in these persecutions was Graham of Claverhouse, who had been appointed sheriff of Wigton in 1682, and an account of whose raids against the nonconformists would fill a volume. Many a rough stone, decked with rude sculpture and uncouth rhymes, marks out to the peasantry of the present day the spot where some pious ancestor was shot by the dragoons of Lagg or Claverhouse. Of all the stories which the annals of the time have preserved to us, none is so affecting as that of John Brown of Priesthill. The farm of Priesthill, in the parish of Muirkirk, in Ayrshire, was occupied during "the trying times" by John Brown, by profession a carrier, and a man respected all the country round for his piety and upright character. He had not been present either at Pentland or Bothwell, but was well known for his attachment to the persecuted cause. His wife, Marion Weir, was a very superior woman, of a lively and humorous disposition. They were married in 1682, at a conventicle, by Mr Peden, one of the most noted of the Cameronian preachers. "You have got a good husband," said he to Marion Weir when the ceremony was over; "value him highly; keep linen for a winding-sheet beside you, for in a day when you least expect it, he may be taken from you." The house of Priesthill, occupied by this pious couple, with a little daughter of the husband's by a former wife, stands to this day. It is on the brow of a hill, behind which rises an extensive tract of heath, moss-hags, and rocks. Here many a little meeting for worship had been held at the carrier's fireside, and many a wanderer had found shelter. One evening, in May 1685, Peden, who had been in Ireland for some time, but had now returned to Scotland, paid a visit to Priesthill. He stayed all night, and in the morning, when he took farewell, he said to Marion Weir, "Poor woman-a fearful morning!" "A dark and misty morn ing!" When Peden was gone, John Brown took a spade in his hand, and went out to make ready some peat ground. It was a thick mist; and, before he was aware, he was surrounded by a body of dragoons, with Claverhouse at their head. To all the questions which were put to him, he returned distinct and fluent answers—a circumstance the more extraordinary, as he usually stammered much when addressing a stranger. Surprised composure, Claverhouse asked if he was a preacher. Those who had guided him to the house replied, "No, no; he never was a preacher." "If he has never preached," said Claverhouse, “meikle has he prayed in his time." Then turning to Brown, he said, "Go to your prayers now for the last time, for you shall immediately die." The poor man obeyed; and kneeling down, began to pray earnestly. Three times Claverhouse interrupted him once when, in allusion to the state of the times, "he was pleading that the Lord would spare a remnant, and not make a full end in the day of his anger." "I gave you time," said Claverhouse, 66 to pray, and ye are begun to preach." "Sir,"

at his

said Brown, turning round on his knees, "you know the nature neither of preaching nor praying, if you call this preaching." When he had ended, Claverhouse said, "Take good night of your wife and children." Turning to his wife, who was standing by with her child in her arms, and her husband's little daughter by her side, he said, "Now, Marion, the day is come that I told you would come, when I spake first to you of marrying me." She said, "Indeed, John, in this cause I am willing to part with you." "Then," he said, "this is all I desire; I have no more to do but to die." "He kissed," continues the narrative, "his wife and bairns, and wished purchased and promised blessings to be multiplied to them and his blessing. Clavers ordered six soldiers to shoot him. The most part of the bullets came upon his head, and scattered his brains upon the ground. Marion Weir had never before that been able to look on blood without being in danger to faint, yet she was helped to be a witness to all this without either fainting or confusion, except that, when the shots went off, her eyes dazzled. When the deed was over, Claverhouse said to her, 'What thinkest thou of thy husband now, woman?' 'I ever thought meikle o' him,' she replied, 'and now more than ever.' It were but justice,' said he, 'to lay thee beside him.' 'If you were permitted,' she said, 'I doubt not but your cruelty would go to that length; but how will ye answer for this morning's work?' 'To man,' he said, 'I can be answerable; and as for God, I will take him in my own hand.' He then mounted his horse and rode off, and left her with the corpse of her dead husband lying there. She set the bairn on the ground, and gathered his brains, and tied up his head, and straighted his body, and covered him in her plaid, and sat down and wept over him. It being a very desert place, where never victual grew, and far from neighbours, it was some time before any friends came to her."

The accession of James VII. to the throne, which took place on the 6th of February 1685, by the death of his brother Charles II., did not improve the condition of Scotland; on the contrary, the sufferings of the Covenanters were aggravated in the beginning of his reign. On the 11th of May 1685, two women, Margaret Maclaughlan, aged sixty-three, and Margaret Wilson, aged only eighteen years, were executed at Wigton for nonconformity that is, for attending field-preachings. The sentence, which was, that they should be drowned by being tied to stakes in the sea while the tide was advancing, was carried into effect with circumstances of great cruelty, in the presence of Major Windram, the Laird of Lagg, and a vast concourse of spectators.

During the years 1686 and 1687, the Covenanters enjoyed a period of comparative quiet; the attention of the most active persecutors being diverted from them by the struggle which James VII. was carrying on with his subjects for the restoration of the

Catholic religion. The struggle ended, as all know, in the Revolution of 1688, which expelled James VII. from the kingdom, and placed William and Mary on the throne. This Revolution restored peace to Scotland: the last who suffered in the cause of religion being Mr James Renwick, a young man, a preacher of the gospel, who was executed at Edinburgh on the 17th of February 1688. In July 1689, Prelacy was formally abolished in Scotland, and Presbyterianism restored.

CONCLUSION.

Thus closed the "persecutions in Scotland," as they are very properly called. These persecutions, as has been seen, commenced almost at the accession of James VI. to the throne of England, and did not cease till the Revolution of 1688-the more outrageous of the proceedings having taken place during the last twenty-eight years. Altogether, there was pretty nearly a century of strife: tyranny on the one hand, and suffering on the other. According to the most credible authority, not fewer than 18,000 persons suffered death, or the utmost extremities and hardships. Of these, 1700 were banished to the plantations—which was equivalent to becoming slaves; 750 were banished to the northern islands; 2800 were imprisoned for a long period; 7000 fled from the country; 680 were killed in battle; 498 were murdered in cold blood; and 362 were executed in form of law. The remainder of the 18,000 are summed up in those who perished through cold, hunger, and other privations. But besides all this amount of suffering and loss of life, the nation at large was exposed to numerous injuries, which it was long in recovering. Judged by the spirit of the present age, the persecutions so relentlessly projected by the latter members of the house of Stuart fill one with horror and amazement. We can scarcely compre hend how any men in their senses should have plunged into, and maintained such a career of wickedness and folly-the wickedness of attempting to dragoon a whole nation into opinions to which they expressed a settled repugnance; the folly of expecting to be successful. That they completely failed in their efforts, has just been shown; but more than this, they actually damaged the cause which they espoused. Their persecutions impressed a rooted hatred of Episcopacy, and an equally intense love of Presbyterianism, in Scotland-sentiments, to all appearance, not likely soon to be weakened. To the present day, the Scotch refer, with natural pride and enthusiasm, to the great stand made by their ancestors for conscience' sake in the seventeenth century; and in their popular tales, the achievements of the Covenanters have eclipsed those of Wallace, Bruce, and other national heroes. May the remembrance of these deeds serve only to cherish mutual forbearance and toleration, with every other Christian virtue!

ND so, Frank, you are really going to be married? asked Uncle Joshua.

"I really am, sir," replied Frank.

"And live on broth?"

"Yes, sir; and if I cannot afford that, on water-gruel." "And pray, have you persuaded Jane to starve with you?" "I have persuaded her, sir, that we can be happy on the bare necessaries of life; and those my industry will always

procure us."

"How do you know that you will always have health to labour in your profession?"

"I certainly do not; it would be presumption in me to speak securely on that subject.'

"Yet you are going to act as if this were a certainty."

"And is it wrong, my dear sir, that I should? I have health and strength-these, to me, are positive wealth. I possess

*The present story (a few alterations excepted) forms a small volume of unpretending appearance, and of anonymous authorship, published some years ago at Boston, United States, and which has there gone through several editions. We have been so much pleased with the production, as a contribution to good morals, virtuous habits, and domestic and social comfort-in which respects it reminds us of some of the early popular works of Miss Edgeworth-as to feel satisfied that we should be doing a duty to our readers, and a benefit to society, by its republication in our Miscellany.-ED.

them now, and I must make the most of them. If the uncertainty of our possessions is to paralyse our exertions, those who have money are nearly as bad off as those who have not. Riches take to themselves wings and fly away; they are at the mercy of fire and water. Uncertainty is written upon all things. I believe my prospects are as stable as most people's.”

"Let me hear what they are?”

"In the first place, sir, I have health; in the next, activity;and then my profession is a pretty sure one. A physician will always find patients, if he is attentive and skilful; and I mean to be both. However, I confess that our greatest security for a living will consist in our moderate desires and simple habits. You know, sir, Jane has no passion for fine dress; and, in short"

“In short, Frank, you are determined to be married; and there is an end of all argument."

“I only wait for your consent, sir."

"You know very well that mine will follow Jane's. And she is willing to live with you on the bare necessaries of life?" Jane only answered by an assenting smile. "Very well, I give up. One thing, however, let me tell you-beyond bread and water, a shelter for one's head, a bag of straw to sleep on, and covering and fuel to guard us from the inclemencies of the weather, there are no positive necessaries; all the rest are comparative." Jane had hitherto sat very quietly at her work, but she now laid it in her lap, and looked up with an air of astonishment. "You do not agree with me, I perceive," said Uncle Joshua; "tell me, then, what you think are the necessaries of life?"

"I confess, sir," said Jane a little contemptuously, "when I agreed with Frank that we could live on the necessaries of life, I did not mean like the beasts of the field or the birds of the air; but, graduating our ideas to what is around us, I am sure we shall ask for nothing more than the necessaries of life. The luxuries," added she with a pretty sentimental air, “we will draw from our own hearts."

“And I." said Frank, looking enchanted with her eloquence, "shall be the happiest of men."

Graduating our ideas to what is around us!" exclaimed Uncle Joshua. "Ah, there it is; you could live on broth, or water-gruel, if everybody else did; but the fact is, that nobody does; and so you, like the rest of the world, will live a little beyond your means."

"No, sir," said the young people eagerly; “we are determined to make it a rule never to exceed our means."

As long as you keep to that rule, you are safe; you do not know what it is to be beset by temptations. But I have done; advice is of little value where we have nothing else to giveand that is pretty much my case; but a bachelor's wants are few."