When my father returned home, my mother and all the family were grieved to see his sad and altered looks.  We gathered around him, and she thought he had failed to get the legacy, and comforted him by saying they had hitherto fenn’t without it, and so might they still do.

To her tender condolements he however made no answer; but, taking a leathern bag, with the money in it, out of his bosom, he flung it on the table, saying, “What care I for this world’s trash, when the ark of the Lord is taken from Israel?” which to hear daunted the hearts of all present.  And then he told us, after some time, what was doing on the part of the King to bring in the worship of the Beast again, rehearsing, with many circumstances, the consternation and sorrow and rage and lamentations that he had witnessed in Edinburgh.

I, who was the ninth of his ten children, and then not passing nine years old, was thrilled with an unspeakable fear; and all the dreadful things, which I had heard my grandfather tell of the tribulations of his time, came upon my spirit like visions of the visible scene, and I began to weep with an exceeding sorrow, in so much that my father was amazed, and caressed me, and thanked Heaven that one so young in his house felt as a protestant child should feel in an epoch of such calamity.

It was then late in the afternoon, towards the gloaming, and having partaken of some refreshment, my father took the big Bible from the press-head, and, after a prayer uttered in great heaviness of spirit, he read a portion of the Revelations, concerning the vials and the woes, expounding the same like a preacher; and we were all filled with anxieties and terrors; some of the younger members trembled with the thought that the last day was surely at hand.

Next morning a sough and rumour of that solemn venting of Christian indignation which had been manifested at Edinburgh, having reached our country-side, and the neighbours hearing of my father’s return, many of them came at night to our house to hear the news; and it was a meeting that none present thereat could ever after forget:-well do I mind everything as if it had happened but yestreen.  I was sitting on a laigh stool at the fireside, between the chumley-lug and the gown-tail of old Nanse Snoddie, my mother’s aunty, a godly woman, that in her eild we took care of; and as young and old came in, the salutation was in silence, as of guests coming to a burial.

The first was Ebenezer Muir, an aged man, whose grandson stood many a blast in the persecution of the latter days, both with the Blackcuffs and the bloody dragoons of the remorseless Graham of Claver.  He was bent with the burden of time, and leaning on his staff, and his long white hair hung down from aneath his broad blue bonnet.  He was one whom my grandfather held in great respect for the sincerity of his principles and the discretion of his judgment, and among all his neighbours, and nowhere more than in our house, was he considered a most patriarchal character.

“Come awa, Ebenezer,” said my father, “I’m blithe and I’m sorrowful to see you.  This night we may be spar’t to speak in peace of the things that pertain unto salvation; but the day and the hour is not far off, when the flock of Christ shall be scattered and driven from the pastures of their Divine Master.”

To these words of affliction Ebenezer Muir made no response, but went straight to the fireside, facing Nanse Snoddie, and sat down without speaking; and my father, then observing John Fullarton of Dykedivots coming in, stretched out his hand, and took hold of his, and drew him to sit down by his side.

They had been in a manner brothers from their youth upward.  An uncle of John Fullarton’s, by whom he was brought up, had been owner, and he himself had heired, and was then possessor of, the mailing of Dykedivot, beside ours.  He was the father of four brave sons, the youngest of whom, a stripling of some thirteen or fourteen years, was at his back:  the other three came in afterwards.  He was, moreover, a man of a stout and courageous nature, though of a much-enduring temper.

“I hope,” said he to my father-“I hope, Sawners, a’ this straemash and hobbleshow that fell out last Sabbath in Embro’ has been seen wi’ the glamoured een o’ fear, and that the King and government canna be sae far left to themsels as to meddle wi’ the ordinances of the Lord.”

“I doot, I doot, it’s owre true, John,” replied my father in a very mournful manner; and while they were thus speaking, Nahum Chapelrig came ben.  He was a young man, and his father being precentor and schoolmaster of the parish, he had more lair than commonly falls to the lot of country folk; over and aboon this, he was of a spirity disposition, and both eydent and eager in whatsoever he undertook, so that for his years he was greatly looked up to amang all his acquaintance, notwithstanding a small spicin of conceit that he was in with himself.

On seeing him coming in, worthy Ebenezer Muir made a sign for him to draw near and sit by him; and when he went forward, and drew in a stool, the old man took hold of him by the hand, and said, “Ye’re weel come, Nahum;” and my father added, “Ay, Nahum Chapelrig, it’s fast coming to pass, as ye hae been aye saying it would; the King has na restit wi’ putting the prelates upon us.”

“What’s te prelates, Robin Fullarton?” said auld Nanse Snoddie, turning round to John’s son, who was standing behind his father.

“They’re the red dragons o’ unrighteousness,” replied the sincere laddie with great vehemence.

“Gude guide us!” cried Nanse with the voice of terror; “and has the King daur’t to send sic accursed things to devour God’s people?”

But my mother, who was sitting behind me, touched her on the shoulder, bidding her be quiet; for the poor woman, being then doited, when left to the freedom of her own will, was apt to expatiate without ceasing on whatsoever she happened to discourse anent; and Nahum Chapelrig said to my father,-

“’Deed, Sawners Gilhaize, we could look for nae better; prelacy is but the prelude o’ papistry; but the papistry o’ this prelude is a perilous papistry indeed; for its roots of rankness are in the midden-head of Arminianism, which, in a sense, is a greater Antichrist than Antichrist himself, even where he sits on his throne of thraldom in the Roman vaticano.  But, nevertheless, I trust and hope, that though the virgin bride of protestantism be for a season thrown on her back, she shall not be overcome, but will so strive and warsle aneath the foul grips of that rampant Arminian, the English high-priest Laud, that he shall himself be cast into the mire, or choket wi’ the stoure of his own bakiefu’s of abominations, wherewith he would overwhelm and bury the Evangil.  Yea, even though the shield of his mighty men is made red, and his valiant men are in scarlet, he shall recount his worthies, but they shall stumble in their walk.”

While Nahum was thus holding forth, the house filled even to the trance-door with the neighbours, old and young; and several from time to time spoke bitterly against the deadly sin and aggression which the King was committing in the rape that the reading of the liturgy was upon the consciences of his people.  At last Ebenezer Muir, taking off his bonnet, and rising, laid it down on his seat behind him, and then resting with both his hands on his staff, looked up, and every one was hushed.  Truly it was an affecting sight to behold that very aged, time-bent and venerable man so standing in the midst of all his dismayed and pious neighbours,-his grey hairs flowing from his haffets,-and the light of our lowly hearth shining upon his bald head and reverent countenance.

“Friens,” said he, “I hae lived lang in the world; and in this house I hae often partaken the sweet repast of the conversations of that sanctified character, Michael Gilhaize, whom we a’ revered as a parent, not more for his ain worth than for the great things to which he was a witness in the trials and troubles of the Reformation; and it seems to me, frae a’ the experience I hae gatherit, that when ance kings and governments hae taken a step, let it be ne’er sae rash, there’s a something in the nature of rule and power that winna let them confess a fau’t, though they may afterwards be constrained to renounce the evil of their ways.  It was therefore wi’ a sore heart that I heard this day the doleful tidings frae Embro’, and moreover, that I hae listened to the outbreathings this night of the heaviness wherewith the news hae oppressed you a’.  Sure am I, that frae the provocation given to the people of Scotland by the King’s miscounselled majesty, nothing but tears and woes can ensue; for by the manner in which they hae already rebutted the aggression, he will in return be stirred to aggrieve them still farther.  I’m now an auld man, and may be removed before the woes come to pass; but it requires not the e’e of prophecy to spae bloodshed and suffering, and many afflictions in your fortunes.  Nevertheless, friens, be of good cheer, for the Lord will prosper his own cause.  Neither king, nor priest, nor any human authority has the right to interfere between you and your God; and allegiance ends where persecution begins.  Never, therefore, in the trials awaiting you, forget that the right to resist in matters of conscience is the foundation-stone of religious liberty; O see, therefore, that you guard it weel!”

The voice and manner of the aged speaker melted every heart.  Many of the women sobbed aloud, and the children were moved, as I was myself, and as I have often heard them in their manhood tell, as if the spirit of faith and fortitude had entered into the very bones and marrow of their bodies; nor ever afterwards have I heard psalm sung with such melodious energy of holiness as that pious congregation of simple country folk sung the hundred and fortieth psalm before departing for their lowly dwellings on that solemn evening.