Tales of the Covenanters. Ellen Emma Guthrie

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       Ellen Emma Guthrie

      Tales of the Covenanters

      Published by Good Press, 2021

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066097288

Table of Contents

       INTRODUCTION.

       A TALE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE.

       THE LAIRD OF CULZEAN.

       PEDEN'S STONE.

       THE MURDER OF INCHDARNIE.

       THE LAIRD OF LAG.

       THE SUTOR'S SEAT.

      "

INTRODUCTION.

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      The kings of old have shrine and tomb

      In many a minster's haughty gloom;

      And green along the ocean's side

      The mounds arise where heroes died;

      But show me on thy flowery breast.

      Earth! where thy nameless martyrs rest!

      The thousands that, uncheer'd by praise,

      Have made one offering of their days;

      For Truth, for Heaven, for Freedom's sake.

      Resigned the bitter cup to take;

      And silently, in fearless faith,

      Bowing their noble souls to death.

      Where sleep they, Earth?—by no proud stone

      Their narrow couch of rest is known;

      The still, sad glory of their name

      Hallows no mountain into fame.

      No—not a tree the record bears

      Of their deep thoughts and lonely prayers.

      Yet haply all around lie strew'd

      The ashes of that multitude.

      It may be that each day we tread

      Where thus devoted hearts have bled;

      And the young flowers our children sow

      Take root in holy dust below.

      O, that the many rustling leaves,

      Which round our home the summer weaves,

      Or that the streams, in whose glad voice

      Our own familiar paths rejoice,

      Might whisper through the starry sky,

      To tell where those blest slumberers lie

      Would not our inmost Hearts be thrill'd

      With notice of their presence fill'd,

      And by its breathings taught to prize

      The meekness of self-sacrifice?—

      But the old woods and sounding waves

      Are silent of these hidden graves.

      Yet, what if no light footstep there

      In pilgrim love and awe repair.

      So let it be!—like him whose clay,

      Deep buried by his Maker lay.

      They sleep in secret—but their sod,

      Unknown to man, is marked of God!

      Mrs. Hemans.

      Scotland is indeed a land of romance. Her mouldering ruins are linked with legends and historical associations which must ever enhance their interest in the eyes of those who love to gaze on these the

      Standing mementos of another age;

      and the pages of her history teem with deeds of chivalry and renown that have won for Scotland a mighty name. Thus, while the annals of our country are emblazoned with the deathless names of those mighty heroes who fought and bled in defence of her freedom from spiritual bondage, the nameless mound, or simple cairn of stones, still to be met with on the solitary heath or sequestered dell, marks the spot where rests some humble champion of her religious liberties.

      Although three hundred years have passed away—marked in their flight by great and startling events—since the reign of persecution in Scotland, yet the hearts of her peasantry cling with fondness to the remembrance of those hallowed days sealed by the blood of her faithful martyrs. Still is the name of Claverhouse execrated by them, and the story of "John Brown" is related from children to children while seated around the cottage hearth, in illustration of the lawless doings of the Covenanters' foes.

      It must strike the mind of every unprejudiced observer, who reads the various histories of that stirring time, that the shocking and barbarous cruelties practised on the defenders of the Covenant by their relentless enemies, will ever remain a stain on the memories of those who countenanced or took an active part in such proceedings. Scarcely is there a churchyard extant in Scotland, laying claim to antiquity, that does not contain one or more stones, the half-obliterated inscriptions of which attest the fact, that underneath lies some poor victim of persecuting zeal.

      Having lately visited different parts of Scotland intimately connected with many of the events which took place at that memorable time, I experienced an inexpressible satisfaction in the reception I met with at the different farm-houses in the neighbourhood, and hearing from the lips of their simple inhabitants the story of the cruel wrongs inflicted on the Covenanters in the days of their persecution.

      During these pleasant wanderings, I gathered information sufficient to furnish the Tales contained in the present volume, in which the reader will, I trust, find much that is calculated to awaken fresh interest in those benefactors of our country, whose magnanimity and patient endurance were worthy of all praise, and who, for the cause of Christ and his Crown, laid down their lives on the scaffold or amidst the burning faggots.

      THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS.

A TALE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE.

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      While staying at ——, in the parish of W——, I discovered that a standard, borne by the Covenanters at Bothwell Bridge, was still to be seen at the farm of Westcroft. Being very desirous of viewing this interesting relic, I set off one fine morning in the hope of obtaining a glimpse of the time-honoured banner. On reaching the village of H——, which lay on my way, I observed a very portly-looking woman standing by the side of the road, apparently enjoying the grateful breeze, as she looked east and then west, evidently in search