gaols 
 sent into exile and slavery, and multitudes were daily 
 writhing in the torture, or perishing on the gibbet. 
 Rapes, robberies, and every species of outrage were 
 committed by the soldiers with impunity. The west of 
 Scotland was red with the blood of its own inhabitants, 
 shed by their own countrymen. The spirits of darkness 
 seemed to have entered into the bosoms of the persecu- 
 tors, and to actuate all their doings. They appeared to 
 delight in cruelty, and in shedding the blood of the 
 innocent. But the glorious sufferers, relying on the 
 goodness of their cause, and hoping in the promises of 
 God, opposed sanctity of life to licentiousness and riot ; 
 'the spiritual weapons of truth, to the swords of their 
 enemies ; patient endurance, to fatigue, and want, and 
 torture ; and calm resignation, to the most ignominious 
 deaths. And truly they suffered not nor bled in vain. 
 God at last gave them the victory over all their enemies, 
 and, through them, secured to us the religious privileges 
 we this day enjoy. From this short sketch of the times, 
 which we thought necessary to explain what shall after- 
 wards occur, we return to that family which we left so 
 happy. 
 
 Among those clergymen who bravely refused com- 
 pliance with the iniquitous orders of Government was 
 Mr. Bruce. Although naturally mild, an ardent lover of 
 good order, and ready at all times to impress on his flock 
 the duty of submission to all the lawful commands of the 
 civil authorities, he could not think for a moment of 
 violating his conscience, and of teaching his people to 
 violate theirs, by forsaking what he deemed his duty to 
 his Heavenly Master. But there was only one alternative. 
 Either he must comply with the sinful and tyrannical 
 requirements of the bishops, in whose hands the civil 
 power was, or relinquish his pastoral charge, and quit 
 his house and his living. Mr. Bruce was not a man to 
 hesitate whether to seek the praise of men or the praise
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 20 1 
 
 of God. On the last Sabbath on which it was permitted 
 him to enter his pulpit, he thus took farewell of his 
 beloved flock : 
 
 " You know, my dear friends," said he, " what orders 
 I have received from the bishops, who possess, for the 
 time, the civil as well as the ecclesiastical authority. I 
 am required to acknowledge the king as supreme head 
 of the Church ; to submit to the diocesan jurisdiction of 
 the bishops ; to be reordained, and converted into a 
 curate ; and to introduce the episcopal mode of worship 
 into this church. In a word, I am to renounce pres- 
 bytery ; preach, not as the Bible and my own conscience 
 direct me, but according to the wishes of a drunken and 
 licentious court, and the dictates of a self-interested and 
 domineering priesthood. And all this I am enjoined to 
 do, or leave you, my house, and my living. 
 
 " You cannot but know that I have determined on this 
 last. I have not so learned my duty, as not to be able 
 to sacrifice a little of this world's comfort for conscience' 
 sake ; and I would rather that my tongue should be for 
 ever dumb, than that it should utter one word from this 
 sacred place merely to please men in power, and secure 
 my own worldly gratification. I can part with the 
 comforts of a home, but how can I part with you, my 
 dear friends ? We have lived together in the bonds of 
 love. Every one of you is endeared to me by some 
 particular kindness given or received. I have watched 
 over the childhood of many of you, and now see you 
 advancing in the knowledge of religion as you grow up 
 to manhood. Others of you I have seen growing grey 
 with years ; and I have endeavoured to smooth your way, 
 and stay your steps down the slope of time. All of you 
 I have cared for all of you I have set my heart upon 
 all of you have been to me as fathers or sons, as brothers 
 or sisters. How can I part with you, my beloved flock ? 
 How can I leave you like sheep without a shepherd, and 
 like sheep in the midst of ravening wolves ? O God ! " 
 he exclaimed, and the people rose up as if by enchant-
 
 2O2 cXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 ment " O God ! who seest my heart, Thou knowest 
 what love I bear to this people ; Thou knowest how 
 dear their souls are to me. Oh, hear my cry ! keep them 
 from the evil of the world, from the snares which are 
 laid for their feet ; and if they should never hear the 
 word of life from my lips again ; if Thou hast, in Thy 
 wise providence, wandering and weeping prepared for 
 them, O Father, so watch over their souls, that I may 
 meet them all at last by the right hand of their Saviour 
 and my Saviour, of their God and my God. Father in 
 heaven, into Thy hands we commit our immortal spirits ! " 
 
 When he had thus spoken, he sat down in the pulpit 
 and wept bitterly. Nor did he weep alone. The man ot 
 grey hairs wept, and the child sobbed by his side. And 
 when they looked to the holy man, whose sorrow was 
 all for them and when they turned their eyes to the 
 seat where his wife sat, bathed in tears, and her children, 
 Andrew and Mary, weeping aloud, and looking up to 
 their father ; and when they thought that they were to 
 be driven out from their happy home, to wander in 
 poverty, again their tears flowed, and again they looked 
 and wept. 
 
 Mr. Bruce was the first to recover some degree of 
 composure. He begged his sorrowing audience not to 
 give themselves up to vain lamentations ; but rather to 
 be "thankful for the comfortable days they had spent 
 together ; to be putting their hope and their confidence 
 in God ; and to be preparing for the sufferings to which 
 it was likely they would soon be exposed. In surveying 
 the aspect of the times, he said, he had no doubt that 
 the entire destruction of the Presbyterian Church was 
 meditated ; and a severe persecution, he had every 
 reason to believe, was about to commence, in which 
 their faith and tfceir patience would be put to a severe 
 trial. He advised themto be as inoffensive as possible 
 to the civil powers, and to give prompt and cordial 
 obedience to all their lawful commands ; but exhorted 
 them rather to suffer than renounce the Covenant,
 
 The Persecuted Family KeX* 203 
 
 or make the smallest compliance in violation of their 
 own consciences ; assuring them, at the same time, if 
 they suffered now they would rejoice hereafter. God 
 would remember every sigh, and treasure up all their 
 tears in His bottle. Their patient endurance would tire 
 out the arm of persecution. They would thus leave the 
 blessings of religious liberty to their posterity ; and if 
 they themselves suffered to the death, they would be 
 rewarded in heaven with a crown of life. 
 
 After this valedictory admonition and encouragement, 
 having recommended his flock again to the care of 
 Heaven, he descended from the pulpit, amidst the 
 weepings of his congregation ; and when he had, with 
 difficulty, withdrawn himself from them, he retired with 
 his wife and children to his house. 
 
 In the pulpit, Mr. Bruce had carefully avoided making 
 any allusion to his own family. His feelings of sorrow, 
 on their account, were of that deep and sacred kind 
 which we rather wish to shut up in the sanctuary of our 
 own bosoms, than trust to the sympathy of the most 
 confiding friendship. How could he see her, who had 
 been long the companion of his life, endeared to him by 
 every tie that can draw kindred souls into the closest 
 fellowship, her who had been ever used to the comforts 
 of plenty, driven from a home which she had made so 
 comfortable, exposed to fatigue, to homeless wandering, 
 and perhaps, to want itself? How could he see his -dear 
 children, whom she had nursed so tenderly, and in whom 
 resided his dearest earthly hopes, turned out, unable as 
 they were to provide for themselves, on the sympathies 
 of the world ? He knew, indeed, that as long as he and 
 his family were permitted to wander among his flock, 
 they would be in no danger of want ; but it was easy to 
 read, from the face of the times, that even this would 
 soon be denied them ; and he already saw his family, in 
 the forward eye of imagination, suffering under all the 
 evils of insult and beggary. 
 
 On this subject he had not dared hitherto to enter,
 
 204 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 even to Mrs. Bruce. She observed it, and was well 
 aware of the cause ; and anxious to relieve his feeling's, 
 on the Sabbath evening, while they sat in their snug 
 parlour, gazing in silent dejection on their children, she 
 thus began the conversation 
 
 " Do not be so sorrowful on our account, dear James," 
 she said. " I have shared in all your enjoyments, and I 
 can suffer with you too ; and so can these children. We 
 may have many hardships to encounter, but we will 
 have the approbation of our own minds we will have 
 the protection of that God in whom we have always 
 trusted, and we know that He will not suffer anything 
 effectually to hurt us. We will have your love, my dear 
 James ; and we shall still be happy in sharing your 
 trials and soothing your cares." 
 
 "Dearest Eliza," said Mr. Bruce, "you are indeed 
 right. God will be our protector. Why should we 
 hesitate to cast ourselves upon His care ? I could have 
 easily made up my mind to this trial, but for you and 
 these children. But why should I cast one lingering 
 look on these comforts, which my Master bids me leave? 
 He can protect you as well as me. Under His guidance 
 we are safe. To-morrow we quit this house, which is to 
 be occupied by another ; and let us quit it without a 
 murmur. What is the threatening or indulgence of this 
 world to us ? What are its joys or its pains ? To do our 
 duty to God, our Creator and Redeemer, to love, to 
 honour, and to obey Him, this is sufficient for us. He 
 will see that no evil befall us." 
 
 Here Mr. Bruce paused for a little, and then proceeded 
 thus : 
 
 " But let us act with prudence, my dear Eliza. Might 
 it not be proper for you and the children to go and live 
 with your friends at Lanark for the present ? You will 
 then have a settled home ; and I am sure you will be 
 kindly treated. For my own part, I am resolved to 
 continue among my flock, and to take every opportunity 
 of serving their spiritual interests."
 
 The Persecuted Family 
 
 205 
 
 " No, no," said Mrs. Bruce ; " we will not leave you. 
 I am determined to suffer with you. Nothing- but death 
 shall part me from you." 
 
 "But these children," said Mr. Bruce; "think of 
 them, dear Eliza." 
 
 CLASPED THEIR HANDS ABOUT THEIR FATHER'S NECK. See page 2O6. 
 [Copyright by Olipliant Anderson S Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 "They are stout and healthy," replied Mrs. Bruce; 
 "and you shall see how cheerfully they will submit to 
 everything, rather than part with you. Will you leave 
 your father, Andrew? Will you, Mary? "
 
 206 tXrTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 " No, no," they both exclaimed ; and weeping, clasped 
 their hands about their father's neck, alarmed to hear 
 their mother speak of their leaving him. 
 
 Andrew was at this time in his thirteenth year, a fine 
 smart-looking- boy ; stout at his age, his hair black and 
 bushy, and his eye, full, dark, and penetrating. Of his 
 talents we have already spoken. They were of a high 
 order ; and, under his father's assiduous culture, he had 
 already made considerable progress in learning. Indeed, 
 his acquirements of every kind were beyond his years. 
 His father was his only companion as well as instructor, 
 and his attention had thus been turned at all times to 
 something useful. His susceptible mind had rapidly 
 imbibed his father's ideas, and, in fact, had already 
 stored up most of his knowledge. In piety, in the love 
 of learning, in the amiableness of his disposition, Andrew 
 resembled his father ; but his mind gave indications of 
 more boldness and originality. Indeed, there already ap- 
 peared in him a decision of character, a steady adherance 
 to his resolutions, and a firm perseverance in the pursuit 
 of whatever caught his attention, which, in union with his 
 religious spirit, promised a life of the highest usefulness. 
 Mary, who was now in her eleventh year, with cheeks 
 fair and rosy, a fine soft blue eye, and a profusion of 
 golden ringlets flowing on her shoulders, had all the 
 light-hearted gaiety and innocent loveliness which girls, 
 properly educated, generally have at that age. Impressed 
 thus early with the sacredness of religion, its purity 
 seemed to beam from her eye. Her love to her relations 
 was in proportion to her tenderness of heart. To please 
 her mother, her father, and her brother, to hear them 
 say she had done well, made her happy. A fairer and a 
 sweeter plant hath nature nowhere ; and, in the retire- 
 ment of the secluded manse, she looked like one of those 
 flowers which the traveller may sometimes meet in the 
 desert, so lovely that he cannot feel in his heart to pull 
 it, and yet knows not how to leave it behind. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, perceiving it was needless to say anything
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 207 
 
 more about his family leaving him, turned their attention 
 for a considerable time to those truths of the Christian 
 religion which are best fitted to prepare us for bearing 
 changes and trials with fortitude and resignation. And 
 then the family, after joining as usual in the worship of 
 God, withdrew to repose. 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 " He establishes the strong, restores the weak, 
 Reclaims the wanderer, binds the broken heart, 
 And, armed himself in panoply complete 
 Of heavenly temper, furnishes with arms 
 Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule 
 Of holy discipline, to glorious war, 
 The sacramental host of God's elect ! " 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 EARLY on the Monday morning, Mr. Bruce and his 
 family arose ; and having committed their way to God, 
 prepared to leave their house. The furniture was dis- 
 persed among the neighbours, except a few articles 
 necessary for their comfort, which were sent to Braeside, 
 a farmhouse, situated in a romantic glen about four miles 
 from the village, whither Mr. Bruce had chosen to retire. 
 Everything was soon put in order for their departure. 
 
 And now the venerable pastor, with Andrew and Mary, 
 holding each other by the hand, before him, and his wife 
 by his side, slowly and silently left the manse. The two 
 youngsters tript on cheerfully, happy enough that they 
 were going with their parents. Mrs. Bruce could not be 
 very sad when her husband was by her side ; and the 
 minister had prepared himself too well for this event to 
 show much uneasiness. Yet neither he nor his wife 
 could help dropping a tear as they passed the church, and 
 entered the street of the little village through which 
 their road lay. But the grief of the villagers was exces- 
 sive. They saw their spiritual guide, their comforter,
 
 208 cXs~X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 their adviser, their friend, in the coldness and severity of 
 a winter morning, with his wife and children, driven from 
 his comfortable dwelling and about to leave them. 
 Would he assemble them no more on the Sabbath, to 
 refresh their souls with the water of life ? Would they 
 see him no more going from door to door through the 
 village, relieving the poor, comforting the sick, and in- 
 structing all ? What hardships would these children, and 
 that amiable woman, who, although by no means un- 
 healthy, appeared to them so delicate, have probably to 
 endure? And was his pulpit to be filled, and his house and 
 living seized, by some time-serving, cold-hearted stranger? 
 
 Full of these sorrowful thoughts, every inhabitant of 
 the village, both old and young, crowded about Mr. 
 Bruce and his family. So anxious was everyone to be 
 near their beloved minister, that they eagerly pressed 
 forward, and often compelled him to stop. He conjured 
 them to leave him : but it was not till they had accom- 
 panied him more than a mile out of the village that he 
 could prevail on them to think of parting with him. 
 Here he shook hands with each of them : exhorted them 
 to avoid all evil ; and lifted up his voice and blessed them, 
 while they stood drowned in tears. 
 
 Now Mr. Bruce and his family, with a few who had 
 determined to accompany him, set forward to Braeside, 
 while the villagers and peasants returned to their homes, 
 sorrowing in heart, and determined rather to suffer all 
 than make any compliance to an ecclesiastical govern- 
 ment which had begun so harshly. Such were many of 
 of the people, and such many of their pastors, whom the 
 unwise politicians of those times thought to force into 
 their measures by the violence of persecution. 
 
 Mr. Hill, the farmer of Braeside, a worthy old bachelor, 
 had rendered his house as comfortable as he possibly 
 could for the reception of the new-comers ; and with what 
 articles they brought along with them, and with Mrs. 
 Bruce's ready hand, under which everything about the 
 house seemed at once to take its proper place, they found
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX> 209 
 
 themselves, although not very well lodged, yet as well 
 as they had expected. The house, however, like most of 
 the farmhouses in those days, had only two apartments, 
 a kitchen and a spence, as the room was called. The 
 room, Mr. Hill 'gave them up entirely, and the kitchen 
 was common to him and them. Mr. Bruce had been 
 deprived of his stipend due for the preceding year. It 
 had been always small. He was by nature, as well as 
 principle, generous and charitable, and had therefore 
 saved no money. It was evident that he must now 
 depend for his subsistence on the freewill offerings of 
 his people ; and in these they were not backward. 
 Although Mr. Hill was able and willing enough to sup- 
 port the family for some time, this he was not permitted 
 to do. Scarcely a day passed but some of Mr. Bruce's 
 flock arrived at Braeside, with what they could spare for 
 their pastor (for such they still considered him) and his 
 family. They had thus a plentiful supply of all the 
 necessaries of life. The education of Andrew and Mary 
 went on as usual. Mr. Bruce preached in the houses of 
 the peasants, or in the open fields, on Sundays. Mrs. 
 Bruce was kinder than ever to her husband, and almost 
 as cheerful. Andrew and Mary were healthy and con- 
 tented ; and indeed, while they were permitted to remain 
 at Braeside, they had nothing to complain of. 
 
 Meantime the violence of persecution every day in- 
 creased. The ejected clergy were forbidden to preach 
 even in the fields : the people, under the severest penalties, 
 were forbidden to shelter them, or even to give them a 
 morsel of bread. People of all ranks and conditions in 
 life, who would not comply with the tyranny of the 
 times, were driven from their houses, and were every 
 day perishing by the hand of the executioner. 
 
 The curates, who had been thrust into the livings of 
 the west, were the most active in informing against the 
 Covenanters. The zeal and austere morals of the former 
 pastors were a continual reproach on the vicious habits 
 and indolent dispositions of many of those prophets of 
 14
 
 2io tX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Baal, as they were not unfitly called ; and they wished 
 to have that example, which they were unwilling to 
 imitate, out of their sight. 
 
 Mr. Macduff, the curate who had been put into Mr. 
 Bruce's place, was a Highlander, and really spoke the 
 English language, as well as the Scottish, so ill, that the 
 peasants among whom he was settled, had they been 
 willing to hear him, could have understood little of what 
 he said. Up was a robust, huntsman-looking young 
 fellow, as ignorant of books and all sorts of learning as 
 he was indecorus in character. He hunted, fowled, 
 drank with the officers who were stationed in the village, 
 and, in fact, did almost [everything but what was becom- 
 ing the character of [a clergyman. The parishioners 
 regarded him with horror, and fled from his presence as 
 they would have done from a beast of prey. In no place 
 in Scotland were the curates well attended, but MacdufFs 
 church was entirely deserted. Neither threats nor en- 
 treaties could induce as many to collect on a Sabbath as 
 to give the appearance of an audience. And what has 
 been perhaps seldom attempted in any other place, 
 soldiers went every Sabbath morning through the village 
 and, with their bayonets on their guns, compelled a half- 
 score or dozen of ^the inhabitants into the church, where 
 they sat, with countenances of disgust and horror, while 
 the unsacerdotal curate went most indecorously through 
 the cold and formal service of the day. Mr. Macduff 
 had, however, abundance of that pride which is founded 
 on ignorance ; was naturally cruel ; devoted to the 
 wicked Government, because he could expect only to 
 be countenanced by such ; obsequious to every mandate 
 of the bishops, because from them he held his living ; 
 and, withal, possessed of an unbounded hatred to the 
 Covenanters, because he knew, if they prevailed, he 
 should soon be displaced. These qualifications rendered 
 him fit enough for the purposes for which his superiors 
 had chiefly designed him. These were, to harass and 
 destroy the Presbyterians.
 
 The Persecuted Family 
 
 211 
 
 To assist the curates in gathering information of the 
 resorts and conventicles of the Covenanters, spies were 
 numerously employed. Sometimes they mingled with 
 the people, professing themselves to be their zealous 
 friends ; sometimes they went through in the character 
 
 COMPELLED A HALF-SCORE OR DOZEN OF THE INHABITANTS INTO 
 THE CHURCH. See page 210. 
 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson &> Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 of travelling merchants ; and sometimes they assumed 
 the garb of shepherds, that they might thus conceal 
 their true character, and therefore be admitted more 
 freely into the designs of the Covenanters. Sharpe had
 
 212 eX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 multitudes of these in his pay, scattered over the country. 
 And it is not surprising- that they brought in abundance 
 of information, when we consider that many of them 
 and those the vilest and most worthless of men were 
 paid in proportion to the number of accusations they 
 preferred. These spies, as long as the Covenanters were 
 brought to anything like a trial, were always witnesses 
 at hand, ready to swear anything against them. 
 
 Two of these wretches, in the pay of Sharpe, were 
 entertained by Mr. Macduff. Every day they traversed, 
 in one character or other, the surrounding country, and 
 always returned with abundance of information. All 
 was believed, or, at least, pretended to be believed, that 
 they reported ; and the soldiers, with them for guides, 
 were sent forth to plunder, to apprehend, to torture, or 
 to kill, all whom those scoundrels accused of Presby- 
 terianism, which in those days was termed sedition. 
 
 Mr. Bruce and his family shared in the increasing 
 calamities of the times. After residing for a year at 
 Braeside, they were compelled to take themselves to a 
 wandering life now sheltered in some barn, now in 
 some shepherd's hut, but now exposed without cover 
 to all sorts of weather. The minister especially, and 
 his son, who always accompanied him, were often com- 
 pelled to hide themselves in the caves and wild glens of 
 the country. The place whither they most frequently 
 resorted was a cave on the banks of the Ayr, about five 
 miles above the village. It had been formed in the 
 precipitous banks by the hands of men, as a hiding-place 
 in the former troublous times of Scotland, and was 
 roomy enough for admitting five or six persons. The 
 entrance to this retreat was by rude and difficult steps 
 cut out of the stone ; and over its mouth, concealing it 
 from the view, hung the straggling branches of the birch 
 and hazel, that had struck their roots into the freestone 
 rock. Two or three rude seats, some straw and blankets, 
 made up the furniture of the cave. Here Mr. Bruce and 
 Andrew, and, indeed, Mrs. Bruce and Mary too, often
 
 The Persecuted Family XcXs 213 
 
 concealed themselves ; and hither, in the darkness of the 
 night, did the peasants of the surrounding country come 
 with food for their worthy pastor and his family, and to 
 receive in return, instruction, advice, and comfort. 
 
 This, Mr. Bruce gave them with all the prudence of a 
 wise man, and all the earnestness of a serious Christian. 
 He exhorted them to place all their trust in God ; to 
 bear up with becoming cheerfulness against the severe 
 trials to which they were exposed. He called them to 
 remember how much Christ had suffered when He was 
 in the world, and with what calmness and resignation 
 He endured it all. He warned them to beware of 
 attempting anything against the Government ; well 
 knowing, however much he might despise the exploded 
 doctrine of non-resistance, that the Covenanters, de- 
 prived as they were of the gentlemen of their party, who 
 were mostly in prison, could make no head against their 
 oppressors, supported by a strong military force. He 
 counselled them to oppose patience and hope to the 
 swords of their persecutors, assuring them that God 
 would at length interfere in their behalf. And above all, 
 he comforted and sustained the minds of the poor, 
 hunted, houseless peasantry, by often directing their 
 hopes to the rewards of immortality. Nor did he 
 destroy the effect of his teaching by his own example. 
 The following conversation, which happened one night 
 in the forlorn cave, will show how bravely the Per- 
 secuted Family bore their lot. 
 
 The night to which we have alluded was in the end 
 of autumn. The minister, with his wife and children, 
 were seated in the cave. A few embers burned on the 
 floor, and half lighted the rude habitation the Ayr was 
 heard murmuring down his pebbled bed the wind 
 whistled in the mouth of the cave, blowing in the fallen leaf 
 that rustled about the floor and the lightning flashed, 
 at intervals, its momentary gleam into the solitary abode. 
 
 " Do you remember," said Mary to her brother, " how 
 fresh and beautiful these leaves were in summer ? "
 
 214 ^CsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 lifting 1 one that the wind rustled through the dwelling. 
 "You remember how we watched them as they spread, 
 and shaded the mouth of the cave ? " " They were very 
 beautiful," said Andrew, "and kept the wind out of the 
 cave. But their season is past, and we will see them 
 green no more. 
 
 "And what should that remind you of?" said Mrs. 
 Bruce. "Should it not remind you of the transitory 
 nature of all earthly things ? We all do fade as the leaf ; 
 we are cut down, and wither as the grass. But the leaf 
 hangs on the twig till autumn, and falls not till it is 
 dried and withered with age. We, my dear children, 
 may be cut off in the midst of our days. From disease 
 we are never secure. But we may have soon to die by 
 the hand of violence. Are you prepared, my dear 
 children, to suffer all for Christ? Do you repine that 
 you have been driven from your home to seek shelter in 
 such a place as this for His sake ? " 
 
 "I am as happy here," said Andrew, "as when we 
 lived at the village. My father and you have taught me 
 to regard my duty to God as the end of my being ; and 
 I am resolved, trusting in His grace, to suffer the utmost, 
 rather than violate it. I know He will give me strength 
 to do what He may have appointed me." 
 
 "Yes," said Mary, who was no stranger to the Bible, 
 " His grace shall be sufficient for us. I know what He 
 says : ' The Lord is nigh to all them that call upon Him, 
 to all that call upon Him in truth. He also will hear 
 their cry, and save them.' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Bruce, while her husband shed a 
 tear of joy to hear his children talk thus "yes, if you 
 put no trust in yourselves, if you believe on the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, He will give you resolution and strength 
 to suffer all for His sake. ' Whatsoever ye ask in My 
 name,' says that Redeemer, who hath all power in 
 heaven and in earth ' Whatsoever ye ask in My name, 
 you shall receive it.' " 
 
 "Happy are all those who trust in God," said Mr.
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX, 215 
 
 Bruce, taking up the conversation, while he threw 
 a glance of unspeakable satisfaction on his family. 
 " Happy are all they, whatever be their external cir- 
 cumstances, whose God is the Lord. We have, it is 
 true, been driven from the comforts of this world's 
 property ; but we have, therefore, less to seduce us 
 from the path of holiness. We are exposed to trials ; 
 but, through His blessing, they will prepare us the 
 sooner for the enjoyment of His immediate presence. 
 We are exposed to the winds of night ; but our souls 
 take shelter under the wings of the Most High. Our 
 enemies are strong, and exceedingly mad against us ; 
 but He who is for us is stronger than they who are 
 against us. Those lightnings that flash athwart the 
 night are the lightnings of God : they say unto Him, 
 Here we are ; and at His bidding, can lay the pride 
 of the wicked in the dust. As His power is omni- 
 potent to protect you, my dear ones, so is His love 
 infinite. It passeth all knowledge. We are lost in 
 the contemplation of His astonishing love, manifested 
 in our redemption through His Son. He hath given 
 His well-beloved Son for us, vile and miserable sinners ; 
 and surely He will allow nothing really to hurt us. 
 What, then, should we not rather do than forsake our 
 duty to Him ? Severer sufferings may be yet awaiting 
 us, my dear ones. But let us always lay the grasp of 
 our dependence on God ; let us have our eye on the 
 promised land, the dwelling of life and immortality, 
 and let us suffer without a murmur. O my dear ones ! 
 in this trying time may we all so believe, and so do, 
 that we may find ourselves approved when men shall 
 be finally judged. If anything should occur which may 
 separate us, let us direct our steps to heaven, where 
 we shall meet to part no more. Our Church is now 
 driven to the wilderness. The blood of her people flows 
 on the scaffold ; their groanings are heard in the desert. 
 But God hath not forsaken her ; she shall yet shout for 
 joy, and clap her hands for gladness of heart. We may
 
 2i6 tXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 be gone, my dear ones, ere the day of her mourning 
 end ; but by suffering cheerfully, we shall have done 
 our part we shall have our reward ; and when our 
 Church takes her sorrowful harp from the willow, and 
 tunes it to the melody of joy in the peaceful temple, 
 our memories shall not be forgotten." 
 
 When Mr. Bruce had thus spoken, he kneeled down 
 with his family in the cave, and besought for them 
 the blessing, even life that shall never end. And then 
 you might have heard the psalm of praise, mingling 
 its holy melody with the blast of night. 
 
 Still, religion, thou art happiness ! Thou hast, 
 indeed, trials appointed for thy followers but thou 
 comest in the strength of God, and leadest them out 
 through them all. As the darkness of the world 
 thickens around them, thou sheddest a brighter light 
 on the cloudless clime whither they are travelling. 
 As the cup, of which the wickedness of man forces 
 them to drink, comes nearer the bitterness of its dregs, 
 thou pourest more copiously into their souls the sweet- 
 ness of eternal life. As they have days of severe fatigue 
 and wandering, and nights more wearisome and watch- 
 ful, thou layest the repose of their souls nearer the 
 bosom of their God. Woe unto him who seeketh his 
 happiness apart from Thee ! He shall be miserably 
 disappointed. 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 "Their blood is shed 
 In confirmation of the noblest claim 
 Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
 To walk with God, to be divinely free. 
 Yet few remember them. They lived unknown, 
 Till persecution dragged them into fame, 
 And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew 
 No marble tells us whither." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 FOUR years of suffering had now passed since Mr.
 
 The Persecuted Family KeK> 217 
 
 Bruce and his family were driven from their comfort- 
 able home. But although many of his flock had been 
 thrown into prison and sent into banishment had 
 endured the cruelties of torture, or died on the scaffold, 
 and although they had themselves often made the 
 narrowest escapes from the vigilance of their fell 
 pursuers, none of them had yet fallen into their hands. 
 The time was not far off, however, when they were to 
 feel more severely the cruelties of persecution. 
 
 On a Sabbath evening in the month of September, 
 Mr. Bruce, with his wife and children, left the cave 
 to meet some of his flock in a wild glen in the neigh- 
 bourhood, where he was to deliver a sermon. When 
 they arrived at the appointed place, there were about 
 a score assembled some of them stood, some seated 
 themselves on the cold turf, while Mr. Bruce took his 
 station by a large stone, on which he rested the Bible, 
 and read, or rather repeated, for the night was dark, 
 the following verses from the twenty-third Psalm : 
 
 " The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want; 
 
 He makes me down to lie 
 In pastures green : He leadeth me 
 The quiet waters by. 
 
 " My soul He doth restore again, 
 
 And me to walk doth make 
 Within the paths of righteousness, 
 Even for His own name's sake. 
 
 " Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, 
 
 Yet will I fear none ill : 
 For Thou art with me ; and Thy rod 
 And staff, me comfort still." 
 
 Then, as it is beautifully expressed by Grahame, 
 -"rose the song, the loud 
 
 Acclaim of praise. The wheeling plover ceased 
 Her plaint ; the solitary place was glad ; 
 And, on the distant cairn, the watcher's ear 
 Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note.
 
 2i 8 eX5~X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 After this, Mr. Bruce lifted up their fervent prayer 
 to the throne of grace ; and then repeated his text from 
 the same Psalm which had been sung-, "Though I walk 
 through the valley of the shadow of death, yet will I 
 fear no evil : for Thou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy 
 staff, they comfort me." 
 
 This consolatory passage he illustrated, by showing 
 how they who had the rod and staff of the Almighty 
 to support them needed fear no evil. This rod and 
 staff, he showed, were no less than the infinite love, 
 and wisdom, and power of God, engaged in the pre- 
 servation of the righteous. This truth he illustrated 
 at considerable length, and with more of elegance than 
 was common to the preachers of the time. We shall 
 content ourselves, however, by giving the concluding 
 part of the discourse. 
 
 "If, then," said the fervent preacher, "we have the 
 love, and wisdom, and the power of God engaged in 
 our protection, what have we to fear from the cruelties 
 of men, the malignity of evil spirits, or the terrors of 
 death itself? His love fills our heart with unspeakable 
 delight, and secures us the guidance of His wisdom, 
 and the all-shielding covert of His almighty power. If 
 we had to set our faces to the machinations of this world, 
 under the direction of our own wisdom, we would soon 
 be entangled in its snares, and decoyed into the pit 
 which is dug for our destruction. But to guide us 
 through every footstep of this earthly journey, to guide 
 us through every footstep of the dark pass of death, 
 we have the infinite wisdom of God, which hath all 
 things present to its eye in the natural and moral world, 
 in heaven and in earth, in time and in eternity. The 
 most sagacious spirit that contrives our ruin in the 
 darkest gloom of the bottomless pit is noticed by our 
 God, and those means taken which can never err in 
 their operation to defeat its purposes against us. He 
 observes all the plottings of man's wisdom against us, 
 and turns the best laid schemes of their wickedness to
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 219 
 
 the profit of His people. The kings of the earth set 
 themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against 
 the Lord and against His anointed. But He that sitteth 
 in the heavens laughs : the Lord hath them in derision. 
 He casteth the glance of His all-comprehending intelli- 
 gence through all the varied workings of natural and 
 moral being, the most intricate, the most profound, the 
 most secret ; and the wisdom of the wisest agency, that 
 acts not by His guidance, seemeth to Him the folly of 
 fools. 
 
 " But, however ardent the love of God might be to 
 His children, however provident His wisdom, if there 
 was any being that could resist His power, still we 
 should not be safe. But our Father hath in Himself all 
 the resources of infinite might. In the Lord Jehovah is 
 everlasting strength. He hath created all things. The 
 arm of His omnipotence sustains them all. Turn your 
 eyes to the stars that look through the breaking of the 
 clouds ; the multitude of their host are suspended to the 
 girdle of His strength, and guide all their revolutions to 
 the bidding of His will. He bringeth forth Mazzaroth 
 in his season, and guideth Arcturus with his sons. He 
 stilleth the raging of the waves ; and the fierceness ot 
 the storm lays itself to rest at the whisper of His word. 
 And shall any other of the beings He hath made the 
 spirits of darkness or the worms of His footstool stand 
 up in proud rebellion against Him, and try to wrest the 
 people whom He loves the people for whom He hath 
 given His own Son out of His hand? Did Pharaoh's 
 or Sennacherib's host accomplish aught victoriously 
 against His children? Did the powerful and malignant 
 dealings of Satan touch the life of Job ? No, my friends. 
 In the estimation of our God, the strength of man is 
 less than weakness ; and the most stout-hearted of the 
 spirits of perdition trembles at the uttering of His voice, 
 and is held fast in the chains of His power. It is this 
 God, my friends, who is our God. It is this all-wise, 
 all - mighty being, who hath sworn by the eternal
 
 22O cXfTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Godhead, that he who perseveres in well-doing who 
 fights the good fight of faith and turns not back, shall 
 sing victory over all his enemies, and shall inherit glory, 
 and honour, and immortality. 
 
 "We are persecuted, my friends ; we may soon have 
 to lay down our lives. But let us lean on the rod and 
 the staff of our Redeemer ; and whatever be the cunning 
 of man's contrivance against us, it shall be turned to our 
 account ; and whatever be the shape that death may 
 assume, we shall behold him shorn of his terrors. O 
 my friends ! let us do what the Bible hath taught us to 
 be our duty : let us keep our conscience inviolate ; and 
 whatever may t be appointed for us here, we shall have 
 the welcome to our Father and Redeemer at last into 
 the dwellings of immortality." 
 
 When Mr. Bruce had finished his sermon, so well 
 calculated to encourage the minds of his suffering 
 audience, he took occasion to speak shortly of the 
 times, the substance of which we shall record. 
 
 It was easy to see, he said, that the Presbyterians 
 would yet be persecuted with still greater severity ; that 
 the persecutors wished to gratify their ambition and 
 avarice with the spoils of the Covenanters, and it was 
 hard to say how far these passions would carry them. 
 It had been the labour, he observed, of the Stuarts, for 
 several reigns, to get into their hands the ecclesiastical 
 supremacy in Scotland. They had hitherto been dis- 
 appointed, and would, he had no doubt, _be so still. 
 "That infatuated race," continued he, "seems to be 
 hastening its own ruin." And the venerable pastor 
 dropped a tear as he thought of the incurable folly of 
 that house. The nation, he could see, would tire of 
 oppression, and would most certainly assert its liberties. 
 Oppression would, as usual, destroy itself by its own 
 cruelties. But, for the time, that patience and hope 
 must be their support ; that anything attempted against 
 their oppressors, when they were in no state for it, 
 would only rendertheir condition more intolerable ; that
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX 221 
 
 ready submission, for the time, to every thing that 
 violated not conscience, and patient endurance of those 
 evils which were measured out to them, were the means 
 which, under the blessing of God, would at length most 
 certainly restore to them and their children the blessings 
 of civil and religious liberty. 
 
 Such were this man's sentiments, on whose head the 
 infatuated administration of the time had set a price as 
 a rebel and sower of sedition ; and such were the 
 sentiments of many of those heroes of the covenant, 
 whom some historians represent as the visionary and 
 fanatic leaders of a visionary and fanatic sect. We 
 do not pretend to say that the sentiments of all the 
 Covenanters were as moderate and just as those of Mr. 
 Bruce. Among a great number there will always be 
 weak and turbulent minds ; and, under severe sufferings, 
 they will be driven to extravagence. The calumniators 
 of the Covenanters ought to remember, that none of 
 them became bad subjects till oppression had rendered 
 them desperate ; and that, if some of them latterly 
 adopted not very rational sentiments about civil govern- 
 ment, the great body of the Presbyterians who suffered 
 at that time approved as little of their notions as their 
 persecutors did. 
 
 The little congregation had again joined in a song 
 of praise, and the old minister was just about to dismiss 
 them with the blessing, when suddenly they heard the 
 trampling of horses, and in a moment saw advancing 
 rapidly towards them, with lighted torches in their 
 hands, a number of dragoons. Not expecting any alarm 
 at such an hour and place, they had neglected to appoint 
 a watch. A little eminence, which the soldiers had been 
 taught by the spies, who acted as their guides, to keep 
 between them and the conventicle, had concealed from 
 them the light of the torches until the dragoons were 
 almost upon the little assembly. Short as the time was 
 before the soldiers 'could reach them, they fled into a 
 morass, near to which they fortunately were ; and the
 
 222 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 softness of the ground prevented the pursuit of the 
 horsemen. But when the commanding' officer saw that 
 they were likely to escape, naturally cruel and blood- 
 thirsty, and chagrined at the loss of his prey, he ordered 
 his men instantly to discharge their carabines after the 
 flight of the poor people ; and, without waiting to 
 examine the result of his orders, wheeled and rode off. 
 Several of the people were hurt, but Mrs. Bruce 
 received a mortal wound. " I am gone," she said, while 
 her husband caught her in his arms to keep her from 
 falling. " I am killed. I must leave you. O my 
 dear husband ! I leave these children to your care. I 
 leave you all to the care of my God ! " She tried to say 
 more ; but death was too near. She threw one look on 
 her son and daughter, clasped her hands convulsively 
 about her husband, and expired in his arms. 
 
 Mr. Bruce for some time held her fondly in his 
 embrace, and stood speechless and motionless. Andrew 
 wept not, but threw himself on the ground in the depth 
 of silent grief. Mary shrieked, and took hold of the 
 bloody corpse of her mother, while the peasants 
 gathered round and wept in silence. 
 
 It was some time before any one could find self- 
 command enough to speak. Andrew, whose vigorous 
 mind would not permit him to give himself long up to 
 unavailing sorrow, was the first to break the mournful 
 silence. 
 
 " Father," he said, " let us now consider what is best 
 to be done. We cannot stay here." 
 
 Mr. Bruce, at] these words of his son, recovering him- 
 self a little, stretched the bloody corpse on the heath, 
 and, lifting up his hands to heaven, in a tone of resigna- 
 tion said, "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh 
 away : blessed be the name of the Lord ! " 
 
 After a short consultation, it was determined to carry 
 the dead body to a neighbouring hut. Assisting in turn 
 to carry the corpse, they took their way over the broken 
 mosses to the place agreed on. On their arrival, the
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 223 
 
 first thing was to settle where "the body should be 
 interred. Mr. Bruce wished to be present at the inter- 
 ment ; but this he could not be, if they buried the 
 remains of his wife in the village churchyard, for he 
 was sure to be apprehended if he appeared so publicly. 
 And yet he thought it was somewhat disrespectful to 
 bury her on the moor. 
 
 "It matters not," said Andrew, when he saw his 
 father's hesitation, "it matters not where our bodies 
 rest. There is no distinction of place in the grave. Is 
 it any difference to my mother where we lay her ashes ? 
 God will have His eye upon them, and angels will hold 
 the place in honour. For my part, had I my choice, I 
 would rather be laid. at last in the solitary glen of the 
 moor, than be entombed amidst the mockery of funeral 
 pomp, and have the marble monument to record my 
 praise." 
 
 "You are right my son," replied his father. "The 
 grave is a bed of rest to the just. Their bodies rest in 
 hope ; and it matters not where they lie." 
 
 It was now resolved that the remains of Mrs. Bruce 
 should be buried next evening ; and the place appointed 
 for laying them to rest was near to where she had 
 been shot. 
 
 When they had thus settled, and after joining in 
 prayer with the sorrowing few who had accompanied 
 him to the hut, Mr. Bruce, sad in heart, withdrew to 
 the cave ; for the search after him was so vigilant 
 that he durst not remain a night even in this remote 
 and lonely hut. Mary refused to leave her mother's 
 corpse, and Andrew stayed to watch over and comfort 
 his sister. 
 
 Next evening Mr. Bruce returned to the hut. About 
 twenty peasants had assembled. A rude coffin had been 
 prepared, and under the covert of night the mournful 
 procession moved slowly towards the place of interment. 
 The clouds, clothed in the sombre garments of mourn- 
 ing, stood still in the heavens ; and here and there,
 
 224 <X5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 from out their rifted sides, peeped a solitary star, with 
 an eye that seemed to weep as it looked on the wasteful 
 heath, and glimmered on the sorrowful countenances of 
 the mourners. Sadly down their glens murmured the 
 streams of the wilderness ; and the woful voice of the 
 snipe traversing the wide air, the forlorn whistle of the 
 plover, and the melancholy sound of the wind, that now 
 and then rose on the heath, fell on the ear of Mr. Bruce 
 like the accents of some doleful prophecy, presaging 
 to him and his family the coming of a still more wasteful 
 desolation. 
 
 When the procession arrived at the place of interment, 
 which had been chosen near to where Mrs. Bruce had 
 been murdered, a grave was dug, into which the coffin 
 was let down, and the attendants covered it up ; while 
 Mr. Bruce and his two children watered with their tears 
 the cold earth, that now hid from their eyes the one 
 who was dearest to their souls. " But there is a joy 
 in grief, when peace dwells in the bosom of the sad." 
 They sorrowed not as those who have no hope. Mr. 
 Bruce wiped the tear of affection from his eye, and thus 
 addressed the peasants, who could not refrain their tears 
 as they stood around and looked on the grave. 
 
 "Weep not, my dear friends," said the resigned man, 
 "she hath done her part well. She loved her God and 
 served Him ; and He hath now taken her to Himself. 
 Happy they who are thus taken from the evils of this 
 world ! Although we have been compelled to do our 
 last office to her under the darkness of night although 
 we have erected no marble to record her memory she 
 shall be held among the honourable in heaven. Let us, 
 too, be prepared to lie down in the grave. If we be fitly 
 prepared for this, it matters not when or in what manner 
 we die. - The sooner we reach our Father's house the 
 better. But we must fight out our day, like the true 
 soldiers of Jesus Christ. We must not repine that He 
 keeps us long from our home. He knows best when 
 to call us home to rest. Let us, in His strength, fight
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX 225 
 
 the good fight of faith. Let us abstain more carefully 
 than ever even from the appearance of evil. Let us 
 devote ourselves wholly to God. Let us, my friends, 
 be prepared to die well, that when the earthly house 
 of this tabernacle shall be destroyed we may like all 
 the righteous have a building with God, a house not 
 made with hands eternal in the heavens." 
 
 When the minister had thus said, he bade the peasants 
 farewell ; and, with Andrew and Mary, returned to the 
 cave. 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 " The clouds of winter gather : fast the leaves, 
 One after one, fall from the storm-beat tree ; 
 And o'er the humbled face of nature flap 
 The wings of desolation. 'Tis the hour 
 And power of darkness. Men of evil life, 
 Of horrid cruelty, now compass round 
 
 The just man's bed, with chains, and swords, and death." 
 
 ANON. 
 
 IN the meantime an incident took place in the south 
 of Scotland which rendered the condition of the 
 Covenanters more intolerable. The persecutors in that 
 quarter had laid a heavy fine on a poor old man, who 
 being unable to pay it, the soldiers bound ,him, and, 
 regardless of his prayers and tears, were dragging him 
 to prison, when a handful of peasants, who had gathered 
 around, pitying the poor man, and indignant at the 
 cruelty of such a proceeding, set violently upon the 
 soldiers and rescued the prisoner. Aware that no 
 pardon could be expected for this action, they took 
 arms to defend themselves. Their number, small at 
 first, soon increased to nearly two thousand ; and in 
 the heat of their zeal they determined to march to 
 Edinburgh, to compel the Government to redress their 
 grievances. The wise and the prudent among them 
 saw the impolicy of this attempt, and tried every means
 
 226 eXoX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 to dissuade their triends from their rash purpose. They 
 represented the strength and discipline of the king's 
 forces, and their own want of arms and discipline, and 
 the impossibility of procuring skilful commanders, as 
 the gentlemen of their party in the west were either 
 in confinement or had fled out of the country. They 
 exhorted them rather to disperse and seek shelter from 
 the cruelty of their oppressors in flight and hiding, than 
 thus, unprepared as they were, to rush on certain de- 
 struction. Moreover, they affirmed that it would be 
 more consistent with the spirit of Christianity, yet to 
 try to procure a mitigation of their sufferings by petition 
 and entreaty. 
 
 Nevertheless, the multitude, afraid to lay down those 
 arms they had once taken up, their minds rendered 
 desperate by suffering, and encouraged by some of the 
 less prudent of their pastors, directed their march 
 towards the capital. This was the very point which 
 the persecuting Government aimed at. They wished 
 to have some better pretext than they yet had to 
 plunder and ruin the Presbyterians. They had often 
 attempted, by their emissaries, to excite some insurrec- 
 tion. This their own cruelty had now produced. And 
 a band which at the most was never more than two 
 thousand, and which had taken arms without any 
 previous concertment, was magnified by the reports of 
 the oppressors into a general and preconcerted rebellion 
 of all the west. 
 
 The result of this insurrection is well known. Having 
 reached the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, reduced by 
 fatigue or fear to less than half of their number, and 
 having effected nothing to better their condition, they 
 were returning peaceably home by the Pentland Hills, 
 when they were pursued and set upon by Dalziel, at 
 that time commander of the king's forces in Scotland. 
 They fought for some time with more spirit than could 
 have been expected from men in their forlorn situation ; 
 but a party of soldiers from another quarter coming
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX 227 
 
 behind them, they were thrown into disorder, and put 
 to flight. Fifty were killed on the spot (where a very 
 handsome monument has since been erected to their 
 memory), some fell in the pursuit, and a considerable 
 number were taken prisoners. These were treated 
 without mercy. Ten of them were executed on the 
 same scaffold, and their heads and hands sent to Lanark, 
 where, in passing, they had renewed the covenant. 
 Besides these, many were sent into the west country, 
 and executed before their own doors. 
 
 The persecutors had now got, as we have already 
 mentioned, the pretext they wanted, and they hesitated 
 not to proceed to the most wanton and most inhuman 
 cruelties. Dalziel and Drummond, who were now the 
 commanders of the military in the west, added the 
 ferocity of the Muscovites (in which service they had 
 for some time been) to the cruel and inflexible cruelty 
 which characterised the persecutors in general. Dragoons 
 were stationed in every village ; and even the private 
 men had power to shoot, without any form of trial, all 
 who refused to take the test to Government. In no 
 place were the poor scattered members of Scotland's 
 Church safe from the vigilant search of their enemies. 
 The ejected clergymen especially were pursued with 
 unremitting diligence, and among these none were 
 hunted with greater eagerness than Mr. Bruce. 
 
 The curate, Mr. Macduff, who had succeeded to his 
 place, as he disliked all the Covenanters, so he hated 
 Mr. Bruce with the most bitter hatred. He considered 
 this worthy man, whom he knew to be still lurking 
 about the parish, as the chief cause of preventing the 
 people in that quarter from complying with the estab- 
 lished form of worship. The villagers, too, were some- 
 times bold enough to contrast, even to his face, his 
 character with that of their former minister. These 
 things were sufficient to irritate an ignorant and cruel 
 being, such as Mr. Macduff was, to implacable resent- 
 ment against Mr. Bruce ; and he determined to have
 
 228 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 him cut off. Night and day the two spies whom the 
 curate still entertained were in search of him, and 
 their search was the more diligent as Government had 
 not only offered a considerable reward for his apprehen- 
 sion, but Mr. Macduff had promised them a handsome 
 sum if they would bring him certain intelligence how 
 this good man might be taken. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, although he seldom left the bounds of his 
 former charge, had still, however, eluded their search. 
 He was so esteemed and beloved by the peasants among 
 whom he wandered, that they would have cheerfully 
 risked their own lives to procure the escape or conceal- 
 ment of their pastor. And what was very surprising, 
 such was the faithful secrecy of the inhabitants of the 
 place, to whom alone it was known, that although Mr. 
 Bruce had for several years made the cave the place of 
 his frequent resort, it had never been discovered by his 
 enemies. An occurrence at length took place through 
 which the persecutors hoped to secure the apprehension 
 of Mr. Bruce. 
 
 Andrew had one afternoon left his father and Mary in 
 the cave to amuse himself, as he frequently did, with 
 the conversation of a shepherd who kept his flocks hard 
 by. Scarcely, however, was he half a mile away from 
 the cave when a party of soldiers, with Macduff, came 
 suddenly upon him. They had been out, we believe, 
 that day chiefly for the purpose of killing wild-fowl, 
 but at the same time they required every one they met 
 to take the test an oath by which the party swearing 
 renounced the covenant, owned the king as supreme 
 head of the Church, and tendered submission to the then 
 existing ecclesiastical establishment. Andrew, without 
 hesitation, refused to comply. According to the laws, 
 or rather to the lawlessness of the times, this refusal 
 authorised the soldiers to shoot the young man on the 
 spot. But although his dress was that of a peasant, 
 they remarked something so superior and striking in his 
 countenance, as well as in the manner in which he spoke,
 
 The Persecuted Family KeX* 229 
 
 which immediately led them to the suspicion that he 
 might be the son of some gentleman of rank in disguise, 
 from whom useful discoveries might be elicited, or on 
 whose account a handsome sum of money might be 
 extorted. 
 
 Induced by those considerations, they spared his life for 
 the present, and conducted him a prisoner to the village. 
 On their way thither they repeatedly endeavoured to 
 learn his name ; but Andrew, knowing well that if they 
 once knew whose son he was he should have no chance 
 of escape without discovering his father, was careful to 
 conceal it. - When they reached the village, however, 
 the inhabitants gathered round to see the prisoner ; and 
 perceiving the son of their beloved minister, they assailed 
 the soldiers with the most bitter execrations, exclaiming 
 that the judgment of heaven would fall upon them, 
 and crying at the same time, "Will ye murder the son 
 of our dear minister? Ye have already murdered his 
 wife, and is your cruelty not yet glutted ? " 
 
 When Mr. Macduff heard these words, "The son of 
 our minister," he looked to Dalziel, who was himself of 
 the party, and said with a smile of grim satisfaction, 
 " We have made good sport to day. We shall now get 
 on the scent of the old fox." l 
 
 Dalziel now asked Andrew if he was the son of the 
 rebel Mr. Bruce ? for so he termed this meek and peace- 
 able servant of Jesus. Andrew replied boldly, " I am 
 the son of Mr. Bruce." This short answer, and the tone 
 and expression of countenance with which it was uttered, 
 convinced Dalziel that they had got a youth to deal with 
 from whom severity would not be likely to elicit much. 
 
 They now shut up Andrew in the church, which for 
 some time had been more used as a prison than a place 
 of worship and having placed a guard, retired to 
 consult how they might best draw the desired intel- 
 ligence of Mr. Bruce from his son. 
 
 1 The curate's language, which would be ridiculous if introduced 
 as he used it, is here translated into English.
 
 230 tX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 The brutal Macduff was for proceeding immediately 
 to torture, but Dalziel, who had better observed 
 Andrew's spirit, resolved to try him first by gentle 
 means. Accordingly he returned to the young man, 
 and addressed him in the following manner : 
 
 "Your refusing to take the test, young man," said 
 Dalziel, "you know, according to the laws of your 
 country, forfeits your life ; and you might be led, 
 without further delay, to execution. But we have no 
 desire to proceed to such an extremity with you. Your 
 appearance has gained you our respect, and we have a 
 strong wish to mitigate the rigour of the law in your 
 case. But this we are not authorised to do without 
 some little submission on your part. We shall not 
 require of you, however, to take the test, since it seems 
 to be so unacceptable to you. If you will only tell us 
 how we may find your father, you may have your liberty, 
 and you need not be afraid of your father's life. He has, 
 indeed, rendered himself obnoxious to Government, but 
 we promise that his life shall be safe. We shall be 
 careful that nothing worse happen to him than a short 
 imprisonment." 
 
 To these arguments he added, that if the young man 
 could find it agreeable to make the necessary compliances, 
 and if he liked the military life, he would endeavour to 
 procure him some honourable post. Or, if he rather 
 wished to prepare himself for the Church, he would 
 recommend him to those from whom he might expect 
 preferment. 
 
 Andrew, distrusting the promises Dalziel had made 
 concerning his father as much as he despised the offers 
 proposed to himself, looking firmly in the soldier's face, 
 absolutely refused to make any discovery of his father. 
 
 "Torture," exclaimed Macduff, who stood by, "will 
 make you reveal what our mercy has failed to do." 
 
 "Yes," said Dalziel, "we still promise that your 
 father's life shall not be touched. But if you will not 
 make the discovery we want, we have torture prepared
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 231 
 
 that will make you speak out. And if you still persist 
 in your refusal, your own life shall pay for your obstinacy. 
 We leave you till to-morrow morning 1 to consider whether 
 you will accept your own liberty, with no serious danger 
 to your father, or expose yourself to torture and death, 
 which may, perhaps, not preserve him long from our 
 hands." So saying, the inquisitors withdrew to spend 
 the night in mirth and revelry. 
 
 Andrew, who had no doubt that the promises made 
 concerning his father would be broken the moment his 
 persecutors had him in their power, determined, without 
 hesitation, not to say a single word that might lead to 
 his apprehension. Aware, also, that what had been 
 threatened against himself would be most certainly 
 executed, he prepared for meeting it like a man and a 
 Christian. 
 
 As it chanced that night, there was no prisoner in the 
 church except Andrew. In and around the church, as' it 
 stood at a little distance from the village, all was stillness, 
 save when it was broken by the guard chanting a verse 
 of a song, or cursing the times which kept them on foot 
 at midnight. The interior of the building was faintly 
 lighted by the moonbeams that glimmered through the 
 old Gothic windows. From the windows Andrew could 
 see the manse, half concealed amidst aged trees. He 
 saw, too, the pulpit where from his father's lips had 
 often dropt the word of life. He looked to the seat 
 where he used to sit with Mary and his mother ; he cast 
 his eye on the manse, where they had lived so happily. 
 But his mind soon hurried from these objects to what the 
 family had suffered since persecution had driven them 
 from their home. They had wandered on the mountains ; 
 they had endured cold, and fatigue, and fasting ; at 
 midnight, in the depth of winter, they had been often 
 unsheltered from the severity of the weather. His 
 mother, so tender, so affectionate, had already fallen by 
 the hands of their persecutors, and her ashes lay cold in 
 the loneliness of the moor. His father and sister were
 
 232 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 at this moment lurking in a forlorn cave, and in bitterness 
 of soul on his account. He himself was a lonely prisoner, 
 to-morrow to feel the agonies of torture, and to be cut 
 down like a tree in the verdure of spring. These were 
 the sorrowful and oppressive thoughts which forced 
 themselves on the mind of the young man. 
 
 Andrew, as we have already said, had by nature 
 sufficient of that boldness and fortitude of spirit which 
 bends not easily beneath misfortune, and the many 
 sufferings and hardships he had endured had only served 
 to call forth and strengthen the natural firmness of his 
 mind ; for although trying circumstances may depress 
 and overwhelm the weak and the timid, they never fail to 
 summon forth the energies and heighten the courage of 
 a vigorous spirit. 
 
 But Andrew trusted not to the bravery of human 
 strength. He set himself not, like the distressed hero of 
 romance, to call up the natural fortitude of his soul, and 
 to prepare to meet all the evils that were gathering 
 around him in the strength of man-created might. He 
 had been taught that the strength of man is weakness, 
 his wisdom folly, and all the resolutions of his natural 
 bravery, fear and trembling at the approach of death ; 
 and he turned himself to the throne of that God whom he 
 had always served, knowing rfe had sufficient help to 
 give in every time of need ; and, in the fervour of confid- 
 ing prayer, sought the protection of His power, which 
 no being can resist ; the guidance of His wisdom, which 
 never errs ; and the comforts of His free grace, which 
 can never be exhausted. He had seen the wickedness 
 and deceitfulness of his own heart ; he had been made 
 acquainted with the strictness and purity of God's law, 
 and he thought not of preparing to meet his God in the 
 uprightness of his own character. But he looked with a 
 humble and believing eye to the cross of Christ ; and on 
 the atonement which He has made, he placed all his 
 hopes of justification and acceptance with God. Verily, 
 he put no trust in an arm of flesh ; but he took unto him
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX* 233 
 
 the whole armour of God ; his loins girt about with 
 truth ; having" on the breast-plate of righteousness, the 
 shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of 
 the Spirit. While the afflictions of this world were 
 thickening around him, and the terrors of death before 
 his face, he had the peace of God dwelling in his heart, 
 the hope of eternal life brightening in heavenly vision ; 
 and he could sing in prison and in the loneliness of 
 midnight, ' The Lord is on my side ; I will not fear what 
 man can do unto me. Yea, though I walk through the 
 valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for 
 Thou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort 
 me." He felt that, strong in the all-sufficiency of God, 
 nothing could seduce him from his duty ; none of the 
 powers of wickedness could wound his soul. Verily, the 
 Christian's weapons, 
 
 " from the armoury of God, 
 
 Are given him tempered so." 
 
 While Andrew was engaged with such thoughts as 
 these, his father and sister, in the solitude of their cave, 
 were deeply afflicted on his account. The shepherd, to 
 meet whom Andrew had left them, observed him ap- 
 prehended, and carried the tidings to his father. Mary 
 wept for her brother, as if he had been already dead, 
 and Mr. Bruce feared the worst. He knew, and he was 
 proud at the thought, that Andrew would not renounce 
 his religion. He was well aware, also, that no mercy 
 from the persecutors was to be expected for his son. 
 Those into whose hands, he had fallen, he could easily 
 foresee, would leave no cruelty unexercised against the 
 son of one who was so hated by them, and whose life 
 they had so eagerly sought. The distressed father thus 
 looked upon the death of his son as almost certain. And 
 if ever a father had reason to love a son, or be grieved at 
 the intimation of his untimely death, that father was 
 Mr. Bruce. 
 
 Andrew was an only son. From his childhood till the
 
 234 eXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 present time, when he was in his nineteenth year, he had 
 been his constant companion. He had watched with the 
 tenderest care the development of his faculties, turned 
 their energies into the proper channel, and he had seen 
 his care rewarded by the rapid progress his son had 
 made in the acquirement of knowledge. His talents, the 
 acquisitions he had already made, his love of learning and 
 his devotedness to religion, warranted the highest hopes 
 of his future usefulness and respectability in the world. 
 
 This was enough to render Andrew peculiarly dear to 
 his father. But he had more than this to draw his son 
 nearer to his heart. Andrew had 'been his companion in 
 his suffering, and the calm and unmurmuring manner in 
 which he had endured the severest hardships had not 
 only taught his mother and sister to bear their afflictions 
 with patience, but even Mr. Bruce had frequently learnt 
 courage and constancy from his son. Those who have 
 suffered much together have had opportunities of remark- 
 ing one another's qualities, and of endearing themselves 
 to each other by numberless offices of kindness which 
 can never have occurred to those who have. passed all 
 their days in prosperity. These opportunities had been 
 too often afforded to the minister and his family. 
 Andrew had gradually become the second hope on which 
 they relied. In all his wanderings he had scarcely ever 
 left his father's side. He had watched with him at cold 
 midnight, on the side of the mountains and in the glen 
 of the desert ; he had fled with him from the fell pursuit 
 of the enemy, exposed to the storms and darkness of 
 winter ; he had. hungered with him, he had mourned with 
 him, he had endured every hardship with him, and in 
 all he had been his father's comforter, and had showed 
 him the most ardent filial affection. It was this son 
 whom Mr. Bruce was now in all likelihood to see taken 
 from him by the merciless hand of persecution, in the 
 very spring of his days. And we need not wonder if he 
 found it hard, in this instance, to submit with resignation 
 to the unsearchable appointment of heaven.
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 235 
 
 But, if the trial was severe, he had the best comfort 
 which a parent can have when he sees a beloved child 
 about to be wrested from him by the hand of death. He 
 had every reason to believe that whatever his enemies 
 might accomplish against the life of his son, his soul 
 would be received into the bosom of his God. 
 
 Now, consoling himself and his daughter with those 
 sure and certain consolations, derived from that trust and 
 confidence in God which the Holy Scriptures point out 
 as the duty of every Christian, under the most severe 
 afflictions now turning to the throne of grace in prayer 
 for his son, and again giving way to all the depth and 
 bitterness of paternal sorrow he spent the night in the 
 gloomy cave, hoping sometimes that the morrow's light 
 would bring him an account of his son's escape, and yet 
 fearing oftener it would announce his death. 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 "Suffering for Truth's sake, 
 Is fortitude to highest victory, 
 And, to the faithful, death the gate of life." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 NEXT morning Dalziel and Macduff entered the church, 
 and the former instantly asked Andrew if he had come 
 to a resolution about what had been proposed last night. 
 
 "My duty was so plain," said Andrew, "that it 
 required no deliberation. I am prepared to die." 
 
 " But you are perhaps not prepared for torture," 
 said Macduff, with a grin of fiend-like malignity, pointing 
 to a thumbkin which one of the spies, whom we formerly 
 mentioned, held in his hand by the curate's side. "That 
 will make you speak out." 
 
 Andrew glanced an eye of scorn on the curate, looked 
 without emotion at the instrument of torture, and 
 remained silent.
 
 236 =XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Dalziel then asked him if he would not send someone 
 to his father, to persuade him to deliver himself up to 
 them, again repeating the promise of safety to his father's 
 life. 
 
 "Thrust your sword through my body " said Andrew, 
 " but think not to extract from my lips one word, by all 
 the tortures which you can inflict, that may lead to the 
 discovery of my father. My only fear is, that he may 
 hear of my danger and deliver up himself." 
 
 " Try that on your thumb, then," said Dalziel, order- 
 ing the spy at the same time to apply the instrument of 
 torture, while the dragoons that kept guard held the 
 young man, to prevent resistance. 
 
 The thumbkin was an instrument of exquisite torture, 
 and on this occasion it was applied without mercy. 
 For some time Andrew bore the pain it occasioned with 
 a firm and unchanging countenance ; but, as the 
 instrument was screwed closer and closer to his thumb, 
 the colour in his face came and went rapidly, and he 
 writhed himself with the agonising pain. 
 
 Dalziel, seeing it was in vain to expect any discovery, 
 was just about to order the tormentor to desist, when 
 Macduff prevented him by saying, " Another twist yet ! 
 it may have more virtue in it." The obedient spirit of 
 wickedness turned the screw, and the thumb of the 
 young man was heard crashing within the instrument. 
 Nature could bear no more. The blood entirely forsook 
 his face, and he fell down in a swoon. 
 
 Fearing that their hopes of yet eliciting something 
 might be disappointed by the immediate death of the 
 sufferer, they hastened to relax the instrument. And, as 
 soon as Andrew had recovered a little, he was again 
 asked whether he would endure the same again or 
 discover his father. 
 
 " You may torture me to death," said he, in a firm and 
 resolute tone, " but I trust in God, in the Rock of my 
 salvation, and you cannot touch my soul. It is covered 
 by the shield of the Almighty. You shall not wring one
 
 The Persecuted Family 
 
 237 
 
 word from me to endanger my father. The Lord comfort 
 him ! " 
 
 Having tried the torture again with the same effect, 
 Dalziel, by nature and habit cruel, and enraged that his 
 
 CLASPED HER ARMS AROUND ANDREW'S NECK. See page 238. 
 {Copyright by Oliphant Anderson &* Ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 cruelty had entirely failed in the purposes for which it 
 had been exercised in this instance, ordered the young 
 man to be immediately led forth to execution, alleging
 
 238 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 Andrew's refusal to take the test as a ground for this 
 proceeding, although the true reason was his refusal to 
 discover his father. Hanging, as being the most ignomi- 
 nious of deaths, was that appointed for Andrew ; and the 
 gibbet on this occasion was an old elm-tree near the 
 manse, under which he and Mary had often frolicked in 
 the days of their childhood. He had just been led tg the 
 foot of the tree, and the spy, who was the only one to be 
 found who would undertake the task, was fixing the fatal 
 rope to one of its branches, when the attention of all 
 present was suddenly arrested by the appearance of a 
 young woman, who, screaming wildly, rushed through 
 the soldiers, and clasped her arms around Andrew's 
 neck. 
 
 This was his sister. One of the villagers, who on the 
 preceding night had learned the determination of Dalziel 
 with regard to Andrew, before the day went to the cave, 
 and informed Mr. Bruce. 
 
 " I will go and put myself into their hands," exclaimed 
 Mr. Bruce, as soon as he heard the tidings. " Better 
 that I die than lose my son." And he was hastening to 
 leave the cave for this purpose when Mary laid hold of 
 him, and besought him not to go. 
 
 " They will murder you both," said she, weeping, " and 
 what will become of me ? Rather let me go. I will plead 
 for my brother's life, and surely I will move their com- 
 passion." 
 
 "No," said her father, "you know them not. The 
 tiger of the desert hath more of compassion than they. 
 I know with what violence they hate me and my family. 
 No, no ; nothing but my death will save my son. But 
 why do I thus tarry here ? Perhaps they lead him out 
 even now to execution." 
 
 " Go not, my father, I beseech you," said Mary. " Do 
 you think that your death will save Andrew ? " Oh no, my 
 dear father ; they will murder you both. I shall be left 
 alone in the world Be persuaded, my dearest father. 
 Let me go. I am sure they will have pity on us."
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 239 
 
 Mr. Bruce, considering 1 that it was indeed likely that 
 his delivering himself up would not procure the liberty of 
 his son, a spirited young man deeply imbued with 
 principles at enmity with the existing establishments 
 and imagining that the tears and entreaties of Mary, 
 which appeared to him so eloquent, might excite some 
 compassion in the hearts of those into whose hands 
 Andrew had fallen ; and taking pity on his daughter, who 
 he saw, would be left in a state of distraction if he went 
 to give himself up, looked sorrowfully upon her, and 
 wiping a tear from his eye, said 
 
 "Go, then, my daughter. But, stop I may lose 
 you, too ! Who knows where their cruelty may end ? 
 But no, no ! They will have pity on your youth and 
 your tears. Surely there is not in the form of man 
 aught so cruel that will murder my children. God will 
 protect you. Haste, you, my daughter. It is your 
 brother's life that calls you. Haste to the village ; 
 and the Lord be with you and my son." The distressed 
 father then knelt to wrestle at the throne of grace, 
 while Mary flew with the speed of lightning to the 
 village. 
 
 She arrived, as we have seen, just soon enough to 
 have an opportunity of trying what her entreaties could 
 do. The apparatus of death, which she noticed at her 
 approach, and her brother standing bound between two 
 soldiers, had so terrified her, that it was some time 
 before she could so recover herself as to be able to 
 speak. 
 
 "You have come," said Andrew to her, when she 
 had recovered a little "you have come to afflict your- 
 self in vain. My death is determined." 
 
 "No, they will not kill you," replied his sister; 
 "these men will not kill you." And then falling on 
 her knees before Dalziel, whom she knew by his dress 
 to be of highest authority, and, with tears fast flowing 
 down her face, more lovely in grief, thus addressed 
 him :
 
 240 tX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 "Have pity on my brother. If you knew how my 
 father and I love him, you would not kill him. I am 
 sure he has never hurt you. Ever since we were driven 
 from the manse, he has lived peaceably in the moors. 
 He has lived with me ; and I never saw him do injury 
 to anyone. Have pity, sir, on our family. You have 
 already taken our dear mother from us, and will you 
 now take from me an only brother, and from my 
 father an only son? Oh, sir, have you no son, that 
 you may know what my father will feel ? Have you no 
 brother, dear to you as mine is to me ? My dear, dear 
 brother ! Oh, let him go, and I will die in his place ! " 
 
 These^ words, when uttered by Mary, were eloquent, 
 and Dalziel felt some movements of humanity within him. 
 "If your father will put himself into ouf hands," 
 said he, "we will save the life of your brother." 
 
 " Wicked and unfeeling wretch ! " exclaimed Andrew, 
 interposing here, "wicked and inhuman wretch! 
 wouldst thou have her save her brother's life at the 
 expense of her father's? Nor would you set me at 
 liberty though my father were in your hands. Entreat 
 them no more, my dear sister. Weep not for me. I 
 suffer with joy for the glory that is before me. Leave 
 me, dear Mary. Go ; and if ever you see our father, 
 tell him I died with joy for the liberties and religion of 
 Scotland. Tell him not to regret that he did not deliver 
 himself up. It would have been certain death to him, 
 and would not have saved me. Tell him that I am 
 prouder to lay down my life for him, and for the 
 righteous cause in which Scotland suffers, than if I 
 had been lifted up to the loftiest pinnacle of human 
 distinction. Dear sister, be you comforted. I go to 
 our mother. I go to the enjoyments of heaven. You 
 and my father will soon follow ; and there we shall 
 again dwell together in peace, far beyond the change 
 and turbulence of time." 
 
 Dalziel had been, as we have already observed, 
 rather moved by Mary's entreaties ; and still, as he
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX 241 
 
 saw her turning from her brother's embrace, and again 
 casting herself down before him in the agonies of 
 unspeakable grief, he felt something like the kindling 
 of compassion hovering about his heart, and he looked 
 to Macduff with an eye that said, " Might we not have 
 some mercy on this girl ? " 
 
 The curate, with a look of horrible ferocity, and in a 
 tone of reproach, replied, "Will you be drawn from 
 your duty by the snivelling of girls ? If you pardon 
 rebels for their tears, you surely will be accounted a 
 very merciful man, and the Government will certainly 
 sustain the grounds of pardon." 
 
 Dalziel, as if ashamed that he had shown he yet 
 possessed some little human feeling, without waiting 
 a moment, ordered the executioner to proceed. At this 
 word Mary shrieked wildly, fainted, and was immedi- 
 ately carried towards the village by some women who 
 had gathered around her on her arrival. 
 
 Andrew now mounted the scaffold, which had been 
 erected beside the old elm. Here he was again asked 
 if he would not save his life by complying with the 
 terms formerly offered. The young Christian, strong 
 in the might of God, regarding his tempters with a 
 look of indignation, remained silent. "Prepare, then, 
 instantly to die," said Dalziel. 
 
 Andrew kneeled down, and having recommended 
 his soul to the care of his God he arose and exclaimed, 
 " Farewell, my father," as if he could have heard him. 
 " Farewell, my sister. The light of the sun, the hopes 
 of earth, farewell ! And, O holy Father, ere I depart, 
 hear my cry. In Thy mercy haste to deliver the 
 suffering people of Scotland. Now, welcome death ; 
 and welcome eternity ! " When he had thus said, the 
 executioner did as he had been ordered, and the soul 
 of this Christian hero fled away to receive the crown 
 of life. 
 
 What suffering was here ! What did a father and 
 a sister feel ! And how might they have escaped it all ? 
 16
 
 242 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 If they had deserted the cause of liberty and religion ; 
 if they had submitted tamely to those chains which a 
 licentious and tyrannical Government had forged for 
 them, and which, but for their noble resistance, and 
 that of their fellow-sufferers, might have this day been 
 fastened around our necks, this persecuted family might 
 have lived in peace in their manse, undisturbed and 
 uninjured by the troubles of the times. But their souls 
 despised the thought. They had the glory of God in 
 their view they had the liberty of their country at 
 their heart they had the welfare of us, their posterity, 
 before their eyes, and, without a murmur, they laid down 
 their lives in a righteous cause. 
 
 Is there no one that loves to wander about Zion, 
 "and the flowing brooks beneath, that wash her 
 hallowed feet," and to sing on sacred harps the 
 achievements of the saints ? Is there no one warmed 
 with the flame of their devotion, and touched near the 
 heart with their patriotic sufferings, that will twine 
 laurels to their sacred memory into the sweet numbers 
 of immortal melody? Is the theme not soft enough 
 for the refined ear of modern taste, or is it too sacred 
 for the song of the bard? But why should we call 
 for the poet's lyre? Even now their praises sound 
 from harps angelic. "What are these which are 
 arrayed in white robes ? and whence come they ? " 
 "These are they," respond the choirs of heaven 
 "these are they which came out of great tribulation, 
 and have washed their robes, and made them white in 
 the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the 
 throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His 
 temple : and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell 
 among them. They shall hunger no more, neither 
 thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, 
 nor any heat. For the Lamb, which is in the midst of 
 the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them unto 
 living fountains of waters : and God shall wipe away 
 all tears from their eyes."
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 243 
 
 After the execution, Dalziel and Macduff having 
 stood for a little, glutting 1 their eyes with the effects of 
 their cruelty, or rather of the Government under which 
 they served, Macduff, sadly disappointed at the failure 
 of this attempt to draw Mr. Bruce into his hands, said 
 to Dalziel, "Might we not try what torture would 
 elicit from the daughter ? She might be less obstinate ; 
 or the father, moved by her sufferings, might deliver 
 himself up to us." 
 
 " Inhuman man," replied Dalziel, touched with some 
 compunctious visitings of nature, " would'st thou lay 
 thy hand on the distracted girl ? No. I will not 
 permit it. Let us find the father as we may, but the 
 daughter shall not be touched." 
 
 Macduff, being thus reproved by one who was noted 
 for his inflexible rigour towards the Covenanters, 
 ignorant, savage, crocodile-like as he was, seemed to 
 feel a slight movement of shame ; and, without resuming 
 the subject, said to Dalziel, " Let us go and despatch 
 the prisoners whom the soldiers brought in this 
 morning." 
 
 The corpse of the murdered youth was left hanging 
 upon the tree till evening, when some of the villagers 
 ventured to take it down ; and, having dug a grave 
 beneath the shade of the elm, laid the remains of the 
 son of their minister in the narrow house. 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 " It matters little at what hour o' the day 
 The righteous falls asleep, death cannot come 
 To him untimely who is fit to die ; 
 The less of this cold world, the more of heaven. 
 The briefer life, the earlier immortality." 
 
 MILMAN. 
 
 ONE grand and peculiarly excellent characteristic of the 
 Christian religion is, that its resources are always in pro-
 
 244 XsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 portion to the wants of its true professors. If the 
 wickedness and cruelty of men gather about them with a 
 more frowning aspect, their Redeemer looks upon them 
 with a kinder countenance. If the calamities and suffer- 
 ings of life embattle themselves thicker and thicker 
 around them, the objects on which they have fixed their 
 hopes beyond the grave come into a better light, and 
 fill their souls more abundantly with their heavenly 
 relishes. 
 
 The truth of this remark was well illustrated in the 
 conduct of Mr. Bruce. When he received the tidings of 
 his son's death, with the account of the unmurmuring 
 and triumphant manner in which he had closed his short 
 life, the resigned father, looking to heaven, said, " My 
 son, thou hast died in a good cause. The name of the 
 Lord be magnified." 
 
 Having uttered these words, he turned suddenly to the 
 peasant who had brought the sad intelligence, and said, 
 " My son is now safe ; but where is my daughter? Have 
 they murdered her too ? " 
 
 "Your daughter," replied the peasant, "is in the 
 village, with the old woman whom she used to be so fond 
 of. She was so overcome by her brother's cruel death, 
 that she remained for some time in a state of insen- 
 sibility ; but she is now recovered somewhat, although 
 they are afraid she is still in a dangerous condition." 
 
 "I knew it," said Mr. Bruce; "I knew she would 
 never survive her brother's death. Her heart was too 
 tender. It is broken ! it is broken ! O my dear 
 daughter ! must I lose thee too ? My two children in 
 one day ! O Father in heaven ! " he then exclaimed, 
 " Thou knowest what is best for me, and all that is mine. 
 Do with us as seemeth good unto Thee." And then ad- 
 dressing himself to the peasant, said, " Can I not see her 
 once ere she depart? I must see her. I will venture 
 into the village under the shadow of night. If I should 
 fall into my enemies' hands, the Lord will deliver my 
 soul."
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX> 245 
 
 "You must not venture," said the peasant. "If you 
 fall into their hands, we will all lose a father, who is our 
 instructor and comforter in all our suffering's. Your 
 daughter may soon be able to meet you in a place where 
 you shall be in no danger." 
 
 "Nay," said the affectionate father, "but I must see 
 her to-night. She hath need of comfort. Perhaps she 
 will not see another day." 
 
 "Well, well, reverend sir," said the peasant; "we 
 will all do what we can to get you into the village safely. 
 We will let you know when the soldiers have gone to 
 rest. Then will be the safest time for you." 
 
 "Do accordingly," replied the minister. " I will ap- 
 proach the village after nightfall, and wait in the hazel 
 glen till you or some of your friends come to me. Go, and 
 be mindful of your appointment." 
 
 When Mr. Bruce was left alone, he ventured out to the 
 top of a hill hard by, whence he could espy the grave of 
 his wife, and the smoke rising from the village, where 
 his son had that day been put to death, and where his 
 dear daughter, his only remaining earthly hope, lay on a 
 bed of distress. And, truly, it needed something more 
 than the mere firmness of natural fortitude to sustain 
 his spirit while he waited in anxious expectation the 
 coming darkness. 
 
 Mary, to whom we now return, when she lived at the 
 manse in peace, as we formerly remarked, was cheerful 
 as the lark of the morning, and lovely as the flower on 
 which hath never breathed aught but the purest and 
 gentlest breezes from the chambers of the south. And, 
 till her mother's death, she bore all the sufferings to 
 which the family were subjected with little change of 
 spirit, and often did she cheer their wanderings by the 
 sallies of her innocent mirth. Ever after her mother's 
 death, however, although her father watched over her 
 with the eye of a guardian angel, and her brother tended 
 her with the most vigilant affection, she had lost much 
 of her cheerfulness, and her health had been rather de-
 
 246 cXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 dining. The circumstances in which the family had 
 been placed had rendered her mother peculiarly dear to 
 her, and her tender feelings never fully recovered from 
 the shock they received by the sudden and cruel death of 
 her mother. And now the still more untimely and cruel 
 death of her brother, together with all the affecting cir- 
 cumstances with which it was connected, had entirely 
 overcome her. After she had been carried into the old 
 woman's house, and had recovered from the swoon into 
 which she had fallen when she heard that her brother's 
 death was sure, she exclaimed, for some minutes, " My 
 brother! my dear brother! what will my father do?" 
 and then relapsed into the swoon. During the whole 
 course of the day, although she had resorted to the 
 treasures of comfort that are laid up for all afflicted 
 Christians, and although the peace which is from above 
 had stilled the tumult of her soul, she fell at intervals into 
 fainting fits ; and, as the evening and night approached, 
 they came on oftener, and continued longer. She felt 
 that she was dying, and she had only one wish, she 
 said, unfulfilled that was, to see her father. "But he 
 cannot come here without endangering his life," she would 
 say; "and why should I wish him? I shall soon see 
 him in heaven. He will not take care of himself when 
 we are gone, and the persecutors will soon get him ; but 
 my father is prepared to die." 
 
 At the approach of night, Mr. Bruce, anxious to see 
 his daughter, drew near the village. He stayed in the 
 hazel glen, as agreed on, till about midnight, when the 
 peasant, faithful to his appointment, met him. As it 
 happened, most of the soldiers who were quartered in 
 the village and its neighbourhood had been sent the 
 preceding day on a distant excursion, and had not yet 
 returned, and the few who remained, the peasant assured 
 Mr. Bruce, had all retired to rest. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, in coming to the house where his daughter 
 lay, passed the place where his son was buried, and the 
 church which he had so often entered with holy joy ; and
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX^ 247 
 
 he saw the manse where he had lived so happily with his 
 family. But these times were past. His Master had 
 called him to severer service. And the worthy pastor, 
 without giving way to the sad reflections which every 
 object about him tended to suggest, hurried on to the 
 hut where his daughter lay. 
 
 When he entered the house, he beheld Mary stretched 
 on a humble bed to all appearance lifeless. " I am too 
 late," he said to the old woman and some of the neigh- 
 bours who stood by. " My daughter is gone." "We 
 hope not, sir," replied the old woman. " She has fallen 
 into a swoon, but she will recover yet." 
 
 Mr. Bruce examined his daughter narrowly, and he 
 could discover that life had not entirely left its seat. 
 Sometimes, however, he could discern nothing but the 
 paleness and stillness of death about his dear child ; 
 sometimes a slight quiver moved her lips, and her eye 
 half opened ; and he leaned over her and wept, praying 
 that he might yet hear his daughter's voice ere she 
 departed. 
 
 After continuing nearly half an hour in this state, she 
 gave a deep sigh, and looked up in her father's face. 
 " Are you there, father? " she said. " I am now ready 
 to die. They will tell you," continued she, looking to 
 those who stood by " they will tell you what my brother 
 said to me when I saw him last. Haste you, dear father, 
 from this place. They will torture you if they get you. 
 Is it not night ? Leave me before the day come. Dear 
 father, I go to my Redeemer : He is all my salvation, and 
 all my desire." 
 
 "Dear daughter," he said, grasping her hand, and 
 half embracing her "dear daughter, what can I wish 
 more? The Lord our God take you to Himself! " 
 
 " Farewell, father," Mary said. " We shall soon meet 
 again." 
 
 Oh, how lovely in that moment did she seem in her 
 father's sight ! Her eye, always beautiful, shed at its 
 setting the purity of heaven, and no earthly commotion
 
 248 eXsTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 stirred the composure of her cheek. For a moment she 
 looked on her father, not like the solitary star, which 
 looks by the skirts of the gathering clouds which are 
 soon to wrap it in darkness, but like the last star of the 
 morning', about to fade away into the light of day. And 
 now her eye closed ; she grasped her father's hand con- 
 vulsively ; it loosened its hold ; the last quiver forsook 
 her lips, and her gentle soul fled far away beyond the 
 sufferings of time. 
 
 "It is done," said Mr. Bruce, still gazing on his 
 daughter " it is done ; persecution hath accomplished its 
 worst against me. But why should I repine ? My dear 
 family hath now escaped from the evils to come. This 
 world was not their home. It was the country of their 
 enemies ; and blessed be the name of God, that He hath 
 so early taken them away from suffering to that place 
 which His everlasting love hath prepared for them. I 
 have now less to care for in this vale of tears. Let me 
 now, Holy Father," said he, lifting up his hands to 
 heaven " let me henceforth have nought but Thy glory 
 before me. In Thy name and strength let me fight out 
 the Christian warfare. Make me more and more the 
 comforter and helper of Thy scattered people ; and if 
 Thou shouldst deliver me up to my enemies, give me to 
 die without a murmur in the cause of my country's 
 liberty ! " 
 
 After uttering these words, Mr. Bruce desired the 
 corpse of his daughter should be interred as privately as 
 possible ; and, taking leave of the sorrowful few who had 
 gathered around him, immediately left the village, and 
 returned toward the place of his concealment. 
 
 The objects of nature had early made a deep impression 
 on the mind of Mr. Bruce ; and his manner of life, spent 
 for the last six years amidst its wildest scenery, had still 
 deepened this impression. Night, as it was the only time 
 when he could venture safely abroad, had especially 
 engaged his contemplation, and often in his nocturnal 
 discourses did he turn the attention of his audience to
 
 The Persecuted Family KoK* 249 
 
 the grandeur of that magnificent temple in which they 
 met to worship God. 
 
 Notwithstanding the losses he had sustained that day, 
 Mr. Bruce, resigned to the will of God, and having the 
 Christian's peace in his bosom as he walked towards the 
 cave, could look with his usual relish to the magnificence 
 of the starred canopy and the shadowy grandeur of 
 nature around him. And as he ascended, with a peasant 
 who accompanied him, an eminence near his cave, he 
 made the following reflections, standing lonely on the 
 hill with no wife, no child remaining ; but standing firm 
 and dignified, like the oak of the mountains after its 
 leaves have been torn away by the violence of the 
 tempest : 
 
 "Turn your eye to those stars," said he to the peasant, 
 " that look forth like angels' eyes from heaven. How 
 pure and tranquil they seem ! None of the storms which 
 agitate this lower world disturb them. They shone on 
 the beings that trode this waste a thousand years ago, 
 and still they shine on us. Do not their serenity and 
 duration seem to write a satire on the tumult and brevity 
 of the life of man ? How much of his folly have they 
 seen ! how little of his wisdom ! How much of his 
 cruelty to his fellow-creatures ! how little of his)brotherly 
 affection ! How many have they seen going forth, under 
 their holy light, with the dagger of vengeance, to carry 
 into execution the dark plots of wickedness ! how few 
 have they noticed crossing the valleys of earth on errands 
 of mercy ! How many deluded human beings have they 
 observed bowing down to stocks and stones ! how few 
 bending the knee sincerely to the living and true God ! 
 Yes, they have seen hundreds of generations bustle away 
 the little hour of their vanity, and they have seen their 
 everlasting destiny sealed. And yet man is still as 
 foolish as if none had ever proved to him that he must 
 die. He grasps at the shadow of earth's happiness, 
 more fleeting than that which the passing cloud casts 
 yonder on the heath. And so eagerly does he run after
 
 250 cX5X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 the spectre, that neither the tears nor the execrations ot 
 thousands dying under his feet, nor the sword of eternal 
 wrath which gleams over his head, can stop him in his 
 frenzied pursuit. Sure there is something miserably wrong 
 in the human heart. Surely the true eyes of the human 
 understanding have been, indeed, put out. The shadow 
 that falls from yonder mountain, and hides the vale in 
 gloom, is itself brightness, compared with that cloud that 
 broods on the human mind, and benights all its faculties. 
 So dreadfully dim is mortal vision, that it cannot discern 
 the glory of God Himself, even when He comes to redeem, 
 to forgive, and to save. Oh, when shall that star arise 
 which led the wise men of old to the manger of Bethlehem, 
 and guides the way of every man to the feet of Jesus, 
 who, although He created the heavens, and heard the 
 harps of angels sing His glory divine, died to make us 
 wise unto salvation ? Surely the time will come, for the 
 Lord hath sworn it, yea, He hath sworn it by Himself, 
 when the earth shall return to its allegiance, and be cured 
 of its folly." 
 
 Here the holy man looked to his companion, whom he 
 had forgotten in his contemplations, and, casting his 
 eye of faith far into days yet to come, and filled with the 
 blessedness which the promises of God have pledged to 
 the world, exclaimed, "Yes, my friend, we have the 
 God that made all these worlds to support us. We have 
 His promise, that truth shall ultimately prevail. Let us 
 boldly do our duty, that we may be partakers of that 
 joy unspeakable, which shall fill the hearts of the just 
 when all shall [be complete in Christ, and when these 
 stars shall melt away at His second coming." 
 
 When Mr. Bruce had withdrawn his mind from these 
 contemplations, he parted from the peasant and returned 
 to the cave by wife or child no longer made cheerful.
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 251 
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 " Servant of God well done ! 
 
 Rest from thy loved employ ; 
 The battle foug-ht, the victory won, 
 
 Enter thy Master's joy. 
 The pains of death are past, 
 Labour and sorrow cease ; 
 And life's long warfare closed at last, 
 
 His soul is found in peace. 
 Soldier of Christ, well done ! 
 
 Praise be thy new employ ; 
 And while eternal ages run, 
 Rest in thy Saviour's joy." 
 
 MONTGOMERY. 
 
 AFTER the loss of his family, Mr. Bruce continued to 
 instruct and comfort his scattered flock with more assiduity 
 and zeal than ever. The suffering's he had endured had 
 given a bolder and firmer tone to his character. The 
 more he saw the devastations of cruelty and tyranny 
 spreading around him, the warmer his heart glowed with 
 the love of liberty and the blessings which accompany it. 
 The lovely flowers which, that he might guard and 
 cherish them, had hitherto rendered him more careful of 
 himself, were now gathered into a place of safety. With 
 nought to bind him to earth but an ardent desire to 
 instruct and counsel the Presbyterians, so as they might 
 best attain the glorious purposes they had in view, he 
 now ventured forth boldly, and seized with eagerness 
 every opportunity of strenthening and consoling them. 
 Thus employed for a considerable time, he wandered 
 from place to place, always visiting, as often as he durst, 
 the people of his former charge. 
 
 But, in proportion as Mr. Bruce became more con- 
 spicuous among the persecuted party, the maligtiity of 
 his enemies, and their exertions to cut him off, increased ; 
 and what they had so long and so eagerly sought was 
 now drawing near. 
 
 One Sabbath evening, in the depth of winter, he met,
 
 252 cXfTX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 according to a previous appointment, a few of his own 
 flock in a remote house not very far from the place 
 where he had so often concealed himself. There he 
 preached a sermon ; and as if he had felt some presenti- 
 ment that this sermon would be his last, he exhorted his 
 hearers, towards the close of his discourse, with extra- 
 ordinary warmth and energy, to be faithful to the death, 
 to live peaceably, to bear all with patience, assuring 
 them that God would most certainly plead His own cause 
 and deliver His servants from oppression. He represented 
 how much Christ had suffered for them, and with what 
 meekness and resignation, what blessings they could 
 secure to posterity, and what rewards they would them- 
 selves receive, by bearing nobly up against the storm 
 that beat on them so severely. On leaving the little 
 audience, whose hearts had burned, whose eyes had wept, 
 whose faith had increased, and whose purpose to bear 
 all, for the cause in which they had engaged, had been 
 more firmly established while listening to his discourse, 
 he said to them in a cheerful manner, " My friends, 
 when we part in these times, we have very little certainty 
 of meeting again. But our best friend, Jesus Christ, goes 
 with us all. He is company enough ; and should any- 
 thing happen to any of us, when we have no one to give 
 us assistance, He will take care of us." 
 
 When he had thus said, he left the house, fearing that 
 he had been already too long there, as it was not 
 improbable that same notice of the meeting might have 
 reached the persecutors. Both because it was the safest 
 place, and because he meant to spend the remaining part 
 of the Sabbath night in private prayer and supplication 
 to God in behalf of the suffering people, he withdrew 
 unaccompanied to the cave, never suspecting that any of 
 his enemies observed him. But there had been a Judas 
 among those who embraced him at parting. 
 
 One of those spies, whom we have had occasion to 
 mention before, eager to gain the reward offered to any 
 one who should bring information which might lead to
 
 The Persecuted Family XcX 253 
 
 the apprehension of Mr. Bruce, took the following method 
 to compass his design. 
 
 With the consent and privacy of Macduff he entirely 
 forsook his house, lived among the peasants, and, as he 
 was one who had formerly sworn the covenant, he mani- 
 fested the deepest contrition for the aid he had given to 
 those who sought the ruin of the Covenanters. He gave 
 proof of the greatest zeal in everything which had for its 
 end their safety revealed to them many schemes which 
 were contrived for their destruction and showed always 
 the most sensible alarm lest he should fall into the hands 
 of those he had last deserted. By these artifices he 
 gained the confidence of those with whom he now 
 associated ; and had continued with them more than a 
 month, supporting always the same character, before 
 Mr. Bruce happened to visit his people. The night of 
 which we have spoken was the first time he had ever got 
 into his presence. Mr. Bruce noticed him, but, both 
 from the manner in which he behaved during the meeting, 
 and from the account he had received of him, he enter- 
 tained no suspicion of his real designs. This man, if he 
 deserve the name, dogged Mr. Bruce, through the 
 darkness of night, to the cave ; and, as soon as he saw 
 him enter, hastened to the village to give information. 
 
 It was midnight when he reached the curate's house. 
 And, although this monster would not have risen from 
 his bed at that hour to save a soul from death, he 
 instantly got up, and, with the malignant satisfaction of 
 an evil spirit when it hath compassed some infernal aim, 
 hastened to inform the few soldiers who were in the 
 village. No time was lost. It was at first resolved to 
 bring Mr. Bruce to the village, and send him thence to 
 be executed in Edinburgh. But, as the appearance of a 
 Dutch fleet on the north coast of Scotland had, at that 
 time, occasioned the withdrawing of most of the troops 
 from the west, they were afraid that the handful they 
 could collect would not be sufficient to repel the peasants, 
 whose ardent attachment to Mr. Bruce, they had every
 
 254 
 
 reason to suspect, would excite them to attempt a rescue. 
 Urged by this reason, and determined, at any- rate, to 
 make sure of Mr. Bruce's death, Macduff said to the 
 commanding officer, "Go and shoot the rebel wherever 
 you find him. The king will reward you for it." 
 
 The soldiers, about ten in number, set out from the 
 village, conducted by the spy, and led by an officer well 
 fitted to execute a bloody command. As the ground was 
 covered with snow, and the way extremely rugged, they 
 could make no use of their horses, and were therefore 
 obliged to leave them behind. But, although the storm 
 of winter howled around their heads, and the darkness of 
 night brooded on the rough and wayless moors, keeping, 
 by the direction of the spy, not far from the stream up 
 which the cave lay, they urged on, as if they had been 
 going on a message of extraordinary mercy. 
 
 About three in the morning they reached the vicinity of 
 the cave. Two or three soldiers were posted on a crag 
 above it, one or two on the opposite side of the stream, 
 to prevent the possibility of Mr. Bruce escaping, while 
 the others scambled up the difficult ascent which led to 
 the mouth of the cave. The spirit of the blast of night 
 moaned dolefully among the forlorn cliffs ; the Ayr, half 
 fettered in ice, . grumbled at their feet; and the leafless 
 trees by which they supported themselves as they 
 ascended the rock, waving to the wind, seemed to utter 
 curses on the ruffians' heads. Hardened as they were in 
 ruthless deeds, their guilty hearts interpreted every sound 
 they heard as an indication of coming wrath. They 
 trembled like the leaf which the wind passeth over ; and, 
 as they stood still involuntarily before the abode of the 
 holy man, they heard, issuing from the mouth of the cave, 
 the following words: "Yea, for Zion's sake will I not 
 hold my peace, Holy Father, and for Jerusalem's sake I 
 will not rest, until the day of her mercy come. Hast thou 
 forsaken Zion, O Lord ! hast Thou forgotten the people 
 of Thy love ? Our temples are desolate ; the courts of 
 Thy holiness are defiled ; Thy children are scattered on the
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX 255 
 
 mountains ; they weep and cry in the desert. The harp 
 of their sorrow hangs on the willow, and mourns to the 
 blast of the wilderness ; the wastes of nature are watered 
 with their tears ; their blood is poured forth, and there is 
 none to pity them ! Surely we are a sinful nation a 
 people laden with iniquity. We have forsaken Thee ! we 
 have provoked the Holy One of Israel to anger. But, O 
 Merciful and Holy One ! God of salvation ! look down 
 from heaven, and behold from the habitation of Thy 
 holiness ; and let the bow of Thy mercy be seen in the 
 wilderness. Thou wilt not forsake us. I know Thy 
 Church is graven on the palms of Thy hands ; her walls 
 are continually before Thee : and the point of every 
 weapon that is lifted against her wilt Thou at length 
 turn into the soul of him that lifted it. Haste, O God 
 and Father, to deliver us ! Turn the hand of oppression 
 from our country, that Thy people may dwell in freedom 
 and peace. And while Thou seest meet that they should 
 wander on the mountains and suffer in the cause of their 
 country, oh, give them patience, and fortitude, and 
 strength. Let them take comfort, that in all their 
 afflictions the Captain of their salvation is afflicted, 
 and that the Angel of Thy presence shall save them. 
 Stretch over them the shield of Thine omnipotence ; 
 guide the path of their trials by thine all-comprehending 
 wisdom ; fill their hearts with thine inexhaustible love ; 
 save them, O Lord save and support them in death ! 
 And, O Father ! when the day of Thy vengeance 
 arriveth, and the year of restitution to the spoilers of our 
 land doth come, have mercy on those who have had not 
 mercy on us. Soften the hardness of their hearts ; open 
 the blindness of their eyes. Oh, cast them not away 
 from Thy presence for ever ! For who among them shall 
 dwell with the devouring fire? who among them shall 
 dwell with everlasting burnings ? " 
 
 Thus did the holy man, in the darkness of night, in the 
 cave of the cold rock, plead with his God for our Church 
 and our country.
 
 256 tXsX Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 The fell assassins still stood before the cave, trembling 
 at the words they had heard, and the holy confidence 
 with which they were uttered. And the most fearless 
 and stout - hearted among them wished the task of 
 murdering this servant of Jesus had fallen to other hands. 
 After a short pause, however, the officer, ashamed to 
 have felt something like humanity moving within him, 
 which he considered as cowardice, suddenly entered the 
 cave, ordering two of his men to follow. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, who was kneeling when he entered, arose. 
 A few embers that burned on the floor of the place 
 helped to show his appearance. His forehead was bald, 
 and his few remaining locks were grey. His figure, 
 although nothing improved by his half-worn and little- 
 befitting clothes, was elegant ; and the serene and 
 peaceful dignity of his countenance, which changed not 
 at the entrance of the soldiers, was such as might 
 impress the beholder with respect and awe. 
 
 "You are come," said he mildly, addressing the 
 officer "you are come to apprehend me. I am pre- 
 pared to go with you. You, perhaps, have a better 
 lodging for me than this ; although, as it is, I have been 
 often glad to get to it." 
 
 "My orders are," said the officer, "to offer you the 
 test, and if you refuse it, to put you to death on the 
 spot." 
 
 "Nay, then," said Mr. Bruce, smiling, "is heaven so 
 near? You are going to send me to better lodgings 
 indeed." 
 
 "But will you take the test," said the officer, "and 
 save us the expense of a shot ? " 
 
 "God be my witness," said Mr. Bruce, the true 
 fortitude of the Christian strongly marking his coun- 
 tenance as he spoke, " God be my witness, I will never 
 swear away my allegiance from the King of kings, who 
 is my Saviour and Master. I will not submit to that 
 which my conscience condemns. I will not connive at the 
 enslaving of my country."
 
 The Persecuted Family 
 
 2 57 
 
 " Have done," said the officer ; " have done." 
 "I have done," replied Mr. Bruce, with unfaltering 
 voice. And, lifting up his hands, he prayed, and said, 
 " Lord Jesus, forgive my enemies. Lord Jesus, be with 
 the poor people I leave in this wilderness. Father, Son, 
 and Holy Ghost, receive my spirit ! " 
 
 When he had thus spoken, the officer commanded 
 his men to discharge their carabines on Mr. Bruce. 
 
 THEY REFUSED TO OBEY. 
 [Copyright by Oliphant Anderson &" ferrier, 1895.] 
 
 The reverend minister glanced a look upon them, and 
 they refused to obey. " Faint-hearted slaves," ex- 
 claimed the enraged officer ; and, snatching a carabine 
 from the hand of one of the soldiers, discharged its 
 contents into the breast of Mr. Bruce. The martyred 
 saint instantly fell down, and expired while the report 
 of the fatal shot yet echoed among the wild cliffs 
 17
 
 258 cX5"X Tales of the Covenanters 
 
 around. Farewell, good and faithful servant ! Thou 
 hast entered into the joy of thy Lord ! 
 
 Still, religion, thou art happiness ! The joys which 
 thou pourest into the heart lie not within the reach of 
 any weapon that the hand of man can form. The calm 
 which thou settlest on the soul, the wing of no earthly 
 blast can disturb. The light by which thy children 
 walk is the candle of the Lord, which can never be 
 quenched. Thou plantest a torch for them in the gloom 
 of death's darkness, and supportest their goings on the 
 rod and the staff of the Almighty. Thou conductest 
 their spirits to the feast of immortality, and layest 
 their bodies down to sleep in peace till the morning of the 
 resurrection. Woe unto him that seeketh his happiness 
 apart from Thee ! He shall be miserably disappointed. 
 
 READER, I have now finished this short account of the 
 Persecuted Family. In it I have had occasion to 
 introduce thee to some of the sufferings that were en- 
 dured, and some of the cruelties that were exercised, by 
 our ancestors of the seventeenth century the former 
 for the sake of religion, and all the dearest rights of 
 men ; the latter to extirpate liberty, and leave to 
 posterity the chains of servitude. The sufferings of 
 the family, to which I confined myself, did not lead me 
 to bring into view the most exalted Christian heroism 
 which was in these times manifested ; and, unwilling to 
 shock the tender feelings of the heart, I have studiously 
 avoided some of those monstrous cruelties which were 
 then exercised, and which, without going out of my 
 way, I might have introduced. Thou hast seen enough, 
 however, kind reader, of the latter to abhor it, and of 
 the former to admire it. I know thou hast praised their 
 patience, and their resignation, and their hope, and their 
 faith, and their fortitude in death. Thou hast marked 
 their staunch adherence to the dictates of conscience, the
 
 The Persecuted Family KcX^ 259 
 
 ardour of their devotion, and their love of liberty and 
 their country. And, while thou sittest in peace, conscious 
 that thou mayest worship thy God as thou thinkest the 
 Bible orders thee, thou perhaps givest them, who suffered 
 so much to secure thee this liberty, the sacred applause 
 due to their exertions. It is right that it should be so. 
 
 But I wish thee not to stop here. I wish thee to 
 trust in and to adore the grace of God, which supported 
 them and gave them victory ; to admire the wonderful 
 resources of that religion which they professed how 
 sufficient they are to instruct and advise the Christian 
 in the devious and difficult paths to keep his heart warm 
 in the coldest winter of adversity to invigorate him as he 
 climbs the steepest ascents of virtue and to uphold and 
 sustain his soul in the face of the most violent of deaths. 
 
 Nor hath the Christian of the present day need only 
 to admire the marvellous sources from which his suffer- 
 ing ancestors drew. He hath not less need than they 
 to draw for himself. His enemies are more concealed, 
 more mannerly, more deceitful, and therefore less apt 
 to excite his suspicion and put him on his guard. 
 Persecution labours to force the Christian out of his 
 way, whether he will or not ; and therefore the spirit 
 of liberty within him encourages him to make a bold 
 resistance. In the days of peace and prosperity he is 
 assailed by pleasures, which, endeavouring to draw him 
 out of his path by the sweetness of their song and the 
 fairness of their promises, excite little suspicion of their 
 design, and are therefore often little resisted. 
 
 If the persecuted Christian needs more of comfort, of 
 steadiness in peril, of patience, resignation, and fortitude 
 he who lives in peace requires more of watchfulness, 
 of self-denial, and of resistance to temptation. If our 
 wants are, therefore, as numerous, so should our 
 applications be to that inexhaustible source which 
 supplied all theirs, and which will supply all ours if 
 we approach it with our whole heart.
 
 General View of the Covenanters 
 
 )v\_ 
 
 y^P^^VJ
 
 General View of the Covenanters 
 
 General View of the Character, Literature, Aims 
 and Attained Objects of the Covenanters 
 
 To pass from a living" story to an analysis may seem a 
 cold and deep descent : still it is necessary to make it, 
 and perhaps it may be so managed that whatever true 
 sympathy has been excited by the memorial of the cove- 
 nanting deeds and sufferings, shall not be lost in an 
 attempt to seek more minutely to contemplate the moral 
 and intellectual qualities of the men. 
 
 The first and most prominent feature in their character 
 was earnestness. That they possessed this is beyond all 
 question. Earnestness is not, as some seem to imagine, 
 a quality recently discovered, like Californian or Aus- 
 tralian gold, it is as old as the heart of man, or the 
 purposes and plans of Almighty God ; and in the heroes 
 of the Covenant we find it in all its strength, if not in all 
 its purity. They were terribly in earnest. The passion 
 which was in them, like all great passions, refused to be 
 divided. Their idea possessed them with a force and a 
 fulness to which we find few parallels in history. It 
 haunted their sleep it awoke with them in the morning 
 it walked, like their shadow, with them to business or 
 to pleasure it became the breath of their nostrils and 
 the soul of their soul. Ever does such possession give 
 consistency to character, elevation to feeling, nobility to 
 endurance shall we say? sanctity to error. At least, 
 the errors of earnest ecstacy are not to be weighed in the 
 balance with the deliberate mistakes and voluntary mad- 
 
 263
 
 264 eXsX General View 
 
 nesses of a false system. What a contrast between the 
 Covenanters in their rugged devotedness, their almost 
 insane sincerity, and the occasional excesses into which 
 they were hurried, and the society of the Jesuits, with 
 their cold colossal faults, their systematic falsehood, the 
 low arts which mingled with all their stupendous 
 exertions, the dark veil which has hung around them in 
 all their manifold and tortuous movements. The history 
 of the Covenanters was a current of rapid volcanic fire ; 
 that of the Jesuits has been the course of a glacier, cold, 
 creeping, and carrying destruction with it wherever it 
 has gone. The earnestness of our fathers was that of 
 deep attachment to a cause, and that of the Jesuits, of 
 devotion to a defeated and exposed sham. As they 
 have sown, they have reaped. The Covenanters have 
 passed away, but the liberties and religion of Scotland 
 form their everlasting monument. The Jesuits remain, 
 but they walk in darkness ; they are tracked by sus- 
 picion, hatred, and terror, and now for a long time 
 " their judgment lingereth not, and their damnation," as 
 a party, " doth not slumber." 
 
 Much of the covenanting spirit of devout earnestness 
 is gone from the Scottish character, but it is not yet 
 too late to behold at least the skirts of its departing 
 glory. The practice of tent-preaching, which till lately 
 prevailed, was one of the most striking of these remains. 
 That this was sometimes abused we know from Burns' 
 Holy Fair, as well as from other sources, to be an 
 unquestionable fact ; but the abuse was almost entirely 
 confined to the neighbourhood of great cities. At all 
 events, amid the peaceful solitudes of Perthshire we 
 never witnessed aught but what was reverent, interest- 
 ing, and even imposing. The use of the tent was latterly 
 confined to the summer sacrament. 
 
 It is a bright Sabbath morning in the end of June, 
 or the beginning of July a little before eleven ; crowds 
 are seen approaching from all directions to a tent made 
 of wood, painted blue, and set in a field hard by the
 
 of the Covenanters 
 
 murmuring Earn, which a little below is joined by 
 another mountain stream. The scene around is magnifi- 
 cent. To the west stand up a chain of bold precipitous 
 mountains, black in winter, but now in this summer 
 day clothed with the freshest green which ferns and 
 Alpine grasses can supply. On the south, beyond the 
 river, a fertile plain expands till bounded at the distance 
 of two miles by a lower ridge of hills, which close the 
 valley and confine the prospect. Eastward, the river 
 pursues its course towards some low wooded fells, 
 through which it finds a narrow passage into that 
 broader strath which extends to the Tay. On the north 
 is the village, and behind it a glorious glen covered 
 with woods and surmounted by a monumental pillar, 
 which stands on a bare rock above them. The sun is 
 warm, but a tree or two are near, under which some of 
 the multitude find a shelter, and a cool breeze from the 
 stream passes ever and anon across their countenances, 
 and bedews them with delicious refreshment. The crowd 
 is scarcely less interesting than the scenery. It is com- 
 posed partly of the villagers and partly of farmers and 
 country-folks. You see here the keen, hard-featured 
 faces of weavers and shoemakers, and there the bluff 
 and ruddy countenances of ploughmen. Not a few aged 
 men are there, wearing broad blue bonnets over their 
 silver hairs. Some shepherds' plaids are to be seen ; 
 and, here and there, you see a mountaineer wearing the 
 kilt of his fathers. Old women are there, with round 
 linen-caps instead of bonnets. Blooming virgins, too, 
 abound, with modesty and beauty meeting together 
 under the shadow of their simple headgear. Children 
 people the outskirts of the assembly, or sit on the dyke 
 dividing the field from the river ; and lo ! there is one 
 boy who is sitting apart from all the rest, and is musing 
 with half-shut dreamy eye with the shadow of a whole 
 tree screening him from the summer-heat. Many of the 
 multitude have come from distant parts of the country, 
 over " muirs and mosses many," to join in the solemnities
 
 266 =X5X General View 
 
 of the day ; that little company of men and women have 
 risen early from the banks of Loch Earn, have been first 
 at the tent, and shall remain till the stars appear tremb- 
 ling over the Abruchill Hills. The service at last begins. 
 The preacher mounts the tent. He is a man apparently 
 of sixty and upwards his hair is a sable, thickly silvered 
 
 his brow is lofty, his face has once been almost hand- 
 some, and is still manly and bold ; in stature he 
 approaches six feet, and age has not yet prevailed to 
 bend his erect figure. His eye is quick, eager, and 
 restless ; earnest simplicity pervades his whole aspect. 
 He gives out the psalm in a clear, strong voice, which 
 rings afar "like a trumpet with a silver sound." The 
 voice of the multitude then arises, swells, sinks, dies 
 away ; but how melodiously has it peopled the solitude 
 and awakened the echoes of the hills ! He prays, and 
 his prayer is fervid and powerful. He announces as his 
 text, ''They spake of the decease that he was to 
 accomplish at Jerusalem ; " and straightway the minds 
 of the large throng are transported to the top of Tabor 
 
 a loftier hill than any in sight and their hearts begin 
 to burn within them as they see their Lord talking to 
 the celestial messengers on that memorable transfigura- 
 tion morn, 
 
 " When in the sad days of his flesh, o'er Christ a glory came, 
 And light o'erflowed him like a sea, and raised his shining brow, 
 And the voice came forth which bade all worlds the Son of God 
 avow," 
 
 and talking not of heaven's splendours but of Calvary's 
 death ! The preacher is not imaginative in thought, or 
 refined in language ; but he is in earnest : he is possessed, 
 moreover, of true natural eloquence ; and as his voice 
 rises with his subject, and his eye kindles, every heart in 
 the audience is hushed, and not a few tears are seen 
 stealing down the cheeks of both young and old. Now 
 he quotes a few lines of poetry ; and now he tells some 
 interesting or plaintive anecdote, and their attention is
 
 of the Covenanters KeX 267 
 
 still faster riveted. By and by his earnestness becomes 
 overwhelming" in its intensity, he has seized the two- 
 edged sword of appeal, and is wielding it with a giant's 
 arm. He alludes to their privileges : he contrasts that 
 peaceful field-meeting with those of their forefathers in 
 the days of the Covenant. " You have no arms in your 
 hands there are no watchmen posted on these silent 
 hills. How great should be your gratitude ! " Ere 
 finishing, as if from an irresistible impulse, he takes 
 occasion to enumerate the years of his own ministry ; to 
 allude to the tent-preachings of the past on that same 
 spot ; to speak of those who once worshipped there, 
 but who were now in a better world ; and to talk of 
 death as impending over his auditors and himself. He 
 closes, and a thousand loosened breasts return him the 
 truest applause. His word has been prophetic. Never 
 more shall he preach at that tent. Never more shall he 
 there see the June sun, hear the murmur of that silver 
 Earn on the sacramental Sabbath day, or behold the 
 thick daisies of that green sward where 
 
 "You scarce can see the grass for flowers." 
 
 Long ere summer has revolved his manly form is to be 
 consigned to yonder graveyard on the west, which sur- 
 rounds the parish church, with its spire. The sunshine 
 of October is to look in upon his deathbed his dying 
 eye is to rest upon the autumn stubble the fallen leaves 
 are to play upon his grave and that dreamy-eyed boy 
 under the tree is to awake one awful morning, and to 
 encounter almost the bitterness of death as he feels 
 himself Fatherless! 
 
 The services of the day go on. Part of the multitude 
 now repair to the church where the communion is being 
 celebrated, others remain at the tent, where a succession 
 of ministers appear, and, with various degrees of power, 
 unction, and eloquence, perpetuate the impression made 
 by the opening sermon. We notice with peculiar interest
 
 268 tX5~X General View 
 
 one remarkable man, preaching to the smallest audience 
 that has been collected on that green to-day. Fit though 
 few is his audience. Yet, note well his aspect. His 
 stature is tall his brow not broad but lofty anxiety and 
 suffering have anticipated the work of age, instamping 
 premature wrinkles on his forehead, and shedding 
 premature specks of snow upon his head. His eye is 
 small, sunk, self-involved his face has retired into a 
 dream, but on his lips there is carved a perpetual smile. 
 He reads for his text, "Thy righteousness, also, O Lord, 
 is very high." His manner at first is slow and embar- 
 rassed his gesture is uncouth, and at times furious 
 his voice sometimes sinks into an inarticulate murmur, 
 and is at times exaggerated to a yell. But, as he con- 
 tinues to preach, a strange fascination seems to exhale 
 out of him a fine train of thought is found to underlie 
 the woof of his words, and you cry, " Is not this 
 genius ? " And when he speaks of the lofty righteous- 
 ness of the Lord, and compares it to the inaccessible 
 grandeur of the blue summer heaven, and points his 
 finger up toward that "terrible crystal" in which the 
 afternoon sun is now glowing, the climax is perfect 
 and you bow down melted and thrilled beneath the 
 sublimity of his thought. 
 
 The evening service is the most solemn of all. But 
 here let us shift the scene six miles to the east, and look 
 at another tent -service there. It is taking place in a 
 field, near the town of Crieff, and commands a more 
 striking distant amphitheatre of view than even the 
 "green" of Comrie. The dark mountains on the west 
 are seen relieved and softened in outline against the far- 
 off sky. Another chain, invisible from the banks of the 
 Earn, appear in the north-west, resting against the 
 horizon like leaning Titans. Two of the loftiest of 
 Scotland's mountains are here also seen Ben Voirlich and 
 Stincknachroan looking in, as from another world, 
 over the tops of the inferior hills, and' with sprinklings of 
 snow on their brows, unmelted amid the blaze of June.
 
 of the Covenanters KeX* 269 
 
 Evening 1 is casting 1 its divine hues over this noble expanse 
 of prospect. A large star or two has come out, and, 
 like a quiet, thoughtful, happy eye, is watching the 
 scene. The broad, pale, spectral moon 
 
 " Has climbed the blue steep of the eastern sky, 
 And sits and tarries for the coming' night." 
 
 The sun meanwhile is dying, like a king on a couch 
 of gold, supported by the blue ethereal mountains, and 
 with curtains of purple and crimson waving around the 
 gorgeous bed. In such a scene the last preacher of the 
 sacramental day begins its closing service, not uncon- 
 scious of the interest of the circumstances and the 
 romance of the scene. Perhaps he selects the subject 
 of the judgment-day and, to a silent and awestruck 
 throng, describes the gathering of the clouds of doom 
 the tolling of the funereal bell of the universe the 
 going out of "that moon, that sun, and those stars 
 the appearance of the Saviour in the sky the rising of 
 the dead the commencement of the great trial the 
 judgment-seat the books opened the heavens and the 
 earth fleeing away and that final rolling in sunder from 
 each other of the two streams of mortal being those of 
 the evil and of the good which at this tremendous 
 point are to dispart and to meet no more for ever. 
 Words would fail in describing the impression made by 
 such a subject, treated amid such a scene. There was 
 no outbreak of emotion, few tears, and no cries ; but the 
 soul of the whole assembly was touched to the quick ; 
 the faces of all, as they left the meeting, carried a soft 
 deep shadow upon them and, as they wound their way 
 under the night canopy towards their homes, their hearts 
 were softened and solemnised, and often their minds and 
 language exalted to a pitch which now it is difficult to 
 realise. 
 
 Such scenes enable one to realise the covenanting 
 period to believe implicitly in the existence of an
 
 270 cXsTX General View 
 
 earnestness of which this which was daily witnessed was 
 only a faint, though true, relic ; and to feel, moreover, 
 how much the presence of natural beauty and grandeur 
 can serve to increase the power of spiritual truth. . Not 
 that these plain masses of men were all fully aware of 
 the impression made by external scenery on their minds. 
 Indeed, one of them was somewhat scandalised when 
 spoken to of the fine view from the tent of Crieff. But 
 it told on them not the less really that they were not 
 conscious of the cause 
 
 " Like some sweet beguiling- melody 
 So sweet we know not we are listening to it." 
 
 Thus did the natural beauties of the scene incarnate 
 the profounder religious emotion so softly and thoroughly 
 that they were not felt in the process. Perhaps even 
 some of the hearers thought the glances which they 
 could not but cast around at Nature's loveliness, and 
 the emotions which sprung from them, rather "carnal" 
 than otherwise. But no matter ; they had combined 
 with the sublimer "powers of the world to come" to 
 produce a complex emotion of love and fear, of delight 
 and of solemnity, never on earth or in eternity to be 
 forgotten. 
 
 This serves to suggest as the next general remark, 
 that, along with this pervading earnestness in the Cove- 
 nanters, there were mingled many elements of blindness 
 and bigotry. These stern justice forbids us to overlook. 
 Every allowance should, indeed, be made for the age in 
 which they lived and for the popish scales which still 
 hovered before their eyes. But, after all these deductions 
 are made, there remain about them a form and shape of 
 character, as well as modes of feeling and of thought, 
 which constitute most undesirable models, and which 
 indicate a sad declension from the days of primitive 
 Christianity. It were an easy task to " rake up the ashes 
 of our fathers," and to prove them guilty, not merely of 
 occasional outrages which humanity condemns, but of
 
 of the Covenanters KeX 271 
 
 extreme narrowness and illiberality of view ; of profound 
 misconceptions, in many respects, alike of God's char- 
 acter and Christ's faith ; of ignorance of natural laws, 
 and of greater ignorance still of much that is implied in 
 the important word so often in their mouths, God-speil, 
 or Gospel. But why throw out a current of invective 
 against the noble dead who were cut off in the morning- 
 twilight, when we find, even in the comparative noonday 
 of our time, most of their mistakes not only extant but 
 far more offensively protruded. The hard dogmatic edge 
 given to the flexible and ever-flowing form of Christianity 
 the clinging to creeds and confessions, as if they were 
 the essence, and not the poor abridgment, of divine truth 
 the bibliolatry, the trust in external schemes of pro- 
 pagation the belief in a modified civil tyranny as the 
 grand method of spreading the gospel the crushing con- 
 tempt for differences of opinion and varieties of spiritual 
 insight the dream of uniformity as possible, without a 
 theocracy, on earth the sidelong and suspicious attitude 
 held toward science, philosophy, even nature as if the 
 God of the dead and of the living were not the same. 
 All these, and more than these, we might pardon and 
 pass by in the Polyphemi of the past, but not in their 
 unhappy imitators in many churches and lands of the 
 present, who, like owls half-awakened at noon, have 
 come out, screaming their midnight inspiration into the 
 ears of a new age and whose voice is only able to re- 
 call the darkness, to re-suggest the horrors and false- 
 hoods, but not to bring round the worship, or the love, 
 or the zeal, or the faith, of a bygone day. 
 
 There is, however, in every day's experience, much to 
 demonstrate that, in the worst sense, 
 
 " The ancient spirit is not dead ; 
 Old times, methinks, are breathing still.' 
 
 Honour to the men of the past ! but none to their dregs, 
 their mimics, their caricatures. None to those who would, 
 in the earnest or affected pursuit of their steps, reproduce
 
 272 eXsX General View 
 
 most of their errors without the vantage-ground of their 
 darkness, and commit many of their mistakes without 
 that fine madness which alone can atone for them. A 
 sincere, somewhat bigoted, enthusiast in the seventeenth 
 century may be compared to one of the vast creatures 
 of the bygone chaos the magnificent miscreations of 
 geology, interesting and most instructive as a fossil 
 remain ; but should some stray relic of the mastodon or 
 ichthyosaurus come out now from a distant desert, would 
 not man unanimously hoot him back or hunt him down, 
 and say, "Your day is over; your race has served its 
 purpose and cannot be perpetuated. Besides, you are 
 but a degenerate specimen. Begone ! " Lingering, 
 nevertheless, with interest and admiration around these 
 heroes of another age, we notice the deep, disinterested 
 piety of their natures. Would, indeed, this quality were 
 to return and undoubtfully it will, although in a more 
 liberal guise ! Their " life was hid with Christ in God." 
 They habitually " saw Him who is invisible." They fed 
 on the " hidden manna " a heavenly and immortal food. 
 Like the steeds of Achilles, no pabulum less than celestial 
 touched their spiritual palates. It was this w,hich sup- 
 ported them in the moors, and gave them in solitudes and 
 on scaffolds meat to eat of which their enemies knew not. 
 In a manner we can hardly even now conceive, they seem 
 to have realised God in all their ways and wanderings. 
 " His word was nigh them." His awe was a second 
 shadow along their path. His love was felt like another 
 mantle around their chilled and cowering frames. They 
 renewed, in many points, the Hebrew's feeling of his 
 Maker. No need of demonstrating a God to them, or of 
 demonstrating Him to others. This process a process 
 in itself impossible they never even attempted to per- 
 form. They lived, moved, and had their being in God. 
 Every shadow or sunbeam which fell on them was that of 
 the Great Whole. He watched over their slumber ; He 
 was the real guard upon their mountain-tops ; He de- 
 livered them out of the hand of their enemies, and some-
 
 of the Covenanters KcX 273 
 
 times he delivered their enemies into their hands. It is 
 curious how the religion of the Jews has rooted itself 
 more deeply in Scotland than in any other quarter of the 
 globe ; how this fiery exotic of a torrid clime has flour- 
 ished best in the land of mist and snow. Many reasons 
 might be assigned for this. Both countries, amid their 
 diversities of climate, are mountain-lands, full of bold, 
 rocky scenery, of ravines and of rivers, and with lakes 
 reposing in the midst of barren mountains, and with rich 
 vales alternating with gloomy desolations. Owing partly 
 to their scenery, and partly to their poverty and insulation, 
 both the Hebrews and the Scotch have been a thoughtful 
 people, inclined to religion, awestruck by the visible 
 phenomena of the universe, and fond of looking at things 
 in their great masses. More of the analytic element has 
 gradually, indeed, been developed from the Scottish 
 mind ; but the fragments of Celtic and border poetry 
 which are extant serve to prove a striking original re- 
 semblance between the genius of the two nations, which 
 in both was bold, figurative, lyrical, and fonder of the 
 rude sublime than of the delicate and the beautiful. 
 Hence one reason of the ready and warm reception with 
 which Christianity was welcomed in Scotland, the tena- 
 city with which it has been retained, and the deep and 
 solemn colouring with which it has tinged the popular 
 mind. Hence, too, the reason why the spirit of the Old 
 Testament has met with a profounder response than that 
 of the New ; the cosmopolitan aspect, the loving spirit, 
 the gentle and childlike tone of which were less congenial 
 than the severer purpose, the sterner fire, the more con- 
 densed and darker zeal, and the poetic ardours of the 
 prophets, and have been less diligently and successfully 
 transplanted into the Scottish soil. The apostles of the 
 Lamb are less suggested to us by the Camerons, 
 Renwicks, and Rutherfurds, than are the Elijahs, 
 Ezekiels, and Malachis of the old dispensation, in their 
 "deep-furrowed garments of trembling," their meta- 
 phorical speech, the hurrying movement of their thought 
 18
 
 274 X5"X General View 
 
 and style, which seems to fling itself, like an im- 
 patient eagle, from crag to crag, and the anger which 
 surrounds them as with flames of devouring fire, and 
 renders the place where they stand dreadful and insu- 
 lated, like the top of Sinai on that morning when it 
 was "all of a smoke," as the feet of Jehovah burned 
 upon it. 
 
 The piety of the Covenanters has often been charged 
 with cant. Nor are we disposed altogether to deny the 
 charge. We find much in their spoken and written 
 language calculated to offend our modern taste. We 
 find undue familiarity with divine things, extravagant 
 and absurd expressions of religious feeling, a profusion 
 of such epithets as "Sweet Jesus," "Dear Jesus," and 
 "To sleep in the arms of Christ my Lord," etc., and a 
 use of scripture language in circumstances which render 
 it little else than disgusting. We could easily cull whole 
 pages from Samuel Rutherfurd, Andrew Wellwood, and 
 others of their time, which would excite risible emotions 
 as certainly as the ravings of Mause, or the sermons of 
 Habakkuk Mucklewrath, in Old Mortality. But this, 
 while it might make sport to the profane, could not fail 
 to make the judicious and the pious grieve. The laughter 
 produced would be poor and cheap ; the sting left behind 
 would be sharp and deadly. 'Twas often a barbarous 
 patois which these men spoke, being that of their age and 
 country ; but their spirit being that of earnestness, faith, 
 and Christian principle, would have redeemed ten thousand 
 greater faults than slips of taste and errors in language. 
 Piety, like charity and genius, should coyer a multitude 
 of sins, and will do so to all manly and ingenious minds. 
 Great excitement seldom picks its words ; it deals in 
 blunt and powerful language ; and he were a wretched 
 critic who, in hearing a Burke, a Chalmers, or a Wilson, 
 in their hours of " torrent rapture," should pause to mark 
 with malignant accuracy the harsher tones in their 
 voices, the slight blunders in their syntax, or the petty 
 provincialisms in their accent. But such views may be
 
 of the Covenanters KeX 275 
 
 more appropriately developed in the course of an examina- 
 tion of the literature of the Covenanters, which has met 
 with great injustice. 
 
 We mark, next, with no little admiration, the courage 
 and constancy of this remarkable people. What courage 
 was theirs, let the records already given of the fights of 
 Pentland, Drumclog, and Airsmoss, not to speak of in- 
 numerable smaller skirmishes, attest. Even the battle 
 of Bothwell was lost less from the want of courage than 
 from untoward circumstances and the evil effects of party 
 spirit. The covenanting warriors were often imperfectly 
 armed many had only scythes, or bludgeons, or pitch- 
 forks ; they were for the most part untrained to the use 
 of arms ; they were almost always forced to fight at odds, 
 and yet even their enemies have never denied their bravery. 
 How great the daring required in those little parties who 
 ventured, at Rutherglen and Sanquhar, to burn the acts 
 against the covenanting reformation, and to issue declara- 
 tions against the ruling powers in Cargill and Cameron 
 publicly excommunicating the king ; in the manner in 
 which imprisonments, or confinements in damp caves, 
 were borne ; in the unmurmuring silence or holy triumph 
 with which the martyrs mounted their scaffolds, and 
 found themselves "face to face with death ; " and in the 
 patience with which they bore the exquisite tortures, or, 
 worse still, the cruel scoffings which attended their trials. 
 Even the flight to which they were often obliged to be- 
 take themselves becomes a new element in our estimate 
 of their courage. There is a difference between even the 
 back of a brave man and the back of a coward. The 
 Covenanter had often to run, but it was before a superior 
 force often he turned round upon his pursuers he 
 retired, as well as advanced, like a lion skill, sagacity, 
 self-possession, distinguished and secured his retreat, 
 and in the last extremity he was more ready to fight and 
 die than to yield. Sometimes, hearing that the dragoons 
 were approaching, he, like Thomas Brown, the cousin 
 of John of Priesthill, went out calmly to cross their
 
 General View 
 
 track, passed himself off for a stranger, and when asked 
 if "the fanatic Brown" was at home, truly answered 
 that he was not, and was permitted to pass on his way. 
 Sometimes, like John MacClement, pressed hard by his 
 pursuers, when he turned the corner of a hill, seeing a 
 sheep lying dead on the heath, he took off his coat, 
 lifted the sheep on his back, met his enemies who mis- 
 took him for a shepherd entered into conversation with 
 them, and succeeded in sending them on a false scent in 
 pursuit of himself. Sometimes, like John Dempster, 
 when pursued so hotly that the horse of the nearest 
 dragoon was pressing on his shoulder, he turned round, 
 plunged a large pair of scissors, his only weapon, into 
 the horse's forehead, which made him rear, throw his 
 rider, and enable John to escape into the shadow of an 
 adjacent wood. Sometimes, like John Fergusson, when 
 chased to the brink of a dark, deep pool, in a river 
 surrounded by thick willows, he first threw his bonnet 
 and a rake, with which he had been working in a hayfield, 
 down the stream, and then plunged under the water, 
 screened by the shade of the willows, and keeping his 
 head above the waves his pursuers imagining, from the 
 bonnet and rake, that he had drowned himself and been 
 swept down by the current. The whole annals of 
 romance, in short, including the marvellous escapes 
 described by Le Sage, Godwin, Radcliffe, Scott, and 
 Bulwer, contain no adventures more striking, no in- 
 cidents more intensely interesting, no such " hair- 
 breadth " escapes as those which abound in the history 
 of the Covenant, and which corroborate the well-known 
 statement, 
 
 "Truth is strange stranger than fiction." 
 
 The courage, too, of the women of the Covenant must 
 not be forgotten. Truly, from Lady Hamilton standing 
 on Leith shore, with her pistol and gold bullets, ready to 
 shoot her son if he landed to Isabel Weir, sitting silent 
 and with covered face beside her husband's corpse, they
 
 of the Covenanters KcX> 277 
 
 were high - hearted women, those of the covenanting 
 times ! true, full of a noble simplicity, blended with yet a 
 nobler guile most disinterested in their attachment, 
 most devoted to their principles, and equally brave and 
 sagacious in the use of means in their husbands' or lovers' 
 rescue or defence. Their ornaments were not of gold, or 
 pearls, or costly array the simple, snood, the coif, the 
 plaid were their dress, but there was that within which 
 passed show, and the enthusiasm which pervaded Scot- 
 land nowhere beat more powerfully than in the hearts of 
 her daughters. Now they concealed their husbands 
 under beds, or in lumber-rooms, and then went out and 
 firmly met the pursuers, and answered their questions. 
 Now, when their husbands were away with their babes to 
 be baptized at conventicles, and when the dragoons came 
 in search, they filled the empty cradles with rags, and 
 continued to rock them, lest the absence of the infants 
 should awaken suspicions as to the errand of the parents. 
 Now, like the immortal Bessie Maclure, in Scott, they 
 sat at the turning of two ways, at the eventide, and 
 warned the lonely fugitive that there was a lion in the 
 path. Now they assisted their husbands in scooping out 
 hollow spots of refuge among the hills. Many a time 
 and oft did they keep the midnight fire burning in their 
 cots, and have a midnight morsel ready, that their 
 husbands cold, and wet, and hungry might steal in 
 and spend an hour or two, in trembling joy, at their own 
 hearth-side. Often, when this was impossible, whenever 
 the darkness fell, and the darker the better and better 
 still if the wind was loud, and the rain falling thick did 
 these gallant matrons lift up their small bundles of provi- 
 sions, draw their plaids closely around them, and set out 
 to visit the dark caverns, or pits, or the sides of the 
 precipices, where their husbands were lurking, and feed 
 and comfort them there. When tried by horrid tortures 
 to reveal the spots of their retreat, they refused. When 
 led out, as was often the case, to die beside them, they 
 took it right joyfully. And many a drink of whey and
 
 278 tXsTX General View 
 
 piece of oat-cake did they, standing at the door of their 
 dwelling's, give, at the hazard of their own safety, to 
 haggard wayfaring men who were pursued by the voice 
 of the blood of Magus Muir, or fleeing from the echo of 
 the rout of Bothwell. 
 
 Honour to the memory of such noble daughters of 
 Almighty God ! No theatrical airs or meretricious graces 
 about them. Never does any one of them, like Charlotte 
 Corday, step out of woman's sphere and become a 
 sublime assassin nor, like Madame Roland, mingle a 
 certain affectation and grimace with the grandeurs of a 
 heroic death. They were as simple as they were great. 
 Their characters seem modelled upon that of Scotland's 
 scenery their hearts were soft as its vales, while their 
 principles were like its hills, high, firm, and unmovable. 
 And Scotland can boast of a similar class of women still, 
 who are worthy of having sprung from the daughters of 
 the Covenant, and in whom superior knowledge and re- 
 finement have not deadened the sense of right, damped 
 the glow of piety, or degraded the fine instincts of 
 virtuous and disinterested womanhood. Female atheists 
 there are even in Scotland victims of a morbid sensi- 
 bility, or of morbid and false culture ; but in general our 
 female heart beats in the right place it is not disposed 
 to cast off Christianity as a garment, to change it as a 
 vesture is changed, and to substitute for it a vague 
 pantheism, or a distinctly- defined rationalistic creed. 
 Here, indeed, as well as in England, the men, particu- 
 larly the young men, are passing through that strange 
 burning fiery furnace of doubt which has been kindled 
 from abroad, and many of them have been consumed ; 
 but our women, as a whole, have not had a hair of their head 
 touched by its flames. The good, the active, the benevo- 
 lent, the true-hearted women of Scotland are Christians 
 in faith as well as in practice, and are the real blood and 
 life of all her churches. 
 
 Not inferior to the courage was the constancy of this 
 people. The word applied to them by Scott, in Red-
 
 of the Covenanters KcX 279 
 
 gauntlet, describes them in this point admirably. " The 
 whigs," says Wandering Willie, " were as doure as the 
 cavaliers were fierce." Yes, doure (from the Latin 
 word durus,) is the word for their perseverance and 
 intensity of resistance. It was an assault of lightning 
 flash after flash, bolt after bolt ; they had to encounter 
 here the forked fire of a Claverhouse, and there the dull 
 thunderbolts of a Turner or a Dalziel. But grim was 
 the array of rocks which met and repelled it ; and while 
 the lightning exhausted itself and passed, the rocks were 
 found split, scorched, but REMAINING. This constancy 
 was partly created by the depth with which religion had 
 ploughed itself into the southern Scottish heart partly 
 by the activity and energy of the ministers, partly by a 
 certain stubbornness which adheres to the national 
 character, and partly by the recoil and reaction generally 
 produced by the very severity of a persecution. The 
 Scotchman driven desperate, may be likened not so much 
 to the stag at bay, as to the wolf, in the Lays of Ancient 
 Rome, which 
 
 " Dies in silence, biting hard, 
 Amidst the DYING hounds." 
 
 This "doureness" may be partly, also, owing, at once 
 in its spirit and its success, to our scenery. " Deep 
 calleth unto deep." The contemplation of fixed features 
 in nature of changeless moors and granite mountains, 
 of rocks on whose faces each wrinkle is the work of a 
 century, of the monotonous surface of the ocean and the 
 unalterable splendours of the stars is calculated to create 
 a certain rugged determination in the minds of the 
 inhabitants. They become fierce as the tiger, yet patient 
 as the camel when passing over his interminable deserts. 
 The motto of such men is, "I bide my time." Hence 
 the revenge, the love, the fear, the loyalty, the super- 
 stition, the manners and religion of North Britain, 
 have all been distinguished by a slow fire, a long deep 
 fervour, and are well described in one of their ballads re-
 
 280 cXsX General View 
 
 ferring to the attachment of the Highlanders to Charles 
 Edward 
 
 "And sure that love must be sincere, 
 
 Which still proves true whate'er betide, 
 
 And for his sake leaves a' beside." 
 
 In fact, it is only in the sturdy devotion of the clans to 
 the Stuart family that we find a complete counterpart 
 in later ages to the determined attachment of the Cove- 
 nanters to their banner. And it is remarkable that both 
 these enthusiasms were sheltered, strengthened, and 
 conserved by the fact that they divided between them 
 the two great mountain-tracts of the country the north- 
 ern and southern Highlands. From these, as from two 
 peaks, flared up, in contradiction and reply to each other, 
 for a century and more, the two fierce, tremulous, waving, 
 yet fixed, flame-pillars of Jacobite and Presbyterian zeal. 
 
 There are some remarks of William Howitt which 
 bear eloquently on this topic: "Thanks be to God for 
 mountains ! When I turn my eyes upon the map of 
 the world, and behold how wonderfully the countries 
 where our faith was nurtured, where our liberties were 
 generated, where our philosophy and literature, the 
 fountains of our intellectual grace and beauty, sprang 
 up, were as distinctly walled out by God's hand with 
 mountain ramparts as if at the especial prayer of the 
 early fathers of man's destinies, I am lost in an exulting 
 admiration. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine ! 
 see how the infant liberties of Greece were sheltered from 
 the vast tribes of the uncivilised north by the heights of 
 Haemus and Rhodope ! behold how the Alps describe 
 their magnificent crescent, inclining their opposite 
 extremities to the Adriatic and Tyrrhene Seas, locking 
 up Italy from the Gallic and Teutonic hordes till the 
 power and spirit of Rome had reached their maturity, 
 and she had opened the wide forest of Europe to the 
 light, spread far her laws and language, and planted the 
 seeds of many mighty nations ! 
 
 "Thanks be to God for mountains! Their colossal
 
 of the Covenanters KcX> 281 
 
 firmness seems almost to break the current of time itself. 
 While a multitude of changes has remoulded the people 
 of Europe, while languages and laws, and dynasties and 
 creeds, have passed over it, like shadow over the land- 
 scape, the children of the Celt and of the Goth, who fled 
 to the mountains a thousand years ago, are found there 
 now, and show us, in face and figure, in language and 
 garb, what their fathers were ; show us a fine contrast 
 with the modern tribes dwelling below and around them ; 
 and show us, moreover, how adverse is the spirit of the 
 mountain to mutability, and that there the fiery heart of 
 freedom is found for ever." 
 
 Public spirit, and the presence of impersonal enthu- 
 siasm, are qualities often connected with such earnestness 
 and piety as we have already attributed to the Scottish 
 Covenanters. But there have been times in which 
 piety and earnestness have flowed more in personal and 
 less in public channels, in which the question has been 
 more, " What shall I do to be saved ? " than What shall 
 I do to save the Church at large ? In the era of Metho- 
 dism, the former was the question which ran through 
 the land and created the excitement. In the days of the 
 Covenant, although personal piety flourished and revivals 
 abounded, the great point was the best mode of promot- 
 ing the extension, the liberty, and the power of the 
 general Church. There was then in Scotland little purely 
 theological controversy. The shadow of scepticism upon 
 individual minds, although not unknown, did not lie so 
 heavily as often now ; doubt was lost in action ; and 
 every noble mind and heart, instead of tormenting itself 
 and others with unanswerable questions, rushed eagerly 
 into public work " as the horse rusheth into the battle." 
 With this devotedness to a public "testimony-bearing," 
 there were indeed many formidable evils connected. In 
 the first place, it to a great extent foreclosed the exercise 
 of free thought and inquiry. It added a dogmatic stamp 
 to opinion, and hurried it to an untrue test, that of the 
 sword. It hindered progress, and often stereotyped
 
 282 eXsX General View 
 
 error. But it had important advantages too. It pre- 
 vented all half-measures, all.halting between two opinions, 
 all useless scruples, and secured unity, consistency, and 
 energy in the prosecution of their views. They felt that 
 their duty was not to think, but to do. We quote a few 
 remarks on this subject from a deceased Scotch divine 
 of great eminence in his day. 1 " Our fathers have often 
 told us how much, in their earlier years, they were em- 
 barked in the cause of religion as an object of great 
 public concern ; and have complained that the good fame 
 which well belonged to it as a public cause is now aban- 
 doned by a generation who feel, or pretend to feel, that 
 their religious concern is only and properly directed about 
 their own individual interest or personal salvation. In 
 contemplating the history of the Church of Scotland in its 
 earlier days, and comparing it with the appearance of the 
 religious world in our country at present, we cannot help 
 being deeply struck with the difference of regard then 
 and now paid to the public cause, or the welfare of the 
 Church of Christ, with the far deeper concern they took 
 in it, compared with the little interest which we feel in 
 the great sacrifices which they made for its support, in 
 comparison of the scorn which in many instances we 
 attach to its name. It was a remarkable feature of the 
 second reformation, in the year 1638, that the fine spirit 
 of concern about the public cause, which the enemy dur- 
 ing the preceding apostacy had attempted by every 
 means to eradicate or repress, once more sprung elate, 
 and, recovering all its former buoyancy, spread its reno- 
 vated and unabated influence over the Church of Scotland. 
 The Church proceeded in reformation, and everywhere 
 the word of God grew and multiplied. In that auspic- 
 ious period, one of the most sublime enterprises which 
 the conception of man ever has at any time grasped 
 began to be put in progress the Church of Christ, exert- 
 ing her moral and religious power on the world, and 
 
 1 The late John Jameson, of Methven. The reader may find him 
 described as the second minister of the tent-preaching- scene, p. 268.
 
 of the Covenanters XcX 283 
 
 bringing a whole nation under the practical influence of 
 the word of God. It might have been expected that the 
 public spirit, which in 1638 resumed its elasticity, would, 
 at the revolution, when it made its escape from a more 
 fiery trial, have burst forth with a purer fire and blazed 
 with a brighter flame. What shall we say ? The storm, 
 indeed, was laid, the clouds had been dispelled, and the 
 sun again had broken forth ; but it was a sun shorn ot 
 his beams. That fine spirit which could not, or would 
 not, temporise, which in matters of God, between truth 
 and error, light and darkness, duty and sin, the rights 
 of God, and the pleasure, or the vanity, or the folly of 
 man, could admit of no compromise that spirit was 
 sadly dissipated. The Church of Scotland came to the 
 revolution a goodly vine withered in the blast. Abashed 
 at the sight, the genius of the reformation hung her head, 
 and wept over her wasted and departing spirit." 
 
 We do not entirely coincide with these eloquent 
 remarks ; and continue to believe that whatever may be 
 said of the design of the second reformation, the means 
 employed to promote it were unchristian, and therefore 
 abortive. But it may be granted that the prevalence of 
 public spirit in the covenanting age led to noble results on 
 character. These men of the Covenant were in the last 
 degree unselfish. They were swallowed up in their cause. 
 They never thought about themselves at all. Their lan- 
 guage was, in effect, that of Danton, " Let my name 
 be blighted what am I ? the cause alone is great ! " 
 Hence we find little egotism in their words, and none in 
 their actions. Never is the most gifted of them found 
 asking the question, " What shall I do to be for ever 
 known ? but, what shall I do to make known God's great 
 name, and to bind His Covenant for ever around the loins 
 and heart of my country." Base and self-seeking men 
 there were, doubtless, among them, but nations are never 
 hypocrites en masse, and, in general, the covenanting 
 people were as disinterested as they were brave. It is 
 not necessary to decry the love of fame, nor even that
 
 284 eXfTX General View 
 
 inferior shape of it, the love of reputation. There is equal 
 truth and spirit in the words of Milton 
 
 " Fame is the spur which the clear spirit doth raise, 
 The last infirmity of noble minds." 
 
 And the love of reputation, even to the degree which 
 made Johnson value the "praise of every human being," 
 is a natural and a noble principle. But there is some- 
 thing higher than both. Echoes are found at the foot of 
 rocks, but above them there is a lofty region whence no 
 response can be returned, because the canopy is the sky ; 
 so are there those who speak at once to heaven, and who, 
 as they do not expect, are not astonished to receive no 
 audible answer. On that eminence, where the future 
 verdict of God is alone appealed to, and where immediate 
 human applause, and even the calm decision of posterity, 
 are not regarded, stood the better and braver of the 
 children of the Covenant. 
 
 The eloquence of such men was precisely what might 
 have been expected from their character, their excitation, 
 and their circumstances. Polish or elaboration, lucidus 
 ordo or concinnitas, were hardly to be expected in the 
 oratory of those who mounted the pulpit at the hazard 
 of their lives, and whose sermons were apt to be inter- 
 rupted by the shots of the foe. But the elements of 
 astonishing eloquence were found in their extempore har- 
 angues. Macbriar's supposed sermon in Old Mortality, 
 at the close of the battle of Drumclog, is probably a very 
 fair specimen of the discourses which acted with such 
 trumpet-like effect upon the peopled moorsides of Fife 
 and Galloway. In such sermons a profusion of Scrip- 
 ture was used ; every resemblance that could be found 
 between their circumstances and those of the old Jews 
 and Christians were carefully brought forward ; there was 
 little didactic matter, but there was much stirring 
 practical appeal ; the metaphors were massive and bold 
 the allusions to the natural objects around them were not 
 so numerous as they would be in similar circumstances
 
 of the Covenanters XcX> 285 
 
 now, but they always told, and the general effect was to 
 create in every breast the irresistible cry, " Lead us to 
 battle ! " The manner of their preachers was far from 
 graceful : they almost invariably sang a gamut of their 
 own ; their voices were more sonorous than sweet, and 
 their gesture was uncouth and uncultured. But some 
 can testify from recollection how powerful singing, as it 
 was called, became, particularly on sacramental occasions 
 and in the serving of communion-tables. We have heard 
 at such times wild strains of oratorical melody, no doubt 
 handed down from the days of the Covenant, and which, 
 if at first they rather tended to excite a smile in the young, 
 rarely failed, ere they closed, to melt both young and old, 
 both speaker and audience, into tears. Power there 
 certainly was, however rudely disguised, in those 
 mountain preachings, which drew and detained thousands 
 in the wilderness which nerved men for the most 
 unequal and bloody contests which soothed agony, 
 awakened faith, relieved the pangs of hunger, covered the 
 shame of nakedness, and kept hope burning, like a torch 
 in the wind, for twenty-eight terrible years. 
 
 The literature of the covenanting age, like its oratory, 
 must not be tried by a severe aesthetic standard. During 
 the persecution, indeed, it was confined chiefly to pro- 
 tests, declarations, and dying testimonies. In these last, 
 as collected in Napthali and elsewhere, there is a certain 
 severe, purged simplicity, a pathos and grandeur which 
 move you to your depths. There are not many indi- 
 vidual expressions that will bear quotation ; the power is 
 in the whole, and you cannot help admiring the manly 
 sense, spirit, calmness, dignity, and piety which distin- 
 guish the sufferers to a degree so equal that you fancy 
 them a band of brothers. You see, undoubtedly, much 
 of the narrowness of the times, but not a particle of the 
 indiscreet and insane fanaticism usually ascribed to the 
 party. One Thomas Brown, who with four others was 
 executed on Magus Muir, in terrorem, although neither 
 he nor any of his fellows was concerned in the death of
 
 286 tXsX General View 
 
 Sharpe, speaks out with great boldness. He prays God 
 to remove the "deluge of wrath which is hanging over 
 the head of these lands for the breach of Covenant in 
 them." He says, " I die in the faith, that the seeds 
 sown at Bothwell Bridge shall have a glorious spring and 
 harvest, which shall be renowned in the eyes of all the 
 beholders of it." Elsewhere he identifies the cause of 
 the Covenant with Christ Himself, and says, that " He is 
 forced to go to the mountains and dens and caves of the 
 earth." He expects soon to be " a sharer of the heavenly 
 mansions, and of the peaceable fruits of righteousness, 
 which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me." The 
 rest of his testimony is distinct, weighty, and vigorous. 
 And yet this man was only a shoemaker ! 
 
 How far more imposing those fine stammerings of 
 sincerity, those gasps of great dying hearts, than the 
 most elaborate efforts of cultivated talent ! They remind 
 one of the dumb son of Croesus bursting silence and 
 speaking- out. Or it is " as though the rocks of the sea 
 should speak, and tell us what they have been thinking 
 of from immemorial time." We contrast them 
 favourably with the scaffold speeches of the French 
 revolutionists. If wanting their lurid sublimity, as of 
 dying thunder, they have a softness and holy calm, like 
 the lapse of an autumn sun. Danton cries out, " My 
 dwelling shall soon be with annihilation ? " John King 
 says, " Welcome everlasting life, everlasting glory, ever- 
 lasting love, and everlasting praise." Vergniaud and 
 his doomed Girondists sing, on the last night of their life, 
 tumultuous songs, and weave ghastly dialogues with 
 Satan about their enemy, Robespierre. The five at 
 Magus Muir pass away to glory singing Psalm xxxiv., 
 with these, among others, of its words of celestial 
 cheer 
 
 " The angel of the Lord encamps 
 
 And round encompasseth 
 All those about that do Him fear, 
 And them delivereth.
 
 of the Covenanters KeX 287 
 
 The lions' young may hungry be, 
 
 And they may lack their food ; 
 But they who truly seek the Lord 
 
 Shall not lack any good." 
 
 But the Covenant, before the persecution, had produced 
 a peculiar and very interesting literature. It is not, 
 indeed, so well known as the contemporaneous works of 
 the Puritan writers. Nor can the writings of either the 
 early or the latter Covenanters be placed upon anything 
 like an equality with those of the English divines of the 
 same periods. It is vain to seek among the Scotch for a 
 John Howe, that gentlest and most symmetrical of the sons 
 of Anak strong as an earth-born Titan, and yet beautiful 
 as a woman, and with the fiery air of a seraph breathing 
 around his vast form a Plato added to the eastern sages, 
 and with them bending at the manger, and spreading 
 out treasure of myrrh, frankincense, and gold before the 
 Divine Child ; for a John Owen, the weighty, the minute, 
 the learned with all the solidity, the wide compass, and 
 the gnarled knots of the broad old oak ; for the 
 "incomparable Culverwell," as one enthusiastically calls 
 him ; for Bates, the "silver-tongued" ; for the massive 
 Manton ; for the ingenious Charnock ; for the richly 
 practical Flavel ; for Bunyan, the inspired dreamer, to 
 whom in sleep, as in that isle of enchantment, the 
 " clouds opened and showed riches," and who when he 
 awoke "cried to dream again;" and, if we may class 
 HIM with any cluster in any firmament for a Milton 
 
 " Whose soul was like a star, and dwelt apart." 
 
 Still, we find among our rugged lowland men some 
 writers worthy of long memory, and who in sincerity, and 
 perhaps in native force, if not in art and culture, are in- 
 ferior only to the highest of those English authors just 
 named. Among these, Hugh Binning's works, which fill 
 a thick quarto volume, are distinguished by clear arrange- 
 ment, evangelical richness of matter, and, for that age, 
 correctness and elegance of style This author died in
 
 288 cX^X General View 
 
 his twenty-sixth year, but not till he had, besides writing- 
 much, acquired great fame as a pulpit orator. One bad 
 but characteristic pun of Cromwell's is recorded in 
 connection with his name. He had once, it is said, held 
 a dispute with the general's divines on the points in 
 contest between the Independents and Presbyterians, and 
 had succeeded in silencing them. Cromwell asked what 
 bold and learned youth this was. He was told it was 
 one Binning- (the Scotch for "binding"), and answered, 
 " He hath bound well indeed, but," laying his hand on 
 his sword, "this will loose all again!" William 
 Guthrie, of Fenwick, in Ayrshire, cousin of James 
 Guthrie, the martyr, and reputed the " greatest preacher 
 in Scotland," has left one little treatise " t The Trial of a 
 Saving Interest in Christ " which deserves perusal as a 
 most searching and vigorous tractate, and which, if it 
 does not captivate the heart or the fancy by its beauty, 
 casts very strong grappling-irons upon the conscience of 
 its reader. Durham's treatises on Isaiah, on the Song of 
 Solomon, and on the Revelation, were once very popular, 
 although they have outlived their day. He was 
 undoubtedly a man of great industry and attainments, 
 and of eminent talents. He was born in the neighbour- 
 hood of Dundee, became a minister in Glasgow, wrote at 
 least ten volumes, and, like many of the covenanting 
 worthies, died young ere he had completed his thirty- 
 sixth year. Robert Blair, Alexander Henderson, and 
 George Gillespie, who were all reputed men of first-rate 
 abilities, have left little to substantiate their reputation, 
 and with that little few are acquainted. Robert Traill's 
 works were written after the revolution, and, although 
 dry and systematic, are able, and their Calvinism is 
 somewhat ultra. The names of Brown, of Wamphray, 
 of Calderwood, and of Woodrow, are familiar. But by 
 far the most remarkable specimens, both of the power 
 and the weakness, the faults and the merits, of the 
 covenanting school, are to be found in the works, and 
 particularly the letters, of Samuel Rutherfurd, and in a
 
 of the Covenanters XX 289 
 
 little book breathing a similiar spirit, entitled, A Glimpse 
 of Glory, by Andrew Wellwood. 
 
 Samuel Rutherfurd was the son of a gentleman in 
 Edinburgh. He attended its university, and at an early 
 age was made professor of philosophy ; predecessor thus 
 of the many illustrious men who have taught philosophy 
 in that chair of Stewart, of Brown, and last and greatest 
 far, of Wilson, now, alas ! in the sere and yellow leaf of 
 one of the most glorious minds which ever emanated 
 from the Creator. From the chair of philosophy 
 Rutherfurd passed to be minister in 'Anwoth, Galloway, 
 without being required to bend before the golden calf of 
 the bishops. Here he published his " Exercitationes de 
 Gratia," a learned and powerful tractate against Armini- 
 anism, for which he narrowly escaped punishment at the 
 bar of the High Court of Commission. Neverthless, he 
 persisted in his nonconformity to the prevailing powers, 
 and was, on the 2yth of July 1636, deprived of his 
 ministerial functions, and confined in the city of 
 Aberdeen during the king's pleasure. At the end of a 
 year and a half he returned to his flock, and renewed his 
 labours with greater zeal and energy than ever. He 
 appeared at the famous Glasgow Assembly, where he 
 gave an account of his proceedings, his confinement and 
 its causes, and was by it appointed divinity professor at 
 St. Andrew's, where he created an excitement only second 
 to that produced by Chalmers two centuries afterwards in 
 the same place. St. Andrew's has had the fortune to be 
 twice revived from the deepest lethargy by two extra- 
 ordinary men from the lethargy of the prelates by 
 Samuel Rutherfurd, and from the lethargy of the 
 professors by Thomas Chalmers. Its grass-grown 
 streets owned in each the presence of a Man, and the 
 echoes of its halls and churches awoke in both cases 
 to the voice of a Christian orator. In the year 1643, 
 Rutherfurd, as we have seen, went up with three others 
 to the Westminster Assembly, and played his part there 
 manfully and ably. Shortly after he published his Lex, 
 19
 
 290 cXsTX General View 
 
 Rex, an elaborate volume in which he wields a two- 
 edged sword, against what he thought the extremes of 
 Independency on the one hand, and of Erastianism on 
 the other. This book now totally unread, except by 
 antiquarians or history-writers, and the very name of 
 which is unknown to many who devour daily his Letters 
 had the honour to be answered at the Cross of Edin- 
 burgh, in letters of fire, and by the hand of the common 
 hangman. This was in 1661. What a pity that this 
 same swift and summary method of disposing of 
 unanswerable and "untoward" books does not still 
 exist ! Then we might witness, although not assist at, 
 the burning obsequies of many modern works, to which 
 fire, as a type of unreasoning and unsatisfied fury, were 
 the only possible reply. While Rutherfurd's book was 
 thus consuming, his noble body and mind were environed 
 in another furnace that of death. The parliament, after 
 burning his treatise, were about to indict him at their 
 bar while he was lying quiet and joyful, waiting for a 
 higher summons. His book was burned, indeed, at the 
 very gates of the college wherein he lay dying. The scent 
 of its conflagration seems to have reached him on his 
 deathbed but he cared for none of these things, his 
 soul had soared already far above Rex and Lex, far 
 beyond the loftiest reaches of even his Letters, far beyond 
 Beulah and the black River of Death. He had said, 
 "Mine eyes shall see my Redeemer I know He shall 
 stand at the latter day upon the earth, and I shall be 
 caught up to the clouds to meet Him in the air, and so 
 shall I be ever with Him." "This night shall close the 
 door, and put my anchor within the veil ; and I shall go 
 away in a sleep by five o'clock in the morning." And so 
 it was : at that hour he gave up the ghost, and, in the 
 striking language of one of his biographers, "The re- 
 nowned eagle took his flight to the mountains of spices." 
 Samuel Rutherfurd had his faults, which have been 
 blazoned and exaggerated by one or two late writers, 
 who are not worthy of unloosing his shoe-latchets. Let
 
 of the Covenanters KcX* 291 
 
 them speak as they please of his " spiritual sensualism," 
 and throw out dark hints that there was another sen- 
 sualism of a less pardonable kind behind it. But surely 
 every man who has ever candidly studied either his 
 character or his writings, must be persuaded that he was 
 not only essentially a holy man, but an earnest and a 
 " burning one." He breathed and lived and had his 
 being in celestial love ! He would undoubtedly have 
 been greater had he been more calm had, in other 
 words, the insight and the affection, which were both in 
 him, been more thorougly reconciled and attempered to 
 each other had the cherub looked through the seraph's 
 eyes, and had the seraph added his fiery edge to the 
 cherub's wings ; but, as it was, he has in his Letters 
 attained rare heights of a sublime and rapturous 
 devotion. 
 
 There are books which seem to have been written, and 
 which should be read, in summer. At other seasons 
 they may appear somewhat over-coloured and exagger- 
 ated ; but let 
 
 "Summer be the tide, and sweet the hour" - 
 
 let the old deluge of day be pouring from its old source 
 let every heart and eye be drinking in the unmeasured 
 radiance let each soul feel that in accepting the sunshine 
 he is receiving it as God's gift, and as the type and 
 emblem of the higher light of the Sun of Righteousness, 
 and then, in the intensity of the commingled emotions 
 of sense free from sensuality, and of faith free from form, 
 let him sit down, with his mind thus in sympathy with his 
 subject, to read carefully and admiringly Rutherfurd's 
 Letters. Whatever he may have been for months before 
 employed in perusing, with an interest however intense 
 and a sympathy however deep, when he comes to read 
 those wild, beautiful, and holy lyrics of Rutherfurd, 
 penned from prisons, and huts, and ocean-sides, he will 
 become conscious, more fully than ever, of a higher 
 something a far grander sincerity of soul, a nicer and
 
 292 cXsX General View 
 
 truer melody of tenderness more, in short, of heaven 
 labouring and striving to reproduce itself on earth (like 
 the sun shooting- up in wheat and daisies and roses and 
 golden corn) than, save in Milton and Bunyan, he has 
 ever witnessed before. He may see, but will not feel, 
 the extravagances of his style and manner. These will 
 be lost in the earnestness of his purpose, and the holy 
 beauties of his thought and language. Sometimes, 
 indeed, the mark is overshot the boundary of good taste 
 is overleaped, but this is never through affectation or 
 weakness, or even the wantonness of power, but from 
 the excess of ecstasy and of high emotion. His soul is 
 a river of God, not only lip-full, but running over. And 
 to think of all this as issuing from dungeons and darkness 
 written in proscription and in the prospect of death ! 
 As with all true Christians, Rutherfurd's heart was 
 deeply smitten with a passion for Christ. It was not a 
 cold, systematic Christianity he believed in, but a living 
 Saviour. It has been said of Robert Hall, that when 
 engaged in prayer he seemed actually to see Christ so 
 personal and absorbing and ardent did his devotion 
 become. Just so was it with Rutherfurd. No need for 
 his ascending to heaven or diving into the depths in 
 search of Christ "the Word is nigh him, in his mouth, 
 and in his heart," and in his eye ; hence the passionate 
 peculiarity of his language. It is that of a lover, not 
 writing to his betrothed, but clasping her in a pure and 
 warm embrace. Take one out of a thousand expressions 
 of this passion for Jesus : "I avouch, before God, angels, 
 and men, that I have not seen nor can imagine a lover 
 comparable to Jesus. I would not exchange or barter 
 Him for ten heavens ; if heaven could be without Him, 
 what could we do there ? " Hear him again on a cognate 
 subject: "My Lord now hath g-iven me experience 
 (howbeit weak and small) that our best fare is hunger ; 
 we are but at God's by-board in this lower house ; we 
 have cause to long for supper-time, and the high table 
 up in the high palace : the world deserveth nothing but 

 
 of the Covenanters XeX 2 93 
 
 the outer court of our soul. If ye take the storm with 
 borne-down Christ, your sky will quickly clear and your 
 morning dawn." To a widow he says : " What missing 
 can there be of a dying man when Godfilleth the chair? " 
 Again, " The parings and crumbs of glory that fall under 
 Christ's table in heaven a shower, like a thin May-mist, 
 of His love would make me green and joyful, till the 
 summer sun of eternal glory break'up." What a sentence 
 is the following! "Oh, sweet for evermore, to see a 
 rose of heaven growing in so ill a ground as hell ; and to 
 see Christ's love, His peace, faith, goodness, long- 
 suffering and patience, growing and springing, like the 
 flowers of God's garden, out of such stony and cursed 
 ground as the hatred of the prelates and the malice of 
 their high commission ; and antichrist's bloody hand and 
 heart is not here art and wisdom is not here heaven 
 indented in hell (if I may say so), like a jewel set with 
 skill in a ring with the enamel of Christ's cross." Speak- 
 ing of a dead lady, he says : "I grant death is to her a 
 very new thing, but heaven was prepared of old ; and 
 Christ exalted in His highest throne, loaded "with glory, 
 incomparably exalted above men and angels, having such 
 a circle of glorified harpers and musicians above, com- 
 passing the throne with songs, is to her a new thing 
 but new as the first summer rose, or as a new paradise 
 to a traveller broken and worn, out of breath with the 
 sad occurrences of a long and dreary way." Or take, in 
 fine, some extracts from his letter to that noble youth, 
 George Gillespie, written a little before Gillespie's death. 
 It is difficult to imagine that any one can ever read them 
 without a sense of mournful sublimity, melting at last 
 into tears : 
 
 " REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER, 
 
 " I cannot speak to you. The way ye know, the 
 passage is free and not stopped, the print of the footsteps 
 of the Forerunner is clear and manifest. Many have gone 
 before you : ye will not sleep long in the dust before the
 
 294 tXfTX General View 
 
 day break ; it is a far shorter piece of the end of the 
 night to you than to Abraham and Moses ; beside all the 
 time of their bodies' resting under corruption, it is as 
 long yet to their day as to your morning-light of awak- 
 ing to glory ; though their spirits, having the advantage 
 of yours, have had now the start of the shore before you. 
 I dare say nothing against his dispensation. I hope to 
 follow quickly. I fear the clay house is taking down and 
 undermining, but it is nigh the dawning ; look to the 
 east, the dawning of glory is near the nearer the 
 morning the darker. Some traveller seeth the city 
 twenty miles off, and yet within the eighth-part of a mile 
 he cannot see it. Some see the goal at once, and never 
 again till the races end it is coming all in a sum 
 together, when ye are in a more gracious capacity to 
 tell it than now. ' Ye are not come to the mount that 
 might be touched ; nor unto blackness, and darkness, 
 and tempest ; but ye are come to Mount Zion, unto the 
 city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an 
 innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly 
 and church of the first born, and to God the Judge of all, 
 and to the spirits of the just made perfect, and to Jesus 
 the Mediator of the New Testament, and to the blood of 
 sprinkling.' Ye must leave the wife to a more choice 
 husband, and the children to a better father. If ye leave 
 any testimony to the Lord's work and covenant against 
 both malignants and sectaries, let it be under your hand, 
 and subscribed before faithful witnesses. 
 
 " Your loving and afflicted brother, 
 
 "SAMUEL RUTHERFURD. 
 "vS 1 /. Andrews, Sept. 27^, 1648." 
 
 Thus, two hundred years ago, wrote one saintly 
 sufferer to another, and there is something still vital in 
 his simple yet noble and touching words. What he says 
 in this letter is not equal to what he says not. He seems 
 curbing the boundless consolation he might have poured 
 into the soul of his gifted and prematurely-expiring
 
 of the Covenanters KeX> 295 
 
 friend. We think that even Mackintosh's letter to Hall, 
 on his coming down from the "thunder-hill" of frenzy, 
 is not superior to this last pressure of Samuel Ruther- 
 furd's hand upon that of his friend, Gillespie, ere he went 
 away alone into the valley and the shadow of death. 
 
 And yet these letters give no idea of Rutherfurd in his 
 whole capacity. They show his genius, his piety, and 
 his heart ; but the man who could weep like a babe, and 
 love like a woman, could also, as some of his other 
 works prove, act and reason like a man. It is so with 
 all the really gifted. They are great all round ; and only 
 blindness or malignity can deny it. We never hope to 
 see his genius fully recognised : his subjects, and his 
 peculiar treatment of them, render that impossible ; but 
 we are certain that he possessed genius of a high order, 
 and that some, at least, of his fine rhapsodies of thought 
 and feeling shall long survive. He has been compared 
 to Bunyan, and there was a resemblance in the lofty 
 reach, the imagination, the devotion, and the semi- 
 sensuous tone of their minds ; but the difference is, on 
 the whole, to Bunyan's advantage. He had less learning 
 and less fancy, but he had much more creative, dramatic, 
 and imaginative power, and has framed what life is a 
 story, and a story so true that every heart on earth 
 with whom it has ever come into contact has accepted 
 and rejoiced over it, as if it had been its own work. 
 
 Andrew Wellwood was the son of a minister in Annan- 
 dale, and was himself designed for the church, but died 
 in his youth of consumption. This event took place in 
 London, where he had probably fled to escape the heat 
 of the persecution. This is all his brief history. But he 
 has left behind him a little volume, A Glimpse of Glory > 
 which may, with a certain class of readers, preserve for 
 a time his name. It rather palls, as a whole, from the 
 unflagging rapture of the writer, but contains striking 
 passages and thoughts. We open the book almost at 
 random, and find the following passage: "How oft 
 have I thought, if the wilderness is so sweet and pleasant,
 
 296 cXsX General View 
 
 what must the inland be ! Is there such ravishing 
 variety of beauty, glory, and sweetness, all along in my 
 pilgrimage what can I imagine to behold in my native 
 country? Is the habitation where devils, wicked men, 
 and beasts inhabit, so excellent and glorious what can I 
 think of the place where Jesus, the Emmanuel, with His 
 fair company of saints and angels everlastingly abides ? 
 Is my God's footstool so glorious what must His throne 
 be ? Is the under-vault of this base dungeon so majestic 
 oh, the higher hall of glory, where the glorious King 
 and His magnificent court remain ! No veil there drawn 
 between the lower and the higher habitation no smoky 
 fumes betwixt heaven and earth no winds nor storms, 
 pinching cold or piercing heat no vicissitudes of summer 
 and winter ; nothing but an eternal spring-tide and end- 
 less summer a constant harvest- all are in their bloom- 
 ing estate and fullest perfection ! What wonder ! Is it 
 not the centre of infinite influences ! The sweet influences 
 of Pleiades are never bound up the bands of Orion are 
 ever loosed ! " And, in the same style, for two hundred 
 and fifty pages, does this dying youth describe the little 
 of the glory of the place which the dim glass and his own 
 trembling hand enable him to descry from the summit of 
 Mount Clear ; and when the long soliloquy is over, his 
 soul has taken its bound upwards, and his weary body 
 drops down, dust to dust, in the "sure and certain hope 
 of a blessed resurrection." 
 
 Poor, after all, it may be said, is all this literary spray 
 you have been able to collect from the ocean of the 
 Scottish persecution. But let us remember that it is 
 not during persecutions or revolutions that literature is 
 either read or written. Then the " nations are angry " ; 
 and it is not amid the hot passions of angry nations that 
 the richest dews of genius descend. The true literature 
 of such periods must be sought for afterwards ; and a 
 subsequent chapter will describe the influences which the 
 covenanting day has. exerted on some of the best recent 
 writers. The impression made on the heart and the
 
 of the Covenanters KcX, 297 
 
 imagination of Scotland was too profound either to be 
 easily or early expressed, or to be soon exhausted. 
 
 Much has been said of the persecuting" spirit of the 
 Covenanters. "Why should they complain of persecu- 
 tion, when all they desiderated for being fierce persecu- 
 tors was power ? The other party had the sword ; they 
 had dropped it that is all." Some truth, of course, there 
 is in this statement. Almost all the errors of the Cove- 
 nanters sprung from their ignorance of the spirituality of 
 Christ's present kingdom, and their absurd notion that 
 the magistrate's sword was a necessary weapon in the 
 Christian armoury. But we have no reason to believe 
 that they ever would have organised such a systematic 
 and bloody persecution as that which they suffered. 
 During the time they were in power, they did indeed 
 commit some unjustifiable acts such as the massacre of 
 the prisoners after the battle of Philiphaugh ; but their 
 general administration was mildness itself compared to 
 the subsequent conduct of their adversaries. They made, 
 as we have seen, no reprisals upon their enemies after 
 the revolution. The acts of violence committed by them 
 were chiefly in self-defence, or [extorted from them by 
 despair. Above all, they were, with all their faults, 
 Christians. They did not, like their enemies, stimulate 
 themselves to outrage, or harden themselves against its 
 remorse, by habitual drunkenness. What they inflicted 
 was done in dignity, and with that measured gravity 
 which attends judicial acts. The cruel deeds of the 
 cavaliers might be compared to those of beasts of prey or 
 of cannibals, "torturing, mangling, devouring, drinking 
 the blood of their victims." Those of the Covenanters 
 were the solemn sacrifices of mistaken religious men in 
 honour of an imperfect but profoundly-believed idea. 
 
 That idea was unquestionably a bold if not a satisfac- 
 tory one. So far as it consisted in aversion to Episcopacy, 
 or in the maintenance of the rights of Presbyterian parity, 
 or in dislike to the "ill-mumbled mass" in its weary 
 monotony and vain repetitions, or in its resistance to
 
 298 eX5~X General View 
 
 the insolent aggressions of the civil power, or in its 
 determined animosity to popery in all its phases and 
 under all its disguises multitudes in the present day 
 will fully justify it. Had it confined itself to these, it 
 had been, in every respect, a cause worthy of more than 
 all the blood and suffering expended in its defence. In this 
 case, we could more freely have classed the Covenanters 
 with the Waldensees, or the early Christian martyrs, 
 as objects of unmingled sympathy and respect. But they 
 went further than this. They held not only that the 
 making of public covenants was a part of Christian duty 
 although there is not the slightest evidence for this in 
 the New Testament but that the covenant of one age is 
 binding upon all successive ages, a most untenable pro- 
 position ; as if thought could thus be chained, or opinion 
 stereotyped ; as if each age had not a right to its own 
 idea ; as if the future should not be painted with face 
 looking forward, and not slavishly reverting for ever to 
 the past. This Covenant of theirs, again, as we have 
 seen, sought an impossible object that of uniformity of 
 doctrine and of discipline throughout the three kingdoms. 
 That there shall yet be a substantial uniformity of religious 
 sentiment and worship throughout the world may be de- 
 voutly believed. But probably this never can or will arrive, 
 save in the train of that " new and most mighty dispen- 
 sation," without which, as Foster declared his conviction, 
 "Christianity can never reform the world." Least of all 
 could such a clumsy solvent as a solemn league be expected 
 to melt down all differences of opinion. The method, too, 
 followed was not that of the gospel. That had no banner and 
 no sword when it first began its immortal journey. It was 
 like MaryHowitt's exquisite Marien a simple child, going 
 forth shielded only by its own divinity and simplicity, and by 
 " manifestation of the truth, commending itself to every 
 man's conscience in the sight of God." But the Covenant 
 must have its arms, and its blazonry, and its banner, and 
 its warlike lords, and its covenanted king, and its 
 "Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war."
 
 of the Covenanters KcX> 299 
 
 From that moment its fate was sealed. It left the 
 regions of the spiritual and the ideal, and became inex- 
 tricably mixed up with the troublous politics of a troub- 
 lous time. We do not find fault with the persecuted 
 employing defensive weapons in the cloudy and dark day 
 which befel them ; but we do deplore the offensive 
 attitude they took from the beginning, and the occasion 
 they thus gave their adversaries to echo the words, 
 "They that take the sword shall perish with the 
 sword." 
 
 No men ever saw more clearly than the Covenanters 
 the objective evils springing from the interference of the 
 State with the Church. But they were absolutely blind 
 to the subjective cause, the impossible problem of 
 properly or profitably connecting the two powers in any 
 formal alliance. They thought that the State was bound 
 to feed them, but denied it the power of arranging the 
 meals or fixing the form of the platters. They found 
 the yoke of the State intolerable, and they threw it off 
 for a season ; but it never occurred to them that it was 
 and ever must be a yoke, restraining their liberty, and 
 liable at any time to be tightened to strangulation. The 
 ministers did not sufficiently feel how dignified their 
 position when they were out among the moors, living on 
 the voluntary principle, though it was on bread and salt, 
 and water and goats' whey, with clear consciences, and 
 joys fresh from heaven visiting their hearts every night 
 and morning, compared to even their return to their 
 manses and glebes, when again they became subject to a 
 Government which could, at any hour, begin a new per- 
 secution. They abhorred formality and absolutism, but 
 they did not see that these were just the putrid result of 
 that very system which was supporting them, and that 
 in all church establishments there is a strong tendency 
 toward them, which, sooner or later, must conduct 
 thitherward, as certainly as a corpse hung up before the 
 summer sun will rot. They hated bishops, but saw not 
 that, as long as establishments existed, the compact
 
 300 <X5~X General View 
 
 slavery of Episcopalianism will be preferred by govern- 
 ments to the republican genius of presbytery or indepen- 
 dency. They disliked patronage, but did not foresee 
 how determinedly their paymasters would cling to it, as 
 a strong curb at once to the popular element and to the 
 priestly influence in the Church, and how it was certain at 
 a future day to break up and shatter their entire ecclesi- 
 astical system. 
 
 The grand aim of the Covenanters was certainly not 
 gained. The moment the persecution ceased, the memory 
 of the Covenant seemed silently to drop out of the minds 
 of men. Loudly, indeed, did the Cameronians continue 
 to bellow words of menace and to wail out notes of woe 
 over "covenants, burned, broken, and buried." But 
 their voice met with no response, save in the echoes of 
 the hills, which seemed to return it now rather in derision 
 than in sympathy. Covenanting continued occasionally, 
 indeed, to be practised by various sects down to a late 
 period. But long ere its occasional use came to an end, 
 it had lost much of its meaning and interest, and seemed 
 rather a caricature of the past than a living expression of 
 the faith of the present. There was no more signing of 
 the Covenant with blood. The people who signed it 
 were in no danger, and it was at last felt to be a belated 
 and unmeaning rite. The Free Church of Scotland, too, 
 has set its face against renewing the Covenants. Still, 
 very important ends appear to us to have been served by 
 the covenanting struggle, and the statement of these 
 shall close the present chapter. 
 
 First, the Covenant has added a rose to Scotland's 
 chaplet ; it is the truest moral crown that has yet been 
 bound round the forehead of the land, just as the Puritan 
 struggle is the greatest in which England has ever been 
 engaged. Before it there had been, indeed, the War of 
 Independence and the Reformation ; but the first involved 
 no religious element, and, the second was very speedily, 
 and on the whole, easily determined : few battles were 
 fought, and very few martyrs suffered. But the struggle
 
 of the Covenanters XcX 301 
 
 of the Covenant not only stirred all the religious heart of 
 the country, but it was waged with most determined 
 courage for a quarter of a century and more. Besides, 
 at the Reformation, a large section of the nobles early 
 connected themselves with the movement ; whereas the 
 cause of the Covenant was pleaded principally by the 
 peasantry and small proprietors. Hence, to no passage 
 in their history do genuine Scotchmen look back with 
 such pride. You can see the eye of the shepherd sparkle 
 and his cheek flush as you talk to him on his hill of these 
 covenanting days. There is, perhaps, no one name 
 among its heroes of whom you can say, as Burns of 
 Wallace, 
 
 " At Wallace' name what Scottish blood 
 But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! " 
 
 the interest and the enthusiasm are diffused among 
 many ; but never are Cameron, Renwick, Peden, and 
 Hackstoun forgotten. 
 
 "And far and near, o'er dale and hill, 
 Are faces which attest the same, 
 And kindle, like a fire new-stirred, 
 At mention of their name." 
 
 No enthusiasm has followed equal to that, or which has 
 had the power of eclipsing it in public regard. The 
 Scottish people flung themselves into even the Reform 
 Bill and Chartist agitations with greater spirit that the 
 field-meetings then held, and the peculiar kind of popular 
 excitement, and the prayer which was in the last of these 
 often mixed up with politics and political assemblies, 
 reminded them of covenanting days. Some most excited 
 political meetings were held in and near Edinburgh in 
 the years 1831, 1832, and 1834 ; and truly they were very 
 furnaces of glowing and seething feeling. They were 
 generally held in a park under the shadow of Salisbury 
 Crags, and with Arthur's Seat watching grimly in his 
 green shaggy coat behind. Many of the scenes interest- 
 ing in covenanting story were in sight : the Castle rock
 
 3<D2 
 
 General View 
 
 the Pentland ridge, the hills of Fife, the ocean linking 
 Dunnottar Castle to the Bass ; the Grassmarket, too, 
 where the martyrs suffered was not far off. Very different, 
 in many points, the objects sought by these fierce and 
 heated throngs from those of their fathers ; very different 
 their own character and bearing, for at that desperate 
 crisis, oaths and curses, both deep and loud, pervaded 
 every multitude ; very different the speakers, for they 
 made no pretensions, in general, to even the appearance 
 of piety. Yet still there was much that reminded you of 
 the open-air meetings of the seventeenth century. The 
 earnestness and terrible animation and daring language 
 of the orators ; the fixed brows, the compressed lips, and 
 the flashing eyes of the hearers, none of whom bore 
 arms, but each of whose hands seemed grasping an 
 invisible sword ; the wild, wave -like, tempestuous 
 motion of the crowd, their thick cheers awakening the 
 echoes of the rocks, the glories of nature adding their 
 inestimable background, from the green pastures around 
 up to the immeasurable calm of the May heaven above 
 all carried the mind two centuries back. Then there 
 was the purpose visible and audible throughout, and the 
 shadow of prospective rising and blood which lay over 
 the assembly. And when one gifted man (since well 
 known as the author of Nimrod) alluded, both in that 
 King's Park and again at a meeting held in the Grass- 
 market itself, to the days of the Covenant, and spoke of 
 the coming of new Drumclogs and of more fortunate 
 Bothwells, and pointed to the Pentlands and the Bass, 
 the living furnace became heated seven times now 
 cheers rent the sky, and now a deep silence dissolved in 
 a more terrible murmur, and the sun and the mountain- 
 scenery seemed drawing in around the impassioned 
 multitude, to witness the oath or to hear the amen of 
 their resolute souls ; and it was felt that the manes of 
 the murdered in the cause of liberty would soon be pro- 
 pitiated, and that the injured genius of a former age was 
 already smiling down well pleased.
 
 of the Covenanters .KcX 303 
 
 The success of the great covenanting struggle secured 
 civil and religious liberty to Scotland. The apparent 
 narrowness of the point to which the controversy seemed 
 at last reduced, contributed to this result. Suppose, as 
 Episcopalians maintain, and as Mackie the younger 
 almost admits, in a passage already quoted, that it came, 
 through the various indulgences granted, to little else 
 than this question, "Surplice or no surplice? Liturgy 
 or none?" Still the Covenanter could reply, "If this 
 be a trifle, why urge it on us at such tremendous 
 expenditure of blood and treasure ? although it may be 
 a trifle, in itself it represents great questions the 
 surplice or liturgy is the contraction and symbol of 
 mighty evils ; if we admit these, not only other evils of 
 a more formidable kind may be afterwards introduced, 
 but the authority of the magistrate over our consciences 
 is conceded, and if he once be permitted to be our 
 tyrant in religious matters, what is to hinder him from 
 becoming in civil affairs equally absolute ? Therefore, 
 on this little point we take our stand, and find here the 
 narrow Thermopylae of a wide cause ! " Whether this 
 reasoning was perfectly sound or not, mark the conse- 
 quence that followed. On this little and, if it be so, 
 vexatious point, a great victory was gained. The 
 Government, having failed on such a small matter, felt it 
 for ever impossible, by persecution, to obtain greater. 
 The empire of brute force received its final blow. From 
 that day forward the current set in, slowly but decidedly, 
 toward larger and larger concessions to the rights of 
 conscience. Therefore, if the question be asked, Who 
 broke in twain the yoke of the despotism in Scotland 
 Who secured the inviolability of conscience in that realm 
 Who paved the way for the abolition of patronage, 
 aye and for the establishment of voluntary associations ? 
 the answer must be, "These noble, hair-splitting men of 
 the Covenant ; although verily they knew not what they 
 did." They aroused the land to a spiritual consciousness 
 to a feeling of the supremacy of scripture and of the
 
 304 tX5X General View 
 
 moral sense ; to an attention to the minutiae of Christi- 
 anity to the very fringes of the tabernacle, which has 
 never since been permitted to die away, and which, while 
 it has been productive of much small and captious evil, 
 has been productive, on the whole, of a vast super- 
 abundance of good. 
 
 To that strong, unconquerable struggle we owe, also, 
 many of those recent movements in the Church, which, 
 although troubling the waters, have made them vitalising. 
 It was in the remaining night of the covenanting spirit 
 that the fathers of the Secession came out, like Abraham 
 from Haran, not knowing whither they went, though 
 but four in number, strong in the firm negative of their 
 position, full of faith and hate and zeal, doing well to be 
 angry, and destined to create a sensation in Scotland 
 which has not yet entirely subsided, and to found a sect 
 which has acted and prospered for more than a hundred 
 years. From a similar source sprang the Relief body, 
 which has since, like a vigorous tributary, augmented 
 the current of the Secession. To this, too, the Free 
 Church will be proud to acknowledge its filial claims. 
 Whatever may be thought of some of the actions of that 
 body, and especially of its equivocal position in reference 
 to the voluntary question living on its fruits and yet 
 ignoring its principle ; holding, like Arminians, works 
 without faith none can fail to see in its movements, its 
 energy and zeal, the after-growth of the rich field which 
 the Covenanters cultivated. 
 
 The late amiable " Delta," l in a note to a poem of his, 
 entitled "The Covenanters' Night Hymn," while con- 
 demning the prejudices, errors, and occasional crimes of 
 this peculiar people, takes true and strong ground in their 
 defence. He says that, in the first place, they fought 
 and gained the battle of an entire century ; and, secondly, 
 that their victory was the victory of the Protestant cause 
 in Scotland. Both these statements are correct. The 
 
 1 An eminent writer in Blackwoocfs Magazine lately deceased.
 
 of the Covenanters KcX^ 305 
 
 Covenanters' struggle must not be judged from the 
 duration of its darkest point, any more than the duration 
 of an eclipse from the moment of its deepest obscuration. 
 From the Reformation downwards to the settlement at 
 the revolution, the conflict, in its merits and its blunders, 
 its superabundant good and evil, was strictly one; and 
 if the result has not been so absolutely unique, yet, 
 unquestionably, it has been intimately intertwined with 
 the success of the Protestant religion. It was the 
 extreme at least, the only extreme THEN possible in 
 Scotland of Protestantism which the Covenanters 
 defended. For this they suffered and died ; and although 
 they gained not the full amount of their reiterated and 
 blood-bought demand, the instalment they did obtain, 
 like the sybil's books, was more valuable than the whole, 
 and has become the germ of all the after Protestantism 
 of Scotland. It fared with them as with most reformers. 
 They wittingly or unwittingly sought for more than they 
 were able or entitled to receive ; they urged their question 
 too far ; they exaggerated the evils under which they 
 were really suffering, and thus they secured a less 
 complete, but a final, victory for the general cause. 
 
 Hence, to a great extent, the profound and practical 
 hatred felt in Scotland against popery. There are no 
 Smithfield fires in the Scotch annals, but they record the 
 covenanting persecutions carried on, not indeed in the 
 first place by popery, but by its disguise its alias a 
 disguise and an alias which our fathers in a larger degree 
 were able to penetrate. They regarded it as the devil's 
 creed and caricature of Christianity, and its history as 
 briefly this : that the infernal spirit saw that Christianity 
 had come into the world, and was threatening to destroy 
 his empire ; that he said, " I must destroy it ; " that he 
 tried it first with fire, but in vain the fire fell on it like 
 rain ; it grew the faster for the fire the blood of the 
 martyrs became the seed of the church ; that he then 
 concocted a deeper and a darker scheme, and said, " I'll 
 become a Christian myself I'll get myself baptized I'll
 
 306 tXsX General View 
 
 form and circulate a creed of my own ; " and that thus 
 popery arose as the devil's creed, and spread over the 
 face of the Church. To their minds popery presented 
 itself as a monkey making mouths behind the back of a 
 man, and they shrank in disgust and horror from the 
 lame and blasphemous imitation. They saw in it a 
 system at once diametrically opposite to, and ludicrously 
 like, Christianity, which had fastened its polluting grasp 
 upon all the rites and the doctrines of the true religion ; 
 which for the real unity of the Church in Christ had 
 substituted the false centre of the pope ; which had yoked 
 dead works to living faith in the important matter of 
 justification ; which had, for the spiritual presence of 
 Christ in the Lord's Supper, substituted the revolting 
 fiction of transubstantiation ; which had degraded that 
 mysterious spot "under the altar," where the souls of 
 the righteous wait for the redemption of their bodies, 
 into a vulgar vault of fire called purgatory ; which had 
 created for its own sensuous ends a female god, in the 
 abused form of the Virgin Mary ; which had snatched 
 the cup from the lips, and the Bible from the hands, of 
 the laity, and given them a half-supper and no book of 
 God at all ; which had corrupted manly chastity into 
 monachism, and temperance into austerity and abstin- 
 ence ; which had given to the clergy unlimited power 
 over ears and hearts and consciences, at the same time 
 that it bound them to their cause by the unnatural bands 
 of celibacy, and which in every form had set itself to 
 cement despotism, to oppose human progress, to dwarf 
 the intellect of man, to inculcate persecution and breach 
 of faith, and to deluge the earth with blood. What name, 
 in their view, could describe at once the broad malignant 
 antagonism, and the strange and impudent likeness which 
 this system bore to Christianity, except the name Anti- 
 Christ, the often-predicted power who was to hinder the 
 advance of the faith, to defer even the day of the Lord, 
 who was to sit in the temple of God, showing himself 
 that he was God, and for the destruction of whom the
 
 of the Covenanters KeX^ 307 
 
 Lord had reserved the breath of His own mouth and the 
 brightness of His own coming? And not only did the 
 Covenanters succeed in rebutting the advances, whether 
 open or concealed, of this anti-Christian power, but they 
 did more ; they instilled into the minds of their children 
 a hatred and scorn of it a determination to do battle 
 against it to the death, which are burning unmingled in 
 most Scottish hearts still, and which ever and anon burst 
 forth and make the crest of the "old red dragon" to 
 tremble. In other countries, popery has been trifled 
 with, opposed, ridiculed, or hated, according to the 
 peculiarities of the national mind, but in Scotland the 
 repugnance to it has assumed the form of a universal 
 and unconquerable loathing. 
 
 Another effect springing from the Covenant was to 
 produce a deep respect and warm attachment on the side 
 of the people to their ministers. That this had its evils 
 there can be no doubt. It did engender a certain super- 
 stitious reverence for the persons, the profession, the 
 characters, and the preachings of ministers. Certain 
 lingering traces of this feeling may still be remembered, 
 as, for example, that the parish minister used to be 
 regarded by many as a kind of ghost in black children 
 fled from him as he walked through the village a certain 
 fearful stillness pervaded its streets unspeakable were 
 the depths and angles of declension with which men 
 bowed to him. On Sabbath, his veriest platitudes, and 
 his iteration of sermons for the twentieth time, were 
 received with profound respect ; and his faults, if faults 
 he was admitted to have, were treated with wondrous 
 lenity, if they did not, as was often the case, become 
 models of conduct. It was with him as with Hotspur 
 
 " Speaking- thick, which nature made his blemish, 
 Became the accents of the valiant." 
 
 This was true of ordinary ministers. But if the 
 minister possessed superior powers, or eloquence, or 
 diligence and piety, he became a god to his parishioners,
 
 308 cXrTX. General View 
 
 and was regarded now with the warmest love, and now 
 with the most undissembled terror. His word was law, 
 and his very silence assumed an imperative mood. And 
 yet this, although an evil, sprang" from a good principle 
 deeper still ; it was the last instalment of the debt which 
 had been accumulated in the days of the Covenant. 
 Then the clergy, by the sacrifices they made, the suffer- 
 ings they endured, the purity of their lives, the energy 
 of their preaching, and their thorough identification with 
 their flocks, impressed themselves on the affections of 
 Scotland, and gained a glory to their order, the last ray 
 of which has not yet wholly ceased to shine. How much 
 people will forgive to and bear from those who really 
 love them, live among them, and labour for them ! In 
 such a case, faults are regarded with the partial eyes of 
 the brother, the friend, or the lover. Endurance, too, 
 adds a dignity to the sufferer. It was a gleam, accord- 
 ingly, from the " auld Scottish glory " of the covenant- 
 ing day, which shed more than common lustre on the 
 grey head of the aged minister as he mounted the pulpit 
 or the tent, which secured attention for the trembling 
 speech of the young orator addressing audiences, some 
 of whose veterans might remember Renwick, and trace 
 a likeness between them in the flushed cheek and ardent 
 gesture ; which surrounded the steps of the minister 
 wherever he went with a peculiar halo of sacredness, and 
 gave a certain grandeur even to his extravagances of 
 language, his undue exercise of authority, or his bursts 
 of passion. This is now to some extent over in all parts 
 of Scotland ; but it did, doubtless, while it lasted, much 
 good. The respect for the clergy secured for the 
 peasantry precisely that kind of stimulus to the intellect, 
 and that information for the memory, which, at the time, 
 they required. In some measure barbarians, they re- 
 quired a rather barbarous exertion of authority to reduce 
 them to spiritual discipline. Thus, too, were religious 
 principles roughly but profoundly riveted upon the 
 minds of the people ; and through this it was that a
 
 of the Covenanters XcX* 309 
 
 system of education, very imperfect, indeed, pregnant 
 with many evils, and which is now far behind the wants 
 of the country and the age, was established and worked 
 out with such success that Scotland for a time was the 
 best-instructed country in the world. 
 
 It were beside the purpose to dwell on the causes 
 which have led to "the contempt of the Protestant 
 clergy," as old Eachard called it ; to the comparatively 
 low degree in public estimation to which, as a class, 
 they have sunk such causes as the prevalence of the 
 infidel spirit the spread of extreme political opinions 
 among the lower orders, and of attachment to popery, or 
 to a Protestantism that stimulates it in the upper the 
 class-feelings which have distinguished the clergy ; their 
 outrageous esprit-de-corps their obstinate clinging to 
 exploded forms of speech and thought and worship 
 their frequent hauteur and bigotry their no less fre- 
 quent suppleness and subservience, now to a king, now 
 to a mob, now to a bishop, and now to a congregation 
 the opposition they have so frequently given to the on- 
 ward movements of society the fact, in one word, that 
 they have, unlike their brethren in the seventeenth 
 century, 'not taken the lead and directed the genius of the 
 age, but have rather hung as drags upon it. But grant- 
 ing all this, it may yet be maintained, in the first place, 
 that the clergy are exerting more power, and that of a 
 more legitimate kind, in Scotland than in any other 
 country under heaven except perhaps America, where, 
 however, their influence in the matter of slavery has 
 become the curse of the land ; and that, secondly, this is 
 in a great degree owing to the memory of, and to the 
 deep impression made by, the ministers of the Covenant, 
 as well as to the remains of their spirit and conduct, which 
 are still found extant among their successors. Here our 
 ministers practise all the pastoral and many of the public 
 duties which their fathers voluntarily imposed on them- 
 selves. They preach perpetually, they visit the sick, they 
 call on their flocks, they teach the young, they super-
 
 310 cXsX General View 
 
 intend public and private schools, they engage, on all 
 proper occasions, in public, political, civic, and pro- 
 fessional movements, they take a part in the proceedings 
 of church-courts, they read much, they write much, and 
 like their fathers, too, they have often much to suffer 
 from misappreciation, from calumny, from rudeness and 
 ignorance, from the complication of labours we have 
 described, and from the res angusta domi an evil which 
 is now almost equally divided among ALL the different 
 denominations of Christians in the north. But these 
 labours and difficulties form, in part, the chains which 
 bind the office of the ministry in the present, even as 
 heavier difficulties did still more strongly bind it in the 
 past, to the respect, affection, and sympathy of a large 
 portion of the Scottish people. 
 
 The covenanting struggle, again, was a grand testi- 
 mony to the truth of the Christian religion. More than 
 all stereotyped evidences, more than the writings of all 
 the apologists, from Tertullian down to the most recent 
 defender of the Christian faith, as a proof of the reality 
 of Christianity, was this living, blood-stained moorland 
 page. To prove Christianity by argument seems an 
 attempt as contemptible and hopeless as to bottle up 
 some of the foam-drops of a spring-tide, and show them 
 as a specimen and proof how high these waters once 
 ascended. Or it is like preserving a little of the air of a 
 hurricane. The real proofs of Christianity are to be 
 found in the effects which it has produced, is producing, 
 and promises to produce ; and, whenever we see a mass 
 of people moving to the power of religion, as the " trees 
 of the wood to the wind," we see an evidence, not easily 
 to be gainsaid, of the influence of Christianity upon the 
 heart, the conscience, and the character of mankind to 
 which elements, indeed, and to which alone it has ever 
 appealed the only fields in which it has sown, or ex- 
 pected, or reaped a true crop. It is this kind of proof 
 which has made the deepest impression, both upon the 
 popular and upon the thoughtful mind. Religion, as an
 
 of the Covenanters KeK> 311 
 
 idea, rather tends to stupefy and overwhelm us we can- 
 not understand it it seems at once far from us and near, 
 like the telescopic moon ; but let it once be realised let 
 our own hearts feel it, or even hear of others who have 
 really felt it, and it ceases to be a mystery and becomes 
 a living" fact. Even a single heart, feeling and acting on 
 Christian principle, is a distinct evidence in favour of the 
 Christian religion. But how that evidence grows at 
 more than an arithmetical ratio, when an age, a century, 
 embraces and to a certain extent incarnates it in life, 
 action, and suffering ! That psalm at Drumclog that 
 short terrible struggle at Airsmoss those death-scenes 
 at the Grassmarket, intended at first as evidences of 
 sincere Protestantism, have now sublimated into proofs 
 of the common " faith as it is in Jesus," and their records 
 are or should be admitted among the general archives of 
 the Christian religion. When was there ever, or when 
 shall there ever be, a great suffering for the sake of the 
 infidel cause ? How Voltaire and Rousseau cringed and 
 crouched before the dangers to which they were exposed ! 
 How Hume himself would have shuffled had he been 
 called to answer for his "ideas and impressions of re- 
 ligion ! " And suppose our modern sceptics subjected 
 to a fiery trial, we can conceive results rather ludicrous 
 than calculated to confirm the common notions of their 
 sincerity and enthusiasm. One would prove himself 
 innocent by eating up in haste his most daring words ; 
 another, by "quartering" the favourite child of his 
 brain; a third, by swearing an "alibi" for his senses 
 while he had been engaged in such and such an 
 obnoxious work ; a fourth, by withdrawing word after 
 word of his statements, till they were made to turn right 
 round, and to say at last the contrary of what they had 
 seemed to say at first (like the famous garment of 
 Scriblerus, originally of silk, but which by frequent darn- 
 ings became at last of worsted, and yet remained meta- 
 physically the same!); and a fifth, with "impudent 
 face " and " brazen forehead, refusing to be ashamed " by
 
 312 cXsX General View 
 
 retorting the charge of infidelity upon his accusers, 
 and attempting to show that HE had been nearer the 
 Wondrous Sham, the "Great Carbuncle," 1 than any 
 Christian on earth. But would one of them, for their 
 theories of " the everlasting yea and no," or the supre- 
 macy of moral law, or the " oversoul," or the " Church of 
 the Saviour," submit to a month's privations? and how 
 much less to long sullen rains of fire, famine, and naked- 
 ness, to peril and sword, to banishment, to contumely 
 more intolerable than death, or death itself in its ghastliest 
 and least ideal forms ? God forbid that such measures as 
 these should ever be put in force against sceptics ! But 
 few can be blind, nevertheless, to the assurance of their 
 own eyes and judgments, that were such measures 
 applied either to infidels or to nominal Christians, there 
 would nowadays be bootikins with no legs within them, 
 empty scaffolds, walls of fire containing nothing, and an 
 infinitely greater number of retractations than of dying 
 protests many Cranmers signing their recanting deeds, 
 but few burning in the flames the traitor hands which 
 had signed them. 
 
 That 'the covenanting contest, in fine, served to pro- 
 mote what is well called -vital religion in Scotland, 
 appear undoubted. That principle, previously feeble, 
 drowned in formalisms, and too often held in deceit and 
 unrighteousness, was, by a long persecution, driven into 
 the heart of the nation, and has never yet been entirely 
 expelled. We grant, again, most distinctly, that there 
 is a vast difference between the godliness of the 
 seventeenth and that of the nineteenth centuries in our 
 land. That in the first found but one channel the 
 prosecution of the cause of covenanted reformation ; 
 the other has diverged into manifold and sometimes con- 
 tradictory courses. It would not be well for any 
 
 l See (although the reference in the text is not to him) Haw- 
 thorne's Twice-Told Tales, in which a " Great Carbuncle " seems to 
 represent his notion that Christianity is a beautiful, impossible 
 dream.
 
 of the Covenanters .KcX* 313 
 
 enthusiast in the cause of the Covenant, whether from 
 England or from abroad, to repair NOW to one of our 
 rural districts, even on sacramental occasions, in order 
 to judge of the calibre, or the sincerity, or the intelligence 
 of Scotland's piety. Truly, it is a winter sun that he 
 must be prepared to see. The services of the " prelimin- 
 ary " days, as they are called, of the communion, as 
 well as of all the rest, are now conducted entirely in the 
 church. The tent once a remaining rag of the 
 covenanting banner latterly, a mere signal of distress, 
 is extinct. The people flock to the church with perfect 
 punctuality, but with listless looks. They sit before the 
 preacher, not as hearers, not as partaking of the same 
 burning enthusiasm, for there is little on either side, but 
 either as formal worshippers or as meagre and captious 
 critics. Some listen, some look, some sleep, some yawn, 
 some note down objectionable and others favourite 
 passages ; the question with some is, at the end, " How 
 long has he been?" and with others, " Has he not said 
 something against the standards of our faith ? " In the 
 covenanting days, one watchman on the hills kept the 
 congregation, now a half of the congregation becomes a 
 company of watchmen, to keep itself from imaginary and 
 ridiculous danger. The old rote and routine of sentiment 
 and of language still prevail. It is as if the earth had 
 stood, and opinion been frozen up for two hundred 
 years. Not a word that recognises the new earth now 
 below our feet, and the new heavens which now expand 
 above, is ever heard or would be suffered were it heard. 
 When you look, you see faces like those of the dead 
 staring at you ; and when you listen, you hear tones of 
 the sepulchre reverberating on your ears. The worst of 
 it is, that the men are often clever and conceited persons, 
 imagining that their view of religion is the only one 
 possible among the good at present that all who do not 
 preach it are heretics, and that all who come not up to 
 the very letter of its requirements are in imminent 
 "danger of hell fire." At the close of the day, and as
 
 314 ' eXsX General View 
 
 the multitudes return them to their homes, it is with 
 deep sadness that you follow in their progress over hills 
 and through morasses some talking of "bullocks," 
 others of the weather, others of politics many compar- 
 ing preachers with preachers, and giving almost 
 uniformly the preference to the worst ; and others 
 indulging in a saturnalia of thought and language, 
 which grieves you the more that you know that it has 
 been purchased at the expense of much " tear and wear" 
 of conscience, habitude, and heart. 
 
 Subtracting, however, all this, we see a certain thing 
 called True Religion subsisting amongst us, and which, 
 on the whole, may be traced rather to the influence of 
 covenanting days than to aught later in our land. 
 There are still noble hearts among the peasantry, in 
 spite of narrowness and vulgarity of views and feelings, 
 and among the artisans, although infidelity has laid its 
 withering grasp upon many of them. In the middle 
 ranks, again, there is a great amount of manly and 
 enlightened piety. A sober evening light of devotion 
 pervades many portions of the country the relict 
 radiance of that fervid covenanting noon, and it is remark- 
 able that it is found precisely in those districts which were 
 most zealous in the covenanting cause in the south and 
 west. The great centre of Scottish religion is the city 
 of Glasgow. This is the mighty heart which supplies all 
 the veins and supports all the pulsations of our spiritual 
 life. Edinburgh, with all its intelligence, is a cold, 
 sceptical, and heartless city. From the influence of 
 David Hume's atheism it has passed into the shadow of 
 the modified materialism of Combe. Religion is indeed 
 able to maintain its ground, but little more, and dwells 
 too evidently in an enemy's country, sneered at by one 
 species of philosophies, and ostentatiously patronised by 
 another, finding many partisans in every quarter of the 
 city, but not pervading it all like a transforming leaven. 
 In Glasgow it is very different ; it is, perhaps, the most 
 Christian city on earth. A vast amount of wickedness, of
 
 of the Covenanters KeX* 315 
 
 course, and infidelity there is in it, but the pulse of the 
 town is true, its heart is sound evangelical religion free 
 from bigotry abounds, and in it almost all Scottish 
 schemes of Prostestant Christian philanthropy either take 
 their rise or find their most efficient support. The 
 spectacle of Glasgow on a Sabbath morning is one of the 
 most delightful kind ; the streets are all in a flood, and 
 are all pouring in the one direction of the house of God : 
 masses of the middle-class, grave parents leading 
 perhaps their children by the hand ; active, alert, 
 intelligent young men ; graceful and interesting females, 
 mingled with multitudes of well-dressed working men, 
 all apparently seeking " the way to Zion with their 
 faces thitherward ; " nor is there the slightest appearance 
 of that starched formalism and grim morosity of which 
 the Scotch were once accused. It is a "cheerful godli- 
 ness " that their countenances and their conversation 
 discover ; and while great is their faith, and great 
 their charity, yet to them the "greatest of these is 
 Hope." It may be fairly admitted that the fashion of the 
 town, use and wont, the influence of Chalmers and other 
 causes, may have combined in producing this state of 
 things, and that with it, as with all outward displays of 
 piety, much hollowness and hypocrisy are mingled. But 
 we attribute more still to the influence of the seventeenth 
 century. Glasgow has been peopled in a great measure 
 from the surrounding counties, all of which were satu- 
 rated with the covenanting spirit and soaked with the 
 martyrs' blood ; and their descendants have not, even 
 amid the crowded thoroughfares of the towns, forgotten 
 the glorious solitudes where their fathers worshipped and 
 died ; and, after deducting the necessary amount of 
 pretence and affectation of piety, there seems to remain an 
 ample and a pure residuum. A gentleman of a sceptical 
 turn once inquired of a Scottish minister, " Do you know 
 any now who believe in Christianity ? of course, every 
 body admits it to be the best thing we have got ; but do 
 you know any who believe in its peculiar claims as the
 
 316 cXsX General View 
 
 one divine religion? I, for my part, meet with none." 
 The reply was, waiving the personal affront implied in 
 the question, that not only did he know many individuals 
 of high intelligence who did believe in the highest 
 pretensions of the Christian religion, but that there was 
 Glasgow, a city pervaded and penetrated by living, 
 moving, and having its being in a profound believe of 
 evangelical religion. 
 
 How long this may continue is an inquiry which sug- 
 gests fears and gloomy forebodings, in consequence of 
 that cloud of scepticism which has covered the Continent 
 with its gross darkness, which has crept like a mist over 
 large portions of the community both in Scotland and 
 England, at last folding its fearful mantle round the 
 country of the Covenant, and changing the character of 
 Glasgow, till it becomes worse than one of our English 
 large towns ; but the certainty is not more manifest than 
 is the temporariness of this eclipse. Whatever may be 
 the case with other countries, Scotland can never long 
 part with the blessed faith of Jesus. Were infidelity or 
 were popery becoming rampant in it, it were enough to 
 move the ashes of the dead ; the tomb of Knox might 
 be disturbed ; the bones of Bothwell Moor might come 
 together, bone to his bone, once more an exceeding great 
 army ; Cameron might spring from his mossy grave ; the 
 German ocean might render back Burley and the rest of 
 the brave dead which were in it ; and on the grim Grass- 
 market might reappear the array of the men who had 
 thence ascended, amid execrations and agonies, the 
 nearest way to the celestial gate. At all events, the 
 slumbering embers of the spirit and the fire of the 
 martyrs would be blown up into a blaze ; and, even were 
 the Church once more driven into the wilderness, she 
 would keep her post and maintain her quarrel there till 
 the time came when, on the wings of a great eagle, she 
 should again emerge, and, endowed with new life and 
 purified from old error, shine forth "fair as the moon, 
 clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners."
 
 of the Covenanters KeX* 317 
 
 No easy thing, verily, can it be to root out a religion 
 which, apart from its own transcendent claims, has inter- 
 woven itself around the heartstrings of a nation, mingled 
 with its earliest and dearest associations, coloured the 
 thought, the feeling, the very blood of the land, become 
 a source of innumerable traditions, brought the national 
 character to its culminating point, and been baptized 
 again and again in holy blood. It is true that a " thing 
 of beauty is a joy for ever," but it is still more so, that a 
 thing once believed on good evidence to be divine, and 
 which has surrounded itself with divine trophies, is 
 independent of time, may be darkened but cannot be 
 destroyed, may even set like the sun, but like the sun can 
 only set to rise again in greater splendour than before, 
 and shall remain a joy, a power, a truth, and a terror for 
 evermore. Honour, again, to those men whose efforts 
 have tended to cement and to strengthen such a system ; 
 and in reference to whose sufferings, and to the results 
 which have already and shall yet more richly spring from 
 them, may be applied the poet's line 
 
 " How that red rain has made the harvest grow!" 
 
 THE END.
 
 Post 8v0, on antique laid paper, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Covenanters of the Merse, 
 
 their History and Sufferings, as found 
 in the Records of that Time, 
 
 BY THE REV. J. WOOD BROWN, M.A., GORDON. 
 
 " Mr. Brown has not been content to chronicle still surviving 
 traditions of the Covenanting period. He has gone to the 
 historical records of the time, and his researches have been 
 abundantly rewarded ; so much so that the volume he has 
 written, modest though it be in size and scope, forms a not 
 unimportant addition to the interesting Border literature of 
 the period. " Scotsman. 
 
 "Wherever the heroic witness of the Covenanters is ap- 
 preciated this book will be warmly welcomed." Sword and 
 Trowel. 
 
 "Mr. Wood Brown has gathered the scattered records of the 
 district with a loving hand." British Weekly. 
 
 " A book which treats of the Covenanters is always sure to 
 gain a respectful hearing. When to the merits of its subject 
 such a volume adds clearness of style and an orderly presenta- 
 tion of facts, it is safe of a fair popularity. Mr. Brown writes 
 well and clearly, not without a certain picturesqueness, which 
 should recommend his book." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " Mr. Brown has rendered a service to the student of history 
 which deserves grateful acknowledgment." Aberdeen Journal, 
 
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 The 
 
 Life and Letters of James Renwick, 
 the Last Scottish Martyr. 
 
 BY THE REV. W. H. CARSLAW, M.A., HELENSBURGH. 
 
 With facsimile of one of his Letters. 
 
 " Renwick was a strange and interesting figure in the 
 annals of the Scottish Church, and this tribute to his memory 
 will find many willing readers." Scottish Leader. 
 
 "The first complete edition of Renwick's letters." North 
 British Daily Mail. 
 
 " The letters reveal a singularly religious and devout spirit, 
 and give us a striking insight into the sweetness and light that 
 existed in the rugged depths of these stern and uncompromising 
 pillars of the Covenant." Scottish Weekly. 
 
 "James Renwick's letters were greatly in need of re-editing, 
 and Mr. Carslaw has proved himself the man to do it. He has 
 spared no pains, for he is enthusiastic in the subject. And his 
 pains have been well rewarded. An enormous number of 
 disfiguring errors have been removed ; and now the letters are 
 offered to us in a shape and condition that is worthy. The story 
 of the life is interwoven with them, so that one may read the 
 history of time as well as the spiritual history of the man who 
 lived in it. The volume is very handsomely produced, and 
 there is an excellent facsimile of one of Renwick's letters." 
 Expository Times. 
 
 "The biographical portions are written in a perspicuous, 
 energetic, and graceful style, and Mr. Carslaw has not allowed 
 his enthu.-iasm for Renwick to interfere to any extent with the 
 requirements of historical accuracy." Aberdeen Journal. 
 
 "The most complete yet published of the correspondence of 
 this noble and manly Scotchman." Govan Press. 
 
 "The Rev. Mr. Carslaw has skilfully interweaved the 
 
 martyr's letters with the details of his life, and produced a 
 
 thrilling picture of bloody and bygone days." Dumfries 
 Courier. 
 
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