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others we sent after their comrades, and two fled.* Now, who will join this raid?" "I will be your leader," said sir Robert, as we fell into the ranks. We marched on the enemy's flank. "Yonder is Clavers," said Paton, while he directed his courser on him. The bloody man was at that moment, nearly alone, hacking to pieces some poor fellows already on their knees, and disarmed, and imploring him by the common feelings of humanity to spare their lives. He had just finished his usual oath against their "feelings of humanity," when Paton presented himself. He instantly let go his prey, and slunk back into the midst of his troopers. Having formed them, he advanced. We formed, and made a furious onset. At our first charge his troop reeled. Clavers was dismounted; but at that moment Dalzell assailed us on the flank and rear. Our men fell around us like grass before the mower. The bugleman sounded a retreat. Once more in the melè I fell in with the general and Paton. We were covered with wounds. We directed our flight in the rear of our broken troops. By the direction of the general, I had unfurled the standard. It was borne off the field, flying at the sword's point-but that honor cost me much. I was assailed by three fierce dragoons, five followed close in their rear; I called to Paton; in a moment he was by my side--I threw the standard to the general, and we rushed on the foe. They fell beneath our swords; but my faithful steed, which had carried me through all my dangers, was mortally wounded-he fell. I was thrown in among the fallen enemy; I fainted. I opened my eyes on misery→→→ I found myself in the presence of Monmouth, a prisoner, with other wretched creatures, waiting, in awful suspense, their ultimate destiny." *





"Bloody Bothwell field! on thee fell a host of my brave companions. On thee twelve hundred prisoners were stript, and laid on the cold ground; till driven, like sheep, to the shambles of the council. On thee flourished the bloody conspiracy against the liberty of my country,

This chivalrous defence is recorded, I find, in the life of capt. Paton, in the "Scots Worthies," Edinb. edit. of 1812. This celebrated officer was trained up to warfare in the army of Charles Gustavus, king of Sweden. This is a specimen of those heroic whigs, who brought about the revolution of A. D. 1688.

and against our holy religion. Bloody Bothwell field! mine eyes shall never behold thee more.".

The laird reined his steed, and they set off, at full gallop, on the way which led them to Strathaven. "Had the deil been a hint him, and Jamie Clavers afore him, he could nae hae gaen faster," uncle John used to say; nor (his mind was so full of his subject) did he stop till he reached the plains where the crystal Geel mixes its torrent with the dark Aven.

The sun was pouring the last beams of day over the heights of Drumclog, and far below, in the peaceful and lovely dale of Aven, the smoke of the evening fires was rising in lazy volumes over the mansion and the cottages. "Now lauded be his name," said the laird, as he stopt short, and felt the visions of Bothwell and Ayresmore passing away from before his eyes; "the storm of war is blown over; sweet peace has spread her wings over our fields and in our halls-nor shall the joyful day be soon forgotten; a sheep's head and a rich haggis, our national dishes, shall annually smoke on my board, on the day that commemorates the return of peace-and welcome, and a God's speed to every guest who hails the day!

Tradition says that a sheep's head and haggis, with the other solidities of a feast, were served up to all the surviving companions of his toils; and that he dismissed them with presents, answering to the poverty of his means; then, indeed, but small, in consequence of the raids of Clavers:-that after he had comforted his family, and put things in their usual train, as in peaceful times, he called his attendant, Gawen Witherspoon, "put my chamber in order," said he, "and set forth my writing utensils. Bring out my three-legged table-Jamie Grahame has left me no better for a writing desk-it is bruckle gear, to be sure, but it will serve my purpose. Then, Gawen, you may bring out my doublet and hose from my peace wardrobe; a polemic should not have weapons of war about him, nor any thing that might remind him of violence. I shall exchange my buff coat for the velvets, the steel cap shall give place to the velvet cap, and these huge jack-boots, which have weathered all storms, shall be displaced for the broad-toed slippers, and the gray goose quill shall take the place of this

andro-ferrara. It is enough-now hang up my weapons, after you shall have diligently scoured them; my sword and musquetoon are, by God's grace, never to be again put in requisition; but, Gawen, they must not rust. Let them tell my children, and my children's children, what was done and suffered by their forebears, to restore the reign of law and of liberty. And, Gawen, you may hand me out these manuscripts. Those are the three indices. That-let me see-is my pagan index. The outlines of the Platonic philosophy are painfully chalked out here. That is my doctrinal, and that my historical index. These loose sheets are the papers of the two Barclaysthe col. and his son, Robert. The col. was a gallant soldier, and an honest man; but the son is, with all his amiableness, an incorrigible sophist. The callan, I do think, Gawen, has been polluted by papistrie. I am sure of it. The gallant col. would not believe me; but the lad was in the talons of his monk uncle of Paris. That heavy book-it's heavy in mair senses than ane, Gawen-ay, that is his Apology for the True Christian Divinity ?? Puh-bu!' as Clavers used to interject, when out of pa· tience; the lad, though fresh from a monk's cell, absolutely defies all the learning and divinity of Europe. The col. was always a modest man, I wish I could say the same of the son. Lay these loose papers on the buffet stool; they are precious specimens of George Fox. He was an extraordinary head-piece, that same George Fox. There's no accounting for things-we are scarcely free agents in these matters. Had even brother John told me that I was born to be a polemic, I should have laughed him to scorn; I was led into this quaker controversy by frequent, but the most perfect good-natured debates with Sanders Hamilton in the caves, and in the Darn-houm of Loudon bill. He was a kind of outrè, muddy-headed child, led infinitely more by a dreamy fancy than a clear intellect; though I used to give him credit that he was, in one respect, like Mr. William Penn. In speech and writing he never failed in having the last word; and his vociferations rung on our ears like a volley from the lifeguards. This Sanders Hamilton had actually the honor of setting up the first quaker meetings in Scotland. He set them up at my very lug, in my neighbour Drumboy's

house.* We (I always include my associates, the gallant worthies who honoured my hall in the killing times) have cleared this county nearly of the pest. Why, Gawen, of their once large meetings, there are now no remains but the melancholy remnant of mortality-their graves! though I knew not of one who died for his religion. There, for instance, at Glassford, are nothing but the graves of the fathers; the youth have been converted. You can easily know their graves, my son, [the young laird had put in a question on this subject] for as they differed from all men when living, so they seemed determined to differ from all men when dead. All the world, you know, place the head respectfully to the west; they inter always with the head to the east. But Scotland, as well as the county of Lanark and of Ayr, must be purged of them-that is, if decent treatment can do it-so let me proceed, for

Hæc contentio utilis est mortalbus.i

as Longinus quotes out of Hesiod.


Gawen shut the door, with a low bow, and leading away the children, he left the laird to his lucubrations.


* * ** This venerable man lived to a good old age. He died in the early part of the reign of the First George. When he felt the hour of his dissolution drawing nigh, he summoned his spouse and children around his couch, and delivered solemn instructions and admonitionsto each individual. He took an affectionate leave of his spouse; he raised her hand to his lip, then placed it in the hand of the young laird, while he whispered forth these words: "Now I go the way of all the earth; I leave off converse with all temporal things-I have fought a good fight-I have finished my course-I have kept the faith henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness." He paused in a long and deep silencea beam of joy lighted up his face; he added in a low whisper, "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." He stretched himself out on his couch, and raising his quivering hands

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*This corresponds with the statement of Sewel. Hist. of the Quakers, vol. i. p. 171. Edit. of A. D. 1821.


to his head, he closed his eyes with his own hands, and was gathered unto his fathers.

I have not translated the as I have his other pieces. ceive the reason.

following note of the laird, The reader may easily per

"I pretermit quhat micht bee sayd anent the menny difficultys quhilk I hae met wi, in collectin thae materials, quhilk ye sall fin in the muckle linen frock, containin the perchments and uther instruments o' writin belongin to this lairdship. In this bludy laun, for mony a lang yeer, the logic o' the sword hais bin mair resourted till, than ony o' Aristotle's argumentationes: or, weel I wait, than ony ither o' the skulemen. Coonsel and arguements hae brocht on sair dauds. Baith gentlemen, an simple men harle, in upo a' occasions, the bludy maximes o' papistrie. They enlichten and convert myndes by hard knockes. And they hae stuck dourly and dreichly till't. The best champion amang us haes been sairly forefochen; not by spritely raisons, but by blauds."

“I hae had muckle tyme, I grant, and mony gude opportunities. But, oich me kintry! Scotland's no the richt plaice for finishing sic works. In a laun whare toleration is gifted free to ilka ane, the deevers secks wull ay put oot their horns, like snails at eese on their moist and mossy braes, fearlessly. An' they'll beek on the bonny sinny knows. And they'll streek themselves out, a' their fu' lenthis in the sheelins. They ken nae enemy. They hae nae dreed o' violence. They fear nocht for themsels. They knaw nae weak side they hae. Their hale bouks are rouled out, at their greusome lenthis, butt dreed, or fear, into the licht. To get mine een on this new seck, amang the lave, beeking at its full lenthis, butt fear or dreed, was what I did graitly desiderate. But I might not see it. It was na God's gude wull. Althocht I was ains richt neer it, after the cooncel bannished me.

"But I hae, noo, pae doot that sum o' me bairns, or aiblins, sum o' my bairns' bairns, wull migrate to that

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