LI E) R.AI^Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 8^5
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/martyrofglencree01some
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 GILBERT AND EIVINGrTON, PRINTERS, 
 
 ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 A ROMANCE TOO TRUE. 
 
 Bt ROBERT SOMERS. 
 
 ' Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's cause 
 Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
 Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 
 Their names to the sweet lyre. A patriot's blood, 
 Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed. 
 And for a time ensure, to his loved land, 
 The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; 
 But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, 
 And win it with more pain. 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. 
 To soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
 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. With their names 
 No bard embalms and sanctifies his song ; 
 And history, so warm on meaner themes, 
 Is cold on this." 
 
 COWPEB. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 HontJon : 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTOX, 
 
 CROWN BUn.DINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1878. 
 \_All rights reserved. ]
 
 8^3 
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Woe all ! a day of wrath, when true Love's course, 
 Not only rough, is headlong flung, and souls 
 Of man and woman through the furnace pass — 
 Religion's light, but weak at best, is swept 
 
 rv) From its own lamps — and all the Charity 
 
 1^ Of life is scorch'd by the sirocco blast 
 
 ^ Of blind imperious Tyranny. 
 
 I A71071. 
 
 C^ Glenvernoch is a glen within a greater in 
 ^^^the hill country, where the ancient province 
 "^ of Galloway borders on Ayrshire, in the 
 J south-western corner of Scotland. The 
 ^ scene of our story is thus almost as in- 
 volved and romantic as the story itself. 
 ^. In the reign of Charles II. Glenvernoch 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 'J
 
 2 THE MAETYE OF GLBNCEEB. 
 
 gave its name to a farm and farm-house, 
 which became famous, even tragical, in the 
 annals of that period. 
 
 The farm and farm-house of same name 
 are still extant; but they have not the 
 same form as they had at the period in 
 question. The farm-house of Glenvernoch 
 was then a long building of one story, but 
 of high roof, thatched with straw, moss- 
 grown ; and direct in front of it was a row 
 of buildings lower and still longer than the 
 farm-house proper, in which there was a 
 barn at one end, extending backward along 
 the stack-yard; a stable and byre at the 
 other, also elongated to the back; and 
 between these a wool and general store 
 room, and rooms for dyeing, spinning, 
 weaving, and brewing, in the homely fashion 
 of the time. There was thus a kind of 
 street in Glenvernoch, and the place might 
 properly enough, as in the common dialect,
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 6 
 
 be called a "town." It embraced and 
 represented a great amount of useful in- 
 dustry ; and as Glenvernoch himself said, 
 " the out-bigging was as gude as a forti- 
 fication, and kept the east wun' oot o' the 
 chaumrie." 
 
 There were no roads properly speaking to 
 Glenvernoch, or round or about it, but 
 there were bridle-tracks and ways along 
 which carts or hurdles sufficiently oxened 
 or horsed might draw a moderate load with 
 some difficulty. The tracks and ways 
 followed the natural f acihties of the country, 
 and were guided in the vicinity of Glenver- 
 noch chiefly by the course of a river, 
 indicating a common level which was so 
 marked a mile or two from Glenvernoch 
 that the river there broadened into a 
 lake, surrounded by much exuberance of 
 forest. 
 
 It was a fair enough scene of nature to 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 
 
 look upon. This valley of the Cree, with 
 its lake-like expanse of water and its 
 fringes of wood, had sometimes a look of 
 paradise from the inner glen of Yernoch 
 with its bleaker background. Following 
 the stream upward the country became 
 wilder and more inaccessible, though not 
 without elements both of grandeur and 
 beauty. The hills were bold and lofty, as 
 well as varied in outline, bare and bleak or 
 white with snow in winter, but green 
 almost to their tops in early summer, with 
 many a sheltered valley between their 
 shoulders unseen and unimagined by the 
 traveller, till, ascending some height or 
 emerging from a narrow ravine, a scene of 
 solitary beauty suddenly gleamed on his 
 sight, with its lake or tarn smooth and 
 shiny as a mirror if the day were warm, or 
 ruffled by the winds and darkened by the 
 clouds at other periods. The lower ground
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. O 
 
 was still in some parts largely covered by 
 natural forest, traces of whicli crept along 
 the sides of tlie hills. In one place the 
 wood was more dense than in any other. 
 It was called " The Caldons," probably 
 because — without pretending to any learned 
 etymology — it had been recognized for 
 many ages as a genuine remain of " the 
 Caledonian forest," which had proved so 
 formidable an obstacle to the Roman 
 legions. Here were many heavy pines, 
 oaks, and birches — not dense as a North 
 Carolina forest, nor so stately, but rather 
 straggling, with many glades and openings 
 in the denser parts. Along the banks of 
 the streams the silver birch was predomi- 
 nant, its white glistening bark and feathery 
 leaves imparting much grace to an other- 
 wise rugged country, where the inhabitants 
 were thinly scattered, and the herds of 
 black cattle and flocks of smeared sheep
 
 b THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 were hid from view in the unevenness of 
 the landscape. 
 
 The farmer of Glenvernoch, Gilbert 
 Wilson, and his family were about to par- 
 take of breakfast one morning in the mid- 
 autumn of 1684. The breakfast-room was 
 probably more tidy than usual, but it was 
 particularly clean and neat on this occasion. 
 The eldest daughter Margaret, and her 
 young sister, had seen the grate bright- 
 ened, and the hearthstone washed and 
 made white by the kitchen-woman, while 
 they swept the apartment, dusted the chairs 
 and other furniture, and spread a black oak 
 table with a cloth not much finer than 
 huckaback, but spotlessly clean; while the 
 bare part of the table was covered with 
 rush- woven mats for the platters and other 
 vessels of the morning viands. They had 
 also placed a bunch of thyme with sprays 
 of bright ivy leaf on the mantelpiece, and
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 7 
 
 one of the windows partly open looked out 
 on a meadow, from the natural clover and 
 herbage of which a pleasant fragrance 
 came on the sharp autumnal air. This was 
 the kitchen of Glenvernoch, but it was the 
 upper part of it, and in the other, which 
 on a lower floor was a cooking-place and 
 scullery, a large fire of peat and logs burned 
 on the hearthstone, and a plainer table was 
 spread with wooden dishes of porridge and 
 milk, a cheese, and abundance of oatmeal 
 cake. 
 
 Glenvernoch had seen most of his 
 workers off, after a much earlier breakfast, 
 some to the meadows, some to the moss, 
 and his only son Thomas, next to Margaret 
 in age, had gone with a shepherd or two 
 on some duty among the flocks. But it 
 was the custom to assemble all the serving- 
 people who happened to be about " the 
 toon " to breakfast at the same hour with
 
 8 
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the family, in order, araong other reasons, 
 that " the morning duty " might be per- 
 formed. 
 
 *' Signs o' bad weather doon the country 
 this mornin'," said Glenvernoch to his 
 wife, who had gone out to wave him 
 in. 
 
 " What say ye. Glen, and the sun shin- 
 ing sae brichtly ? " remarked the good- wife. 
 
 " It may be," replied the farmer, with a 
 hardness of tone that had become not 
 unusual to him of late — "it may be, but 
 the foogities hae been scudding through 
 the mosses sin' dawn, like skarts afore 
 a storm." 
 
 *' Whae are they, gudeman ? Whae ? " 
 inquired his anxious but kind-hearted wife. 
 
 " Hoo am I to ken whae they be, gude- 
 mfe?" continued the farmer. "I only 
 spak' a word in the by-ganging an 'oor or 
 twa sin' to Mr. Kennedy o' Barnkirk, the
 
 THE MAETTR OF GLENCREE. ^ 
 
 minister, ye ken, wha's settled in the Gos- 
 pel noo in Ulster. He cam' ow'r in secret 
 to see his wife and family; and tho' she's 
 conformed and on gude terms wi' the cu- 
 rate, he has mickle fear they'll no' be 
 unco safe. As for himsel', puir man, he 
 maun tak' leg-bail, an' be thankfu' gif it 
 dinna fail him." 
 
 " Whis-h-t ! " said Mrs. Wilson ; '' say 
 naething aboot it, Glen, when we gang in. 
 Dinna frichtenthe weans." 
 
 When the family sat down to the meal, 
 Mrs. Wilson, nee Gordon, occupied a seat 
 on one side of the fireplace; and on the 
 other side, in a chair usually occupied by 
 the farmer himself, sat a young woman of 
 superior rank, of whom Glenvernoch and 
 his wife always spoke when alone as 
 " Lady Martha." But it appeared to be 
 the rule of the family not to distinguish 
 her save as a companion whom Margaret
 
 10 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 had met during a short while she had been 
 at school in Wigtown. 
 
 She was Martha Dunbar, daughter of 
 Sir David Dunbar of Baldoon, and sister 
 of the David Dunbar, younger of Baldoon, 
 whose marriage to the first Viscount Stair's 
 daughter Janet, fifteen years before, was 
 suddenly followed by a tragedy which had 
 been an inconsolable grief to both families. 
 The young lady was dressed in a dark- 
 brownish wrapper of country-made stufi*. 
 Her hair was plainly parted in front, but in 
 its profusion was gathered up behind, and 
 was held there by a comb which sunk out 
 of sight in the silky folds. A Httle white 
 collar or ruff round her neck was bound 
 by a blue silk tie which lay in a bow on 
 her bosom. Her wrapper was gathered 
 tightly round her waist by a broad ribbon 
 of the same colour. She was a picture of 
 health and comeliness. Her blue eyes
 
 THE mahtyh of glencree. 11 
 
 sparkled with deep senses of pleasure. 
 Her cheeks were rosy, and her regular 
 features were rounded into loveliness by a 
 pretty mouth and chin. The accents of 
 her voice in conversation were tenderly 
 musical. Her laugh was not only hearty 
 and merry, but it was the laugh of music 
 also. There were notes of harmony, a 
 little peal of bells, in it. Here is a young 
 woman, one would have said, born to take 
 and give pleasure in the world, and to be 
 a good manager in domestic affairs. Yet 
 over all this beauty there hung this morn- 
 ing a heavy shade of anxiety, and the 
 joyous blue eyes seemed as if they would 
 now and again melt into tears. 
 
 Between Martha Dunbar and Margaret 
 Wilson there was a fond attachment. But 
 they were very different in appearance. 
 Margaret, now in her seventeenth year, 
 was eight or nine years younger than
 
 12 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 Martha, and the tall, slim figure of the 
 farmer's daughter and her pale complexion, 
 to which latter no high colour came, save 
 when warmed by indignation at some foul 
 wrong, were as unlike as possible to the 
 full-budded Eose of Baldoon. Yet Mar- 
 garet was by no means unbeautiful. Her 
 eyes, of light hazel, were full-orbed, and 
 would have been deemed prominent but 
 for well-developed eyebrows and long eye- 
 lashes ; a straight and well-chiselled nose, 
 slightly reined, as it were, at the point, 
 where there was a distinct indentation as 
 of nostrils that in some moods miofht 
 breathe fire and defiance to all the powers 
 of darkness ; with a certain firmness of 
 the lips and strength of the lower part of 
 the face, indicating firmness of character 
 and strength of will. Yet Margaret, when 
 unmoved by passion, had a most mild and 
 winning aspect. Her eyes, as they looked
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 18 
 
 to one with softest sympathy, and drooped 
 and looked again with a lustrons quiver 
 as of love and modesty combined, imparted 
 a more than phj^sical beauty to her coun- 
 tenance. The dress and manner of this 
 maiden were all of the same simple 
 pattern — '' when unadorned, adorned the 
 most." Her loud word was never heard. 
 She moved like one of the Graces, gently 
 but powerfully, among all the roughnesses 
 of a country farm, and in a rude and 
 violent time. 
 
 The breakfast over, the people in the 
 lower part of the kitchen came with stools 
 in their hands, and sat down in the empty 
 spaces round the black oak table, while 
 Glenvernoch was closing the front door. 
 On resuming his seat he opened the Bible, 
 and after what was more an ejaculation 
 than a prayer that the Holy Spirit might 
 be pleased to shed light on His own AYord,
 
 14 THE MAKTTR OF GLENCBEE. 
 
 read a chapter. On closing the Book, he 
 looked over to Margaret, who rose and 
 kneeled at her chair — a movement that 
 was followed by all the others. The 
 daughter offered a brief prayer, in which, 
 in tremulous tones, she glorified God, and 
 after thanking the Most High for the 
 family blessings of peace, protection, and 
 sustenance, and imploring that He would 
 guard their hearts from temptation and 
 their lives from offence, concluded with 
 a petition that He would cover with His 
 Almighty power the faithful in the land, 
 and that Christ, through the Holy Spirit, 
 would come as of old and reign as un- 
 disputed Head and King of His Church. 
 Glenvernoch had in former years performed 
 this part of the family exercise by re- 
 peating the Lord's Prayer or reading a 
 prayer from John Knox's Liturgy. But 
 since the advent of curates, and formal
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 15 
 
 readings of prayers and sermons in the 
 parisli churclies of Scotland under the 
 Restoration of the Monarchy, the antipathy 
 of the Presbyterians to prescribed prayers, 
 as well as their preference for more direct 
 utterances from the heart, had much in- 
 creased ; and Glenvernoch, while adhering 
 to his liturgy, sometimes laid on his 
 daughter a duty for which he felt she was 
 much better fitted than himself. A psalm 
 was then sung, in the course of which a rap 
 was heard at the front door. Glenvernoch 
 gave another verse, and then closing the 
 psalm, passed out from the kitchen, the 
 men-servants rising and following him. 
 
 On the farmer returning to the family 
 dais, he said, " It's only the callan' " — the 
 callant being the sentry who at this 
 troubled period was stationed on an 
 advanced post to watch the tracks, and 
 give timely warning of any party seen to
 
 16 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 be approacliing — '' only tlie callan' " re- 
 peated Glenvernocli. *' He says there are 
 twa mounted drovers and a haveral on 
 a bit sheltj, riding up the heugh unco 
 canty-like. Want to see some nowt, 
 I daresay. But I dinna mucli like thae 
 roving blades. I like best to hear what the 
 open market is saying afore I deal with 
 ony ane. And thae times are sae very 
 kittle." 
 
 " Hoot, toot ! Glen, it's naething ava," 
 said the good-wife. " Hoo aften hae we 
 had sic chapmen ? " 
 
 '' Weel, that may be," said Glenvernocli, 
 " but ye'se better na shaw yersels," casting 
 an anxious look towards Martha, which 
 that young lady seemed to understand, for, 
 throwing her arm round Margaret, the 
 two retired to an upper chamber, where 
 they could neither see nor be seen, till it 
 might happen to please themselves.
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 17 
 
 " I am gaing do on to meet them at the 
 slap," said Glenvernoch to his wife. " If 
 they offer fairly, and a gnde bargain may 
 be struck, wi' money doon, I may bring 
 them in. But gifna they be vera freen'ly 
 indeed, nae a foot will they pass ow'r my 
 door-step." 
 
 The mistress of Glenvernoch^ willing to 
 take the most favourable view of affairs, 
 proceeded to put her little parlour in order, 
 and looked out some of her best home- 
 brewed, in case there should be a transac- 
 tion which her goodman might consider 
 '* freen'ly." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 THE MARTYR OF GLEXCREE. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 No zealous coutentions should ever perplex us, 
 No politic jars should divide us or vex us ; 
 No Presbyter Jack should reform us or ride us, 
 The stars and our whimsical noddles should guide us. 
 
 Ned Ward. 
 
 The travellers, approacliing Glenvernocli, 
 had left the county town that morning at 
 dawn in as high spirits as men could do, 
 who had a late sederunt the night before, 
 and were conscious of an important mission 
 on the day following. So eager were they 
 overnight that the " haver al" by whom 
 they were attended — a brisk country lad in 
 his teens, who had already been at many 
 fairs and markets, and had served both
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 19 
 
 buyers and sellers in turn — was roused out 
 of a hay-loft, in which he was soundly 
 sleeping, ordered to saddle the horses forth- 
 with, and to wake up his masters at the 
 first streak of day from what they could 
 only themselves expect to be a few uncer- 
 tain half-hours of rest. An administrative 
 vigour was striking out from the usually 
 sleepy county town at this juncture with 
 almost electric force. Everything was to 
 be done or ridden over in a trice ; and the 
 *'haveral," on his part, was fully equal to 
 the occasion, having had the happiness of 
 finding that his good masters had not gone 
 to bed at all, but were carousing at dawn 
 where they had been carousing the night 
 before. 
 
 The riders were thus soon mounted, and 
 
 they made the best of their way towards 
 
 Glenvernoch and the hill country. But it 
 
 was a considerable way, — perhaps ten or 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE MAHTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 twelve miles as tlie crow could fly, but 
 much more on the tracks then passable, 
 with their tendency to avoid any marshy 
 places, and rise to higher levels and harder 
 ground. 
 
 Yet soon after sunrise the two riders 
 found themselves in the old town of Pen- 
 ninghame, with its old church and church- 
 yard, and a few scattered houses, one of 
 which was an hostelry where both men and 
 horses could be refreshed. It was all but 
 the highest point on a wide heath, with a 
 rough but sloping vale on one side, and 
 somewhat higher ridges on the other. But 
 from the " clachan," as it was called, 
 almost the precise locality of Glenvernoch 
 could be seen with the naked eye. Yet the 
 riders could not pass without some little 
 dealing with " Lucky Heron." An inn is 
 always good for man or beast, and the 
 rising sun has an enlivening effect on the
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 21 
 
 human frame, however wearied the previous 
 day or night may have been. 
 
 It was with much exhilaration, therefore, 
 these emissaries of the county town re- 
 sumed their journey towards Glenvernoch 
 and the hill country, and avoiding less 
 sequestered paths, pressed onward through 
 a morass towards their point of destination. 
 On riding round the walls of the old square 
 tower of Castle- Stewart, the glee of our 
 worthies was sensibly increased. A couple 
 of dragoons were posted at the principal 
 gate ; and in the courtyard, enclosed by a 
 strong but not very lofty wall, several more 
 horses were hitched, and were being 
 groomed amid jests and snatches of song, 
 and the morning drill of a small party of 
 wild-lookiug foot soldiers — a relic of the 
 Highland host which had spread alarm 
 through the district a few years before — 
 who rested and shouldered arms to words
 
 22 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 of command in a language whicli neither 
 of our travellers understood. It was 
 known to tliem, however, that the Baron 
 of Castle- Stewart, in no favour either with 
 the local or higher authorities, had left the 
 tower a day or two before in high dudgeon 
 at this military occupation — leaving only 
 an old seneschal and a few servants as his 
 representatives. The dragoons and the 
 foot soldiers had the place much to them- 
 selves, and they meant to have a fat and 
 merry time of it, if their officers could only 
 keep them from quarrelling over the spoil. 
 
 The travellers showed their passes, and 
 after exchanging a few smirks with the 
 dragoons on guard rode on. 
 
 And now, since the sun is fully up, let 
 us take a glance at these merry men. 
 
 The younger and stronger of the two may 
 be nearly thirty years of age. He rides his 
 Galloway with ease, and with the air almost
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 23 
 
 of a cavalier. He has large overalls of 
 thick woollen stuff over his limbs, strapped 
 round his waist, and enclosing even 
 the skirts of his frieze doublet. He wears 
 a leather belt, and but for a plaid in which 
 he has wrapped the upper part of his 
 person with much neatness, the ends of it 
 falling gracefully round each hip, it would 
 be observed that in the belt he has two 
 pistols — a mark of high privilege at the 
 time for any one moving in public, but 
 which he has no desire to disclose save 
 when absolutely needful. On his head 
 there is a broad bonnet, without any droop 
 in it, firm and starched-like in its crown 
 and bound with strong ribbon round the 
 lower rim, which enables him to wear it 
 sometimes almost wholly on one side of his 
 head. Under this bonnet there is a broad 
 and beaming, but devil-may-care kind of 
 face. His companion may be nearer forty
 
 24 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 than thirty years of age, but looks mucli 
 older. He does not sit his nag so well ; 
 has not the same jaunty air; crouches his 
 shoulders, and is loose about the knees ; 
 has altogether a furtive, suspicious, and 
 timid aspect, as if he were more than half 
 afraid even when boldest. But he is atten- 
 tive enough to personal comfort and 
 dignity. His stout pantaloons are covered 
 with leather boots to the knees ; over his 
 warm under-dress he wears a short cloak 
 or mantle ; his cocked hat is carefully tied 
 under his chin; and he displays with 
 curious pride and ostentation a chain of 
 office even when going about the most 
 common business. The chain is very pro- 
 minent this morning. He has clasped it 
 round the neck of his cloak. It would be 
 idle to ask whether he is armed. This is a 
 man who could scarce draw a trigger. But 
 he is ready to fish in troubled waters ; and
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 25 
 
 there is a remarkable mixture of supple 
 duplicity and selfish shrewdness in the 
 background of his nature. He passes 
 easily over to what he believes to be the 
 stronger side, and is equally prone to swear 
 profanely or pray devoutly, not from any 
 deep emotion of his own nature, but from 
 what the fashion may be. 
 
 The lad in attendance on this strangely 
 contrasted pair would hardly be worth 
 describing but for an odd resemblance 
 between him and the diminutive pony he 
 rode. It was covered with rough and 
 shaggy hair from the head to the tail ; had 
 a straw saddle and a straw bridle. He 
 was scarcely less shaggy himself. Over 
 long locks of matted and weather-beaten 
 hair he wore a dingy straw hat, and twists 
 of straw were wound round liis ankles by 
 way of complementing some deficiency of 
 garment at that extremity. His middle
 
 26 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 garb was what one may truly call 
 deshabille. Yet the youth was sharp and 
 alert in his movements both of body and 
 mind. It seemed alike to him whether he 
 was running or riding, and he leaped off 
 and on the straw saddle as cleverly as a 
 performer in the circus. "When falling too 
 far in rear of the stronger nags of his 
 leaders, he took to his feet, and the pony 
 galloped after him; and, gaining ground 
 in this way, would mount again, when the 
 pony as surely began to take the pace more 
 easy. There appeared to be a perfect 
 mutual understanding between the two. 
 
 After gambolling a little to the dragoons 
 so gravely posted at the gate of the old 
 tower, showing them how possible it was 
 to stand on one's head, and even walk 
 on one's hands, to their no small amuse- 
 ment, the urchin ran forward, the pony 
 after him, just as the two riders were
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 27 
 
 abandoning themselves to gaiety of spirit 
 and enjoyable conversation. 
 
 "What a fine caller morning ! " said the 
 man of office to his jolly companion, and 
 the jolly companion began to sing a little 
 country ditty : — 
 
 " 'Tvveen Wigtown and the town o'Ayr, 
 Portpatrick and the Cruives o' Cree, 
 Nae man need think to bide lang there, 
 Unless he court wi' Kennedie." 
 
 " Pooh ! " he added, " there's the Cruives 
 o' Cree before us ; but that's an auld sang 
 noo." 
 
 " The Kennedies," said the other, " have 
 lang been dead branches in Galloway, and 
 they were an ill-faured set, be hanged to 
 them, and did naebody ony gude. But 
 ithers, w^ho noo haud their heeds as hie — 
 the Stewarts, Dalrymples, and Agnews — 
 are a' driving doon the same gate. As for 
 the Gordons, they are a woe-stricken and
 
 28 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 scattered kind o' folk that nae gude will 
 ever come frae ava. Tlie Grahams are 
 assuredly the coming men noo." 
 
 The jolly companion here gave a low 
 whistle, but what he was whistling at no 
 one could possibly have divined. He seemed 
 to be looking down to the front shoe of his 
 horse. 
 
 " Didn't ye see the prood commanding 
 e'e o' Clavers as he swept roon the To'booth 
 yesterday at the heed o' his followers. He's 
 a first cousin, man, o' the great Marquis o' 
 Montrose, than whom a braver man never 
 stood in leather shoon or louped into a 
 saddle. He fought first for the Covenant, 
 then for the king, then for the Covenant 
 again, and went on sae, but aye the same 
 brave and consistent man throughoot,fecht- 
 ing for his king and country. This talk 
 about religion is mere trash. It's loyal 
 possession — that's the real thing. A' thae
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 29 
 
 lands," and liere the man of office gave him- 
 self an expansion of figure on the saddle, 
 unusual to him, as he said with heroic anti- 
 cipation, '^ will be the lands o' the Grahams 
 directly, and o' them wha hae common 
 sense to follow them." 
 
 " Weel, I canna see quite so far as that, 
 my frien' and lovite," said the jolly com- 
 panion. '' But ae thing I am sure o' — we're 
 a' weel entitled to mak' hay while the sun 
 shines;" and under this comfortable re- 
 flection the jolly companion broke into song 
 again, — 
 
 " O waly, waly, up yon bank 
 
 And waly, waly, down yon brae, 
 And waly by you river's side 
 
 Where I and my love wont to gae. 
 Waly, O, gin love be bonny, 
 
 A little while when it is new; 
 But when it's auld, it waxes cauld. 
 
 And wears awa' like morning dew." 
 
 And so on, from stave to stave, and song
 
 30 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 to song, the voice of the Drover rang through 
 the birch woods in trills impossible to fol- 
 low, but both amusing and delaying the 
 progress of the party up the track to Glen- 
 vernoch ; while with the Drover's voice were 
 mingled the song of birds startled and flying 
 from tree to tree. As for the shaggy lad 
 and pony, they had not felt so much at ease, 
 and so entirely of one mind, at any other 
 part of the journey.
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Awa, ye selfish war'ly race, 
 
 Wha think that having sense and grace, 
 
 E'en love and friendship should give place 
 
 To catch the plack ! 
 I dinna like to see your face, 
 
 Nor hear your crack ! 
 
 Burns. 
 
 When the farmer of Glenvernocli walked 
 down to the gate leading to his house he 
 was just in time to hear musical echoes of 
 
 ** Kyle for a man, 
 
 Carrick for a coo, 
 Cunninghame for butter and cheese, 
 And Galloway for woo ! " 
 
 — when on a sharp turn of the road the
 
 32 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 
 
 singing party came in sight. The farmer 
 recognized at once, in one of the leading 
 figures, Tam Picardy, who had been a small 
 farmer himself, but finding the work of the 
 fields too plodding for his expansive nature, 
 had become a drover, bought on commis- 
 sion for barons and other gentlemen, and 
 occasionally struck a small bargain for his 
 own hand; and in the other a fussy and 
 worth-little Bailie of Wigtown, who had 
 been very active of late, rising, as he 
 thought, on an unprecedented tide of 
 affairs. 
 
 " Certes, f reins," said Glenvernoch when 
 they came up, '' ye hae been oot early this 
 morning. What may your errand be ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Bailie, reaching out his 
 hand to the farmer, which was not refused, 
 " it's the early bird. Glen, ye ken, that 
 catches the worm." 
 
 " That may be vera true," said the
 
 THE MAETTR OF GLENCREE. 33 
 
 farmer, " gif there happen to be a worm. 
 But it's no every morning there's a worm, 
 Bailie. Tam, is that you, my man ? " 
 added the farmer, addressing the Baihe's 
 companion. " I daursay thou'U be want- 
 ing to look at some nowt." 
 
 Picardy, who had already dismounted, 
 put his hand on the shoulder of the farmer, 
 saying, " Ye've strack the nail on the head 
 there, Glen, as ye gej aftin do in a' your 
 observes. We mean, if it be your wull, to 
 look ower the maist marketable stock awee, 
 and gie ye a lang price for onything worth 
 tacking awa'." 
 
 "Weel, ma cheil," said Glenvernoch, 
 " Tse nae doot I hae something to sell. 
 There's a pickle three-year-aulds in the in- 
 field preparing for the Martinmas, whilk 
 I'll be glad to show ye, Tam; and if ye've 
 gude commissions and siller, of which in 
 the presence of your walthy freen here, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the Bailie, there can be nae mickle doot, 
 we will maybe agree. Things are rising, 
 I hear. Ye'll be wanting to lay in store 
 o' meat for the airmy in the winter. There 
 should be nae better paymaster than the 
 Government that rules ower us a'." 
 
 " There ye're at your auld drives. Glen," 
 said Tam, rather alarmed at the self- 
 confident spirit of the farmer. " Ye're 
 raising the market aboon a' common sense. 
 The Government, ye ken weel eneuch, tak' 
 what meat they want without paying 
 onything ava. It's no wi' sic gilravagers 
 that an honest man like me can hope to 
 turn an honest penny." 
 
 "Weel, weel," said Glenvernoch, "we 
 needna staun' haverin' and buying a pig in 
 a poke here. We'll tie the beesties to the 
 yett, and ye'll come awa' wi' me. I haena 
 an empty stall jist noo. We're bringing 
 in the peats, and a' the horses and creels
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENOREE. 35 
 
 are aboot oor bauns. What are ye stauning 
 on your head there for, ye wull-cat ? " 
 added the farmer, addressing the lad ; 
 " come atten', thou ne'er-do-weel, to the 
 maisters, and help to tie up the nags." 
 
 The Bailie, who had admired the diplo- 
 macy of Tam in pretending unutterable 
 dislike to any dealings with the Govern- 
 ment, was not a little disconcerted at this 
 outside courtesy of the farmer, and the 
 strong-willed way in which he seemed to 
 dispose of every movement. But he saw 
 plainly enough that his chain of office, 
 whatever weight it might have in Wigtown, 
 had but little glitter on the farm of Glen- 
 vernoch; and so he addressed himself to 
 the fawning ways in which he was more at 
 honie than in any exercise of magisterial 
 authority. 
 
 " Hoo's the mistress ? " asked the Bailie, 
 in his blandest tone, as they approached 
 D 2
 
 36 THE MART YE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the farm-house. " It wudna be gude 
 breeding to gang by without paying oor 
 respects to the mistress." 
 
 " The mistress is no very ill ava, thank 
 you," said Glenvernoch ; " she's only a 
 wee delicate. We canna 'veniently see 
 her enoo. But we'll maybe gi'e her a ca' 
 when we come back doon the grun'. 
 Hollo ! Sandy ; rin awa man, and bring 
 the three-year-aulds to the knowe that the 
 dealers may see them." 
 
 The Bailie and his companion had to 
 follow the farmer in each step of his 
 arrangements, however much these lay out 
 of the line of their own plans ; no opening 
 was left for any reversal ; and they could 
 only adjust with dumb signs to each other 
 what their next move should be. The 
 Bailie looked quite angrily and impulsively 
 at Picardy when he thought of the horses 
 tied at the gate, and the ordinary civility
 
 THE MAKTYE OF GLENCREE. 37 
 
 of being allowed to reconnoitre the 
 inmates of tlie farm-house so curtly 
 evaded. 
 
 " Hoo mony head o' sheep may there be 
 on Glenvernoch ? " at length inquired the 
 audacious drover, as the party proceeded 
 to the knoll. 
 
 '' I declare, Tam, ye were na blate a' 
 your life, but ye're raither in excess o' your 
 ordinar' freedom this morning," said Glen- 
 vernoch. '' The laird himsel' has never 
 speered me sic a question. But ye wad 
 maybe like to buy the hail stock ? " 
 
 "Na, na; Gude forbid!" replied the 
 drover, throwing as much humour and 
 friendliness into his manner as the gravity 
 of the circumstances would admit. " Ye're 
 better in yer shoon. Glen, than ever I can 
 hope to be in mine. I was only thinking 
 what mony an honest man like you may 
 lose in thae times."
 
 38 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 " Sad and woefu' times,'* added tlie 
 Bailie. '' Ye canna consave, Glenvernoch, 
 wi' what grief I saw Castle Stewart this 
 morning in possession of the dragoons. 
 And the report, indeed, in the burgh yester- 
 day was that the Baron himsel' had fled 
 awa' to the low countries." 
 
 " Vera wae to hear what ye say, Bailie, 
 vera wae. Lairds should protect their 
 tenants, and tenants in that case would 
 maybe protect lairds frae a' disturbance. 
 But it's sae sad, I hope it mayna be a' true 
 what ye hae heard, and ony rate it needna 
 stop a fair bargain. There's Sandy 
 coming ow'r the knowe tap wi' the nowt. 
 But deil tak' that wuU-cat o' yours ! He's 
 aye stauning on his head or rinning for- 
 rit. Come back, boy — ye'll frichten the 
 cattle, ye ne'er-do-weel." 
 
 A fine herd was brought before the eye 
 of the Bailie and the drover on the knowe-
 
 THE MARTYR OP GLENCREE. 39 
 
 side. They might be a score and a half or 
 more, but they were all of a piece. 
 
 " They are real Gallowas/' said Picardy, 
 who was too good a judge both of man 
 and beast to imagine that any advantage 
 could be gained by depreciation of the 
 stock. 
 
 " Gallowas, verily," said the farmer. 
 "Ye ken weel, Tam, there's nae Ayrshire 
 or Eerish naither on Glenvernoch. When 
 a white spot or ony mark o' wrang bluid 
 appears, they are slain at ance or sent to 
 the flesher. They never get beyond the 
 size of mere calves. What will ye gie for 
 them, Tam, or you Bailie, by the head, or 
 the score, or the three score, or this year 
 and the next?" 
 
 The boy, seldom at rest, and moved by 
 the inquiries of the farmer, began here to 
 tickle the cattle with his switch. 
 
 '' That's richt, lad," said Glenvernoch,
 
 40 THE MART YE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 one liand stuck into his great waistcoat 
 pocket, while beckoning with the other; 
 *' steer them roon' and roon', boy, and the 
 langer they gang roon' the bigger they'll 
 look. Arena they fine stoot beasts ? Did 
 you ever see better. Tarn ? What div ye 
 offer, man, or you, Bailie, what's your 
 propose ?" 
 
 The Bailie could no more have met the 
 keen and impetuous charge of the farmer 
 in bargaining than he could have jumped 
 over the steeple at Wigtown. He stood 
 like one in a quandary, and left the case for 
 the present in the hands of his companion. 
 
 " They're burly, gude beasts," said 
 Picardy. " I dinna dispute that, Glen, 
 save in twa or three. But it's no sae 
 mickle what the thing is worth in thae 
 days, or what the price should be, as what 
 ye're to dae wi't when ye hae got it. The 
 reiving enoo exceeds a' the days o' the
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 41 
 
 Black Douglasses. A drove may be 
 whupped awa in a minute, even on the 
 public road, and tlie deil a ane dar' question 
 ony thing aboot the robbery. Its a' dune 
 in the King's name, God bless his innocent 
 Majesty ! As for the barons and the 
 lairds they are maistly under hiding or fled 
 the country in some ill-wuU o' their ain, 
 and there's nae sic markets as we hae seen 
 in the Machars for weel-bred and hardy 
 hill stock like yours. Naebody seems to 
 want stock ava. It's a' the ither wye. 
 Every ane wushing to get rid o't and nane 
 to tak' it on. Sae ye see it's no sae easy 
 dealing when baith pairties are on the 
 wrang side o' the hedge. But, noo, I'll 
 gif ye an offer. Glen, the like o' whilk 
 was never gi'en to ony man but your- 
 sel' in sic like circumstances. Twelve 
 pund Scots a-head. Glen, for what we 
 see afore us. We hae had many sma'
 
 42 THE MARTYR OF GLENCRER. 
 
 dealings, but they may be lairger, and baith 
 o' us ootleeve the bad times, to say ' it's an 
 ill wun' that blaws naebody gude.' " 
 
 " Thou's a fair-spoken cMel, Tarn, 
 always was," said Glenvernocb. " But 
 twelve punds Scots, man, is only ae pund 
 sterling, and ye canna mean that tbat is 
 fair price for prime Gallowas o' sic age and 
 bane as tbae." 
 
 "Ay!" replied tbe drover, ''true; but 
 there is ane. Glen, ye'll probably admit 
 yoursel', is sae lang and bollow in tlie back 
 that it may be dooted whether it has ony 
 bane to boast o'." 
 
 " Weel, Tam," rejoined Glenvernoch, 
 " we'll tak' that ane oot to please ye. It'll 
 be gude saut beef for oorsels this winter or 
 the next. But twelve punds Scots ! I 
 maun hae mair merks than that, gude 
 sooth ; and hoo do ye mean to pay gin we 
 should niffer ?"
 
 THE MAETTR OF CxLENCREE. 43 
 
 " Half money doon," said Tarn, " and 
 t'ither half payable at sax months' date 
 in Wigtown, under sure caution," looking 
 on the last words straight to the Bailie. 
 
 " The best security, I assure you, Glen- 
 vernoch, oor toon and legality can give, 
 and that's nae sma' word," promptly added 
 the Magistrate. 
 
 "Drive the beasts back to the infield, 
 Sandy," cried the farmer to his man. 
 " We are no likely to deal, I doot. And 
 you, boy," addressing the urchin, "rin awa 
 doon to the yett, and see that the naggies 
 are no ravelling their bridles, and dinna 
 tumble so much on your head, ye mislear'd 
 cratur, but stan' on your feet like an 
 ordinar' wise human." 
 
 Having made these emphatic dispositions, 
 both of his own forces and the forces of 
 his visitors, Glenvernoch turned his steps 
 down the Knoll, followed closely by the
 
 44 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 drover and the Bailie, one on each side — 
 the trio being soon absorbed in the most 
 engaging conversation. Picardj tickled 
 the farmer on one side by assurances how 
 well he knew him of old, that he was a hard 
 man to deal with, which was right and 
 proper enough in its own place, and en- 
 titled him to all the more honour among 
 his friends, of which he (Tam) was one ; 
 but Glen was displaying an ignorance 
 of the state of the country at the present 
 time, which to Picardy appeared lament- 
 able. While the Bailie, on the other side, 
 pressed on Glenvernoch the surety of his 
 own name, the name of the Provost which 
 he did not doubt could be obtained if need 
 be, and, indeed, " the new Sherra " might 
 be relied upon to give a legal warrant to 
 the bond which no similar document had 
 ever had before. 
 
 " I need not say with what pain I must
 
 THE MATJTYR OF GLENCREE. 45 
 
 tell you," at length said the supple Bailie, 
 when he found that all he had said before 
 had failed to make the least impression on 
 the stolid Glenvernoch, '' as only ane in 
 ' the Cooncils,' I may say like mysel', could 
 tell ye, that your farm may be quartered 
 upon immediately, whan the stock micht a' 
 vanish from your een, leaving nae value in 
 your hands, and only dule and wurry in 
 your heart. The recusants are gathering 
 a little north o' ye, and ye're mair than 
 half suspect, Glenvernoch, of encouraging 
 and harbouring the rogues and fanatics 
 that wad upset the peace o' the country. 
 To drive close-fisted bargains in sic times 
 is fulishness. Ye should think twice or 
 even thrice before rejecking a gude offer." 
 " I am mickle obleeged for your infor- 
 mation. Bailie," said the farmer. " Tlie 
 times are certainly very kittle, as ye say, 
 but we maun liaud oor gear as lang as we
 
 46 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 can, and they wlia may be Strang enough 
 to reeve our nowt, wad tak our siller also, 
 mair particularly gin it should be bonds in 
 Wigtown. And as we are noo at the yett, 
 and your nags, I see, are a' ready, I must 
 bid you guid morning, wi' mony thanks. 
 Bailie, and you too. Tarn, hoping ye may 
 fin' a better market for us puir farmers." 
 
 The parting was friendly enough in all 
 outward civility. But neither the drover 
 nor the Bailie had much satisfaction from 
 their encounter with the farmer of Glen- 
 vernoch. He had exercised a lordship over 
 not only his cattle, but his house and land, 
 and the movement of his visitors, which did 
 not consort in the least with their plans 
 and prepossessions of the previous night. 
 The drover had a disappointed air, reUeved 
 by a genial jollity of spirit as if he had 
 other fish to fry, and did not care much for 
 one disappointment; while the Bailie bit
 
 TEE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 47 
 
 and chewed his lips in a peevish malignity. 
 But what struck the farmer most at the 
 moment was that, without the least com- 
 munication with each other, Picardy and 
 his attendant departed northward towards 
 " the Caldons," while the Baihe rode back 
 alone the way he had come. 
 
 Gilbert Wilson was in much darkness as 
 to what was passing in other parts of the 
 shire, with only such light as his own 
 native shrewdness might throw around his 
 immediate personal circumstances, and such 
 cross lights as public affairs themselves 
 might suddenly throw in upon this private 
 sphere of his. But, in returning to the 
 farmhouse in time for the usual dinner, he 
 had no difficulty in concluding that '' the 
 cocked-hat body," as he called the Wigtown 
 Bailie, had not come to Glenvernoch with- 
 out some purpose beyond what appeared 
 on the surface ; that Tarn Picardy was a
 
 48 THE MARTYR OF GLENCllEE. 
 
 Free Lance — on one side to-day, on another 
 to-morrow — and that what he had ex- 
 perienced in a few hours might be the 
 prelude of more serious events to himself 
 and his household.
 
 THK MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 God is our refuge and our strength, 
 
 In straits a present aid ; 
 Therefore, although the earth remove, 
 
 We will not be afraid-. 
 
 Psalm. 
 
 Maegaeet, as Glenvernocli went out to meet 
 tlie Bailie and the drover, conducted Martha 
 to a small upper room, entered from the 
 head of a stair, about the middle of the long 
 farm-house. The ceiling of this apartment 
 was high enough on one side for even a tall 
 person to stand erect ; but it sloped down 
 to the eaves of the house on the other. The 
 only light was from a casement in the slant- 
 ing roof. Here they had read the Bible, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 talked, and worked together. But it would 
 have served also as a place of retreat in the 
 event of a search of the house. It was en- 
 tered by a shutter, sliding back and for- 
 ward on grooves in the front of what seemed 
 a press or rude wardrobe, and this was 
 hung round, indeed, with many articles of 
 dress, behind which a door, having a strong 
 bar on the inner side, opened into the little 
 room. 
 
 When the two young women had seated 
 themselves under the skylight, and began 
 to knit, Martha at length said, "Your father, 
 Margaret, has an anxious time, and I doot 
 I may be the cause o't." 
 
 "He is o'er troubled aboot many things," 
 replied Margaret ; "I wish he had mair 
 firmness. His notion is to yield ootside 
 and protec' himsel' at hame, compleeing 
 ootwardly and hadding inwardly, till I fear 
 there mayna be a conviction left in his mind,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 51 
 
 or a stick o' the lioose standing abune oor 
 heads." 
 
 " That is just the way of my own good 
 father," said Martha. " But Sir David is 
 an old man, and could hardly be expected 
 to take the brave courses which younger 
 men have taken and may take again. Yet 
 how it grieved him to yield ! When he 
 took the Test, after most of the other gentle- 
 men had complied, I thought it would have 
 broken his heart. He didna' speak a word 
 to anybody about Baldoon for three days. 
 He knew that no power could prevail on 
 me to take the Test but his own, if even 
 that. Yet he never said the word. He 
 always took my part, was always on my 
 side, often as the question came. One day, 
 while he was in distress over another warn- 
 ing that had been served frae Wigtown 
 about me, I said to him, * Father, would 
 you like me to take the Test?* ' Na, na', 
 E 2
 
 52 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 he said, ' my young woman, I winna press 
 ye. Keep your conscience virgin as lang as 
 ye can. It is the staff of life to man and 
 woman. They canna hae the heart to pro- 
 ceed, surely, when they hae woonded me, and 
 when Davie, who was soon to be in my place, 
 not only took the Test, but conformed, was 
 hand-and-glove wi' the curate, Symson, and 
 a favourer of a' their plans.' But in this my 
 good father was mistaken, and when I had 
 to be arrested, he said, — " 
 
 Martha's eyesbegan to fill with tears, and 
 it was with some difficulty she could proceed. 
 
 " He said, ' Dear Martha, thou maun 
 leave thy auld faither for thine ain gude 
 and for his. It wad kill me to see thee 
 carried to thae filthy jails.' He would pro- 
 vide for me in Lunnon or ony other foreign 
 place I might choose. But how, Margaret, 
 could I go abroad when "Willie Hay was 
 still an outlaw amang thae hills, and trust-
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 53 
 
 ing to me — " The young lacly, under what 
 seemed a strong mental conflict, did not 
 finish the sentence. A blush spread over 
 her face, and turning pale again in a proud 
 effort to recover herself, she added with 
 eyes full of fire, — 
 
 " Do you know, Margaret, what I would 
 do ? I would fight ; though but a woman, 
 I would fight as long as strength remained 
 in my arm. Oh ! I wonder the people do 
 not fight as their brave forefathers fought." 
 
 " Weel, I wadna just say that," replied 
 Margaret, looking to her companion with 
 wistful interest, and with that expression 
 of her eyes which seemed to shake away 
 from her all the troubles of the world. " Our 
 Lord, gif ye mind, told Peter to put up the 
 sword in the greatest agony of His spotless 
 life, and it is written, whae slay with the 
 sword will dee by the sword. But I would 
 fecht oor enemies to the last wi' the weepons
 
 54 THE MART YE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 o' faith. I wad hae folk to stand to what 
 they believe to be true and richt — to dis- 
 guise nae licht o' conscience or witness o' 
 Divine grace in their hearts — to yield no a 
 shaving o' the kingdom within, or to com- 
 ply with ony thing false or contrar in the 
 kingdom without — but present at a' times 
 to the rage and fire o' the persecutors the 
 bare breests o' sincere conviction. If a' 
 were to do this, what wad the force o' 
 Clavers and his pickles o' dragoons be ? 
 What could the wicked and ill- set craturs 
 do ? They might rage, and sweer, and 
 blaspheme, and commit many cruel deeds 
 for a wee time, but they wad be abashed 
 and frowned awa' in their darkness by a 
 great licht, and a valiant faith in the hearts 
 o' a', whilk they could nae mair cut and 
 slash wi' their swords than they could draw 
 bluid frae the sunshine o' heevin. Aren't 
 we told, Martha, that Satan himsel' flees
 
 . THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 55 
 
 awa' wlien reseested in this mainner ? It's 
 the yieldings and compleeances that hae 
 wrocht maist o' thae sad troubles. Every 
 saftness inveetes a new wrang, and they hae 
 nae suner got an inch than they maun hae an 
 ell, till there'll no be a spark o' faith left 
 in the country, and little warldly substance 
 aither, I ween, tho' our gude forbears hae 
 so much care in their ain gate to keep it. 
 For a' your faither or mine may say, Martha, 
 I dinna think there is religion o' ony kind 
 in the heart o' Clavers and his gang, or o' 
 maist o' their superiors. It's the baronies, 
 and the farms, and the gear they want. 
 Gie them thae things, and be their hewers 
 o' wood and drawers o' water, and they'll 
 let ye attend as many conventicles, and be 
 as worshipfu' in your ain way as ye please." 
 Martha, in listening to the words of the 
 artless but deep-thinking girl, felt her mo- 
 mentary storm of anguish and agitation
 
 56 THE MAETYE OF GLENCKEE. 
 
 passing away as in a dream, and it was in 
 her usiial bright humour, and with a smile 
 almost breaking into one of her softly ring- 
 ing laughs, she said in a kind of ecstasy of 
 new feeling, '' Oh ! Margaret, you are a 
 prophetess — an angel," as she rose and put 
 her arms round her companion, and kissed 
 her eyelids in succession. " What a sweet 
 day we'll hae !" she added, on resuming her 
 seat. "Go on talking, Margaret, do; I 
 could listen to you for hours." 
 
 The knitting went on silently again for 
 a little. 
 
 Martha was the first to break the silence. 
 
 " What will the end o' thae troubles be, 
 Margaret ? or do ye see any end o' them, 
 dear?" 
 
 " Hae patience. Mistress Martha," re- 
 joined Margaret. " The clouds will pass 
 away. I canna believe we're a' lost yet, 
 though many sad deeds may be done, and
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 57 
 
 there may be many puir victims. Until 
 a higher speerit rises amang the people — if 
 no here, somewhere else — there can be little 
 hope o' mendin', and I*m preparing for ony 
 ill it may be the Divine will to chasteese us 
 wi'. But the gude seed was thickly sawn 
 in thae pairts in my younger days, and the 
 buds gave promise o' ither fruit than has 
 yet been seen. Oh ! Martha, what a change 
 has fallen on us ! We may say that Lazarus 
 is dead and buried. But Lazarus was 
 brought to life again by a Divine word, and 
 there's nae room for despair. But this 
 backsliding and dule are waur to bide than 
 the snaws o' winter, for there's nae licht or 
 blink o' sunshine aboon them. Ye ken it 
 a' better than I can do." 
 
 " There is a great change indeed," said 
 Martha. *' I can no more recall my young- 
 girl days, when religion and happiness 
 seemed to flow in the same stream. But
 
 58 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 you are so much younger, you may be said 
 to have been born in the troubles." 
 
 " I weel remember," continued Margaret, 
 *' when John Welsh — the great-grandson o' 
 John Knox, blamed for Bothwell Brig, 
 where your Willie was — held his great 
 communion in this parish, and an outdoor 
 preaching at Risk, on the ither side o' the 
 water — my faither and mither were baith 
 there, wi' me, a wee bit lassie, in their haun 
 — and the croods that flocked frae a' quar- 
 ters ! with what fervour o' devotion and 
 singleness o' heart they waited on the ser- 
 vices, hoo they hung on the lips o' the gudely 
 man as he expounded the saving truths o' 
 the Word that had come doon to him in 
 unbroken line frae the Great Reformer, and 
 held up oor Saviour as the King of kings 
 and Lord of lords, the only Head o' the 
 Church to every ane, and His power to save 
 to the ootermost a' that come to Him, and
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 59 
 
 follow Him, trusting to His death and merits, 
 and taking from His lips the simple law o* 
 love to God and to man — till many grat, and 
 a' their hardness o' heart, a' their sins, and 
 their perverse and self- ways o' looking at 
 things seemed to melt doon in the abound- 
 ing love and joy o' a new life ! And as 
 they left the place o' worship, and returned 
 to their hames, hoo every ane strengthened 
 anither, their hearts alowe within them, and 
 making a' manner of sacred vows to their 
 Maker and their consciences. When I 
 think o'this, and what I see noo, I can but 
 fain believe I am leevin' in the same country. 
 It is like a heavenly dream from which one 
 has been shaken. Yet it was the power of 
 God, and canna be a dream. But sae great 
 a backsliding in oor short time, Martha, 
 canna gang by without mony and awfu' 
 judgments." 
 
 To the daughter of Baldoon, at this
 
 60 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 period, tliese words of Margaret Wilson 
 were most welcome and heart- stirring. 
 They not only chimed in harmony ^ath her 
 own religious consciousness, but they re- 
 vealed a purity of spirit and heroism of 
 character in this humble sister of the hills 
 which, under all her own recent experience 
 and present prospects, were like cordial to her 
 heart. Hope had almost fled from Martha. 
 Driven from her paternal hearth and com- 
 panionship, she had been a wanderer for 
 some time in the houses of hospitable 
 farmers and shepherds, partly against her 
 father's will, but in sympathy with her 
 lover, the outlawed William Hay of Ario- 
 land. But Martha, in her warm feelings 
 and in the natural buoyancy of her spirit, 
 still clung to hope, or any ray of hope. 
 
 " Dinna ye think, Margaret," she said, 
 " it may not be so great a backsliding ? 
 The folk, after a' the testing, dragooning,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLEXCREE. 61 
 
 and imprisoning, remain much tlie same. 
 They do not flock to the curates under the 
 new law more than under the old. Is it 
 not more Hke the shaking o' the trees 
 under a passing wind ? " 
 
 Margaret, raising her eyes from the 
 needles to her companion, with a deeper 
 seriousness, said, '' Mistress Martha, ye may 
 never hae spoke a truer word. It's a passing 
 storm and nae mair. But ae generation 
 mauna pass its ain defections so lichtly on 
 the back o' anither. If a' folk, in a' times, 
 are to be willy-wagtails, flichtering here ae 
 moment and there the next, and trees not 
 only to waver but brake in their stem, and 
 fa' into ruin, it's no to be hoped that in 
 oor short lifetime, Martha, there can be 
 mickle remeid." 
 
 There was a long pause at this point in 
 the conversation of the two young woiiu'ii. 
 Martha was silent because, under what
 
 62 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Margaret liad said, slie liad a great deal to 
 think of; and Margaret was silent because 
 slie felt slie liad said more than might be 
 agreeable to her companion, and than she 
 herself might see all the world-like mean- 
 ing of. 
 
 '' When did ye hear o' Mr. Hay ? " at 
 length ventured Margaret, to whom the 
 silence was becoming every minute more 
 painful. 
 
 " I hae nae secrets from you, Margaret, 
 and I can well trust your pure and true 
 heart," said Martha sadly ; " but weeks 
 hae passed since I had any one to speak to 
 as I can speak to him." 
 
 Martha was ready enough to disburden 
 her absorbing thought at the moment ; but 
 the daughter of Glenvernoch, so much 
 younger, had impressed her with a sense of 
 delicacy approaching to awe, as if it would 
 be wrong to speak to her freely on a love
 
 THE MARTYR OF OLENCREE. G3 
 
 affair; and she checked herself under a 
 feeling of propriety and self-distrust. 
 
 " The brave young man," Margaret im- 
 mediately proceeded to say, " he rode up 
 to the door in the early summer, but was 
 sae feered to compromeese us, he would 
 neither licht doon, nor take bite or sup. 
 My father convoyed him a bit up the road, 
 and I looked after him, thinking whatna 
 shame it was that the flower o' the country 
 should be brought to sicna straits." 
 
 '' Ye hae seen Hay then ? " said Martha, 
 with a more joyous expression playing over 
 her usually happy features. 
 
 " I hae seen him," replied Margaret, 
 " but it was only an instant, and I hae heard 
 o' him mair than I hae seen. He is the 
 only ane noo spared o' a' the Galloway 
 youths oot in the risings at Drumclog, 
 Bothwell, and ither places, of which I hao 
 nae knowledge, I was sae young a thing
 
 64 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 then. The only rebels permitted are 
 E-avenston and oor ain laird, Castle- 
 Stewart. A' the rest hae been driven awa, 
 or hunted doon, and transported to the 
 foreign slavery, except William Hay o' 
 Arioland." 
 
 Martha's heart was beating high at these 
 words of Margaret, and she would have 
 risen, and clasped the girl's hands in hers, 
 and probably vented her feeling in some 
 distracting utterance; but, bridling the 
 fervent impulse, she said, with some sedate- 
 ness, but not without passion, — 
 
 " Supposing, Margaret, ye loved Willie 
 Hay as yourself, and much more than 
 yourself, what would ye do ? " 
 
 " Do ? " replied Margaret, " I scarce ken 
 what ye mean by the question. I wad love 
 him and be true to him, and a' the mair 
 that he himsel' was true to the great 
 cause."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 65 
 
 " I saw him," said Martha, " shortly 
 before I came doon from the herd's house 
 to Glenvernoch, and if nae ill has befa'n 
 him, I will see him again soon now, at the 
 trysting-place np the inner glen. Ye will 
 come wi' me, Margaret, if we are no 
 disturbed. Winna ye come wi' me ? It is 
 nae conspiracy. But we like to see each 
 ither.'' 
 
 *' Why shouldna I gang wi' ye, Martha, 
 if ye should wish me ? I dinna like ony 
 dark ploys, and my faither is very jeelous 
 aboot a' the doings on the farm. But I 
 am no ane to think the Ian' and the sunlicht 
 are forbidden to ony o' God's creatures. 
 As lang as I leeve and hae poo'r o' limb 
 and will, I'll move aboot in what is gude, 
 honest, and freenly, as free as ony bird 
 that sings in the shaw, or ony leveret that 
 skips, tho' maybe fearfu', on the hill." 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 66 THE MAETTE OF GLENOEEE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues ; 
 In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round, 
 And solitude ; yet not alone, while thou 
 Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when morn 
 Purples the east. 
 
 Milton, 
 
 On the same day of whicli we liave given a 
 record of proceedings on the usually quiet 
 farm of Glenvernoch, the following among 
 other incidents had occurred within the 
 bounds of a few adjacent parishes : — 
 
 The widowed Lady of Arioland was taken 
 prisoner in her jointure house on a charge 
 of harbouring and resetting rebels, among 
 whom was particularly mentioned her second
 
 THE MART YE OF GLENCREE. Q7 
 
 son, William Hay. On being asked whether 
 she had seen William within a recent time, 
 she replied with some fire, " Why not ? Wha 
 dam^ to come atween the love o' a mother and 
 her son ? " and when pressed with other 
 interrogatories, she would not deny that she 
 had allowed " conventicles " in her house. 
 '' My hoose is my ain," she said. " Ane 
 may surely worship God in ane's ain house, 
 if naewhere else." On being then asked 
 whether she had harboured any other rebel 
 than her son William, or that vagrant 
 preacher Arnot, she indignantly refused to 
 give any more answers. " Gie awa' wi' ye, 
 and mind your ain business, and let ither 
 folk mind theirs. Shame on ye, Mr. Fis- 
 cal, that ye should buzz about what disna 
 concern yoursel' or the public." The officer 
 of the law, with as much politeness as could 
 serve on such an occasion, was sorry to in- 
 form the old lady that he had a warrant 
 F 2
 
 68 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 from Sheriff Graham for her apprehension, 
 and put the document into her hand. On 
 perusing the warrant, she said to her daugh- 
 ter, the only inmate with her at the time, 
 " Alack the day, Maggie, that the Gordons 
 should be lorded over by the Grasmes, and 
 inGallowa' of a' places in the warl'." ''Oh, 
 mother, dear mother ! " cried the daughter, 
 throwing her arms round the neck of the 
 distressed lady — " the dragoons are at the 
 door, and there is nae help near;" and 
 clung round her mother in tears and sob- 
 bing. 
 
 The Lady of Arioland was a kinswoman 
 of the House of Lochinvar, and a daughter 
 of the Gordons of Craichlaw, represented by 
 her brother and two nephews of her own, 
 who were among the few landed families in 
 Wigtownshire who had refused up to this 
 date to take " the test," though willing 
 enough to take the oath of allegiance. The
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 69 
 
 relationship of the old lady was probably to 
 her disadvantage in the estimation of the 
 authorities ; but it was the case of her son 
 William, who had been under ban since the 
 battle of Bothwell Brig, that chiefly pointed 
 the vengeance of the Government upon her 
 grey head. She was forthwith torn from 
 the arms of Maggie Hay, and carried to the 
 tolbooth of Wigtown, where she was locked 
 up with two married women of more hum- 
 ble Hfe, under a charge much similar to her 
 own, viz., having confessed the harbour of 
 their husbands within a year and a half by- 
 past, and refused to give satisfaction as to 
 what they would do in future. Before night 
 closed, the cell in which the three women 
 were confined had to receive a fourth, with 
 an infant at her breast. 
 
 In the same parish as Glenvernoch, on 
 that day, the myrmidons of Sheriff Gra- 
 ham went to the house of Sara Stewart or
 
 70 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 Kennedy, wife of Mr. Kennedy, minister 
 in Ireland, and a Galloway freeholder in 
 matrimonio, with whom Glenvernoch had a 
 passing word in his flight during the early 
 hours of the morning. Mrs. Kennedy had 
 herself conformed to the new regime, and 
 attended the service of the curate, Colqu- 
 houn, in the parish church, but had con- 
 fessed that she had harboured her husband 
 within the last quarter of a year, and was 
 silent as to where her husband then was, or 
 when he would return, on both of which 
 items of information Mrs. Kennedy may 
 herself have been ignorant, and thus could 
 only be silent. But it is not improbable 
 that she had a partiality for her husband 
 and the father of her children. She was 
 arrested with still more ruthless barbarity 
 than the Lady of Arioland. The party of 
 soldiers accompanying the Sheriff's ojficers, 
 under sanction of a new order from the
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 71 
 
 Privy Council in Edinburgh that "all rebels' 
 houses were to be pulled down," unroofed 
 Sara's cottage, set fire to its inflammable 
 material, and compelled her to trudge be- 
 fore them with her infant in her arms to 
 Wigtown, leaving her older children to the 
 charity of the affrighted neighbours. In 
 this sad and desolate plight Mrs. Kennedy 
 and her babe were thrust into the cell with 
 the other women. 
 
 Hunter, Linloshn, and several more were 
 also apprehended in the same district on 
 charges of having had " the rebel Kennedy" 
 in their houses, or having had children bap- 
 tized hj the said Kennedy, " minister in 
 Ireland." It is probable that Kennedy, in 
 his office of a Presbyterian minister in Ul- 
 ster, had rendered himself obnoxious to the 
 ruling powers by his missionary labours in 
 Galloway, and the harbour of refuge which 
 he may have been supposed to keep open
 
 72 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 in the sister island to fugitives from the jus- 
 tice of the time. But his wife who had con- 
 formed, and his children who were inno- 
 centes, were within the bowels of mercy, if 
 the justice of the time had any.
 
 THE llAKTYE OF GLENCEEE. 73 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Pre-eminent among the bands which oppressed and 
 wasted these unhappy districts were the dragoons, 
 commanded by John Graham of Claverhouse. The 
 story ran that these wicked men used in their revels 
 to play at the torments of hell, and to call each other 
 by the names of devils and damned souls. The chief 
 of this Tophet has left a name which, wherever the 
 Scottish race is settled on the face of the globe, is 
 mentioned with a peculiar energy of hatred. To re- 
 capitulate all the crimes by which this man, and men 
 like him, goaded the peasantry of the Western Low- 
 lands into madness, would be an endless task. 
 
 Macaulay. 
 
 The executive vigour proceeding day after 
 day from Wigtown over a single province 
 could only mark an impending crisis of 
 affairs. It had for its iumiediate impulse
 
 74 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 the arrival not only of Claverliouse, but 
 of tlie Marquis of Queensberry, Lord 
 Treasurer of Scotland, and Lord Drum- 
 lanrig — the chief ministers of the Crown, 
 who had come to this remote province 
 in great state and authority with " the 
 Sheriff" to effect an absolutely neces- 
 sary jail delivery, and to close effectually, 
 by whatever harshness, some years of stern 
 though unsuccessful administration. It was 
 the third or fourth visit Claverhouse had 
 paid to Galloway, each of which had been 
 marked in succession by increasing rigour 
 alike to the gentry and the common people, 
 but this one outstripped the others in State 
 importance. 
 
 His first visit was when he was only a mili- 
 tary commissionnaire of the Government, and 
 in this capacity had been foisted by the Privy 
 Council, contrary to law and custom, on 
 the Hereditary Sheriff Agnew as a depute,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 75 
 
 SO that he might have some say in the ad- 
 ministration of justice, and more especially 
 in the enforcement of the Anti- Conventicle 
 Act, in the punishment of violations of which 
 the Hereditary Sheriff was suspected at 
 head-quarters to be much too lenient. But 
 Clavers, at this humble period of his career, 
 had at his back the '' Highland Host,'' 6000 
 strong — wild soldiers, who cared neither for 
 King nor Covenant, but at so great a dis- 
 tance from a scanty home had a natural 
 appetite for good living and plunder — and 
 this great army, as armies counted at that 
 period, was chiefly quartered in Galloway 
 and in Carrick of Ayrshire. Clavers, or his 
 quartermaster, quartered them where they 
 only could be quartered — in the castles of 
 the barons, in the houses of the more sub- 
 stantial farmers or burgesses, and wherever 
 there was anything to eat or to steal. There 
 was not a groat, honestly come by, in the
 
 76 THE MARTYE OF GLEXCREE. 
 
 military chest. A large consignment of 
 *' tlie host " was sent to Lochnaw Castle, 
 the residence of Clavers's principal in the 
 judicial office, till the old Sheriff, what with 
 noise of Gaelic and general disorder and 
 contempt of all religion and decency of life 
 in his Castle, having first removed his family 
 and then tried to live through the chaos 
 himself, was at length forced, in sheer de- 
 spair, into a cave on Larbrax Bay, where he 
 spent most of his days and nights in such 
 sad times. The fate of Sir Andrew Agnew 
 was more or less the fate of nearly the 
 whole baronage of Galloway. 
 
 The Anti- Conventicle Act, in these cir- 
 cumstances, had a vigorous administration. 
 Claverhouse was so zealous a servant of the 
 Government that he rather exceeded than 
 fell short of the cruelty so pleasing to James 
 Duke of York, who had become so un- 
 popular and inconvenient in London that
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 11 
 
 Charles, in one of his freakish but fatal 
 pleasantries, sent him down as Viceroy to 
 ruin the affairs of the Crown in Scotland. 
 And, with equal faithfulness, Clavers se- 
 conded the extortion and avarice of the 
 minister, Lauderdale, and the boundless 
 prodigality of Lauderdale's wife. At the 
 same time this military commissionnaire was 
 carefully reconnoitring and foraging for 
 himself; and on looking round on the scene 
 of desolation in Galloway, he thought that, 
 to begin with, he might be " Laird of 
 French," the owner of which, a branch of 
 the great family of Garthland, was a fa- 
 vourer of Presbyterian worship, and of such 
 high spirit as to be likely enough to be 
 driven mad by oppression. 
 
 This situation of affairs may be said to 
 cover the years 1677-80, and it was tlie 
 miserable state to which Claverhouse and 
 " the host " had reduced the country that
 
 /« THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. . 
 
 explains whj so many Galloway men — men 
 of family and property — armed themselves, 
 and, mounted on tlie hardy horses of their 
 country, mingled in the military frays — 
 Aird's Moss, Drumclog, Bothwell Brig, &c. 
 — of these years. Life had become so in- 
 tolerable that not a few were willing to 
 risk all on any battlefield that might oflPer. 
 
 The next most memorable visit of Claver- 
 house to Wigtown was in 1681-2, when for 
 " his services and sufferings " a charter un- 
 der the Great Seal had issued granting him 
 all the lands and houses, yards, orchards, 
 mills, woods, fishings, moors, &c., " haill 
 and pertinent," of Galdenoch, " now called 
 of French ; " and another deed had ap- 
 pointed him "Sheriff of Galloway," sole 
 and indivisible, with power to nominate 
 deputes. 
 
 M'Dowallof French — his mansion ravaged 
 by " the host," and turned into a barrack
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 79 
 
 for dragoons — was found guilty in the High 
 Court of having been seen at the head of 
 some hundreds of rebels on the moors be- 
 tween Sanquhar and Hamilton, and of being 
 in the affair of Bothwell Bridge ; was at- 
 tainted, and " his memory cut off for ever." 
 Ravenston and Castlestewart, brothers of the 
 Earl of Galloway, were implicated in a simi- 
 lar indictment, but were able to prove that 
 if " out," or not in their own houses at the 
 time, they were not in the fight. Thus 
 Claverhouse found the first step on the lad- 
 der of his aggrandisement secured, and took 
 care to see French's coat-of-arms torn out 
 of the book of heraldry and thrown over the 
 cross of Edinburgh with sound of trumpet, 
 that the dispossessed might be the more 
 thoroughly extinguished. The supercession 
 of the Hereditary Sheriff in his favour fol- 
 lowed as a matter of course, and a more 
 brilliant prospect seemed to dawn upon him
 
 80 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 than on any of tlie Agnews wlien tliey had 
 basked in the sunshine of the Bruce. 
 
 He came on that occasion with much 
 pomp. The escort of dragoons with which 
 he left Edinburgh was swelled at every post 
 when he entered the bounds of the Sheriff- 
 dom ; and as the cavalcade passed through 
 one of the narrow flanking vennels of the 
 burg, mid the swelling sounds of trumpets 
 and kettledrums, and formed before the 
 Tolbooth in circle, with Claverhouse in the 
 centre, the heads of the burgesses were 
 nearly lifted from their shoulders by that 
 mingled feeling of awe and exultation which, 
 in the most timid and doubtful bosoms, ac- 
 companies an unwonted display of military 
 fanfaronade. It was so unlike the most im- 
 posing entries of the Hereditary Sheriff, 
 with a few retainers and mounted lawyers 
 in his train, that it appeared to many like a 
 new world, of which by some magic process
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 81 
 
 the old Castle-hill of Wigtown had become 
 the centre. 
 
 " This is a grand business," said the 
 Bailie to the Sheriff-Clerk, as they withdrew 
 from the proudest military display either 
 of them had witnessed. 
 
 " I'm no sae shure aboot it," replied the 
 Clerk ; "he may mak' a total change in the 
 clerkship." 
 
 " Hoot, toot, man," said the Bailie, " ye re 
 an unco dunce in common matters to be 
 sae learned in the law. It's the first thing 
 he'll dae to nominate a clerk, uae doot. 
 But he's no thinking about that sma' con- 
 cern. It's the deputes, man, and the law, 
 and the inforcements whar' the changes 
 will be. Jist ye write oot a bit decree o' 
 coort — write it oot the nicht, and hae it 
 ready for him in the mornin'. But, that's 
 as true, hoo will ye style him ? He's sic a 
 great man noo. Let me see, na. Div ye 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 think this wadna be becoming — * Most illus- 
 trous and most pueessant John, Lord o' 
 Clayerhouse, Baron o' French, Sherra o* 
 Gallowa', and Commander-in-Chief o' a' His 
 Majesty's forces, hereby — hereby — or by 
 these presents greeting — appoints, and 
 hereby, as by these presents greeting, does 
 appoint (leave a blank here, ye ken) to be 
 clerk o' this coort and sherradom, noo and 
 inalienarly, for life and gude service, aye ' ? 
 Wi' sic a document ready, man, ye'll find 
 yer ain name drappin' into the blank as 
 it were oot o' yer ain mooth." 
 
 The Sheriff- Clerk, though not satisfied 
 with the Bailie's form of " style," availed 
 himself so far of the shrewdness of the 
 Magistrate, who was seldom much astray 
 in the " booing" arts of life, as to prepare 
 a minute in the record-book, beginning, 
 ' The Eight Noble Captain John Graham 
 of Claverhouse, on taking the office of
 
 THE MART YE OP GLENCREE. 83 
 
 Sheriff, ordains to be 
 
 Sheriff-Clerk;" which Claverhouse, in a 
 formal sitting in the Court next day, filled 
 up with the name of the locum tenens, as 
 the Bailie had imagined, and subscribed 
 with an easy and careless flourish. In 
 a subsequent entry he appointed his 
 brother, Mr. David Graham, " Sheriff- 
 Depute of the said Sheriff-Principal." 
 
 The character of this Claverhouse, who 
 was destined to pass like a meteor through 
 the sky of Scotland in a stormy period, has 
 been subject of much study, and has been 
 limned in the most various colours, from 
 grimmest black to brightest aureole of chi- 
 valry. But he was in reality a much lighter 
 person than either his foes or admirers have 
 generally conceived him ; and on this par- 
 ticular visitation to Galloway he probably 
 appeared both to himself and to others in 
 the best light that occurred to either in his 
 G 2
 
 84 THE MAETYR OF GLEXCEEE. 
 
 whole life. His hands were still unstained 
 by blood, his conscience untorn by direct 
 and horrible crimes into which brutal pas- 
 sion, drunk with success and with a phy- 
 sical sense of power, was soon after to 
 drive him. But great position and great 
 wealth were now within his grasp. This 
 made him extremely agreeable to himself, 
 and by a reflex action agreeable to others. 
 Yet he had done absolutely nothing to 
 merit, or nothing that could support, the 
 elevation to which he had attained. His 
 appointment to the Sheriffship of Galloway 
 was simply an outrage on the most rudi- 
 mental ideas of jurisprudence. For he 
 knew no more of the laws of his country, 
 or cared no more for its legal methods of 
 justice, than any wild raven or eagle caught 
 in its native state. But this was a defect 
 which happily for himself at the moment 
 he had not sense enough to perceive. Even
 
 THE MAETYE, OP GLENCREE. 8o 
 
 as a soldier, wliicli was his more proper 
 profession, lie had no record of any note. 
 He had been utterly defeated at Drumclog, 
 and had owed his life greatly more on that 
 occasion to the d3dng strides of his gallant 
 roan than to any skill or bravery of his 
 own ; and he had helped to gain a narrow 
 though decisive victory at Bothwell Brig, 
 when backed by the popular Duke of 
 Monmouth and the whole Eoyal Scotch 
 array, more by the dissension thus thrown 
 into the ranks of a body of provincial in- 
 surgents than by any valour or aptitude in 
 battle. This was all Claverhouse as a soldier 
 had to show. The rest was mere riding 
 through an unarmed and defenceless coun- 
 try at the head of troops of dragoons, 
 hectoring and bullying small congregations 
 of people engaged in worship, or helpless 
 peasants pursuing their daily avocations. 
 He would have been a brave captain of
 
 86 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 horse in any age or country, but would 
 have required to be strictly ruled by his 
 superior officers, unless, like Captain Nolan 
 in the Crimea, he were to give at a critical 
 moment, by an impulsive gesture, some 
 fatal charge like that of the '' Six Hundred." 
 He had no comprehensive judgment of a 
 battle or of anything else. One has to 
 follow him as a mere Dragon-Fly, flaming 
 through the atmosphere without any 
 knowledge of it, but always winging 
 steadily to the points where there seemed 
 to be most prey and vainglory to himself, 
 and at last going out, as at Killiecrankie, 
 in a kind of victory that was a final and 
 overwhelming defeat. We are not natura- 
 lists enough to know whether dragon-flies 
 have hearts. But if they should have 
 such commodities, a difference must be 
 allowed in the figure here employed. For, 
 we fear, it must be admitted, that Claver-
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 8i 
 
 house, sucli was liis evil time, circumstance, 
 and self-inflation, had no heart in any 
 proper sense of the word. 
 
 Yet, on the occasion in question, no one 
 could have said that he was an ungraceful 
 person. He was in much good humour ; 
 sought society, scattering smiles and cour- 
 tesies around him freely ; was kind even to 
 the beggars who hung about his inn doors, 
 and sometimes jested, with the fools, or 
 *' naturals " as they were called, whom he 
 met on the roads. In company with the 
 higher classes of the shire, while main- 
 taining with as much vehemence as ever his 
 peculiar views of Church and King, he took 
 blows and repartees in the argument with as 
 much apparent good nature as he gave them. 
 In short, he was not for that occasion the 
 man he was accustomed to be when hunting 
 down a conventicle on the moors — fierce, 
 cruel, bloodthirsty, intolerant, headlong.
 
 «0 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 This change of manner was partly the 
 result of the personal and ofl&cial relation 
 to Galloway in which he now stood, and 
 partly of a policy that had been impressed 
 upon him by the Government at Edinburgh. 
 He could not fail to be aware that he was 
 held in as much disfavour by the gentry 
 and the great body of the people as ever. 
 But he now wielded so great a power over 
 their lives and fortunes, their smallest and 
 largest interests, that he could afford to 
 look with complacency on the means by 
 which he might hope gradually to overcome 
 their dislikes and scruples ; and it was the 
 dictate alike of pride and interest to enter 
 on his high place with as much good- will as 
 possible. 
 
 Claverhouse processed round the whole 
 shire and stewartry of Galloway, from 
 Stranraer to Dumfries. His presence every- 
 where inspired terror. '* I can catch no-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 89 
 
 body," he wrote, " they are all so alarmed." 
 But lie made a duty of seeing tlie higher 
 personages and reassuring them of the 
 safety of their houses. None would have 
 a garrison sent upon them if they would 
 only aid the Privy Council and him in duty 
 to the King. At New Galloway he found 
 that Kenmure was not to be seen, but he 
 assured the lady of the solicitude of 
 Queensberry to preserve her castle from 
 being occupied by dragoons, for which she 
 had some sense of gratitude. Kenmure 
 himself, however, he denounced privately 
 to Queensberry as, in his opinion, " an in- 
 tercommuner with rebels." On a second 
 visit he was still less pleased with the vici- 
 nity of Kenmure Castle, and broke into a 
 tirade against the Galloway Gordons in 
 general, wished they could all be trans- 
 planted to the North, and exchanged hke 
 prisoners of war for any other branch of
 
 90 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the family there, " where they are so loyal, 
 while so utterly disaffected here." Every- 
 where in Galloway he scented treason and 
 sedition in the Gordons, and the female 
 blood of them was in nearly all the castles 
 and farm-houses. With Lord Galloway and 
 his brothers, Ravenston and Castle- Stewart, 
 and some others, he established a sort of 
 relation. But Kenmure he could make 
 nothing of — " never at home " — and Claver- 
 house fancied that he must be conspiring 
 with Barscobe and other outlaws. Yet he 
 had much pleasure in adding, in one of his 
 latest reports to the Privy Council, that 
 '' old Gordon of Craichlaw came in yester- 
 day." Yet the two sons of the old laird 
 were out, and, worse than all. Sir Andrew 
 Agnew and Garthland were still out — 
 would not come in at all yet. Murray of 
 Broughton, and old Dunbar of Baldoon, 
 whom '' I had the good fortune to see," he
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLEXCREE. 91 
 
 wrote, were also very doubtful subjects of 
 the new Sheriff- Principal. 
 
 In following Claverliouse's private re- 
 cords of this tour, one perceives that he 
 had a strong dislike to Lord and Lady 
 Stair. Of Stair, who was busy writing his 
 " Institutes of the Law," he complained 
 that, while living regularly himself, he made 
 no distinction in his house between loyal 
 and disloyal people, and threw all blame, 
 where any, on his wife ! "I find all the 
 lairds here," bitterly exclaimed Claver- 
 house, " following much the same example." 
 And then he swore to Queensberry, as 
 between themselves, that this jest must be 
 stopped. '' It is laughing and fooling the 
 Government." Men must not be allowed 
 to screen themselves under the petticoats 
 of their wives, and wives must be looked 
 after and punished as well as their hus- 
 bands. His immediate remedy, proposed
 
 92 THE MAHTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 to the Privy Council, was a hundred more 
 dragoons — the horses to be raised and 
 maintained in the country, but the men to 
 be picked musketeers from the two Royal 
 Regiments, and musketeers '* who had 
 served abroad ! " Such was the result of 
 the only visit of Claverhouse to Galloway, 
 in which it was his cue and purpose to be 
 courteous and agreeable ; and this occurred 
 about two years and a half before our 
 story begins. 
 
 The last signal appearance of Clavers 
 in Galloway was at the date of the 
 opening of our narrative — autumn of 
 1684 — when the Lord Treasurer and 
 Drumlanrig came along with him. Two 
 years of the new '' Sheriff-Principal " and 
 his depute-brother had brought affairs to 
 such a distracted condition that a Royal 
 Commission of this weight and authority 
 appeared at head- quarters to be indispen-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 93 
 
 sable. A few months in 1682, indeed, had 
 been sufficient to exhaust all the oil in the 
 nature of Claverhouse. He had found in 
 that brief period, and reported to the 
 Council, that " there were as many cro- 
 codiles and elephants in Galloway as loyal 
 and orderly persons." 
 
 Before the end of the second quarter 
 of Clavers' " Sheriffship of Galloway" the 
 Test was being sent round the province 
 with an activity and military pressure un- 
 known at any former period. The Con- 
 venticle Act itself was difficult enough. 
 Any one found field-preaching was to be 
 executed within three hours of the deed ; 
 any one fleeing from the justice against 
 field-preaching was, on being caught, to be 
 executed with the same immediacy. The law, 
 in its mildest form, was to judge and exe- 
 cute offenders within three months at latest. 
 But what local baron, hereditary or other
 
 94 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 magistrate, could enter on such dismal 
 undertakings, more especially if they them- 
 selves should be more than half-suspected? 
 
 The elder Dalrymple, Lord Stair, to get 
 rid of the fearful discords round him in his 
 legal studies, migrated to Holland, taking 
 his " Institutes of the Law" along with him. 
 They were of no present use in Scotland, 
 whatever value they might have in some 
 future times. His proud-spirited wife fol- 
 lowed him in the course of a few months, 
 with a heart much more consolable than 
 those of other dames at that period in 
 Galloway, but yet aching with mingled 
 grief, indignation, and disappointment of 
 all her hopes of the future. Many ladies 
 had received civil notice to quit the country, 
 or were pressed by warrants and dragoons 
 to abscond, if they should hope to avoid a 
 much ruder fate. 
 
 Yet other laws had come forth in these
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 95 
 
 two years of the Clavers regime in Gallo- 
 way, thougli it must be admitted (uot to 
 charge him more than his poor due) with 
 full consent of the Privy Council at Edin- 
 burgh, involving a much more stringent 
 state of personal and domestic regulation. 
 
 It was not enough to abstain from con- 
 venticling, and Presbyterian baptisms, and 
 communings with "rebels." This negative 
 form of the law, without rooting out con- 
 ven tiding, had emptied the parish churches, 
 more especially as many avowed Conform- 
 ists gave irregular attendance, not a few 
 probably having, like Claverhouse himself, 
 but little belief in religion under any form. 
 The curates, who had been collected from 
 all the four winds into the parishes of the 
 " outed" ministers, had frequently to read 
 the service jj>'0 forma to themselves and 
 their beadles. The lieges were consequently 
 required, by a new edict, to attend church
 
 96 TUE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 with their famihes, and to provide them- 
 selves with service-books on pain of being 
 adjudged rebels, and punished by court- 
 martial. The curates now got something 
 to do. They were required to send in to 
 head-quarters lists of all who were so uncivil 
 to them as not to attend church and keep 
 a service-book, which lists in some cases 
 were a nearly complete roll of their parish- 
 ioners. The area of seditious disobedience 
 to the law being thus greatly enlarged, the 
 area of fines expanded in equally vast pro- 
 portions ; and as the fines, by the custom 
 of the time, went into the pockets of the 
 Sheriff and his depute and sub-deputes, 
 under an indefinite liability to " the Trea- 
 sury," the work went on the merrier to the 
 authorities for a brief time, though it might 
 be all to prove in vain. 
 
 One of the worst evils of the time was 
 the stoppage of nearly every means of com-
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 97 
 
 munication, in any open spirit, among the 
 people. The markets, where farmers were 
 wont to gather large crops of information, 
 had every year been declining in importance 
 for this purpose, as for buying and selling. 
 The parish churches, where the Presby- 
 terians, notwithstanding the strictness of 
 their creed, did not scruple to talk politics, 
 to hear of doings at the Court, and discuss 
 local grievances of cess and insufficient pro- 
 tection of life and property, were now almost 
 wholly deserted. Even the conventicles, 
 some time after they had been prohibited, 
 and had to be held with some degree of 
 secrecy, were useful centres of intelligence 
 on public affairs, where, if many a hot word 
 was heard, many a wise and considerate 
 one could also be uttered. But as the 
 drum-head rule extended, conventicles be- 
 came less possible, and were often as thinly 
 attended as the religious services of the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE MARTYK OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 curates. The chapmen and pedlars, who 
 had carried much information with their 
 wares from one distant homestead to another, 
 had been swept away, save a few specially 
 licensed by the Sheriff's deputes, and who 
 were simply spies of the reigning power. 
 It was to the people in general like walking 
 in a dense fog. They could see nothing 
 before them, and in groping about could 
 neither recognize the hand of a friend nor 
 be warned of the approach of an enemy. 
 A scene of unutterable confusion, suspicion, 
 and terror, in which one-third of the people 
 were flying or skulking from "justice," and 
 the other two-thirds did not know where 
 justice was to be found or what it had come 
 to mean. For the fugitives there was the 
 short sea passage into Ireland, but it was so 
 closely guarded as to have become almost 
 impassable. They had to escape, therefore, 
 either into Carrick or Dumfriesshire, where
 
 THE MAETYR OP GLENCREE. 99 
 
 they were sure to fall among tlie same reefs 
 as at liome. In this extremity the pro- 
 scribed chiefly nestled among the upper 
 glens and corries of the range of mountain 
 country between Galloway and Ayrshire, 
 the Caldon woods and rugged moorland 
 above Glenvernoch, and along the sources 
 of the Cree — the head of Glenluce on one 
 side, and of Glenken on the other — a wildly 
 removed tract of hill country, as one may 
 see, but not so far remote in travel to those 
 who knew the passes, lighted u|) at every 
 few miles by mountain lakes, which, grim 
 and dreary as they may appear even in sun- 
 light, gleamed like lamps in that night of 
 persecution. Thither they fled, and gathered 
 and re-gathered in those desolate regions, 
 either to break like a thunderstorm on the 
 head of Clavers, or, what was more pro- 
 bable in the circumstances, to pass away 
 like a misty cloud on the hills, to 
 n 2
 
 100 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 whicli they so fondly and desperately 
 clnng. 
 
 The public jails and the dungeons of the 
 private castles in occupation of the dra- 
 goons were filled to overflowing — had been 
 so overfilled for months. Many prisoners, 
 against whom there was no provable charge, 
 had been lying for half a year in thieves' - 
 holes without trial or sentence. Clavers 
 himself was disgusted with the result, and 
 probably had a humaner view of the sub- 
 ject. "Why not execute at once?" he 
 may have said, in his frequent objurgations 
 to his milder brother David — " why this 
 needless crowding of rebels in misery to no 
 purpose?" But David, however willing, 
 could not well help himself, for more pri- 
 soners were coming in daily. The process, 
 in short, could go no further. There must 
 be a great jail or other deliverance. 
 
 This was the state of affairs which brought
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 101 
 
 down the Royal Commission from Edin- 
 burgh to Wigtown in October of 1G84, 
 whose proceedings, after this retrospect, 
 must fall into the thread of our narrative.
 
 102 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Soldiers are perfect devils iu their way ; 
 When once they're raised, they're cursed hard to lay. 
 
 Gay. 
 
 Yet not more hard than conscience when pure, 
 And in the right, lifts a majestic front. 
 Like brow of Jove, to " grossly meddling priests," 
 E'en when back'd by soldiers and their captains. 
 
 Reformer. 
 
 Though Glenvernocli's conversation in the 
 family, on tlie evening of tlie visit of the 
 Baihe and the Drover, made plain enough 
 that he was not too well pleased with the 
 errand of these personages, yet it left no 
 sad impression in the circle. There is so 
 much to do about a farm-house in the even-
 
 TEE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 103 
 
 ings. The farmer himself had to see every- 
 thing outside put under " thack and rape," 
 as he said, and his good-wife had nearly as 
 much to do indoors, and had always a plea- 
 sant smile and a cheerful heart when she 
 saw the inmates all happy and at home. 
 
 Martha, deeply troubled as she was, re- 
 covered a portion of her native spirit, and 
 had some stories to tell about the Bailie and 
 Tarn Picardy, which brought out her tinkling 
 laugh and carried Margaret much along 
 the same pleasant path of innocent gaiety 
 of disposition. 
 
 . The two young women had gone out after 
 " the worship" for a short walk in the open 
 air. It was a clear, starry autumnal night 
 when the profound stillness of a hill-farm 
 gives piquancy to the impressions of na- 
 ture. 
 
 "Ah!" said Martha, " hoo often hae I 
 
 looked at this sicht! The stars are aye
 
 104 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the same. The world does not much change, 
 Margaret, hooever much we poor mortals 
 may change." 
 
 But the deep calm seemed to move Mar- 
 garet more than even the steady orbs of 
 the sky. 
 
 "It is beautiful," she said, as she 
 clung to Martha. " But hoo quate it is ! 
 Nae ruffle o' a wing, nae breath even is 
 heard. The stars twinkle, but they give 
 nae soun'. Oh ! dear Martha," said the 
 half -trembling maiden, as if frightened by 
 her own imagination, and clinging more 
 closely to her more robust companion, "isn't 
 it like as if something were aboot to happen 
 — as if some great voice, for weal or woe, 
 were about to speak?" 
 
 "Fie on ye, Margaret!" said Martha; 
 " we needna dreed sae much ill, but rather 
 take the calm of nature, when it comes, in 
 its own spirit."
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 105 
 
 And the two retired for the night with 
 quiet though somewhat weird composure. 
 
 Martha, though as troubled as any damsel 
 could be, had the happy faculty of taking 
 comfort from whatever was passingly 
 bright around her ; but Margaret, though 
 fully as brave, had a finer ear for the spiri- 
 tual world. 
 
 The farm of Glenvernoch, however, was 
 peculiarly liable at this juncture to what 
 Martha had called ''disturbance;" and 
 next afternoon, when dinner was over, and 
 the farmer was still at table, listening to 
 the talk of the women and sipping his home- 
 brewed, both of which comforts, amid his 
 worldly eagerness and anxiety, seemed to 
 give equal satisfaction, and to lend a mutual 
 support to each other, the callant came full 
 speed into the kitchen, and, taking off his 
 bonnet, addressed himself to the upper 
 part.
 
 106 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 " There are twa riders coming up the 
 heugh, wi' attendance," said this outlook, 
 " and ane o' them has a shovel-hat." 
 
 " Shovel-hat ! " said the farmer, " what 
 d'ye mean, carle ? " 
 
 " Weel, maister, it's as like a shovel or a 
 peat-spade as onything else, and mair as 
 black. The ither ane's a' in scarlet and 
 ribbon, and his headpiece glinting in the sun 
 like siller." 
 
 " That's a' richt, boy," said Glenvernoch. 
 " Gang awa' and watch them, and, mind ye, 
 dinna let the coos get in amang the ait 
 sheaves." 
 
 Glenvernoch, rising from the table, said, 
 loud enough to be heard, "It's only Mr. 
 Colquhoun, the curate o' the parish, oot on 
 a gallant o' his ain pleasure, but consoolt- 
 ing the religious interests o' the parish a' 
 the time, nae doot." And as he stepped 
 to the window the farmer muttered, in a
 
 THE MARTTE OF GLENCREE. 107 
 
 lower tone, "It caniia be the Bishop shurely, 
 and if only the curate, why should he be 
 wi' a captain o' dragoons ? " 
 
 " ISTa, na, gudeman," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 who had been following closely the move- 
 ments of her husband, "it's only a mair 
 testing business. Dinna put yoursel' aboot, 
 gudeman." 
 
 Martha, who had been rubbing her hands 
 in suppressed anguish since the appearance 
 of the callant, rose with a grieved look, 
 and, addressing the farmer, said, " Oh ! 
 Glen, I'm the cause o' a' this trouble. Let 
 me gang awa' — let me flee anywhere ! " 
 
 " Flee ! " said Glenvernoch, now pressed 
 by both wife and guest on both hands. 
 " What the warl' wud ye flee for ? As for 
 thee, gudewife, I'll speak to thee again ; 
 but lady Martha, ye are no o' this hoose- 
 hold. Therefore, we haena to produce ye. 
 And so ye'll better gang awa', my fair
 
 108 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 young womai], to your ain room ; and, Mar- 
 garet, ye'U as weel gang wi' her, for there 
 has been mair trouble atween you and the 
 curate than onybody else in Glenvernoch." 
 
 "No," said Margaret, "no, please, faither, 
 I'm o' this hoosehold, and I'll bear the brunt 
 o' what may come to me as ane o' its num- 
 ber. But Mistress Martha needna expose 
 hersel' withoot ony cause. Come awa', 
 Martha; come awa' ! " 
 
 And Martha, withdrawing from the father, 
 followed his daughter to the upper room. 
 
 By the time Glenvernoch had walked 
 down to the gate the party rode up, attended 
 by two orderlies. 
 
 The clerical person proved to be the cu- 
 rate of Penninghame,who saluted the farmer 
 in a very friendly tone. 
 
 " I hope I find you well to-day, Glenver- 
 noch, and a' the family. This is Captain 
 Strachan, who has come from Wigtown,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 109 
 
 having a cliarge over tlie guard at Castle- 
 Stewart, and I hae accompanied him up 
 tliis far. Captain Strachan, I am liappj to 
 introduce you to Mr. Wilson, one of my best 
 parishioners." 
 
 " I'm glad to see you baith, gentlemen," 
 said Glenvernoch. " Ye'll be wishing to 
 come into the hoose, I daresay ? " 
 
 The Captain and the Curate dismounted, 
 and, leaving the horses with the orderlies, 
 proceeded with the farmer up the scarped 
 road to the farm-house. 
 
 The visitors were conducted into the best 
 parlour, where Mrs. Wilson had already 
 seated herself in calm expectancy of what 
 she did not doubt to be a visitation of the 
 law, both military and ecclesiastic. The 
 self-possessed little woman, tidily dressed, 
 with keen black eyes gleaming under luiir 
 once of the same raven colour, but now in 
 a few years touched with grey, and fea-
 
 110 THE MAETYK OF GLENCREE. 
 
 tures of such innocence and sweetness as 
 might have driven suspicion of treason or 
 sedition from the imagination even of Dio- 
 njsius, had covered the table with various 
 refreshments, in the middle of which was a 
 magnum bottle of rareJy-produced usque- 
 baugh, and a stoup of water newly brought 
 in from the well. 
 
 " Sit doon, gentlemen," said Glenvernoch, 
 after the introduction to his wife. " Sit ye 
 doon." 
 
 " Na, they'll no sit doon, Glen, without 
 takin' a cup in their han'. What'll ye hae, 
 Mr. Cahoon, and you, Captain? Ye hae 
 had a lang ride." 
 
 The two gentlemen, on looking over the 
 table, were much of the same mind, having 
 lunched heartily at Castle-Stewart, that a 
 little of the usquebaugh would be most 
 agreeable, m serving which Mrs. Wilson 
 proffered an addition of some of the spring
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. Ill 
 
 water " new from tlie well," of wliicli the 
 Curate took a little into his quaigh, while 
 the Captain refused to have any dilution. 
 
 After some far-off remarks on the 
 general state of public affairs, in which 
 Strachan took an immediate lead, he at 
 length said, " Ye'll hae heard, Glenvernoch, 
 o' the Royal Commission that has come 
 doon to Wigtown?" 
 
 " News dinna travel fast in thae times," 
 said the farmer. " The country is closing up 
 sae. But I hae heard o' sic a thing. Cap- 
 tain. What's wrang doon the coonty ? " 
 
 " Oh, there is nothing wrang in the 
 Machars," replied Captain Strachan. ''A' is 
 under strict curb and rein there. It's in 
 these upper pairts the danger is, and a' law- 
 lessness must noo be crushed in its last nest. 
 That's the opinion o' the Royal Commission, 
 and the order is that the laws must be much 
 mair strictly and severely enforced. As a
 
 112 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 loyal subject in the coonty, it is but richt 
 ye should ken what the law is, and what a' 
 loyal subjects are required to do." 
 
 Captain Strachan was a soldierly man of 
 about middle age. His red moustache was 
 waved off in cavalier style, and he had a 
 person which did not ill become the gay 
 uniform of the Royal Dragoon Guards. But 
 his cheeks were rather puffy, his eyes some- 
 what bloodshot, and his steel-bright helmet 
 clasped round his chin did not relieve the 
 fiery aspect of his features. His nose being 
 almost purple, and his coat a bright scarlet, 
 he was altogether arrayed in too violently 
 contrasted colours for ordinary life ; and as 
 he sat in the farm-house parlour, with a 
 cup of usquebaugh in one hand, and in the 
 palm of the other the hilt of his sword, 
 which he shook and rattled on the floor 
 when he said anything emphatic, he became 
 every moment more excited and ferocious
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 113 
 
 in aspect. Indeed, Glenyernocli's impres- 
 sion was that in the last utterances as to 
 the rigorous enforcement of the laws, the 
 captain was about to choke. 
 
 " Dear me. Captain, what a forget ! " said 
 the farmer. " You sitting there a' this time 
 wi' your helmet on ! Gudewife, I wunner 
 ye had nae mair mense. Let me tak' your 
 casque aff, Captain," suiting the action to 
 the word; "and noo let me hear a'oot on 
 the laws. There's naething I like to hear 
 mair aboot than the laws o' the country. 
 It's almost as refreshing as your fine lee- 
 turgie, Mr. Cahoon, which, tho' nae sae 
 aften maybe as I should, I sometimes hae 
 the happiness o' sitting under." 
 
 The Captain, not well sure what to think 
 of the officious attentions of the farmer — 
 whether they proceeded from a homely kind- 
 ness of manner or from a covert despite of 
 his cloth — was about to say something iu 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 support of his military rank, wlien Glenver- 
 nocli, who, in addressing his last words to 
 the Curate, had turned round, and lifted the 
 gardevin, added, " I see, Captain, ye're just 
 gaun to speak. But afore ye begin let me 
 help you to a little mair speerit. It's nae 
 Eerish mixture — a'most as safe as maut, 
 though strong awee. But ye can mix it 
 wi' water tae yer liking." 
 
 " Stop! that will do," said the Captain. 
 '' Thank ye, goodman, that's enough. Stop, 
 stop ! " 
 
 " And noo. Captain, abootthe laws," said 
 Glenvernoch, as he resumed his seat. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, Mr. Wilson, the 
 laws are to be enforced with mair honest 
 rigour than for some time past, and they 
 hae received under the highest authority 
 some new application in order to make short 
 wark wi' a lawless and obdurate portion of 
 the population. The country canna be kept
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLEXCREE. 115 
 
 in this hotbed year after year without end. 
 And in the first place, Mr. Wilson, ye'll hae 
 heard, or if no, it's my commissioned duty 
 to inform you, that a' rebels' houses are to 
 be burned doon, and every heritor and every 
 farmer o' substance like yoursel are peremp- 
 torily required to burn them doon, and see 
 them burned doon." 
 
 " Gude guide us ! " said Glenvernoch, 
 with more real anxiety than he had hitherto 
 felt. " That is a law ! It pits me in a 
 daiver as to the meaning or the use o't. If 
 we begin to burn ane anither's hooses 
 there'll be an unco lowe. But I am no likely 
 to understan'. Captain, until I hear hoo ye 
 defeen a rebel. What is he ? " 
 
 " That's plain enough," said the Captain. 
 « A rebel— " 
 
 " For, begging your pardon, Captain," 
 continued the farmer, " it wad be little gude 
 to burn oot a herd who had gane, or was
 
 116 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 sooposed to hae gane, ance, or twice, or even 
 three times, to a prayer-meeting aboot the 
 Caldons. I wad only be impoverishing my- 
 sel'; and the laird being awa', and probably 
 turning oot a rebel like ithers, I wad no only 
 hae little chance o' remeid, but might be 
 held boond to gang and set fire to the Cas- 
 tle, a still waur complication. But a' this 
 being dune according to law — " 
 
 "Redeeculous !" exclaimed the Captain, for 
 the first time leaving the hilt of his sword, 
 and throwing himself back in his chair, un- 
 able to resist the humour of the picture 
 rising in the farmer's mind. " Ha ! ha ! 
 redeeculous ! utterly redeeculous ! " 
 
 " Hoo lang, then," went on the principal 
 speaker, without stopping, " wad the thack 
 roof o' Glenvernoch be safe frae the bleezes ? 
 I dinna like fire-raising — ye may smile, Cap- 
 tain, and there's nae doot a bit joke in what 
 I'm saying — but I dinna like fire-raising
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 117 
 
 on ony pretence. I dinna like it e'en ac- 
 cording to law.'* 
 
 " Ye're talking nonsense, Glenvernoch, 
 utter nonsense !" said Captain Straclian, 
 leaning forward and grasping his sword 
 again. "Rebels, mj goodman, are ootlaws, 
 ooterly proscrived and excommunicate per- 
 sons " — looking over to the Curate, who 
 gave an acquiescent nod to the Captain and 
 the farmer, and immediately returned his 
 bland eyes to the farmer's wife, who had 
 been sitting calmly, but not without deep 
 interest in this colloquy — " persons whose 
 names, I may say, have been on the church 
 wa's for months, some even for years, who 
 have absconded frae justice, and yet haunt 
 the districts whence they hae absconded, 
 stirring up cursed strife and rebellion. 
 Thae are the only rebels, Mr. Wilson, the 
 hoose-burning decree compreeses ; but, of 
 coorse, by a natural consequence o' the law,
 
 118 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 persons who knowingly harbour and sjm- 
 pathizingly visit sic rebels, are as bad as the 
 ithers, and deserve the same fate, though 
 mair proof in their case is required before 
 their hooses are to be burnt. As for the 
 conventiclers, we deal wi' them under a dif- 
 ferent clause. They will be sent doon to 
 Wigtown, and by sentence o' coort be either 
 banished to the plantations or sent into 
 Edinburgh, and be hanged in the Grass- 
 market. There's nae question o' burning 
 hooses in their case. It's a mere matter o' 
 regular process of law. And this brings 
 me, Mr. Wilson, to a point on which we 
 have more need to dwell. If ye understan' 
 the hoose-burning decree, I should like to 
 pass on. Do ye understand it ? " 
 
 "It's a new revelation to me. Captain 
 Strachan,'' said Glenvernoch, " and it's very 
 entertaining so far as it has gane. But it's 
 difficult to say what ane understan' s fully.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 119 
 
 Yet ae thing I am sure o', there are nae 
 rebels, as ye hae defeened, on the farm of 
 Glenvernoch ; and the maist business-like 
 way will be to send me a list what hooses 
 ye think shood be burnt doon, and I'll then 
 send ye a perfittly ceevil answer and tell ye 
 whether I'll burn them doon or no." 
 
 The military officer, not without an un- 
 comfortable feeling that the first point of the 
 new law had been brought adroitly by the 
 farmer to a much too civil footing, yet un- 
 willing to waste time or temper prematurely 
 on a conflagration in which, when it came, 
 the farmer's views on the subject would be 
 of little practical consequence, proceeded to 
 the more immediately important part of his 
 instructions. It was enough to Captain 
 Strachan to see that Glenvernoch was not 
 unimpressed by what had been said as to 
 the edict of burning. 
 
 " In the second place, Mr. Wilson," the
 
 120 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Captain resumed, '* a new turn has been 
 given in a peacefu' direction to the test, 
 that safeguard o' loyalty and richt living to 
 a' gude subjects. Nearly all of any conse- 
 quence in the coonty have taken the test, 
 but many do nae mair than sign the paper ; 
 and in the wisdom of the High Council it 
 has been decided that this neegative busi- 
 ness must be stopped, and the test take a 
 mair positive and complying effect. They 
 must not only sign a paper of allegiance and 
 abjuration o' conventicles and a' that com- 
 monplace sort of thing, but they must at- 
 tend regularly the services o' the appointed 
 ministers, and back up the authorities on a' 
 occasions. There's nae charge against you, 
 Glenvernoch; ye' re marked doon as one 
 o' the loyal men o' the country, tho' as the 
 head of a family, ye hae responsible duties 
 over ithers. But as this trenches on the 
 speeritual, I, a captain of the Royal Guards
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 121 
 
 am nae autliority in myse?. The duty of a 
 soldier is to enforce tlie law. He lias no- 
 thing to do with the persuasions and en- 
 treaties, and prayers and graces, with which 
 bishops and other ministers at the altar seek 
 to bring a' the lambs o' the flock into the 
 fold. And, therefore, it is I asked Mr. 
 Colquhoun, who has a very gude word of you, 
 Glenvernoch, and a particular respec' for 
 your family, to accompany me on this f reenly 
 errand." 
 
 'Tm sure," said the mistress of Glenver- 
 noch, who saw marks of strange emotion in 
 her husband's countenance, and feared some 
 indiscretion on his part, " I am glad to see 
 Mr. Cahoon at ony time. He'll be aye wel- 
 come in this house, and though we may not 
 be able to agree wi' him in a' things, yet 
 he'll be sure o' a Christian greeting." 
 
 Glenvernoch, who, to have scanned him 
 closely at this moment, really looked as if
 
 122 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 he would liave wrested tlie sword from the 
 Captain with much less ceremony than he 
 had relieved him of his helmet, was some- 
 what softened by the words of his wife ; 
 and the impulse of the moment, ready to 
 dash on a rock, glided round it in a calmer 
 direction. 
 
 " We're fully aught miles here, ye ken, 
 gentlemen, frae the parish kirk, and it's no 
 easy to contrac' for a regular attendance in 
 a' states o' the wather and the roads. I 
 gang sometimes, and am weel enoo' satis- 
 fied wi' the service. I see nae great faut 
 in't. And I wad maybe gang aftener if 
 there was onybody there. But it's saxteen 
 miles travel for naething but the service, 
 whilk is a consideration. Lucky Heron 
 tells me that 'cept for troopers and mes- 
 sagers frae Wigtoon, gey aften without ready 
 money, she might gae up the business. 
 She says there's neither kirk nor market.
 
 THE MAETYll OF GLENCEEE. 123 
 
 Hooever, if mair attendance on my pairt 
 will please, ye may calcoolate on me as ye 
 hae calcoolated hitherto." 
 
 The Captain, who had now laid down his 
 cup of usquebaugh, dropped the handle of 
 his sword, and, taking out his note-book, 
 said, " I may mark doon what ye say, 
 Glenvernoch ? " 
 
 " ay ! tak' it a' doon, sir, surely," said 
 the farmer. " It may dae you some gude, 
 and can dae me nae harm ; I'll sign it if 
 ye like." 
 
 The Curate, not unpleased with the pro- 
 gress of affairs, addressed himself with 
 some unction to Mrs. Wilson, to whom he 
 had been observing a gracious demeanour 
 throughout. " He was sorry she had never 
 attended the service. But the state of 
 her health was no doubt a cause. But how 
 glad he would be to see her at the service ! 
 Would she not come with her husband occa-
 
 124 THE MARTYR OK GJ.ENCREE. 
 
 sionally ? Why not sign what he signed ? 
 It would not be required of her to the 
 letter?" 
 
 To all these tender approaches the good- 
 wife of Glenvernoch had but one answer. 
 " I gang wi' my goodman," she said, " in 
 what he does in thae public matters. But 
 I decline to come under any personal obli- 
 gation of attendance, here or there. I hae 
 plenty to do in my ain place. Besides, we 
 are a family, and like a' families, we are no 
 a' of ae mind exac'ly ; and while following 
 my goodman Imauna lose hand o' my bairns. 
 I need to hae some poo'r, Mr. Cahoon, of 
 moderation in my ain hoose.'' 
 
 The Captain, who had already, by a 
 rattle of the point of his scabbard on the 
 floor, disturbed this conversation between 
 the Curate and the matron of Glenvernoch, 
 said, with some anger, — 
 
 " Ye had better reconsider, Mrs. Wilson.
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 125 
 
 These are serious times ; and when the dam 
 strays, there is Uttle hope for the younger o' 
 the flock. I'll note ye down to reconsider." 
 
 " I hae nae ither answer to gi'e, Captain, 
 than I ha'e gi'en," replied the little woman 
 with meek composure, but with resolute 
 firmness. 
 
 " You have only one son, Glenvernoch," 
 said the Captain, looking over his paper. 
 
 " Only ae son," said the farmer, " Tam- 
 mas, he's ca'd ; and if ye can get Tammas 
 to gang to the kirk, I'm sure ye'll dae mair 
 than I hae been able. Though Tammas is 
 no a bad lad — a vera gude son to me so far 
 as he has gane — does what I bid him in the 
 wark, and saves me mickle fash. Indeed, 
 there is noo sae much waste o' time in public 
 things, I couldna dae weel without him on 
 the farm at a'. He's a gude lad, Tammas 
 — very fond o' his sisters, and, indeed, o' a' 
 young lasses. If ye can get a troop o' them,
 
 126 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 Captain, to gang to the service, Tammas 
 will no be an absenter, I'se warrant ye." 
 
 " Is lie here ?" asked Captain Strachan, 
 in a severe court-martial tone. 
 
 " Here, bless you, no ! He's miles awa' 
 looking aifter stock — awa' before daylicht, 
 and no be back till supper- time." 
 
 " Your eldest, Mr. Wilson, is a daughter 
 — Margaret, I see her name," proceeded 
 Captain Strachan. 
 
 Margaret, since the roll had begun to be 
 called, had come into the room and taken a 
 seat beside her mother. 
 
 " Ay," replied the farmer, " that's Mar- 
 garet, bonnie woman, sitting aside the gude- 
 wife." 
 
 The Captain cast an eager glance at the 
 eldest of Glenvernoch, and for a few mo- 
 ments seemed surprised, and softened, if 
 not awed, by her appearance. 
 
 Her face was turned towards her mother,
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 127 
 
 her head slightly bent, her eyes drooping 
 towards the maternal bosom. A white ker- 
 chief, tied simply round her neck, covered 
 her shoulders, and over it lay her long 
 light-auburn hair, bound by a single fillet 
 of dark-blue ribbon. She seemed a picture 
 both of modesty and reverence. 
 
 " My faith, Margaret ! " said the Captain, 
 " ye're a young ane, and as pretty and in- 
 nocent-looking as ye are young." 
 
 Margaret's head drooped a little more, 
 and she grasped her mother's hand. 
 
 " But speak to me, and look to me, Marga- 
 ret," continued the military inquisitor, in a 
 louder tone. " Hoo is it that sae young, 
 sae pretty, and sae innocent-looking, ye 
 should be a breaker o' the laws ? " 
 
 Margaret turned her face to the Captain, 
 and with a glance that smote his temper of 
 authority to the quick, said, " I dinna ken, 
 sir, what laws o' man I hae broken that are
 
 128 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 worth the name o' laws. I'm no a law- 
 breaker; I do hairm to you or nae ane; 
 and ye're no to come into my faither's 
 hoose and speak to me in sic rude ways." 
 
 " Silence, lass ! " cried the Captain. " Do 
 you know that you are on the list of the 
 suspect, and that I could carry you along 
 with me to jail this minute ? " 
 
 Glenvernoch here sprang to his feet as if 
 he meant to lay hands on the Captain, 
 when the Curate rose, and, placing himself 
 in front of the farmer, said, " Stop ! stop ! 
 Captain Strachan. Margaret's a sensitive 
 young woman, and this is probably mair in 
 my line o' duty than yours. Tender con- 
 sciences require to be tenderly dealt with." 
 
 And the Curate drew his chair nearer to 
 Margaret. 
 
 "Your father, Margaret," began the 
 Curate, " comes to the service, and your 
 mother, I will hope, from her compliance
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 129 
 
 witli the head of the family, will come some 
 day when the weather is fine. Why not 
 you, Margaret, attend too, and give a good 
 and devout example in such distracted 
 times ? " 
 
 " Mr. Cahoon," said Margaret, with 
 courtesy, but not without a shade of aver- 
 sion on her features, and that peculiar 
 expression of her eyes as they rose and 
 drooped, and when speaking out always 
 rose again as if looking from a loftier 
 impulse, which was apt to be extremely 
 cognizant and annoying to a lower-minded 
 interlocutor — " I ha'e nae objection to ye 
 as a gentleman, or even as a minister o' 
 grace ; but ye hae'na come as pastor in the 
 appointed way, pitting out by force whae 
 had a better richt; and this, apairt from 
 a' ither differences, is a transgression o' the 
 divine law, which, speaking for mesell 
 alane, I canna coontenance.'' 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE MAETYR OF GLEf^CEEE. 
 
 "Well, Margaret," urged the Curate, 
 " there is no doubt a difference among us 
 about institution to the pastoral office. 
 We are at present in an interreegnum, and 
 in this interreegnum by the will o' the 
 Goyernment, by the public law of the 
 country, and by its officers, military and 
 civil, who are commanded in the Bible, as 
 ye may read, to be nursing fathers and 
 nursing mothers to the Church, I am 
 minister of Penninghame. That may be 
 wrong. Some fitter man might be, or 
 should be, in the place. But the ordinance 
 of divine public worship itself should be 
 respected in all circumstances." 
 
 "Admitting," replied Margaret; "but 
 ye should ken, Mr. Cahoon, what the 
 Master o' Assemblies has said, that the 
 Father is to be worshipped in spirit and 
 in truth, and that He's no confined to ony 
 place."
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENOREE. 131 
 
 " Ye are joining yourself to rebels, 
 Margaret, under wliat, I would fain hope, 
 may be a sincere thougb a mistaken motive 
 on your part — but think what you are 
 doing ! — you are flying in tlie face of tlie 
 king himself, whom you are commanded 
 in the Scriptures to honour." 
 
 " I'm joined to nae rebels," replied this 
 indomitable catechumen ; " and as for the 
 king I hae nae malice to him whatever. 
 But ye mauna bring the king, Mr. Cahoon, 
 atween me and the King o' kings in matters 
 where the King o' kings and my ain 
 conscience alane are anywise concerned. 
 It's no honest to dae sic a thing." 
 
 The Curate, finding himself as much 
 nonplussed at this point as the military 
 inquisitor had been at the other, drew back 
 his chair: and the Captain laughed so 
 loudly and derisively in the face of the 
 Curate, that Margaret rose from her seat 
 K 2
 
 132 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 as if she liad been struck by a galvanic 
 battery. 
 
 *' The surplice and the red-coat are a' 
 ane to your dochter, Glen, ha ! ha ! " said 
 the Captain, still laughing; ''but we'll 
 have another taste of your usquebaugh, 
 man, and then we'll travil," in the course 
 of which observation Margaret had turned 
 to leave the room, and her mother had 
 risen to her feet in much trepidation of 
 heart. 
 
 " But hand, Margaret, hand awee ! " 
 cried the Captain. " Ye hae geeven us 
 nae direct answer, young woman. Hoo 
 are ye to be returned — good, bad, or doubt- 
 ful — or, in ither words, do ye gang wi' your 
 faither, or do ye gang wi' me to the jail ? " 
 
 " I'm no frichtened for your jails or ony 
 o' your violence," said Margaret, con- 
 fronting her inquisitor with the same modest 
 but unconquerable glance. '' I thocht it
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 133 
 
 becoming," she added, " since you and 
 Mr. Gaboon were liere, to appear afore ye, 
 and I liae gi'en ye the only answer I can 
 gi'e ye, noo or again." And upon these 
 words Margaret passed out of the inner 
 door of the parlour as calmly as she 
 had entered it. 
 
 "Ye'll no tak' — that wean o' mine — 
 Captain " — said Glenvernoch, with a stric- 
 ture of utterance, the result of an outward 
 restraint of fervent inward passion, the 
 marks of which might have been seen in 
 all the features of his face and muscles of 
 his body — " or e'en touch a hair o' her 
 head — no ae hair — save ow'r my vera 
 heart's bluid. I maun let ye — under- 
 stan' — Captain — hoo it stauns atween us — 
 there maun be nae violence to my lassie — 
 or by the — " 
 
 " Wliish, whish ! dinna sweer, Glenver- 
 noch," said Captain Strachan. " Ye'ro a
 
 134 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 lojal and a religious man, but ye are under 
 the no uncommon misfortune of being in 
 the seat o' war just noo, and maun submit 
 patiently to the safe guidance o' your 
 hoosehold, and a strict control o' public 
 affairs round aboot ye." 
 
 It was with some difficulty, notwith- 
 standing the intention of the Captain to 
 bring the interview to as pleasant ending 
 as the circumstances would admit, that the 
 company could now adjust themselves to 
 any further converse. The Curate sat 
 moody and silent, with a countenance as 
 sour as that of any of the Covenanters 
 whom he was in the daily habit of de- 
 nouncing. The goodwife was wilhng 
 enough to help the Captain to some more 
 of the usquebaugh, but her habitually 
 quiet and gentle manner expressed more 
 inward disquietude than any outward wel- 
 come; while the farmer stood or moved
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 185 
 
 about the room, as if impatient for the 
 departure of his visitors. 
 
 " Sit cloon, Glenvernoch, though it were 
 only to tak' a parting sip o' your ain 
 liquor in mutual friendship," said Captain 
 Strachan, after having looked over his 
 order-book, on which he had made a final 
 jotting, and while in the act of returning it 
 to his breast pocket, "there is only one 
 thing more I have to speak about." 
 
 The farmer moving to the table for what 
 he thought could not be refused in com- 
 mon civility, the CajDtain continued to say, 
 '*The case o' Martha Dunbar. That 
 young woman is believed to be still hiding 
 somewhere in the upper pairts o' Gallowa', 
 and to be doing much mischief to the 
 public peace, of which she, like other silly 
 women, may hae little notion o', but wliilk 
 cannot be tolerated by responsibles for the 
 pubhc safety."
 
 136 THE MART YE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 " Martha Dunbar ! " said the farmer, 
 as he drew to a seat beside the Captain. 
 " That's the second dochter o' Sir David ? 
 I thocht Clavers had made peace wi' 
 Baldoon, assuring him o' the protection 
 o' the Government, and that the young 
 lady was only to absent hersel' frae the 
 Castle, and no to be seen anywhere about 
 Wigtown or the parish o' Kirkinner." 
 
 " That's true in a sense," replied 
 Captain Strachan, with a rising cough or 
 hiccup, which he somewhat overcame by 
 pressing his hand on his mouth. " But 
 it was a year or twa bypast that" — 
 another difficulty in the throat, which the 
 Captain gallantly repressed — " and it's a 
 part o' the new law. Glen, that the 
 women sent oot the country are now 
 enacted to be brought back again, and 
 to live in their ain hooseholds like decent 
 women, whether wives or daughters, or,
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 137 
 
 what's the same thing, their husbands or 
 fathers to be under heavy bonds to sur- 
 render them at any date when necessary to 
 law and justice." 
 
 " It seems a hard case, Captain," said 
 Glenvernoch ; " for if they are no to be 
 allooed to leeve oot o' the country, and no 
 to be allooed to leeve in the country, whar' 
 are the puir craturs to be allooed to leeve 
 ava?" 
 
 " It is nae doubt a kind o' poozle. Glen, 
 in the airt o' government, but happily it is 
 no insurmoontable. It's a' in a nitshell. 
 There are a score or twa o' women in Gal- 
 Iowa' who gie mair trouble than a' the 
 muster-roll o' males above seventeen. It 
 is a mere ootblaw of female lunacy. The 
 limmers must be brought under strict con- 
 trol " — signs of stoppage in the thorax 
 again — " by the stronger sex. D — n 
 them, they must be — " What the final
 
 138 THE MAETYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 fate of the lunatic women should be was 
 not expressed in words, the Captain sneez- 
 ing more violently at this point than he 
 had sneezed before. 
 
 " Tak' oot your uisky, Captain," said 
 Glenvernoch. " 'Twill help to break your 
 koch." 
 
 '' And wharaboots," resumed the far- 
 mer, " is Lady Martha supposed to be? " 
 
 " That is what we are no entirely sure 
 o'," said Captain Strachan. " She is 
 somewhere about the head of Glenken. 
 The rebels are gatherin' there, trusting to 
 the support of Kenmure. But that cover 
 will sune be in a blaze." 
 
 And the Captain, rising suddenly at the 
 thought of Glenken as out of a dream, and 
 putting on his helmet, said rapidly to Glen- 
 vernoch, " Ye'U have many fugitives here. 
 Be on your guard. If Martha Dunbar 
 should be one, detain her, and send her
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLEKCEEE. 139 
 
 home to her father at Baldoon under safe 
 escort, which ye have on order from the 
 garrison at Castle Stewart." Then, with 
 still more sudden word and gesture of 
 compliment to the goodwife of Glenver- 
 noch, he took his departure, followed by 
 the Curate in a mechanical haste — like the 
 needle following the magnet.
 
 140 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Search deep my heart! bring with thee awful 
 
 conscience 
 And firm resolve ! that, in the approachiug hour 
 Of blood and horror, I may stand unmoved ; 
 Nor fear to strike where Justice calls, nor dare 
 To strike where she forbids ! Why bear I, then, 
 This dark, insidious dagger ? — 'Tis the badge 
 Of vile assassins. — Detested thought! 
 Yet — as foul lust and murder, though on thrones 
 Triumphant, still retain their hell-born quality ; 
 So Justice, groaning beneath countless wrongs, 
 Quits not her spotless and celestial nature ; 
 But, in the unhallow'd murderer's disguise. 
 Can sanctify this steel. 
 
 Selim^s Soliloquy in " Barbarossa." 
 
 While the events recorded in the previous 
 chapter were occurring at Glenvernoch the 
 Royal Commission had opened its first
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 141 
 
 public Court in Wigto^^oi, witli an eclat 
 of liigli power wliicli had seldom, if ever 
 before, visited the quiet burgh. 
 
 The first two or three days after their 
 arrival the Commissioners had held private 
 sittings, to which seldom more than one con- 
 fidant was admitted at a time. The Sheriff- 
 Depute and the Laird of Lagg — the latter 
 of whom, though a gentleman of Dumfries- 
 shire, had, in consideration of his great 
 zeal, been conjoined with Claverhouse in 
 the Sheriff-Deputeship before the Here- 
 ditary Sheriff was finally superseded — were 
 in constant attendance. They had been 
 very busy for some months in all parts of 
 the province, and had divided the work 
 between them with an appearance of sys- 
 tem. Lagg, who was a hard swearer him- 
 self, chiefly administered oaths, not only to 
 those who were summoned or carried by 
 force to his Courts, but to most of any
 
 142 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 mark whom lie met casually on the roads. 
 The oath of allegiance, and the oath of 
 abjuration, and other State oaths, had long 
 since become matters of course to Lagg, 
 and had now, indeed, become much a 
 matter of form to the majority of the 
 population. But the oath which Lagg 
 pressed with most vehemence on his ab- 
 jurers was to tell him, on pain of every 
 conceivable present and future judgment, 
 where certain others, who were neither to 
 be seen in his rides nor to be " com- 
 peared" in his courts, were to be found. 
 On the heads of some of these there was a 
 price ; and of the rest it was certain that 
 when found they would not swallow at his 
 hands even the oath of allegiance, and that 
 their whole estate, farm or barony, would 
 fall an easy prey into the hands of the 
 spoiler. The acting Sheriff, on the other 
 hand, addressed himself chiefly to the
 
 THE MAETTR OF GLENCEEE. 143 
 
 ecclesiastical side of affairs. The question 
 he chiefly pressed on the persons sum- 
 moned before liim was whether '' they 
 kept the Church," and as only indifferent 
 answers could be given on solemn oath to 
 this question, he imposed fines of more or 
 less magnitude, and hurried on like a man 
 of undisputed legal authority, conscious 
 that, while thus diligently adding to the 
 treasury of the Sheriffdom, he had a 
 general superintendence, and could not 
 waste much time in mere matters of 
 finance. 
 
 But Queensberry, who had come down 
 to look into this complicated state of 
 affairs with the eye of a Prime Minister, 
 would not admit of any general concerted 
 statement of Clavers and his deputies, but 
 would have one at a time. The usually 
 rapid and absolute decisions of Claverhouse 
 were thus somewhat checked ; but the
 
 14 i THE MARTYK OF GLEXCREE. 
 
 clieck was one that admitted of some 
 remedy. The Provost, Coltran, also mem- 
 ber for the burgh, had an audience ; and 
 the Bailie, of our acquaintance, was hon- 
 oured with an audience, though he would 
 much rather have appeared as a simple 
 attendant, or " I say with you " of the Pro- 
 vost, and was in no little agitation of self- 
 consciousness at having to speak face to 
 face with the Lord Treasurer. 
 
 " What have you to state, Bailie ? " asked 
 Queensberry, when the civic magistrate 
 had made all the obeisances he could think 
 of as proper to the occasion. 
 
 " State, my Lord, or your high Lord- 
 ship? " said the Bailie, in temporary con- 
 fusion of mind, or craftily fishing about in 
 much humility of spirit for some guidance 
 how to proceed. " Is it State, may it 
 please your Grace, I hae to speak o' ? For 
 a mere burgh magistrate like me can ken
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 145 
 
 little o' high affairs ; but as regairds things 
 o' the sherradom, I can say for my ain part 
 I hae been diligent nicht and day in my ain 
 place, and maun express the great joy 
 which this veesitation has given a' in 
 authority hereaboots. E'en though I 
 maun compleen and demur, and indeed 
 aften grieve in my heart, mair in private 
 than in public, whar' ane must aye wear a 
 Strang face becoming a magistrate, that 
 there is still much slackness, twa-faced- 
 ness, and fause-heartedness amang us, yet 
 I hae nae doot your Royal Highness will 
 pit the hood-sheaf on what has sae far 
 been a weel-biggit stook." 
 
 And so the Bailie, in reply to the inter- 
 rogatories of Queensberry, proceeded to 
 give details of what he deemed most amiss, 
 in the course of which he did not fail to 
 allude to what he had seen and repri- 
 manded only the other day at Glenvernoch 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE MAKTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 on a visit of wliat lie called " tlie maist 
 ordinar' and freenlj business," describing 
 the secrecy, suspicion, and contempt of 
 any one in oflB.ce which surrounded the 
 family, and the masterliness of the farmer 
 himself, much more intent on driving hard 
 bargains than serving either king or coun- 
 try, or honouring any one in the loyal 
 service, even though a magistrate of Wig- 
 town. The Bailie warmed so much on 
 this latest grievance that he did not hesi- 
 tate to say that Grienvernoch was a double- 
 minded hypocrite, and that the farm, he 
 much feared, would be found ere long to be 
 " a nest of ooter rebellion." 
 
 " That will do. Bailie," said Queens- 
 berry. 
 
 " Weel, may it please your Lord High 
 Grace," added the Bailie, " I wad observe 
 farther — for acquantance o' the country is 
 o' some consideration in sic times — if your
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 147 
 
 Royal Highness would alloo me to observe, 
 that is to say, shouldna Glenvernoch be 
 weel watched? The garrison at Castle- 
 Stewart wuUna only be of nae use, but 
 may be overpoored ony morning, and a' 
 that has been dune in that important pairt 
 o' the country be waur than lost to the 
 cause." 
 
 A glance from Clavers, teeming with 
 approval, and caught by the Bailie, was 
 ample assurance to this magisterial busy- 
 body that he had acquitted himself not so 
 badly of a great public duty. 
 
 The preliminary private sittings of the 
 Royal Commission did not close without a 
 pretty unanimous agreement among the 
 three — Queensberry, Drumlanrig, and Cla- 
 verhouse — as to what was to be imme- 
 diately done in the daily and hourly 
 discharge of the Sheriff's office. It had 
 been swiftly concluded to apprehend and 
 L 2
 
 148 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 bring in any at hand that were obnoxious 
 to the ruling power, and that could be of 
 any avail even as witnesses in the pending 
 trials. It was this resolution, already 
 acted upon to a large extent, which led to 
 the sudden arrest of the old lady of 
 Arioland, and threw her into the same 
 prison cell with three other women, against 
 whom there was no offence to be alleged 
 save that of occasional kindliness to sons 
 or husbands outlawed for being at Bothwell 
 Brig, or participating anywise in one or 
 other of the many resistances of the time. 
 As for the rest, the Royal Commissioners 
 were of one mind that the low country 
 should be further disarmed, and this done 
 by such rapid means as could be contrived, 
 the dragoons and other military, so far 
 assured that there could be little danger in 
 their rear, should advance up the three 
 glens — Luce, Cree, and Ken — and, by a
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 149 
 
 series of well-concerted movements, sweep 
 away from the upper and mountainous 
 parts of tlie province, where Sheriff's 
 edicts, the hoofs of his horse, or the rattle 
 of his carbines had not yet penetrated, the 
 last vestiges of civil and religious liberty in 
 Galloway. 
 
 But the more public duty of the jail 
 delivery remained. 
 
 This was opened with much state. The 
 Commissioners, on issuing from the 
 Sheriff's residence — forming a part of 
 the Court Room, Tolbooth, and other 
 public buildings — mounted steeds, richly 
 caparisoned, and passed easily into their 
 places in a procession which had been 
 already formed, and was drawn up along 
 the lower end of the square, to which the 
 mass of masonry referred to, surmounted 
 by a tower of some height, on which 
 floated the Royal Standard of Scotland,
 
 150 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 gave an imposing appearance. At the 
 head of the procession rode two trum- 
 peters, and a few files of dragoons. Next 
 came the Provost on foot, with the Bailie 
 in one arm and the town-clerk in the 
 other, preceded by the Provost's serving- 
 man in livery, and followed by the town- 
 sergeant, town-drummer, head- jailer, and a 
 considerable squad of sheriff-officers, one of 
 of whom had the honour of being also 
 hangman of the burgh and the lower part 
 of the county. Here a wide space was 
 left for the Commissioners, and on cara- 
 coling into their places, their six grooms — 
 three of whom attended on Queensberry — 
 ranged themselves in Indian file, three on 
 each side of their masters. The Com- 
 missioners were further flanked by as many 
 dragoons with loaded pistols in their 
 hands. After the Commissioners followed 
 Sheriff-Depute Graham and the Laird of
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 151 
 
 Lagg, moimted, and beliind them the 
 Sheriff- Clerk, on liorseback. Tlien a com- 
 pany of tlie Merse Militia, who had been 
 brought across the Cree from Monygove, 
 where the regiment had for some time had 
 its head- quarters, to swell this occasion, and 
 at the head of whom rode the Earl of 
 Home, the colonel of the regiment. A 
 party of dragoons, with trumpets and 
 kettle-drums, closed the rear of the pro- 
 cession, under Major Winram, the second 
 in military command to Claverhouse in his 
 sheriffdom. 
 
 When the trumpets sounded and the 
 procession began to move, Claverhouse 
 and Drumlanrig drew their swords, while 
 Queensberry placed to his breast the end of 
 a baton of office he held in his hand, and 
 on the top of which was a little gold 
 crown. 
 
 Twice this brilliant pageant rode and
 
 152 THE MAETYR OF GLENOEEE. 
 
 marc"hed in slow and measured pace round 
 tlie large open centre of Wigtown, crowded 
 with spectators. The corporation by a 
 great effort had induced the inhabitants 
 to remove all "fulzie" from before their 
 doors, and had cut down much of the rank 
 grass and weeds which grew over many parts 
 of the little-trodden area of the burgh. 
 A large dung-heap near the centre of the 
 square, belonging to " the common good," 
 was not so easily disposed of, more parti- 
 cularly at that period of the year. It was 
 covered securely, however, with planks of 
 wood, and as this was wholly due to the 
 taste and energy of the Bailie, his parti- 
 cular friends in the burgh, and such dis- 
 tinguished persons from outside as he was 
 inclined to toady, had the privilege of this 
 coign of vantage on the top of " the com- 
 mon good." But the march was lined 
 by people of all ranks, and the burgesses,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 153 
 
 and country people who had flocked into 
 the burgh, had an opportunity of seeing 
 some imitation of " a riding of the ParHa- 
 ment " with which the citizens of Edin- 
 burgh had long been familiar. 
 
 The excitement was universal as the 
 Commissioners entered the Court-House, 
 but it was an excitement in which one 
 could easily observe two widely dijfferent 
 currents. Most of the town people and 
 the sight-seers from other places were 
 simply elated by the novelty and unaccus- 
 tomed grandeur of the spectacle ; and if 
 many even of these had doubts as to the 
 justice of what was about to take place, 
 their spirits were buoyed for the moment 
 above all depressing considerations by the 
 martial music, the dignity of the Commis- 
 sioners, and the general animation of the 
 scene. But a large part of the concourse 
 consisted of people who had come into
 
 154 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 Wigtown that day witli anything but a 
 show in their hearts. The fate of scores 
 of prisoners was hanging in the balance. 
 Their doom might be banishment to the 
 plantations, or commitment to Edinburgh, 
 which signified in the popular imagination 
 either hanging in the Grassmarket or tor- 
 ture in the inquisition chamber, or both. 
 At the least there might be an utter harry- 
 ing and dispossession of the prisoner, and 
 the erasure of his dwelling-house by fire. 
 The relatives and friends of the prisoners 
 naturally gathered to the spot where the 
 first news of their doom was to be heard. 
 There were others who had a defying de- 
 testation of the whole procedure, and 
 others still who, with the same detestation, 
 were quaking with fear lest some of the 
 prisoners, in their answers to peremptory 
 questions, might name or inculpate them. 
 A hundred anxieties and terrors agitated
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 155 
 
 this part of the assemblage, and the Hght- 
 hearted jubilation of the greater number 
 only sickened and terrified them the more. 
 'No sooner had Major "Winram posted a 
 cordon of troops round the Tolbooth, and 
 dismissed the surplus force to their quar- 
 ters, than a commotion arose on the out- 
 skirts of the crowd, and rapidly spread 
 through the general mass. A party of 
 horsemen had approached, and cries of 
 "The Sheriff!" ''The auld Sheriff and 
 Garthland ! " " Open a way for the auld 
 Sheriff ! " arose as Sir Andrew Agnew and 
 his son, with M'Dowall of Garthland, 
 Stewart of Tonderghie, and the two sons 
 of Gordon of Craichlaw, attended by a few 
 serving-men, dismounted, and pressed 
 through the crowd towards the Court- 
 House. Their appearance evidently was 
 unexpected to the multitude, and gave rise 
 to various surmises ; but these new arrivals
 
 166 THE MAETTR OF GLEXCEEE. 
 
 on a scene where they were least looked 
 for, but like shadows passing across a 
 brilliantly-lighted diorama vividly recalled 
 the old familiar authority of the province 
 in happier times, had a cordial welcome 
 from nearly all. " They're gaing to stop 
 the trials," said one ; '' ye may relee the 
 auld Sherra has a warrant fraethe Croon." 
 " ISTa," said another, " haflins no sae mickle 
 as that — they're no sae armed-looking, but 
 they'll lodge a protest." " Or plead for 
 mercy in the sentences," said a third. 
 " Or mair likely tak' the Test," whispered 
 an uncouth figure, overhearing while 
 passing round this group. " Hand your 
 tongue, sir ! Wha's that?" said the first 
 speaker, looking over his shoulder in the 
 direction of the whisper. " Never mind the 
 idiot," said another, as they saw the back of 
 the figure gliding onward through the press. 
 " That's Clavers' favom^ite fule."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 157 
 
 Tlie crowd liad not long to wait in tliis sus- 
 pense until Winram's trumpeter sounded the 
 attention call, and the Major himself, mount- 
 ing his charger, read aloud a proclamation 
 of the Royal Commission that Sir Andrew 
 Agnew, Garthland, and the other gentle- 
 men already named, had that day taken 
 the Test ; that the whole gentry and heri- 
 tors within the shire were therefore and 
 thereby declared to have taken the Test, 
 with the exception of two or three ; and 
 that all the commons in the shire who had 
 not taken the Test were already prisoners, 
 or would very soon be. After another 
 flourish from the trumpeter, Winram 
 handed the paper to the town-drummer, 
 and told him to go and proclaim it at 
 the Cross, according to use and wont, 
 and as in these cases observed and 
 provided, "Whilk means, Jock," added 
 the Major, as he stooped down from the
 
 158 THE MAETYR OF GLENCfiEE. 
 
 saddle, " as lang as there's onybody to 
 listen." 
 
 Immediately a courier rode up from tlie 
 Sheriff's stables, with an escort of four 
 dragoons, and, receiving a despatch, gal- 
 loped off through the Vennel, on the road 
 to Edinburgh, with the same news.^ 
 
 While there was much scurry outside 
 in these circumstances, nearly one half of 
 the crowd following the town-drummer to 
 the Cross to learn " mair particulars," and 
 the other half, attracted by the courier and 
 his escort, or hovering sadly from other 
 motives round the Tolbooth — the proceed- 
 ings of the Commission had been proceed- 
 
 ^ The intelligence, as announced in the capital, may 
 have been a little different in one respect, for in look- 
 ing at the terms of the despatch as officially recorded, 
 it runs in the last clause thus: — " We further declare 
 that all the commons in the said shire who had not 
 taken the Test have now done the same, except six or 
 seven who are now prisoners."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 159 
 
 ing with much despatch, and had only 
 been interrupted a few minutes by the 
 compearance of the ex-Hereditary Sheriff 
 and his friends. 
 
 They had come, after long passive resis- 
 tance, to submit simpliciter, and without a 
 word, to the Test, to not a single sentence 
 of which their hearts responded. The 
 edict that rebels' houses were to be burned 
 down was too much for them. They 
 had seen this ferocious law ruthlessly exe- 
 cuted in the case of Sara Stewart in Pen- 
 ninghame, and in other humble cases. 
 But they had castles, baronies, and an- 
 ciently-established legal rights and posses- 
 sions; and though they could not call 
 these things now their own in reality, yet 
 their castles, for some time under military 
 occupation, could all the more easily be 
 burned down — as easily, indeed, as the 
 humblest cottage in the shire — and they
 
 160 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 
 
 wisliedj not unnaturally, to place a margin 
 between tliem and utter dispossession, and 
 not to be in the list of rebels to be pursued 
 by fire and sword to the last extremity of 
 destruction. And so they came to take 
 the Test. Old Gordon of Craichlaw would 
 not budge. " Let them come and do what 
 they like," he said in a senile but resolute 
 despair; " I know how to die." But his 
 two sons, who had long stood out, were 
 deeply affected by the sudden arrest and 
 impending doom of their aunt of Arioland. 
 They thought that by making obeisance 
 they would establish an interest with the 
 Commission in her favour, and thus they 
 joined Sir Andrew Agnew and Garthland 
 in their humiliating ride to Wigtown.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 161 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Fell tyrants strike beyond the bone, 
 And wound the soul ; bow Genius down, 
 Lay Virtue waste. 
 
 Young. 
 
 The rapidity with wliicli the Commissioners 
 disposed of the cases brought before them 
 would have been startling at any period, 
 and must be almost incomprehensible now. 
 The prisoners were brought up one by one; 
 there were no juries to be sworn, no advo- 
 cates or barristers to plead the cause of 
 the accused ; no witnesses called to testify 
 to any matter of fact; no relatives or 
 friends of the accused allowed even to 
 speak or to offer bail. The Sheriff-Clerk 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE MAETTR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 announced briefly from sheets of paper ' 
 before bim the charge against each pri- 
 soner ; the Sheriff -Depute put a few open- 
 ing questions, which were sharply reiterated 
 or extended by the Commissioners ; and 
 judgment passed swiftly on the replies, 
 which in many cases were briefer than the 
 questions. In one sitting fifty-five cases 
 were thus disposed of, though lights had 
 been burning some hours in the Court- 
 room before the proceedings were termi- 
 nated. 
 
 Some of the cases turned simply upon 
 taking the Test. When the prisoner was 
 willing to swear in common form and con- 
 tent to take the Test, with no other point 
 against him, he was tested on the spot, 
 and liberated. If any were willing to take 
 the Test, but yet had frankly admitted or 
 were known to have had converse with 
 " rebels," they were sent back to their cells,
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 163 
 
 and the diet against them transferred to 
 the '* Lords of Justiciary at Edinburgh " 
 in December. If a prisoner firmly refused 
 to take the Test, he was " committed 
 to irons," which meant an immediate 
 despatch to the inquisition-chamber in the 
 capital, loaded with every sign of obdurate 
 guilt. The most difl&cult cases were those 
 where the prisoners were accused, not of 
 mere converse only, but what was then 
 called "harbour and reset of rebels — " these 
 being the few remaining persons " out- 
 lawed "for Bothwell Bridge, field-preaching 
 or other unpardonable crime. Fourteen of 
 the fifty-five cases were for converse with 
 " Kennedy, minister in Ireland," and a 
 freeholder of land in Galloway, and seven 
 for " harbour or knowledge " of William 
 Hay of Arioland. To be a witness simply 
 of converse, harbour, or knowledge of 
 "rebels" was itself a grave offence, and 
 M 2
 
 164 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 two of the prisoners, who confessed to 
 having seen Hay about his mother's house 
 "without arms" some months bygone, 
 were only hberated on taking the Test. A 
 recent capture of prisoners under escort to 
 Edinburgh, at Enterkin, in the upper part 
 of Dumfriesshire, was also dragged into 
 the interrogatories ; and John Henderson, 
 who appears to have been a desperate cha- 
 racter of the time, for he would neither 
 admit that it was unlawful in all cases to 
 rise against the King, nor say whether it 
 was unlawful to kill a bishop or a curate, 
 or even whether the murder of Arch- 
 bishop Sharpe was a murder, frankly con- 
 fessed he was the writer of a produced 
 letter to some one whose name is now 
 undecipherable in the records, but at the 
 same time vowed he knew nothing about the 
 Enterkin afeir, or whether the prisoners 
 had been rescued or not. " I wad be very
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 165 
 
 glad," lie added, in a blunt but comical 
 spirit, " if any wad noo rescue me." Jolm, 
 of course, was " committed to the irons," 
 thougli that honest witticism of his de- 
 served a better fate, the more especially 
 since the Commissioners themselves could 
 not refuse it the only smile that had been 
 seen on their faces during the assize. 
 
 The old Lady of Arioland had been 
 brought up early in the day, and had been 
 allowed by the head-jailer to go into his 
 wife's apartment and give some attention 
 to her toilet. She was there in the domes- 
 tic attire in which she had been dragged 
 to prison. She changed nothing, for she 
 had nothing to change. But she laid 
 aside the heavy mantle and hood of native 
 fur which had been thrown about her, and 
 she dressed her hair, now almost white, 
 more from years of sorrow than from years 
 of age ; for her keen black eyes, marked
 
 1 66 THE MARTYE OF GLE^X'REE. 
 
 eyebrows of dark colour, and browned but 
 unwrinkled brow and cheeks, gave assurance 
 of much remaining life and vigour. Round 
 the waist of her gown of serge, tightly fitting, 
 and buttoned only at the neck and shoul- 
 ders, was the embroidered girdle on which 
 she used to hang her keys, on one side, and 
 the pouch in which she carried all her odds- 
 and-ends on the other. But she unbut- 
 toned the neck of her gown, and, folding 
 it over, displayed the white lace and mus- 
 lin that lay over her bosom ; and making 
 a coiffure of a black veil over her white 
 hair, in this guise passed to the judgment- 
 seat. 
 
 The Sheriff-Clerk did not look at his 
 sheets of paper, and only said, " Mrs. Hay 
 of Arioland — harbour and reset." The 
 Sheriff-Depute said nothing. Queen sberry 
 himself took the examination in hand. 
 
 "You have not subscribed the Test^ I
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCREE. 167 
 
 believe, my good lady ? " said the Lord 
 Treasurer, more as an introduction of his 
 interrogatory than as a question. 
 
 " No, nor ever shall," was the brief but 
 proud answer of the Dame. 
 
 " Then are we to suppose that you have 
 renounced at once allegiance to the King 
 and obedience to the laws ? " 
 
 " I make a distinction of the King and the 
 laws," replied the prisoner. '' My loyalty 
 stands on a stronger foundation than mum- 
 bling oaths and inveigling tests, coming 
 atween a mother and her children in the 
 plainest dictates o' nature, and atween the 
 conscience and the Maker. Look the annals 
 o' your hoose and mine, my Lord Queens- 
 berry, and tell me on what side there has 
 been maist loyalty." 
 
 " It is not our business, my Lady Hay," 
 said Queensberry, somewhat nettled, " to 
 hear speeches, still less to submit ourselves
 
 168 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 to a catechism. We liave only to ask you 
 a few questions, to wliicli we expect civil 
 answers." 
 
 The lady bowed in assent, but added, 
 " Will ye grace me, my Lords, wi' a chair ?" 
 — a privilege which was granted her. 
 
 A lengthened interrogatory then followed, 
 to all the leading points of which she made 
 frank confessions. She had received and 
 entertained her son William Hay ; and she 
 had had Divine worship and preachings in 
 her house. But to all minor and drawing 
 questions, as to times, &c. — when and how 
 often she had received her son, when she 
 had seen him last, where he had gone to, 
 where he might be now, and the like — she 
 refused to answer, as questions, she main- 
 tained, they had no right to ask. And 
 when pressed whether she would do the 
 like in future as in the past, she rose from 
 her chair, and exclaimed passionately, —
 
 THE MAETTR OF GLENCEEE. 169 
 
 " Wliy not ? Am I to be turned into a 
 beagle and bloodhunter of my ain son, 
 whate'er liis faults ? Show me where I 
 have oflfended against any neighbour or the 
 public peace, and then sentence me as you 
 please." 
 
 The Commissioners, not unagitated by 
 this firm old lady of the soil, looked at 
 each other, and consulted for a few minutes, 
 the result whereof was that Queensberry 
 ordered the prisoner to be removed to the 
 cells in the meanwhile. 
 
 It was deemed prudent not to pass sen- 
 tence on Mrs. Hay until the other " female 
 panels " under a similar charge had been 
 brought up. 
 
 The lights were burning dimly in the 
 Court-room in the long hours of night. 
 The crowd in the street had rapidly 
 thinned and passed away after the submis- 
 sion of Sir Andrew Agnew and Garthland,
 
 170 THE MARTYE OF GLEXCEEE. 
 
 and tlie repeated proclamations of the 
 town-drummer at the Cross. Only a small 
 band of anxious stragglers, waiting for the 
 last tidings of doom on friends or relatives, 
 now hovered round the Tolbooth, which 
 was still guarded by a circle of dragoons, 
 some of whom held flambeaus that threw 
 fitful glares of light over the darkness. 
 The Court-room itself was almost deserted, 
 save by the officers of justice and a few 
 who, having the privilege of entrj^, jDassed 
 out and in at intervals, when Margaret 
 Gordon, '' good-wife of Arioland elder," 
 Margaret Milligan, and Margaret M'Lurg, 
 spouses to "• rebels," whom they had har- 
 boured, were brought up — the last act of 
 the Court — and sentenced to hanishment 
 to the plantations. Sara Stewart, the 
 fourth lady under a ' like charge, being 
 herself a decided conformist, and content 
 to take* baptism from Mr. Cahoun, curate
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 171 
 
 of Penningliame, aud to "hold tlie cliylde 
 up herself," had during the day been 
 "inacted" — let out on bail for due per- 
 formance — her house having been already 
 burned over her head. 
 
 The following day was spent by the 
 Commissioners in signing the sentences 
 passed upon the various prisoners, and 
 revising and subscribing " instructions " to 
 heritors, ministers, and the Sheriff and his 
 deputes as to the execution of the new 
 rigours of law, including a searching in- 
 quest after all ladies who had left their 
 houses since the last Act of Indemnity, 
 taking bonds from heritors to produce their 
 wives before the Lords of Privy Council on 
 ten days' notice, and stringent commands 
 to the Sheriff-Depute and his colleagues to 
 see the houses of all rebels pulled down. 
 Ladies who had been driven from their 
 homes within the last two or three years
 
 172 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 were now to be brought back, with the 
 doom of the Lady of Arioland over them if 
 they should refuse. The women of Gallo- 
 way were the terror of the Commissioners, 
 now when the barons and most of the 
 principal male inhabitants had been 
 "tested;" and against the women they 
 did not hesitate to wage cruel and unspar- 
 ing, though ludicrous and unmanly, war. 
 
 Queensberry and Drumlanrig, after pay- 
 ing a visit to the Earl of Galloway at Clary, 
 returned to Edinburgh; and Claverhouse 
 remained to carry out the campaign.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. I 73 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 With a heart of furious fancies, 
 Whereof I am commander ; 
 With a burning spear, 
 And a horse of air. 
 To the wilderness I wander ; 
 With a night of ghosts and shadows, 
 I summon'd am to Tourney ; 
 Ten leagues beyond 
 The wide world's end ; 
 Methinks it is no journey ! 
 
 Tom-a- Bedlam Song. 
 
 Soon after the reveille had beat next morn- 
 ing, a troojD of dragoons was mustered 
 before the residence of the Sheriff-Principal, 
 and the clarion notes of the trumpeter, 
 when the roll had been called, roused tlie 
 echoes of the burg. The troopers were
 
 174 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 many of them veteran soldiers who had 
 served in the wars abroad, and all of them, 
 had been drafted either from the Royal 
 Scots Dragoons, which from a troop or two 
 had swelled during the persecutions into a 
 large regiment under the command of Sir 
 Thomas Dalziel, or from a body of irregular 
 cavalry known as ''Claverhouse's Troopers." 
 But they were mounted on horses levied in 
 Galloway, mostly of dun colour, small in 
 size, but full of mettle, and safe to ride 
 upon in a wild and broken country, a lively 
 sense of all the difficulties of which, 
 whether on hill, moor, or moss, had become 
 an instinct of this native breed. The men 
 wore iron helmets, ribbed over the crown, 
 and fastened round the throat by a chain 
 of steel; small cuirasses, or more hke 
 shirt-collars folded down, protected part of 
 the shoulders and the breast ; and buff 
 riding coats, with leather gaiters up to the
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 175 
 
 knee, of nearly the same colour. For arms 
 they had carbines slung behind their backs, 
 a match or cartridge box and powder-horn 
 on the right side of their belts, sabres on 
 the left, and pistols in the holsters of their 
 saddles. A small corps, among whom the 
 farrier was the leading figure, carried axes 
 at their saddle-bows, good for hewing down 
 a rebellious postern or barricaded outer or 
 inner door. Others carried spears, which, 
 as these soldiers sometimes fought on foot, 
 were useful in the left hand when fighting 
 with their swords, both as an additional 
 defence and as javelins that could be thrown 
 at a flying conventicler, swifter of foot than 
 they in their riding gear. 
 
 A dark-brown charger, two hands higher 
 than most of the other horses, was led by 
 a groom in front of the troop ; and the thin 
 line of burgesses, in which stood the Bailie, 
 who had risen thus early, notwithstanding
 
 176 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 the excitement of tlie previous day, to 
 witness this new spectacle, admired the 
 trappings of the war charger, and wondered 
 what the great bearskin that covered the 
 saddle, and was neatly folded up before and 
 behind, could be. 
 
 At length the front door of the residence 
 opened, and Claverhouse appeared on the 
 balustrade of a flight of stairs down to the 
 street, in the dress of a colonel, though for 
 that matter, since military attire was not 
 very nicely regulated at the period, it would 
 have been equally suitable for a Field- 
 Marshal, or the god Mars himself. It was 
 antique in its model, with just so much 
 foppery of the time as could be becomingly 
 engrafted upon it. His steel casque, and 
 steel cuirass, the latter fitting closely over 
 his back, breast, and arms, were of the 
 best workmanship which the armouries of 
 the Continent could produce, and in their
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 177 
 
 burnished lustre would have been almost 
 too bright under the rays of the sun for 
 mortal eyes. But over the one drooped a 
 white plume, and over the other was" a 
 surtout of stout crimson cloth, with an 
 edging of lace ruffle round the collar, cover- 
 ing the breast without wholly concealing 
 the steel cuirass, and more lace ruffle along 
 the borders and round the ends of the 
 slashed sleeves. Over his fingers and wrists 
 were thoroughly horsemanlike gloves of soft 
 bufi" leather. His doeskin breeches would 
 have been too white even for a fox-hunt, 
 save for a pair of black-leather boots, the 
 upper flaps of which covered full one-half 
 his thighs. He was well armed, not only 
 in helmet and coat of mail, and in his 
 holster-pistols : a keen-edged and brightly 
 hilted sabre hung at his side, curved, 
 though not so much curved as a Turkish 
 scimitar, and under his crimson surtout on 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 a belt over the fringe of tlie cuirass hung 
 two small silver-mounted pistols on each 
 side, sure to kill at short distance. His 
 pale but handsome face was rendered still 
 more pale by the dark locks which fell in 
 curls from under his helmet, and the dark 
 and delicately trimmed moustache. One 
 would have said he was a military exquisite 
 got up in the finest fashion. But there 
 was a firmness of expression under the 
 moustache, a sniffing defiance in the shghtly 
 tilted tip of the nose, and an audacity of 
 stare in the fierce and dancing eye of 
 Clavers, which could not be reconciled with 
 the idea of a mere cavalier dandy. 
 
 The troop, drawing their swords, pre- 
 sented arms as he moved hghtly down the 
 stair, and put his foot in the stirrup, when 
 his attention, as he looked towards the 
 head of his horse, was arrested by a wild 
 and ragged figure who had been hovering
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 179 
 
 about the groom, and was now fondling the 
 head and neck of the charger. 
 
 " How now, Peerie ! " said Claverhouse, 
 and a colloquy ensued — his foot still in the 
 stirrup and his hand on the saddle — so 
 brief that it may be postponed a moment 
 while the reader looks at the person so 
 familiarly addressed. 
 
 Allan Peerie was a tall, thin, but active 
 and long-striding person, of youthful but 
 weather-beaten features, with a high conical 
 black hat of the period without the brim, 
 of which it had doubtless at one time been 
 possessed. A fringe of straight black hair 
 lay over his brow, and in more tangled 
 order about his ears. But he had neither 
 beard, whiskers, nor moustache, and a 
 peculiar drop of the lower jaw indicated 
 one of those idiots or " innocents," speci- 
 mens of whom were found in nearly every 
 part of the country, and who were per- 
 N 2
 
 180 THE MARTTE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 mitted to roam about from one village or 
 farm-house to another out of a tender 
 regard in wMcli there was a touch both of 
 human pity and of sacred awe. The 
 rest of Allan's garb and appearance cor- 
 responded with this character. He wore 
 the remains of a long-tailed coat, held 
 together by a twist of straw round the 
 breast; and his pantaloons, though of 
 equally fashionable origin, hung in tatters 
 from the knee over his bare legs. His feet 
 were also bare, but the soles were covered 
 with sandals of cow-hide, tied by light 
 straps of same material over the toes and 
 instep and round the ankle. These sandals 
 did not wear long, but they could be easily 
 replaced. 
 
 "What hast become of thee, fool?" 
 added Claverhouse. "I thought ye had 
 fled the country, or turned Covenanter." 
 Allan, giving a tremor to his lower jaw,
 
 THE MAETYJB OF GLENCREE. 181 
 
 which seemed to pass over his body, 
 lowered himself toward the ground after 
 the manner of an awkward woman's curt- 
 sey, or hke the crouch of a spaniel trembling 
 under the lash, which had the effect of 
 conveying to Claverhouse, with due obei- 
 sance, a sense of horror at the idea of 
 fleeing the country or being a Covenanter. 
 
 " Let me rin wi' ye, my Lord," said the 
 " innocent," in an imploring accent. '' I'll 
 be your gillie, and try a' the fords and the 
 flows afore the horses." 
 
 ''No, poor Allan," said Claverhouse. 
 " No safe-conduct to-day. We have long 
 and hard rides. Too much for you." 
 
 To which objection Allan only replied by 
 springs and motions of his body in imita- 
 tion of a horse in gallop. 
 
 " Well, fall to the rear, you scarecrow," 
 said Claverhouse, laughing, and springing 
 into the saddle.
 
 182 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 "It's God feeds the craws tliat neither 
 harrow nor saws," said Allan, as he phrased 
 round the stirrup, and stroked the bearskin ; 
 " and it's the michty Graeme that protec's 
 puir Allan Peerie awas." And so saying 
 slouched to the rear of the troop, where he 
 became the centre of a crowd of boys, 
 while Clavers was riding along the ranks. 
 
 " Come a' to Jock Fool's house, and ye'll 
 get bread and cheese," said Peerie to the 
 urchins, and taking a cock's feather from 
 his breast, stuck it in his hat, and had just 
 tightened the thongs of his cowhide soles, 
 when the order was given to advance.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The fool doth thiuk he is wise, but the wise man 
 knows himself to be a fool. 
 
 Touchstone. 
 
 The dragoons moved slowly through the 
 Street and the environs of the burgh, four 
 abreast; Clavers taking his place in the 
 rear, with two orderlies and trumpeter be- 
 hind, and, last of all, Allan Peerie, bearing 
 an air of real or affected pride and triumph. 
 But on getting into the country, and pass- 
 ing through the hamlet of Kirkinner, the 
 column wheeled, and, lengthening out in 
 twos, rode at a rapid pace along the course ot 
 theBladnoch. When the horses trotted, Allan
 
 184 THE MARTYR OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 trotted ; when they cantered, lie cantered ; 
 and when at length, on a rising upland of 
 hard and open moor, they broke into a gal- 
 lop, he bounded alongside of Clavers, imi- 
 tated for a few seconds the long but re- 
 strained strides of his charger, then rushed 
 forward till he was near the head of the 
 troop, when he appeared to become much 
 excited, clapping his hands, and crying 
 '' Weel dune the wee anes ! Hooray for the 
 wee anes !" by which exercise he soon lost 
 ground, and was immediately alongside of 
 Claverhouse again. 
 
 "What's wrong wi' ye devil? What 
 wert thou saying to the horses, fool? " de- 
 manded Claverhouse. 
 
 '' Please ye're Grace," said Allan, still 
 keeping the pace, " I canna baith spin and 
 rin," looking up piteously, and now indeed 
 nearly out of wind. 
 
 Claverhouse made a motion to the trum-
 
 THE MART YE OF GLENCEEE. 185 
 
 peter, wlio sounded " Halt," and an orderly 
 rode forward to ttie captain witli instruc- 
 tions to " bring the horses to a walking 
 pace in close order, and let them draw 
 bridle a little before crossing the ford." 
 
 " How dare ye raise your voice above the 
 troop, Allan ? What were ye saying ? " 
 again asked Claverhouse, in an imperious 
 voice, but sitting as easily on the saddle as 
 if he were preparing for some amusing tefe- 
 d-tete, 
 
 " Eh ? I was saying naething," replied 
 Allan, with a vacancy and bewilderment of 
 countenance, in w^hich not the slightest 
 trace of rational understanding could be de- 
 tected. " I was only oot o' mysel', but it 
 was sae funny to see the wee horses beating 
 the big anes." 
 
 " Where do ye come from, Allan ? Ye' re 
 not a Galloway. JSTo one here knows any- 
 thing about you — where you were born, or
 
 186 THE MARTYR OE GLENCREE. 
 
 who were jour parents. Where do you 
 come from ?" 
 
 " Frae the Heilans," quickly replied the 
 fool, looking wistfully northward, his eyes 
 resting vaguely on the tops of the nearest 
 mountains. " My mither," he began to say, 
 " was a M'Anulty — " 
 
 " Never mind who your mother was," 
 interrupted Claverhouse. " Who was 
 your father, or what your father's 
 name?" 
 
 '' I downa ken," said Allan in quite a 
 pensive mood. " I only min' leeving wi' 
 my mither far amang the hills in a wee 
 housie, whar' I had aye a warm bed, and 
 parritch in the mornin' and parritch at 
 nicht, and aften kail at mid-day. And I 
 left her, or was forced or bedeeled awa frae 
 her. I cam' here wi' the Host. But the 
 Host gaed hame, and left me here alane — 
 a' alane," added Allan, with a rather extra
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 187 
 
 droop of the lower jaw as he dwelt most 
 melancholilj on the situation. 
 
 '' Poor unfortunate idiot," said Claver- 
 house to himself as he turned in his saddle, 
 and looked to the front. 
 
 The troops were again in sight of the 
 Bladnoch, and were moving slowly and in 
 regular form along a winding descent to the 
 bed of the stream. 
 
 Allan, in reconnoitring the stream — 
 though the crossing of the Bladnoch was 
 no great diflficulty for mounted men, yet not 
 to lose the bond fide character he had estab- 
 lished — begged of Claverhouse to be allowed 
 to show the ford. 
 
 " Do, Allan," said Clavers; " run forward 
 and let us see what your mother wit can 
 accomplish." 
 
 So away bounded Peerie ahead of the 
 dragoons, and after a detour, in which he 
 was lost to view behind some crags, was
 
 188 THE MARTYR OP GLENCREE. 
 
 seen in a few minutes striding across an 
 apper reacli of the stream with water little 
 above his ankles. On reaching the bank, 
 he waved his arm and beckoned to the troops 
 with much ardour. 
 
 "We had better follow the fool," re- 
 marked Claverhouse to the captain of the 
 troop ; '' he is a creature of strong instinct, 
 and has chosen the ford that is easiest for 
 himself. It will be all the more easy to us." 
 
 The passage of the stream was soon ac- 
 complished by the cavalry, and after a short 
 ride they halted at the manse and kirk of 
 Owan, where a gathering, chiefly of the 
 poorer classes, had already assembled. 
 
 The heritors and commonalty of Kirk 
 Owan had been summoned by a proclama- 
 tion in the Church on the previous Sunday, 
 and other ofiB.cial notices been sent through 
 the parish to meet the Sheriff- Principal on 
 this day at ten o'clock, to bring all their
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 189 
 
 arms with them, and to be ready to swear 
 that the arms produced were all they pos- 
 sessed. A miscellaneous crowd had obeyed 
 the summons, but they had no arms. 
 
 Clavers, with much chagrin as he sur- 
 veyed his lieges, ordered them to be swept 
 into the Church, where he delivered to them 
 a brief but sententious and fiery harangue. 
 He was more astonished, he said, when he 
 thought of those who were absent than of 
 those who were present. But the vengeance 
 of a righteous Government, anxious to pro- 
 tect alike rich and poor, would fall upon the 
 absentees. He warned those present that 
 if they should bo found armed or in posses- 
 sion of arms, after that date, the offence 
 would not be a mere violation of statute or 
 proclamation, but a high State crime, to be 
 punished ipso facto by high penalties — even 
 instant death. " I need not ask," said the 
 Sheriff-Principal, " whether you have sub-
 
 190 THE MAETYK OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 scribed to Church and King. But for that 
 you would doubtless have been absent to- 
 day like some others. The curate beside 
 me has the Test lists. Those who have 
 already taken the Test may depart freely 
 and securely to their homes, and those who 
 may not yet have had the opportunity will 
 have it now. They must declare before 
 they leave these walls, and have their names 
 recorded finally on one side or the other." 
 
 Clavers, with this parting instruction to 
 the curate and a detachment of the dra- 
 goons whom he detailed to see it carried 
 out, was again on horseback, and gave the 
 route to the old tower of Craichlaw, not far 
 distant. What angered him most was that 
 the two sons of Craichlaw, who had come 
 into Wigtown of their own accord two days 
 before with Sir Andrew Agnew and Garth- 
 land, and there taken the Test, should not 
 have been at the meeting-place to receive
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 191 
 
 him, and to aid in the general disarmament. 
 The zeal o£ Olaverhouse was soon felt by 
 his steed. He rode out of the small ham- 
 let at the head of his troop, and was the 
 first to arrive at the gate of Craichlaw, 
 which was closed. But as the horsemen 
 gathered round their leader the gate was 
 opened, and there stood the two tested sons 
 of Craichlaw, holding their horses, bridled, 
 saddled, pistols in the holsters, and carbines 
 slung to the saddles. " These are our arms," 
 they said; "we deliver them up;" and, 
 presenting the hilts of their swords, " these 
 are our last defences," they added — " we 
 surrender them too." 
 
 Olaverhouse was both chafed and abashed 
 by this procedure. He would much rather 
 at the moment have been resisted. It was 
 only in the feverish passion working in him 
 the last half hour, with all the conscious- 
 ness of superior and domineering force at
 
 192 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 liis back, that He had any courage, or, more 
 properly speaking, recklessness of courage. 
 He could have shot down these two young 
 men with much pleasure had they offered 
 any butt to his headlong fury. But, in such 
 submission as they offered, his passion fell 
 down through itself, and he did not know 
 well how to act. Had it occurred to him 
 at the instant to ask whether they would 
 go on their knees, and abjure Bible-reading, 
 praying, conventicling, and God Himself, so 
 far as known to them, as he asked of John 
 Brown, the Lesmahagow carrier, a few 
 months afterwards, he would have achieved 
 another of his great triumphs. But he was 
 in presence just now of an Old Tower and 
 a certain amount of baronial consideration ; 
 and this line of interrogatory did not occur 
 to him. 
 
 " I don't much care," he said, after some 
 errimace of salutation, '^ for these surrenders.
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 193 
 
 I should not have asked either your horses 
 or your arms. These are trifles not required 
 of gentlemen. But why not have come to 
 the assembly of the parish, and aided 
 the authorities in establishing proper 
 order?" 
 
 " Do your own work, Sheriff," said the 
 elder son, with provoking gravity. " You 
 have left us nothing to do." 
 
 "But your father?" said Claverhouse. 
 " How is your father ? " 
 
 " Our father," replied the younger son, 
 with more passion, " is how it scarcely be- 
 comes his sons to describe. He is old, and 
 frail — sunk in grief one hour, and delirious 
 in rage the next — and it's you, and the 
 lords from Edinburgh we have to thank. Ye 
 have doomed our Aunt o' Arioland to the 
 plantations, ye — . Go away and trouble 
 us no more," said the youth as he averted 
 his face in sorrow as well as anger. 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 '' That is only a part of tlie damnation, 
 my young friend, that is likely to fall upon 
 you," cried Clavers, the heroic passion 
 rising again to fever height. '' Take the 
 horses and the arms," he said to an officer, 
 " and let us advance." 
 
 The gallant Sheriff-Principal gave the 
 route to Mertoun, which lay along a well- 
 beaten track. It was part of the common 
 road of Scotch and Irish travellers, and of 
 such traffic as there was at that period 
 between the two countries. But the pass- 
 port system had been enforced so rigorously 
 of late that it was solitary as a moorland 
 footpath. The gate of Mertoun was not 
 only open, but the two small turrets by 
 which it was flanked were decked with 
 flowers and evergreens, and small white 
 flags, as on a gala day. Sir Godfrey 
 M'Culloch had made his peace so well with 
 the Government that he and Sir William
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 195 
 
 Maxwell of Monreith had been deemed by 
 the Eoyal Commission at Wigtown the 
 most suitable gentlemen in the shire, though 
 both were surrounded with much odour of 
 " covenantry," to be charged with the duty 
 of tendering the test to the commons, the 
 one in the Presbytery of Stranraer, the 
 other in the Presbytery of Wigtown, Sir 
 Godfrey, expecting this visit, was riding 
 towards the gate, when the troop wheeled 
 into the avenue, and passed slowly over a 
 raised causeway to the island on a lake, 
 where Mertoun Tower, its offices and 
 garden, and defences, stood as they had 
 been designed hundreds of years before. 
 
 Allan Peerie, who had been following 
 Claverhouse steadily through these pro- 
 ceedings, and had sat on the pulpit-stairs 
 of Kirk Owan during the harangue as 
 grave a listener as any on that occasion, 
 passed into the avenue in the train of the 
 2
 
 196 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 others. But he took an immediate oppor- 
 tunity of ghding behind some bushes, and 
 stretching himself on the grass. 
 
 There was luncheon in the dining-room 
 of Mertoun for Clavers and the officers, 
 and bread and cheese and ale for the 
 troopers, and feeds for the horses, in the 
 courtyard. A full hour was spent in 
 this hospitable mansion, with little or no 
 talk of Church or State even between the 
 Laird and Claverhouse. 
 
 When the trumpet again sounded, and 
 the troop returned at walking pace along 
 the avenue, Clavers' horse was led to the 
 gate, and Mertoun and the Sheriff- Principal 
 presently followed slowly on foot, and had 
 much conversation as they sauntered a 
 little, some snatches of which reached the 
 quick ear of Allan. 
 
 " We quarter to-night in Machermore 
 Castle and Monygove."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 197 
 
 *'.... To-morrow . . . Glenken . . . 
 must see Kenmure . . . cannot hold 
 out." 
 
 To some remarks of Sir Godfrey at this 
 point Claverhouse said, as nearly as could 
 be heard by Allan, who was wriggling on 
 the grass and stretching his ear serpentlike 
 behind the bushes : — 
 
 " . . . . Spoiled in his youth by that 
 over-pious poetical fanatic, Rutherford of 
 Anwoth .... cannot help himself now 
 
 Earlston ours .... caught like 
 
 a tod in his last fastness .... Pshaw ! " 
 added CI avers, with a stamp of his spurred 
 heel on the ground, and standing still and 
 proud in the face of Sir Godfrey, *' his 
 submission is certain, and the whole country 
 on both sides of the Cree pacified. . . . 
 No more then," as the two again walked 
 on, " but Hay and his outlaws in the upper 
 glens . . . fools . . . stricken and wing-
 
 198 THE MAHTYR OF GLENCBEE. 
 
 less eagles, Sir Godfrey, perishing in their 
 eyries on the mountain tops. ..." 
 
 Claverhouse had just mounted when 
 Allan was at his side. 
 
 " Poor Allan," said Clavers, smiling. 
 *' Have ye ate and drank, my pretty fool ? " 
 
 Allan shook his head in a very negative 
 and mournful fashion. 
 
 " How, sirrah ! how is this ? " 
 
 " Ye didna take me wi' you, sae ye didna. 
 I'm offended," replied Allan, drawing him- 
 self up in a gesture of dignity. 
 
 '' Well, d — n me, that was a mistake," 
 said Clavers ; " but there's a noble to you, 
 Allan — take a good supper." 
 
 It was only a few miles farther to Machre- 
 more Castle, when as the horses were trotted 
 along easily, and Allan with them in what 
 seemed one of his most comfortable moods, 
 Claverhouse, seeing four or five fellows 
 scampering over a ridge on the left with
 
 THE MARTYfl OF GLENCREE. 199 
 
 something like muskets in their hands, 
 called a halt. " Did ye not see them ? " he 
 asked of the captain. " Yes, I saw them," 
 said the officer ; " they may be rebels, 
 though I am not sure." " Send a party 
 after them, and follow them up to their 
 last lair. Shoot them down if they have 
 arms in their hands, or bring them pri- 
 soners. Your men will find their way easily 
 to the Castle." 
 
 This done, the main body again moved 
 forward over some distance, when Allan 
 suddenly bolted on the right, and, clearing 
 the ditch at a bound, was taking long 
 strides over a moss on that side. 
 
 " Hollo, fool ! Stop you thief ! " cried 
 Clavers; and Allan not seeming to hear, 
 the Sheriff- Principal fired one of his pistols 
 into the air after the fugitive. 
 
 On the report of which the Fool jumped 
 round with his face to the troops, and stood
 
 200 THE MAETTE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 firm and motionless, his hands on tlie side 
 of his thighs, in the attitude of a soldier 
 in " attention." 
 
 " Where are you going, Peerie ? " shouted 
 Claverhouse at the top of his voice. 
 
 " I'm gaun to Barnkirk to see if they 
 can gie me a bowl o' broth," shouted back 
 Allan equally loud, with a motion of his 
 hand over his stomach as if to signify that 
 it was aching with huger. 
 
 Claverhouse laughed so heartily at the 
 Fool that a laugh broke along the troop as 
 they rode rapidly onward; and the last 
 they saw and heard of Allan that day was 
 him standing clapping his hands, and 
 shouting " Weel dune the wee anes ! The 
 wee anes can beat the big anes ! "
 
 THE MAETTE OF Gr,ENCEEE. 201 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, 
 And all the gay fopp'ry of Summer is flown ; 
 Apart let me wander, apart let me muse, 
 How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues. 
 
 Blacklock. 
 
 Affaies had been proceeding quietly tliat 
 morning in the farm-house of Glenvernoch. 
 Mistress Martha, indeed, appeared happier 
 than she had been for some days. Her 
 spirit, not easily daunted at the worst, 
 seemed to play under a degree or two less 
 of- pressure; and the bloom of health on 
 her cheeks, the mirth sparkling in her eyes 
 and smiling round the prettiest of lips, 
 gave evidence of a spring of gladness flow-
 
 202 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 iug from the heart outwards. While Mar- 
 garet, though of a more serious and fore- 
 boding disposition, entered with genial 
 sympathy into the cheerfulness of the 
 young lady. 
 
 The farmer had not failed the two 
 previous evenings in the family circle to 
 recount the new turns given to the law, as 
 they had been explained to him by Captain 
 Strachan ; and had even hinted to Martha, 
 though with some reserve, the injunction 
 now bearing specially on ladies who had 
 been forbidden their own castles, and were 
 living out of the shire or hovering some- 
 where near in concealment. Yet he could 
 not find in his heart to tell Martha that she 
 was his prisoner, and that he would be 
 under the disagreeable necessity of con- 
 ducting her, under a military escort, even 
 though it should only be into the hands of 
 her own father. Glenvernoch had the
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 203 
 
 greatest contempt inwardly for all this 
 "lawing" and military domination. "A 
 cursed bridling and dragooning and champ- 
 ing o' tlie bits," lie thought, " gude neither 
 for the rider nor the steed — wearing oot 
 people's souls to nae end, wasting their 
 substance, stopping a' wark, traffic, and 
 freenship, and bringing swift ruin on baith 
 rulers and ruled." As a man of the world 
 he would have sent the whole system adrift 
 were it only to begin de novo like Adam and 
 Eve in the garden of Eden ; and as a man 
 of the world merely, he felt, at the same 
 time, that troubles, all too common in the 
 country round bim, were gathering daily 
 on his own homestead; that a storm was 
 blowing which he could in no wise control, 
 and which must be borne and fended as 
 long as possible. 
 
 " I dae pity that young lady in my heart," 
 said Glenvernoch to his wife, when they had
 
 204 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 retired to their sleeping-room ; " I'ra think- 
 ing slie should gang hame to Baldoon/' 
 
 " Dinnafash yoursel', Gilbert, aboot that; 
 it doesna concern us particularly/' rephed 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 '' But it does concern us," said the far- 
 mer, '' and may harry us oot o' hoose and 
 haud, and tak' baith you and me to jail 
 like a pair o' auld rebels to be hung up to 
 the craws or deported to the plantations — 
 pretty plantations ! — mere roasting ovens, 
 whare ye are either burned to a cinder wi' 
 the sun, or lashed to death wi' the whups 
 o' overseers. It's no a mere Shirra or 
 bailie o' Wigtown we hae to do wi'. I 
 wadna care a crack o' my thoom for sic 
 gentry as that. But it's thae military 
 captains, Clavers and a' his gang, and the 
 haill poo'r o' the Government that are 
 doon on us noo." 
 
 " Weel, it's vera sad, Glen," said the
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 205 
 
 quiet but bright and tender-ejed dame. 
 " But I'm sure, for my ain pairt," she 
 added, '' I wud suner gang to jail than 
 carry ony ane there jist noo. Ye canna be 
 meanin' to mak' lady Martha prisoner, or 
 pit your hand to onything ye dinna see the 
 end o' ? " 
 
 " Me a jail- catcher, wi' dragoons at my 
 tail ! " said Glenvernoch — '' I'll see them 
 at the devil first ! I was only thinking 
 what was best for the young lady hersel', 
 and maist to the wull o' Sir David, under 
 the law as noo laid down, tho' what it may 
 be aught days hence nae mortal man may 
 see." 
 
 " Let Martha choose, Glen," said the 
 goodwife. " She's nae gawkie, and I'm 
 much mis-ta'en gif there's a lassie, gentle 
 or semple, in the country mair devoted to 
 her faither, or mair like to follow her 
 faither's wishes, than lady Martha."
 
 206 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Glenvernocli had no more to say, and 
 laid himself down among the blankets, 
 with only a groan or two. There was no 
 further curtain lecture that night. But it 
 would be putting a false interpretation on 
 both to pretend that the hearts of this 
 couple were not alike heavy with anxiety 
 as they composed themselves to sleep. And 
 if, at the breakfast table next morning, 
 Martha was fresh as a summer daisy, 
 thinking and expressing only pleasant 
 thoughts, which came from her in a silvery 
 voice, that was a joy in itself — and the 
 younger branches of the family caught the 
 flavour of her spirit, and the dame was so 
 glad, though for nothing else, to see the 
 young folk so blythe — till Glenvernoch 
 himself was sensibly relieved of a part of 
 the gloom of the previous night — what 
 wonder should it be? When have the 
 young taken the cares of the world so
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 207 
 
 heavily as the old, or when have the old 
 not felt a balmy reaction in their own spirit 
 on seeing the young more hopeful, brave, 
 and happy than themselves ? 
 
 There was another reason, though 
 known only to two — nay, let us say at 
 once three, for Margaret had no secrets 
 from her mother. 
 
 This was the day on which Martha was 
 to meet her lover, William Hay, at the 
 try sting place up the inner glen. If the 
 fates should be propitious ? And Martha 
 as she looked out of the casement, over the 
 meadow, towards the distant crags and 
 the wide-spreading moorland, saw no rea- 
 son to doubt that the day was favourable 
 — all was so quiet and peaceful, under a 
 calm autumnal sky. No fierceness even in 
 the rays of the sun, and no darkling clouds 
 in any part of the horizon. None even of 
 that grey-leaden colour and appearance as
 
 208 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEB. 
 
 a physical stringency in the upper heavens, 
 which may result in flashes of lightning 
 and peals of thunder, with heavy showers 
 of rain before the day is over. A clear, 
 bright morning, in which the sun had firm 
 possession of the sky, and yet the solar 
 brightness was met by such a mossy 
 underground of russet, freckled only by 
 green spots here and there, that it seemed 
 to fall only on the whitened tops of hoary 
 crags, its reflections whence melted mildly 
 in a freely moving air. 
 
 " Such a lovely day ! We'll have a long 
 walk to-day, Margaret," said Martha, with 
 much elation, as she turned from the case- 
 ment. " We will trip over the mown 
 sward, my dear, and gather meadow scents. 
 See the trouts louping in the burn, stand 
 on the crags, and pu' some sprigs o' bonny 
 heather, will we no, Maggie love?" with 
 a merry laugh at the end of the question.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 209 
 
 " I should be liappy to gang wi' ye, 
 mistress Martha," said Margaret, smiling 
 at the exuberant spirit of her companion. 
 
 " I dinna ken ony reason no," she added, 
 looking to her father. 
 
 " Hoot toot ! young women," said the 
 dame, " ye're beside yoursels. There's 
 nae hairm in ganging doon to the meadow 
 or anywhere near the toon. But to stra- 
 vaig a distance in thae times would be 
 madlike." 
 
 " I differ from ye there, gudewife," said 
 Glenvernoch. " As lang as ony dochter 
 or guest o' mine keep within the boonds o' 
 the farm — the laird, indeed, has absented 
 himsel', and thereby placed me in a kind 
 o' strait — but even in the absence or de- 
 sertion, as it may be ca'd, o' the laird, I'll 
 protect them as lang as I'm Glenvernoch, 
 ow'r every step of the grun. But my deo- 
 ficulty is anither kind. Nane wad be mair 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 glad, lady Martha, to gang wi' thee than 
 mysel'. But that's impossible, because 
 they are to be here the day to uplift the 
 cess, aboot whilk there has been a colly- 
 shang already. Sandy I canna want, and 
 as for Tammas, if he were at han', he 
 would be mair likely to lead ye astray than 
 to gie ye gude guidance. That's my only 
 deeficulty." 
 
 " Good Glenvernoch," said Martha, 
 '' you have been so kind to me ! I 
 can never forget it. But Margaret and I 
 will not need a convoy in a wee after- 
 noon ooting. I have been thinking 
 my stay maun now be short, and without 
 advice from Baldoon, I maun gae back to 
 my retreat in the hills. I'm sure I'll be 
 sorry, sorry, to leave the roof of Glenver- 
 noch." And Martha's voice lost a little of 
 its clearness, and her eyes were dewy as 
 she spoke the last sentence.
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 211 
 
 " Thou're welcome to this hoose, my 
 young lady," said the farmer, and as for 
 ganging awa', there is nae use thinking 
 aboot that until haflins we may be a' 
 dreiven' awa' thegither. But there are 
 twa things I maun say. It wudna be 
 canny, lady Martha, for thee to be seen or 
 ken'd to be aboot Glenvernoch by ony o' 
 thae sodger folk, or thae spies o' the 
 Sherra — a still waurfarr'd lot, for they're 
 in a' guises, and young women like Marget 
 and thee micht mistack them for decent 
 folk. Therefore gang nae where ye dinna 
 see a lang gate afore ye, and aye keep the 
 lum-tap o' Glenvernoch in view. My ain 
 folk can a' be weel trusted, but they're 
 thinly scattered, and sae ony strangers ye 
 may chance to see at a distance, keep awa' 
 frae them. If ye follow thae instructions, 
 and a' within Gude's daylicht, I canna see 
 muckle harm or danger." 
 p 2
 
 212 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 An approving look and smile of Mar- 
 garet beamed on her father — a look and 
 smile, which, as often as he recognized, 
 were the light of his heart ; and he rose 
 with an air of peculiar contentment as to 
 his arrangement of this business, to attend 
 to the cess and other troublous matters. 
 
 Yet he had scarcely passed out into the 
 spence, when he returned, and said : — 
 
 " There's anither word I hae tae say. 
 Ye' re no thinking o' attending ony 
 prayer meeting or conventicle ? " 
 
 " Nothing o' the kind in our minds to- 
 day, I assure you, Glenvernoch," said 
 Martha firmly, but eagerly — a little 
 alarmed at any re-opening of the farmer's 
 endless anxieties. 
 
 " And ye'll promise no to gang near 
 meetings, if sic there should be at ony o' 
 the herd's hooses ? " 
 
 " We promise," said Martha ; and ad-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 213 
 
 vancing to the farmer, and holding to him 
 her plump little white hand, added, " not 
 only promise, but I give thee my word of 
 honour that the promise will be fulfilled to 
 the letter." 
 
 *' Weel, that's a' richt, weans," said 
 Glenvernoch, taking Martha's hand. " Let 
 us keep oor prayers and preachings within 
 oor ain bosoms and hallans in the mean- 
 time, and aiblins we may yet waur this 
 bruilzie."
 
 214 THE MAETYE OP GLENCEEB. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Meet me on the warlock knowe, 
 
 Daiuty Davie, dainty Davie ; 
 There I'll spend the day wi' you, 
 
 My ain dear, dainty Davie. 
 
 Old Scotch Air. 
 
 Soon after tlie mid-day meal Martha and 
 Margaret took their mantles and hoods, 
 which, being too heavy for the warmth of 
 the day, they carried over their arms, and 
 were otherwise attired as became maidens 
 of the period on a saunter of four or five 
 miles back and forward over an upland 
 farm. They had gathered up their pelisse 
 gowns in a form which would even now be 
 deemed almost fashionable, displaying an
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 215 
 
 embroidered petticoat on the person of 
 Martha, and one of various modest colours 
 on Margaret, which, if not so rich, was 
 scarcely less pretty. Both wore walking- 
 shoes with good soles on them, or rather 
 boots, for they bore an upper fringe of 
 fawn-like brown leather, which laced neatly 
 round the ankles over white lambs' -wool 
 stockings. Martha's mantle and hood 
 were equally suitable for warm and cold 
 weather, summer and winter, for it was 
 two mantles in reality, an inner and an 
 outer. Over her hair, in the plain maiden 
 style, was a cap that was simply a flock of 
 silk, capable of being dressed or crushed 
 into any form, and depending from it was 
 a veil-like drapery covering her neck and 
 shoulders. These were the integuments 
 of the mantle. Margaret had arrived out 
 of simpler materials at much the same 
 toilette. There was nothing common in
 
 216 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the appearance of these young women. 
 They would have been marked anywhere, 
 in Piccadilly or the Eow, on foot or on 
 horseback. 
 
 With a light step, after passing out from 
 the steading at the end farthest from the 
 more public track, they glided over the 
 large stones in the bed of a stream, and 
 walking round a knoll where they were 
 lost to the following eyes of the good wife 
 of Glenvernoch, entered on a retired path 
 leading to the northern boundary of the 
 farm. 
 
 Martha, before proceeding farther, stood 
 for a few moments looking wistfully to- 
 wards the south, with thoughts no doubt 
 of Baldoon and her father. Her attention 
 was arrested by an object moving — it 
 might be a heron or wild duck skimming 
 — over the surface of one of those breadths 
 of moor which mark the ascent from the
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 217 
 
 low lands of Galloway towards tlie hills ; 
 but the outline of the object became every 
 moment more distinct. 
 
 " What figure is that flying across the 
 moor ? " she asked her companion. 
 
 Margaret, after gazing a little, answered 
 *' It is Peerie. I ken him baith by his hat 
 and his speed." 
 
 Martha gave a little clap of her hands. 
 "We must wait," she said. 
 
 " He is aiming direct for Glenvernoch," 
 remarked Margaret, after a brief pause. 
 " My faither likes to hear his crack, and 
 there are many stories aboot him that he is 
 mair than he seems, and has been distraught 
 by the troubles o' the times. But he is aye 
 sure o' his bed and some meat when he 
 comes to us, the hairmless cratur. Will we 
 gang back ? " 
 
 " He will see us," said Martha, waving 
 h ^ white kerchief.
 
 218 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 And certainly tlie figure appeared to re- 
 cognize tlie signal, for it suddenly directed 
 its course in a straight line to the point 
 where the young women stood, while at 
 the same time slackening its speed. 
 
 " It's indeed Allan Peerie," said Marga- 
 ret. " It is no other," said Martha. 
 
 As Allan approached the damsels he ap- 
 peared to be partly taking breath and partly 
 adjusting his attire, but on coming into 
 their presence, Martha having shortened the 
 distance by advancing some steps to meet 
 him, he had all the appearance of " a natu- 
 ral," in which Claverhouse and the reader 
 have already made his acquaintance. 
 
 '' Allan, Gude- speed," said Martha in a 
 cheery voice, by way of salutation or pass- 
 word, to the uncouth being who stood 
 before her. " Hay, Hay," responded 
 Allan, as he delivered to her a packet more 
 bulky than an ordinary missive ; and with
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 219 
 
 a glance to Margaret, added, " I am going 
 to Glenvernoch," he strode back round 
 the knoll in the direction of the farm 
 house. 
 
 " That puir Allan must be a trusty cra- 
 tur," said Margaret, as Martha stood look- 
 ing now after him, and now at the packet 
 with an anxiety on her countenance of 
 which it had borne no trace during the 
 day, and which was in marked contrast to 
 the air of joy that had sparkled on it only 
 a few minutes before. 
 
 " As trusty as steel," said Martha, " to 
 those who are for the Cause. But it fears 
 me he is the bearer of nae gude tidings. 
 His password, though true, was single. It 
 should have been ' Hay Haight.' " 
 
 "What thrums aboot what a fule says," 
 said Margaret. '' Havena ye the packet 
 in your hand ?" 
 
 " Let us sit down," said Martha.
 
 220 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 And they sat down on a grey boulder 
 near. 
 
 Martlia then opened the packet with 
 much courage and as little ceremony, 
 flinging all the exterior wrappage to the 
 air ; and its contents were a long purse of 
 gold and silver coins, and a brief writing. 
 The first she made nothing of at the mo- 
 ment, allowing it to fall down at her feet, 
 while she eagerly scanned the second, and 
 then read to herself, without date, place, 
 or signature, in a clear, clerkly hand, but 
 a voice which she felt as the voice of her 
 father, as follows : — 
 
 '' This is to gif ye to under staun there 
 hae been great processes and on-goings 
 here, and that the law noo is that wives and 
 children above fourteen that hae left by or- 
 der or hidden are to return to their hames, 
 under bond to be produced on ten days' 
 warning. This edict would appear to ap-
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 221 
 
 plee to you and sic-like. The bond in your 
 instance lias not to this time been pressed 
 for, and may mean only wives, so gif ye 
 were to return ye would be only obeying 
 the law o' hame-keeping, and have gude 
 greeting and shelter frae yere father and 
 ithers — particularly your father, who is 
 langing to see you. Nor can it weel be 
 thocht they would gang to extremes, having 
 your brother so stanch on their side in 
 memory. Albeit, it must be allooed and 
 said further, and what has caused great 
 pity and terror, they hae banished the old 
 Lady o' Arioland to the foreign plantations ; 
 and the Lady o' Monreith, e'enbe her son 
 Sir William is ane o' Clavers' magistrates, 
 has been fined a thousand merks for the 
 auld offence o' John at the Pentlands. 
 Whilk things say na mickle for the 
 interest they permit to their ain avooed 
 freends.
 
 222 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 " Rebels, and conversing wi' rebels, are 
 noo the same things. 
 
 " This, praying, ye may hae God's bless- 
 ing and direction." 
 
 The tears trickled down Martha's cheeks 
 as she read and dwelt, as in a daze, on this 
 letter. 
 
 " What does it say ? " asked Margaret 
 more than once. 
 
 " Woe on them ! This will break Willie's 
 heart ! " at length replied Martha, with a 
 convulsive sob, which seemed to draw the 
 words from the depths of her soul through 
 her tears ; and, rising hastily, added, with 
 more composure, " But we are sitting too 
 long — we will talk while we go." 
 
 Margaret lifted the purse as she rose, and 
 put it into Martha's hand. 
 
 After nearly an hour's walk, which Mar- 
 tha, talking very little, strove to shorten as 
 much as possible by the quickness of her
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCJREE. 223 
 
 pace — now along little strips of natural 
 meadow or fern-covered strath, and now 
 over rough heathery ground, traversed only 
 by narrow sheep tracks — they found them- 
 selves passing under the shadow of a craggy 
 ridge covered atop with bramble and other 
 brushwood, save at one point in the distance 
 where the crag rose above all vegetation. 
 A few straggling trees, hazel, mountain ash, 
 and thorn, grew along the bottom and out 
 of crevices in the shelving side of the ridge. 
 A space of hard grassy land skirted this 
 bank of rock and bush, but became marshy 
 on the other side, with a steep moor boun- 
 ding the scene in that direction. This 
 ravine, or the greater part of it, was 
 within the bounds of Glenvernoch, but 
 it was rarely frequented, and only indeed, 
 by shepherds or drovers who knew its 
 value as a near cut when they sought 
 to make a friendly passage through
 
 224 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Glenvernocli, instead of following the more 
 public tracks. 
 
 " This is the try sting-place," said Martha. 
 " Thanks, Margaret, we have no farther to 
 go." But as if unwilhng either to look for- 
 ward or advance, she stood before her com- 
 panion, and leaned upon her shoulder. 
 
 Martha was in a double agony. What 
 if Hay should not be here ? If here, what 
 a message had she to give him ! What 
 would their fate be in the ever-thickening 
 disasters that seemed to pursue them the 
 longer they clung to each other ? Margaret 
 could feel the heart of Martha beating 
 against her bosom; till, looking eagerly 
 round, she was glad to say, " I see some 
 one standing on the crag." 
 
 '* Where ? " exclaimed Martha ; and Mar- 
 garet pointed with her finger along the 
 ridge. 
 
 ''It must be he," said Martha. "Let
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 225 
 
 US go out of tlie shadow and show ourselves. 
 I will soon know." 
 
 It was only the outline of a human figure 
 on the rock between the sunshine and the 
 shade, but the figure was so well known to 
 Martha that they had only walked a few 
 steps along the open part of the ground 
 when she said, with a bright smile to Mar- 
 garet, " It is Willie ;" and, walking forward, 
 waved her kerchief in the air. The figure 
 was then seen to uncover, and bowing, to 
 disappear by a rapid movement from the 
 crag. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 226 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Thine am I my faithful fair, 
 
 Well thou may'st discover ; 
 Every pulse along my veins, 
 
 Tells the ardent lover. 
 To thy bosom lay my heart, 
 
 There to throb and languish ; 
 Tho' despair had wrung its core, 
 
 That would heal its anguish. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 William Hat, of Arioland, was scarce thirty 
 years of age, and though his hfe had now 
 for some few years been the hard and 
 desolate life of an outlaw, yet it had been 
 conducted with a bravery of spirit and free- 
 dom of movement, and with a sense of 
 power and rectitude of purpose, which had
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 227 
 
 only served to develop all his manly qualities 
 both of mind and person. He had gone out 
 an ardent youth in honourable war, and 
 while pursued, proscribed and hunted about, 
 he still deemed himself an honourable man, 
 and had never stained the bright escutcheon 
 of an honourable soldier. And every inch 
 an athletic soldier he appeared on this oc- 
 casion — of more than middle stature, of 
 frank and open but firm and manly coun- 
 tenance, no dress but what displayed while 
 giving utmost freedom to a well-propor- 
 tioned person, and no arms but his keen 
 sword, which did not dangle about him, but 
 hung close, almost unseen, on his thigh — 
 as he leapt out of a thicket fifty yards in 
 front of the maidens as they advanced up 
 the ravine. 
 
 He carried his broad-brimmed hat 
 in his hand, and approached them bare- 
 headed. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Martha broke loose from her companiori, 
 and ran forward to meet him. 
 
 And Margaret had then a rare Hying pic- 
 ture to see. She thought she had read or 
 fancied something like it. All the young 
 men of Galloway who had rushed to arms, 
 and were suffering in what she deemed " the 
 good cause," were known to her by name, 
 and they had all a place in her heart, and 
 she had imagined them in every form of 
 grateful fancy. Hay, as he now appeared 
 in person before her, rather exceeded even 
 her fancies. She thought he was like a 
 handsome forester or gallant soldier of for- 
 tune, of whom she had read in ballads, with 
 the halo over him, in her eyes, of valour 
 and endurance in a sacred hest. So she 
 neither wondered nor was offended at the 
 warmth with which Martha threw herself 
 into his arms ; for in her breast she felt she 
 could almost have done likewise.
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 229 
 
 "Wlien site had advanced, slowly and 
 timidly^ to the lovers, they were holding 
 each other by both hands, and looking into 
 the happiest faces she thought she had ever 
 seen. She would have drawn back, but 
 Martha said, " This is Margaret Wilson, 
 my friend, my sister in the highest sense, 
 whom I have learned not only to love, but 
 to reverence. This is the William, Mar- 
 garet, we hae talked of." " Your humble 
 and grateful servant," said Hay, bowing to 
 Margaret. "The friend of Martha has a 
 place in my heart only second to her own." 
 
 " Walk with us, Margaret," said Martha ; 
 "we have no secrets from you." 
 
 And Hay, giving one hand to Martha, 
 offered the other to Margaret, which in 
 courtesy she did not refuse ; but something 
 in her breast told her that her presence 
 would be out of order, might be embarrass- 
 ing both on one side and the other ; and
 
 230 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 after walking a few steps, slie stopped, and 
 would go no farther. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Hay. 
 
 And Margaret looking in his face with 
 an arch smile, ready to break into a girlish 
 laugh, replied, " I hae heard the milkmaids 
 say, Mr. Hay, that twa 's company, three 's 
 nane. But, besides, I see some nits on the 
 hazels, and there is a bank here where my 
 brither and me hae gathered flowers. I can 
 amuse mysel' while ye are talking, and 
 maybe bring nits and a heather posie for ye 
 baith." 
 
 Margaret releasing her hand, as she 
 spoke, would have withdrawn, when Hay, 
 taking a firmer hold than before, and Mar- 
 tha wheeling round along with him, Margaret 
 found herself in the middle of a circle. 
 
 "You see, my young queen," said Hay, 
 " you are a prisoner of war, and we'll only 
 give you parole on one condition — that you
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 231 
 
 do not go out of sight. I confess to you, 
 Margaret, I am a little beyond my own 
 lines here, and danger, though unexpected, 
 may arise. We must all three be within 
 call, and within call we will be as safe as in 
 a fortress." 
 
 " Weel, weel," said Margaret cheerfully, 
 " I promise ye no to gang far." 
 
 Hay had no apprehension of danger in 
 his own mind, but he had nothing of a joy- 
 ful nature to communicate to his faithful 
 sweetheart, while Martha was burdened 
 with what she knew would be a tiding of 
 almost unutterable woe to him ; and there 
 was a presentiment in the hearts of both 
 that their interview must be both brief and 
 anxious. 
 
 They sat down under a thorn tree, where 
 there was a jutting ledge of rock overhung 
 with bushes — an impenetrable thicket as it 
 seemed, nearly under the highest part of
 
 232 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 the craggy ridge where Hay had first been 
 seen. 
 
 Who will profess to trace the working or 
 measure the resources of a woman's love ? 
 But is it a wonder that Martha, on this oc- 
 casion, should have endeavoured to ascer- 
 tain, by a few simple caresses, and distant 
 questions, and querulous glances, whether 
 her lover knew anything of what she knew 
 of what had occurred within the last two 
 days at Wigtown ? Or that seeing, on this 
 preliminary inspection, only beams of j)re- 
 sent happiness in the countenance of her 
 lover, she hesitated to break the charm of 
 the moment ; and yet, unable to draw her- 
 self away from the burden in lier heart 
 which she knew would be a heavy grief to 
 his, continued to talk of events at the county 
 town — the commission, the increased rigour 
 of the laws, and the military force to which 
 there appeared to be no resistance from the
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 233 
 
 barons and other accustomed authorities of 
 Galloway — communicating as much of her 
 information as she could, without touching 
 on the cruel doom pronounced on his own 
 mother ? 
 
 Or is it more wonder that when Hay 
 chanced to say, in this part of the conver- 
 sation, that he was hourly expecting Allan, 
 Martha started and shuddered so palpably 
 that a cloud of anxiety passed over his 
 hitherto radiant features, and drawing her 
 head to his bosom, he said, " Why do you 
 tremble ? " and kissing her forehead as he 
 placed it between both hands, and looked 
 into her face, added, " My love, you either 
 know or fear more than ^^ou are willing to 
 speak. What is it?" Or that Martha, 
 even in this crisis, declined, with a melting 
 look, the pointed question addressed to her, 
 and, giving a new detour to the conversa- 
 tion began to press her lover with a series
 
 234 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 of interrogations of lier own ? What lie 
 liad been doing ? what he had learned ? 
 since they last met. 
 
 Martha had a bulletin in her pocket, 
 which she was firmly resolved to render to 
 Hay before they parted ; but she was ten- 
 derly saving of it, and kept it sacred to 
 the last moment. 
 
 "What about Kenmure?" was one of 
 Martha's anxious questions. 
 
 " Kenmure," said Hay, " is still neither 
 cold nor hot — lukewarm, and always more 
 lukewarm. His heart is warm enough, and 
 beats as it only ever can beat. But the 
 brain is unsteady, wavering, feeble, and the 
 limbs all but paralytic from this weakness 
 of the brain. The stout Gordon of Earlston 
 has left the country, and his castle is in 
 the hands of the dragoons. This is one 
 great stoop of Kenmure gone. He has 
 been losing friends, great and small, every
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 235 
 
 day tlie last montli tlirougli liis own irreso- 
 lution, and his vain hope of conciliating the 
 tyrants while preserving his own inde- 
 pendence. The hkelihood is he will find 
 himself their slave and tool, and then pine 
 and die of remorse. It is the same on the 
 Ken as it is here on the Cree. The leaders 
 who could gather the population round 
 them, and sweep away Clavers and his 
 bloody gang as easily as I sweep away 
 that fly" — striking down a long-legged 
 and long-winged anatomy flickering too 
 near him in the autumn sunlight — " but 
 they hesitate, trim, and bargain for a 
 quiet life till they find the defection around 
 them so great that they have, one after 
 another, to run away themselves, and leave 
 their houses, arms, horses, cattle, and gear 
 in the hands of the enemy. My dear 
 Martha, I conceal from you nothing. The 
 situation is as bad as it could be almost
 
 236 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 
 
 dreamed to be. But there is still a sanc- 
 tuary among these hills, not only of war- 
 like defence, but of free worship of God, in 
 whom our trust is. The tyrants, unwit- 
 tingly, have made it stronger in true men 
 than they reck of." 
 
 '' I no more doubt," said Martha, " that 
 this rage of despotism will pass away 
 like a cloud than I doubt my own being, 
 than I doubt the power of conscience in 
 the hearts of men, or have lost my faith 
 in the King of kings. The tiger will 
 slake his thirst for blood, and perish of 
 his own surfeit. But you, Willie, you ! " 
 added Martha, with much tenderness. 
 "Is it Avise that you should stand out 
 alone?" 
 
 " Martha," replied the Outlaw firmly, 
 "you know according to present law I 
 should have been hanged some years ago 
 in the Grrassmarket. Under God's will I
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLEx\CREE. 237 
 
 have not been hanged ; nor shall I be 
 hanged ; I will die fighting." 
 
 " But having done all, why the one 
 doom more than the other? Why not 
 cover yourself, like so many, in the pavilion 
 of the Di\dne mercy till the storm blows 
 over ? " 
 
 " Yes ! I might be a fugitive. But 
 whither ? To some foreign shore if it 
 could be reached." 
 
 '' No, no," said Martha, wringing her 
 hands ; " not that — not yet at least, not 
 now." And hot tears began to drop from 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Be of brave heart, Martha," said Hay, 
 as he took her hand in his. " 1 am where 
 I can defend myself. One cannot take the 
 protection of leal hearts without using 
 every means of warding from them the 
 danger to which the protection exposes 
 them. Much may be done to make these
 
 238 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 mountain solitudes a terror to the base and 
 cowardly murderers. We liave made them 
 dangerous to approach. "We have rescued 
 prisoners. Some of their victims under 
 escort to Edinburgh we have wrung from 
 them at Enterkin. We have forced at dead 
 of night a cell in the jail of Wigtown, and 
 set the captives free under their chamber 
 windows. The scores whom they have 
 doomed but yesterday to the plantations or 
 to further torture at Edinburgh, must all 
 pass through these hills. We can save 
 some of these poor people, or they must 
 guard them with all the cut-throats they 
 have in the shire. There will be relief on 
 one hand or the other. I do not despair 
 of some advantage, or even of signal 
 revenge." 
 
 The heroic spirit of Martha drank every 
 word of these warlike sentences. They 
 were like ielixir to a fainting heart. The
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 239 
 
 idea tliat Hay might rescue liis mother 
 passed through her mind Hke a lovely 
 dream, kindling a transport of enthusiasm. 
 Now she thought was the time to deliver 
 her whole message. 
 
 " I have seen Allan," she said quietly. 
 
 " Where ? " eagerly inquired Hay. 
 
 " A few minutes after we left Glenver- 
 noch. He is there now. He brought me 
 this letter," replied Martha, handing him 
 the missive which she knew to be from her 
 father, and resting her arms on her lover's 
 knees, looked up to him calm, but oh ! 
 how eager, while he read. 
 
 Shortly the paper began to waver in his 
 hand. A shadow gathered on his brow, 
 and spread over his face, but a moment 
 since full of composed cheerfulness, as 
 when a dark cloud fleets between the 
 earth and the sun. His lips became firmly 
 compressed. His eyelids twitched, as if he
 
 240 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 liad misread some sentence, and lie held 
 the paper nearer as if to read a second 
 time. He changed colour, now pale, now 
 livid, and presently, the red blood mount- 
 ing to his cheek, he rose to his feet, took a 
 step or two forward, and was raising his 
 right arm in the air to utter some impre- 
 cation or some words of anguish or resolu- 
 tion, when his arm dropped, and he stood 
 as if the whole current of his thought and 
 passion had been suddenly averted. 
 
 The heads of a large drove of cattle 
 were seen rising over the rim of the moor 
 at a little distance northward. He turned 
 his eyes along the ravine the other way. 
 Margaret was approaching with a bunch of 
 heather blossom and other wild flower 
 which she had found growing ander some 
 trees on a green shelf of the ridge. 
 
 " Come, love," he said to Martha, who 
 had been watching the struggle of his
 
 THE MAETIE OF GLENCEEE. 241 
 
 feelings with mingled sympathy and alarm. 
 " Here is Margaret with flowers, let ns 
 meet her." 
 
 '' Do you see that drove on the moor, 
 Margaret?" he asked, pointing in the 
 direction. " Where do they come from?" 
 
 '' They come the Kircailie way," said 
 Margaret, " or frae other farms on the 
 Carrick road." 
 
 "Do drovers come this way ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Sometimes, but no aften," replied 
 Margaret. "It's a near road frae the 
 Wester to the low land or the toon o' 
 Monygove, and when my faither agrees 
 they sometimes pass this way." 
 
 Hay conducted the young women under 
 cover of the ledge of rock. "Allow me," 
 he said, and helped them to put on their 
 mantles. " Now, follow me, and do not be 
 afraid." 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE MAETYR OP GLENCREE. 
 
 Opening a way into tbe tMcket, wliicli 
 in a step or two became a bower wherein 
 one could walk with little inconvenience, 
 he led them into the mouth of a cavern in 
 the rock, of indefinite size, for it was only 
 lighted over a few yards from the entrance 
 by so much of the outer day as struggled 
 through the overhanging foliage. 
 
 " I am truly sorry," said Hay, with a 
 humorous smile, " that I have no better 
 with drawing-room just now for ladies so 
 dear to me. But no living creature is 
 here save my faithful Billy " — alluding to 
 his dun horse — " who is never so content 
 as when he and I sleep or rest in a palace 
 of this mould." And Billy, on hearing his 
 master's voice, gave audible evidence of 
 his presence in some recess of the cavern. 
 " Here is the solid whinstone wall," con- 
 tinued Hay, " and here a rude heather 
 couch on which you may sit down without
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 243 
 
 fear of falling. On tlie other side you 
 hear the trickle of water. It is a cold 
 pure spring, and does not wet the floor, 
 which, though somewhat uneven, is co- 
 vered for the most part with moss as soft 
 as a Persian carpet, and nearly as bright 
 in its hues. In the darkest night a pine 
 torch or two produce a wonderful illumina- 
 tion. For there are spangles, stalactites, 
 and phosphorescences on the roof and 
 along the walls, which catch every ray of 
 the dusky red glow and send it back mul- 
 tiplied a thousand fold in light and colour. 
 Now, my fair ones, bide contentedly here 
 a little till I return to you." 
 
 " WiUie ! " exclaimed Martha, " do not 
 leave us ! For Heaven's sake, do not leave 
 us ! Where are you going ? What have 
 you to do ? '' 
 
 " I am only going," replied Hay, " be- 
 hind the ledge to see this drove passing. 
 B. 2
 
 244 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 If there is any danger I will avoid it. I 
 guess it is only Tarn Picardy, wlio is more 
 friend, I believe, than enemy. But if more 
 enemy than friend an apparition of the 
 Outlaw may do him good. His tether of 
 tongue and trading is too long and too 
 loose." 
 
 And with these words. Hay, relieving 
 himself from Martha, sprang out among 
 the bushes.
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 245 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 (Of whom the world was not worthy:) they 
 wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in <]ens, 
 
 and caves of the earth. 
 
 St. Paul. 
 
 Wae to the heart that fram'd the thought ! 
 Curs'd be the hand that fir'd the shot ! 
 When in my arms Burd Ellen dropp'd, 
 And died for luve of me. 
 
 Border Ballad. 
 
 " You will have heard of such places and 
 the uses they serve in troublous times," 
 said Martha to her companion, who stood 
 looking round in much surprise. '* They 
 are heaven-made keeps with which Scot- 
 land abounds, and to which, when every
 
 246 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 other shelter has failed, the hunted and 
 oppressed have fled in all ages. But never 
 have they covered in their secret shades 
 more noble and worthy souls than in these 
 days." 
 
 " I hae heard o' caves aboot the 
 Buchan," observed Margaret, '' but I 
 never was in ane before, and Glenvernoch 
 is the last place where I could hae thocht 
 there was sic a hollow in the rocks." 
 
 "Our Father in Heaven," said Martha, 
 lowering her voice to a reverential whisper, 
 " has made these caverns with His own 
 hand to meet the storms through which 
 our wild country has had to pass, and to 
 cover His outcast people from the blood- 
 thirsty cruelty of the oppressor, as He 
 appointed the cities of refuge in Canaan." 
 
 "I hae heard stories o' this Tod's Crag, as 
 it's ca'd,"rejoinedMargaret,drawing closely 
 to Martha in a timid sensation — " stories
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 247 
 
 o' voices heard in the wuns withoot, soons 
 o' piping and dancing within, and being 
 haunted by fairies and broonies. But I 
 dinna believe sic ferlies, though I hae 
 often lain on stormy nichts, when I was 
 young, and heard the voices and the wild 
 music as they had been talked aboot at 
 the fireside, and hae seen wi' my closed een 
 the troops o' red-coated fairies wheeling in 
 the blasts a' roon' Glenvernoch, and ga- 
 thering frae a' pairts, aye thicker and 
 thicker, roon' the Crag, till they disap^ 
 peared through the sides o' the rock. 
 There was naething fearsome to me in the 
 fairies. I liked to think o' them. But 
 these were child's fancies. Our Father in 
 Heaven touches our spirit with His omni- 
 potent Spirit, and has a' the wuns, and the 
 waves, and the flame under His ain poo'r. 
 Yet the darkness," added Margaret, look- 
 ing round, " makes me a wee eerie."
 
 248 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 Martha, taking Margaret by tlie hand, 
 felt round the wall of the cave. Over 
 several yards it was hard and dry, though 
 in some parts rough and jagged. Then a 
 corner, where a less solid and smoother 
 rock seemed to lie across the cavity, and 
 bar farther progress. An airy current 
 here fanned the hot brows of the young 
 women, and in the dead stillness low whis- 
 tling sounds as of air passing through dis- 
 tant fissures caught their ears. Passing 
 along this slaty partition, they came to a 
 breach in the rock ; where, looking 
 through the aperture, their eyes more 
 accustomed to the darkness, they became 
 sensible of the presence of some living 
 animal. The poHshed brass butts of the 
 pistols in the holsters, and other glittering 
 points of the accoutrement, glanced like 
 little star-points in a dark cloud, and be- 
 came centres by which the eye could con-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 249 
 
 nect one appearance with another, till 
 Billy, Hay's horse, stood in full outline 
 before them, his head well buried in a nose- 
 bag, and some armfuls of half-dried mea- 
 dow grass round his fore feet. Margaret, 
 peering further into the darkness, follov.^ed 
 eagerly a zig-zag trail of wliity smoke as it 
 seemed — one moment bowing low, another 
 standing tiptoe, in order to trace it to its 
 source. " I see light," she suddenly said ; 
 and Martha, placing herself in her com- 
 panion's line of vision, saw a small round 
 opening of bright roseate in the distance, 
 like a pale red moon, or a circular patch 
 cut out of the golden western sky. 
 
 " There must be another entrance," said 
 Margaret. " The horse could not come 
 through the bushes." 
 
 The two young women now returned to 
 the mouth of the cave, eager to see Hay or 
 to know what was passing outside. They
 
 250 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 heard his voice speaking to some one who 
 answered him, and the thud of hoofs and 
 heavy breathing which usually attend the 
 passage of a herd of cattle. Then came 
 an interval of silence, in which they became 
 every moment more anxious, and advanced 
 step by step till they stood in the bowery 
 part of the thicket. 
 
 Hay, on going to his postern, had seen 
 the full herd passing in scattered form 
 down the slope of the moor, followed by 
 only one person — a rough lad mounted on 
 a small, shaggy pony, and leading a stout 
 nag in halter. He seemed not a moment 
 at rest, turning the shelty and led horse 
 from one flank of the drove to the other, 
 and pressing them down behind some rocks, 
 where they passed out of sight, and in a 
 few minutes began to straggle over the 
 grassy skirts of the ridge. 
 
 " Hallo ! lad," cried Hay, who had
 
 THE MAETYB OP GLENCREE. 251 
 
 stepped forward to meet the driver. 
 " Wha's beasts hae ye ? " 
 
 " What gars ye speer ? " shouted back 
 the lad, in whom the reader will recognize 
 the artful waif of humanity, who had set 
 out from Wigtown with Picardy and the 
 Bailie some days before. 
 
 Hay, not to waste words, strode towards 
 the youth, who, had he been himself at that 
 moment, would not have been easily ap- 
 proached. He would have made an instant 
 somersault over the head of his shaggy 
 pony, and the pony would have followed 
 him, throwing out its hind legs furiously 
 wherever he chose to run, or to tumble 
 head over heels. But in this juncture 
 Picardy' s young man was somewhat fettered 
 by his led horse — a strong, spirited, and 
 unbroken Galloway — and he resolved to sit 
 his saddle and wait the issue of events. 
 
 Hay, pulling his ears, said, " None of
 
 252 THE MAETYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 your impudence, master malapert ! Answer 
 civil questions civilly." 
 
 " I didna mean ony offence, sir," whined 
 the youth. " But ye're no Grienvernoch or 
 Glenvernoch's son, and I didna ken wha ye 
 micht be. But ye're nae doot the laird 
 himsel. This is Tarn Picardy's drove, sir, 
 and I'm Tam Picardy's man." 
 
 *' Where do they come from ? " Hay 
 demanded. 
 
 " The maist-feck are frae Kircailie, sir," 
 replied the youth, ''but some ootlers are 
 frae here and there." 
 
 " And where' s your master ? " 
 
 " He's only a wee ahint, sir. He gaed 
 into the herd's hoose ow'r the muir to hae 
 a daffin' wi' the wife or the dochter, or 
 maybe some yill. He'll be here in a 
 winking." 
 
 '' Well," said Hay, "you go forward and 
 herd the nowt, and keep them here till your
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCHEE. 253 
 
 master comes. There's a good bite for them 
 — besides, tliey are over-driven already." 
 
 The Arab, much impressed by the autho- 
 rity of this sudden challenger of the drove, 
 here took off his bonnet as in token of 
 obedience; and yet, as if some further 
 ceremony of a more religious nature was 
 necessary, made free to add — " But gif 
 Tam, sir, should lunner me for stopping 
 the drove, wull ye stand atween him and 
 me?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Hay. " No harm can 
 come to you, callan." 
 
 *' But wull ye say, ' deevil tack you tae 
 that ? ' " solemnly inquired the boy — this 
 being a form of oath held in as much 
 esteem by the Scotch Arabs of the period 
 as the Test and Abjuration were held by 
 Sheriff- Principal Clavers, or even the Privy 
 Council at Edinburgh. 
 
 ** Away, ye shameless loon, and do at
 
 254 THE MART YE OF GLENCEEE. 
 
 once what ye are bade to do on the word of 
 a gentleman." 
 
 Hay had no sooner seen the Arab turning 
 the head of the herd, and having tied the 
 led horse to the stump of a tree, proceed- 
 ing to play the usual antics with his pony, 
 than his ear was arrested by a piping song 
 among the rocks of the hollow round the 
 end of the ridge, and which, though the 
 singer was at the moment unseen, he had 
 little doubt was the jolly voice of Tarn 
 Picardy, whose ready command of many 
 old hits was well-known in the country. 
 
 " 0, green grow the rashes, O, 
 Green grow the rashes, O ; 
 The King may rise, the Kirk may fa', 
 At sune or syne, at mirk or daw. 
 But what to me sic warldly fashes, O, 
 While green grow the rashes, O, — " 
 
 sang the drover, swinging in his saddle in 
 harmony partly with his lilt and partly with 
 a quantum suf. of strong liquor, and leading
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 255 
 
 like his young man a sprightly gelding in 
 halter, as he was seen rising out of the 
 hollow into the open. Where, on finding 
 his herd turned, and a martial figure in the 
 middle space, his tune abruptly stopped. 
 
 " Ye' re very merry, Tam," said Hay, as 
 the drover halted at some little distance. 
 " What's your good news, eh ? " 
 
 " William Hay, as I'm a leeving sinner ! " 
 exclaimed the drover in undisguised sur- 
 prise. "Hoo are ye, Mr. Hay, and hoo 
 hae ye been, man, this lang time ? " he 
 added, giving a kick to his nag, and holding 
 out his hand as if suddenly seized with a 
 warm emotion of friendship. 
 
 " Stop, Picardy, stop ! " said Hay, throw- 
 ing up his arm. " I hae heard your word 
 about me in the farm-kitchens and farm- 
 yards up country. It was a word far north 
 of friendly. And I know the wily arts by 
 which you are wheedling the terror-stricken
 
 256 THE MAETYR OF rxLENCEEE. 
 
 folk oot o' their stock and gear. We maun 
 liae a parley before a hand -shaking." 
 
 The drover's face, red enough as it was, 
 became like scarlet on these words of Hay, 
 but assuming a bold front, he replied with 
 some anger, "It's no for you, Hay, or the 
 like o' you, to question men in their lawfii' 
 calling." 
 
 " Lawfu', Tarn," said Hay, with a freez- 
 ing sneer. '' Lawfu' ! Is it not rather 
 the downthrow of all law ? Who knows 
 what the law now is ? A law of unbounded 
 persecution, murder, rapine ; one enormity 
 to-day — another, only more infamous and 
 more lawless, to-morrow; anything that 
 spues out of the mouth of Clavers — drunk 
 of vanity, tyranny, and blood ! And you, 
 Tam, who know what law once was ; you, 
 who have had cheer and welcome on every 
 barony in the shire now a prey to the 
 spoiler, who have been fed and warmed a
 
 THE MAETYR OF GLENCEEE. 257 
 
 score of times by dames and maidens driven 
 from tlieir homes, or dragged to prison, 
 and doomed to worse than death itself — 
 you, in the pretence of a lawfu' calhng, to 
 make yourself the tool of such base despots, 
 and to spread with all your art and cunning 
 among these honest hill-farmers the de- 
 vastation you have seen in the low country ! 
 Shame, Tam, shame on ye ! Look at your- 
 self, man. Has a greater renegade and 
 blackguard ever trode the earth than you?" 
 
 " I am not responsible for the state of 
 the country," replied the drover, for the 
 moment subdued by this pungent appeal to 
 sympathies not quite dead in his heart. 
 " There's no a beast in the herd I have 
 not honestly bargained for, and carry an 
 honest receipt for." 
 
 " A good many of them," remarked Hay, 
 "are from Kircailie, I believe. Whose 
 receipts have you for them ?" 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 '' Alexander's," replied Picardj. 
 
 " There you are. Tarn," said Hay. " You 
 know as well as any that three parts of the 
 stock on Kircailie are the property of Gil- 
 bert, and you bargain in his absence with 
 his weakly conforming and non- conforming 
 brother Sandy for all these cattle on your 
 own terms. Will ye put this point to the 
 test by driving them back and getting the 
 award of the proper owners ? " 
 
 To this question Picardy returned only a 
 malign stare. 
 
 " And to whom do you deliver them ? " 
 continued Hay. " There is scarce a country 
 house or barony in the Machars or the 
 Rhinns but is occupied by dragoons, harried, 
 or turned topsy-turvy. There is no stock- 
 ing, no marketing. For whom are you 
 buying ? " 
 
 Whether under an impulse of animal 
 passion, or an acute sting of conscience
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 259 
 
 sometimes not less infuriating tlian passion 
 itself, or an amalgam of the two, with some 
 hideous prospect of gain in the background, 
 Picardy exclaimed, " Outlaw 1 there is a 
 price on your head ! " and fired one of his 
 pistols at Hay without effect. His horse 
 reared, but quickly drawing a second piece 
 from the belt under his plaid, he would 
 have fired again had not Hay, no less alert, 
 struck his arm so heavily with his sheathed 
 sword that the pistol dropped out of his 
 hand ; and in an instant more Picardy had 
 the naked blade of Hay at his throat. 
 
 Martha and Margaret, on hearing the 
 pistol shot, broke out from their retreat in 
 alarm, and rushed to the scene of this 
 affray. Martha flung her arms round Hay, 
 while Margaret, seizing the bridle of Picar- 
 dy' s horse, and throwing herself into an 
 attitude facing Hay, cried in a voice of 
 command and indignation, rather than 
 s 2
 
 260 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 appeal, ^'Dinna lift tlie bluidj hand on 
 Glenvernoch ! " " What shame ! " she 
 added, as she glanced from one to the other. 
 
 Hay, disconcerted by this interruption, 
 stood a few moments in silence. The pre- 
 sence of the yonng women forbade further 
 prosecution of the terms to which he had 
 hoped to bring Picardy, and which the 
 murderous but futile rashness of the drover 
 would now probably have promoted. At 
 the same time he perceived the danger to 
 his fair companions themselves from their 
 discovery in these circumstances by so 
 trustless a person as Picardy. Hay had not 
 foreseen the hostile attack of the Drover, 
 nor could he now foresee all its possible 
 consequences. 
 
 He lifted Picardy's loaded pistol from 
 the ground, and said to him, " Deliver me 
 the weapon in your belt. It is doubly 
 wrong for you to carry arms. It is for-
 
 • THE MARTYU OF GLENCREE. 261 
 
 bidden by the law you serve, and you would 
 have used them just now to take away life 
 without provocation. Give me your pistol, 
 and owe your life to Margaret Wilson, for 
 after what you had done I would have 
 smitten you as I would have smitten a wild 
 beast." 
 
 Picardy handed his empty pistol to 
 Hay. 
 
 " Lady Martha," he said, in the act of 
 surrender, " gin I had kent o' your presence 
 here I should ha'e been mair wary. But 
 Hay maun alloo he wasna unco ceevil to 
 me. I ax your pardon, lady, and if ye 
 ha'e ony message to Sir David I'm sure I'll 
 carry it wi' a' my heart and gude will." 
 
 " I have no message to my father," re- 
 plied Martha, " but ye have had many a 
 kind welcome at Baldoon, Tam, and if ye 
 can gi'e any joy there by good behaviour 
 I'll overlook any ill-intent ye may have
 
 262 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 liad, and may make amends for, to Mr. 
 William." 
 
 " Go your ways, Tam," said Hay, '' and 
 thank the ladies for your life. I sought 
 only to bring you to reason and some 
 sense of common justice, as in better days. 
 You would have done to me — you know 
 what. Go your way this time, but don't 
 let me see you again beyond where we 
 stand on the same business or in the same 
 temper, if ye would avoid a bitter ending. 
 Go, and remember while you breathe your 
 life-debt to Margaret of Glenvernoch." 
 
 The Drover, glad enough of this re- 
 prieve, put his horses in motion, and 
 looking back while still within hearing, 
 said, — 
 
 " Mistress Margaret, tell your father, 
 gif I shouldna see him, that I will settle 
 wi' him honestly for the waygate through 
 the farm."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 2 63 
 
 Margaret was tlie first to break silence 
 as they saw Pacardy and liis drove falling 
 once more into marcliing order. " Mistress 
 Martha," she said, "we maun gang hame 
 noo — the sun is far doon." 
 
 " True," replied Martha, looking wist- 
 fully at her lover, who stood almost motion- 
 less, Martha leaning on his arm, but an 
 infinitely heavier weight pressing on his 
 heart. 
 
 ''Martha and I have only a few more 
 words," said Hay, " before parting." 
 
 " I can weel understaun' that," said 
 Margaret smiling, "but dinna waste your 
 time while I look for Martha's veil among 
 the bushes." 
 
 Martha had time to consult her lover as 
 to the anxious question of the moment 
 presented in her father's missive. Whether 
 she should return to Baldoon, and place 
 herself under the grip of " the law ? " A
 
 264 THE MAETYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 question wliicli, with his motlier's doom 
 burning at the core of his heart. Hay 
 answered promptly and scornfully in the 
 negative. It was deemed prudent between 
 them that a longer stay even at Glenver- 
 noch would be unsafe. There was not a 
 laird's, farmer's or herd's house about 
 Glenvernoch where she would not be as 
 welcome as in Glenvernoch itself. " Glen- 
 caird," said he ; " Mackie is still at home, 
 though proscribed, and would protect you 
 as I should. But they will advance their 
 military posts farther and farther as long 
 as they have power. The small bush is 
 often a better bield than the high tree. 
 The retreat above the Caldons is the safest 
 of all." Hay had further signified arrange- 
 ments for her removal when Margaret 
 came back ; and he convoyed the maidens 
 down the glen, by a shorter road than that 
 by which they had come up, till the farm-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 265 
 
 house came in view in the twilight — his 
 parting words to Martha being, " Allan ! 
 — tell Allan to meet me at the Crag to- 
 night. I am impatient to see him.'*
 
 266 THE MABTl'B OF GLBNOEEE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 If honour calls, where'er she points the way, 
 The sons of honour follow, and obey. 
 
 Churchill. 
 
 " Peerie " was allotted for his sleeping 
 apartment a small slied at tlie end of the 
 outhouses, usually assigned to travellers 
 of the poorer class who claimed a night's 
 lodging at Glenvernoch. The farmer 
 himself had seen an ample bedding of clean 
 straw laid down for " the gangrel cratur," 
 from whom he had enjoyed an hour or 
 two of deeply interesting gossip at the 
 lower kitchen fire in the course of the 
 eveuing; and some still kindlier hands
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCEEE. 267 
 
 would seem to have furnislied the shed 
 with various other comforts. Allan, at 
 least, had no difficulty in changing the 
 disguise in Avhich he was accustomed to 
 travel about the country, and which he 
 carried to an artistic perfection when 
 attending upon Clavers. The rimless 
 peaked hat was set aside for a Kilmarnock 
 bonnet, and a grey plaid was wrapped 
 round him in form both of jacket and kilt 
 by an easy adjustment, of which the large 
 shepherd plaid is still capable ; while over 
 his lower limbs he drew a pair of woollen 
 over-alls. In this dress, as soon as the 
 farm-house was quiet, he lifted the latch 
 and proceeded up the glen. 
 
 Hay, after lighting rudely the interior 
 of the cave, relieving Billy of saddle and 
 other trappings, and spreading for him a 
 bed of leaves, had been pacing backward 
 and forward in the open air near an hour.
 
 268 THE MARTYE OF GLENGKEE. 
 
 when a signal somewhat like the whoop of 
 an owl assured him that Allan was ap- 
 proaching. The two men grasped hands 
 and embraced each other with an ardour, 
 which would be hardly understood with- 
 out explanation, and probably renders this 
 the proper place to give the reader some 
 account of the ties which bound them to 
 each other. 
 
 William Hay, of Arioland, was one of 
 the young gentlemen of Galloway, as has 
 been transiently stated, who after the 
 victory of the Covenanters over Claver- 
 house at Drumclog, took arms, and with 
 such followers as they could gather round 
 them, joined the array of insurgents from 
 the south-western counties of Scotland, 
 who drew to a head at Bothwell Brig, 
 resolved to brave a tyranny which, under 
 the administration of Lauderdale, had 
 been every year becoming more intole-
 
 THE MATJTTR OF GLENCREE. 269 
 
 rable, and which, it was too obvious under 
 his upstart military instrument, Graham 
 of Claverhouse, would soon reduce every 
 man and woman in Scotland who had souls 
 in their bodies to the extremities of fire 
 and sword. The insurgents found them- 
 selves confronted at Bothwell Brig by a 
 strong Royalist army, under the command 
 of the Duke of Monmouth, whom Charles, 
 in one of his repentant moods in which 
 there was always an amalgam — one part 
 clemency and good nature, one part policy, 
 and two parts arbitrary power and callous 
 indifference — had sent down as his most 
 popular representative with power to over- 
 awe, btit with instructions to cajole his 
 rebellious Scottish subjects. The roj^al 
 authority, however, was lifted much too 
 high even by Monmouth for the temper of 
 the insurgent army, and a brief but furious 
 battle ensued. The mounted men from
 
 270 THE MARTYR OF GLENOREE. 
 
 Galloway were numerous enougli to form 
 a large troop, of which M'Culloch was 
 captain, and Hay lieutenant. The bridge 
 over the Clyde was the turning point of 
 the whole engagement. Stoutly for awhile 
 did the insurgents defend the bridge, but 
 having to guard at the same time the 
 passage of the river f ordable by horse both 
 above and below, they failed to maintain 
 their force at this tete clu ])ont with 
 sufficiency to resist the Royalists who 
 threw their main strength upon it from 
 first to last. Step by step the bridge was 
 gained by the Royalists. The barrier over 
 the keystone had been no sooner closed by 
 the insurgents than it was being broken 
 down by the axes of th6 Highlanders and 
 the hammers of the English siegemen. In 
 a few minutes more the insurgent defenders 
 were forced back, and Royalist infantry 
 and horse were rushing freely pell-mell
 
 THE MARTY E OF GLENCREE. 271 
 
 across the bridge. Tlie small body of io- 
 surgent cavalry, in this crisis, rode gallantly 
 forward to the breach where the footmen 
 and gunners had failed, thinking they 
 would ride down and sabre the enemy in 
 piecemeal as they issued from the narrow 
 bridgeway. They were met by Hamilton 
 of Preston, chief in command of the in- 
 surgent force, who, seeing the unavailable- 
 ness of the movement, or preoccupied with 
 some idea of rallying on a second line of 
 defence, called upon them to stop. Captain 
 M'Culloch shouted the order, but Hay and 
 a few of the men in advance were carried 
 onward with a preceding troop to the bridge. 
 Meanwhile Clavers had been pushing the 
 Royal Dragoons through the river, up to 
 the girths and over the tails of the horses 
 in water, not a few toppHng dead into the 
 water under the musketry fire from the 
 opposite bank ; and as soon as the bridge
 
 272 THE MARTTE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 was cleared, tlie gallant Graham passed 
 over tliat safer way witli the remainder of 
 his cavalry. The insurgent horsemen found 
 themselves at the bridge almost lost to each 
 other in a mass of foes of all arms. 
 
 Hay was one of the last to escape from 
 that fatal melee, and as his steed bore him 
 through what had become a general rout of 
 the insurgent army, he became conscious 
 of being closely followed by an attendant, 
 whom he had seen in the thick of the 
 fight at the bridge, and whose life he 
 had saved by a timely sweep of his 
 sabre. This was Allan, who, attracted by 
 the gallant bearing of Hay, and moved by 
 gratitude for the rescue he afforded him 
 when fighting desperately with three of 
 Clavers' troopers, had clung to his new 
 found chief, resolved that there should be 
 one sword between him and the enemy in 
 the effort to escape. They fought their
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 273 
 
 way through the press of the retreat, and 
 rode on when all pursuit was at an end 
 o^er hill and moor till they arrived, on 
 the same horses as had carried them in the 
 fight, at the house of Arioland, in Galloway, 
 a hundred and thirty miles from the field of 
 battle. There they found shelter, though 
 only fi)r a few days. William Hay was 
 proclaimed, in company with many others, 
 as " a rebel," and spies and bloodhounds 
 began to gather about Arioland. Hay and 
 Allan had to be closely concealed, and finally 
 passed out afoot into the wilderness to take 
 care of themselves, under the heartrending 
 gTief of the lady of Arioland, to whom 
 William was as the apple of her eye. 
 William's father, then still hale, Avas pro- 
 bably not less grieved at heart. His name 
 had been in the county commissions of 
 peace and war in the time of Cromwell, and 
 again in this reign of Charles II., when to 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 liarbour or countenance a son wlio was a 
 rebel was to be a rebel one's self, and to 
 bear all tlie dread penalties of rebellion. 
 The old squire, however, while passing on 
 his son from one darkness of outlawry to 
 another, showed in a symptomatic trait 
 worthy of mention, where his heart lay. 
 On the secret departure of William and 
 Allan from Arioland, he discovered much 
 partiality for the horses which had borne 
 them through the fight at Bothwell Brig. 
 He put them in a paddock by themselves. 
 He would not allow them to be ridden, 
 worked, or sold ; and was scarce satisfied a 
 day, while he lived, without going out with 
 cake, or biscuits, or apples in his pocket, 
 and having a friendly converse with the 
 war horses. 
 
 Such was the forbidden life which William 
 Hay and his faithful Allan had been lead- 
 ing for some years at the date of our nar-
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 275 
 
 rative ; and wliicli had impelled Allan, 
 with no less courage than inventive talent, 
 to assume, for purposes of intelligence 
 and communication, self-defence, and warn- 
 ing and rescue of friends, the fool's disguise, 
 in which we first made his acquaintance. 
 His proper name was John Allan. '' Peerie," 
 was an adnoun not unfrequently given to 
 simple-minded wanderers in Galloway. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE MAKTTE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughter'd saints, whose 
 
 bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ; 
 Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old, 
 When all our fathers worship'd stocks and stones, 
 Forget not ; in Thy book record their groans 
 Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roU'd 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Hat had already, before they entered the 
 cavern together, well considered the heavy 
 tidings of which Allan was the bearer. The 
 situation of his mother above all weighed 
 upon his heart, and yet he kept away from 
 what was maddening his brain as one shrinks
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 277 
 
 from an intolerable horror. His first in- 
 quiries were concerning Clavers, the forces 
 lie liad to rely upon, liis movements, and 
 the number of dragoons he had about his 
 person. 
 
 " Where is he to-night ? " he asked. 
 
 "At Machremore Castle," replied Allan; 
 *' most of the dragoons billeted about 
 Monygove." 
 
 " My opinion is," said Hay, " that he is 
 on his way to Newton. He is playing with 
 Kenmure as a cat plays with a mouse, and 
 I fear with the same success. My powerful 
 kinsman, who a month ago could have had 
 five hundred armed men under his castle 
 walls, has become like a reed shaken by the 
 wind. Earlston disgusted at his indecision 
 has left the country, and Strachan has step- 
 ped into his shoes. The hardy retainers, 
 who looked to Kenmure Castle as their 
 strength, and never doubted that the old
 
 278 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 banner of freedom and defiance to its ene- 
 mies would wave over its highest turret, are 
 wandering about in desolate groups, and 
 will be torn by the wolves like sheep with- 
 out a shepherd. What heard ye of the 
 Merse militia who have entered the 
 Stewartry from the East ? " 
 
 " They are as far as the Cree," said Allan. 
 " A party of them, with the Earl of Home 
 at their head, were at the opening of the 
 Commission." 
 
 "So near," said Hay, musing in half 
 soliloquy. '' No, no ; they must bind Ken- 
 mure to their belts and sweep out Glenken 
 before they send their raw militia up the 
 Cree. As for the dragoons, we can go where 
 they cannot follow." 
 
 Allan told what he had overhead 
 Clavers saying to Sir Godfrey M'Culloch. 
 '' You have judged rightly," said Allan. 
 ''My sovereign lord will be at Newton
 
 THE MAKTYH OF GLENCREE. 279 
 
 to-morrow nisflit or nigflit folio winof at 
 
 O O o 
 
 latest." 
 
 This Newton being a royal burgh — the 
 modern New Galloway — the charter of 
 whicli liad, by a curious freak of royal 
 favour, been granted fifty years before by 
 Charles I. to the first Viscount Kenmure 
 on tbe edge of tlie demesnes of the castle, 
 where not a single dwelling existed at the 
 time, but wbicli could now boast of an 
 hostelry, a town-house, and a few habita- 
 tions, of some convenience to the inmates 
 of the Castle, and the company from without 
 that had business there. It also gave Ken- 
 mure' s commissioner a seat in the Scots' 
 Parliament, 
 
 *' When his sovereign Lordship," con- 
 tinued Allan, " has Kenmure, of which he 
 professes to be full sure, he will have none 
 else to fear than your Highness and your 
 humble servant, Peerie."
 
 280 THE MAETYE OF GLENCREE. 
 
 " I need not ask if Peerie be as great a 
 favourite at Court as ever," said Hay, 
 passing into tlie humour of his squire. " To 
 whom could your sovereign lord better con- 
 fide his secrets ? " And still unwilling to 
 approach the subject beating ^dolently at 
 his heart, glided into another topic, hovering 
 on the margin of the other. '' The affair at 
 Enterkin will make them more careful how 
 they carry about their prisoners. But how 
 singular that the one we knew best, Pater- 
 son of Penninghame — the parish where we 
 now happen to be — was the only one not 
 rescued. Wounded in the scuffle, he was 
 recaptured. Was there anything about 
 Enterkin at the Court ? " 
 
 Allan mentioned the naive evidence of 
 Henderson that he knew not whether the 
 prisoners were rescued or not, but would be 
 glad to be rescued now himself, and, had he 
 been there, would have done the same.
 
 THE MAETYE OF GLENCEEE. 281 
 
 '' Our party lost a letter of his," said 
 Hay. 
 
 " It was produced," rejoined Allan, '' and 
 lie confessed being the writer of it, but they 
 could make nothing of it beyond the sus- 
 picion it threw round himself. Poor Hen- 
 derson is now in need of rescue indeed." 
 
 And Allan, having thus entered on the 
 subject of the Commission, proceeded to 
 give an account of what had transpired — 
 the number of prisoners disposed of, the 
 subm ission of Sir Andrew Agnew, Gar thland , 
 and the two sons of Craichlaw, saying so far 
 nothing of the old Lady of Arioland. 
 
 " But my mother," interrupted Hay. 
 " You say nothing of the one who is dearest 
 to me. Tell me all — tell me all, though it 
 should crush me into the dust of dust." 
 
 With downcast face and in broken ac- 
 cents, Allan told the story which he would 
 fain have left blank, every sentence of which
 
 282 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 
 
 came with anguish from his own heart, 
 while under every sentence Hay was 
 writhing with passion. 
 
 " No more Allan, no more," he cried sud- 
 denly, springing to his feet from the heather 
 couch on which they were reclining, their 
 shoulders resting against the rocky wall of 
 the cave. " The air of this hole is stifling. 
 Let us go out under the open sky." 
 
 A cold wind was rustling the bushes and 
 shaking the leaves from the trees in the sur- 
 rounding darkness ; but the stars shone 
 clearly and steadily, high in the heavens — 
 not in those twinkling myriads and dense 
 clusters which give to the upper firmament 
 some of the white and pinky radiance of 
 day — but apart, fixed, motionless, yet in- 
 tensely bright, like eyes of fire staring out 
 of the dark void of night, to which they gave 
 illimitable depth, and yet drew it into form 
 and substance, smooth and solid as a marble
 
 THE MARTYE OF GLENCREE. 283 
 
 pavement, on wliicli those diamond bril- 
 liancies were indented as for ever. 
 
 " Tliere, indeed, are stability and repose ! " 
 said Hay, as he looked up to heaven. '* But 
 the stability and repose of power divine, of 
 work done and perfected. How unlike my 
 poor flickering spirit, beating its feeble 
 wings against an iron cage from which it 
 cannot escape — dejected, chafed, beaten 
 down, and crushed under ever-increasing 
 loads of sacred obligation which it cannot 
 fulfil — resolving vastly and yet performing 
 nothing. This inaction is worse than purga- 
 tory. It is the feebleness of my arm that 
 oppresses me — that I feel destroying by 
 inches my very soul ! " 
 
 " Hush ! my dear friend," said Allan, 
 "be calm. The starry lift to which you have 
 appealed may have its heaven-sent lesson 
 to us poor creatures here below — a lesson 
 of constancy, and of trust in an Almighty
 
 284 THE MAETYR OF GLENCItEE. 
 
 Providence, under troubles. As long as 
 ttie stars shine there is light. As long as 
 life is there is hope." 
 
 "Mj dear, brave unconquerable mother !" 
 continued Hay, scarcely conscious of the 
 counsel tendered him, as he gave way to a 
 paroxysm of mingled rage and grief, resting 
 his head on Allan's shoulder, and quivering 
 through every limb. " To be banished — 
 sold as a slave — toiled and flogged on an 
 Indian plantation. And for what, for 
 whom ? For me — for her love to me ! Mer- 
 ciful Heaven ! Is it to be that I did nothing 
 while this shame of shames, this fiendish 
 vengeance, sparing neither sex nor age, was 
 being done in open day ? Am I to lurk in 
 caves or wander on the earth to the end of 
 worthless days with worse than the brand 
 of Cain on my forehead, nay, burned into 
 my inmost heart — a base and conscience- 
 seared matricide ? "
 
 THE MART YE OF GLENCEEE. 285 
 
 Revolting at the picture lie had thus 
 drawn of himself, Hay started from Allan's 
 shoulder, and drawing his sword, bent down 
 on his knee, the blade uplifted. *' I take 
 God to witness before these orbs of His," 
 he said with a firm and solid voice, " that 
 I shall confront this arch -villain to the face 
 though guarded by a thousand dragoons. 
 When the unworthy son has fallen in a 
 sacred duty, spare, Heaven ! spare the 
 aged and sainted mother." 
 
 Allan, who had bowed in awe behind Hay 
 duinng this invocation, was suddenly raised 
 by the grasp of his companion. " Tell me 
 Allan," cried Hay, in rapid and eager 
 tones, " tell me where and when I shall 
 meet Clavers with sword in hand, on foot 
 or on horseback — put my body against his 
 body, though it were only for an instant 
 — and let Heaven be the arbiter of this long 
 dispute."
 
 286 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE, 
 
 "Mr. Hay," said AUan, " I feared tlie 
 breaking of these woful tidings to your ear, 
 nor can I say that I am surprised at your 
 passion. I, who have played the fool to 
 make a fool of Clavers, with my life in my 
 hand at every step, would as lithe have a 
 bout with him either at broadsword or ra- 
 pier, and let the better man stand or fall, as 
 the will of God might be. But it's nae easy 
 wark to get within sword's length o' Cla- 
 vers. He is nane of your cavaliers to be 
 called out in single combat, and as for 
 charging him through his dragoons it would 
 be only a rushing to destruction, which we 
 are nowhere commanded in worldly pru- 
 dence or in Holy Writ to do. Your body 
 would be riddled with fifty pistol balls be- 
 fore you got within fifty paces of the man 
 you would encounter. But I agree with you 
 so far that we are noo in the last extremity. 
 Yet it should be a' weel considered."
 
 THE MARTYR OF GLENCREE. 287 
 
 *' It is your counsel I wisli to hear, Allan," 
 said Hay, "and, after hearing it, I will give 
 you mine." 
 
 " Come then, under cover," replied Al- 
 lan ; and the two returned to the cavern, 
 burdened with as weighty and immediately 
 active concerns as ever engaged two human 
 beings. One of those urgent yet tangled 
 skeins of action, in which the cleverest 
 device is fraught only with imminent dan- 
 ger, and a pull this way or that, at the 
 wrong or right time, may harden or loosen 
 the knot ; where, in short, there is little 
 left but despair of any action whatever. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 k 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 QTLBRUT AND KIVIN&TOX, PEINTERS, 
 
 ST. JOHN'S SQTTARE.