'Soldier. Well, but I mon spier some questions at you; and ye answer me right, ye and I'll be good friends again. 'C. Man. What questions will ye ask at me? 'Soldier. First, Sir, will ye pray for the king?

'C. Man. Indeed, Sir, I will pray for all good men. think the king a good man, or ye wou'd not serve him.

I hope ye

Soldier. Indeed do 1, Sir, I think him a good man, and ye are all wicked that wo' no' pray for him.* But what you say then to the business of Bothwell-Brig.-Was not Bothwell- Brigg a rebellion?

'C. Man. I wot not weel what to say of Bothwell Brigg, but and hey took up arms there against a good king, without a good cause, mun be rebellion, I'll own that.

Soldier. Nay then, I hope thou and I'se be friends presently, I think thoul't be an honest man. But they have killed the Archbishop of St. Andrews, honest man. O that was a sore work, what say you to that, was not that murder?

'C. Man. Alas, poor man, and ha'e they kill'd him, truly and he were an honest man, and they have kill'd him without any cause, weel, I wot it mun be murther; what else can I call it?

.' Soldier. Weel hast thou said, man: now I have een but ane question more, and ye and I'se tak a drink together. Will ye renounce the Covenant?

C. Man. Nay, but now I mun spier at you too, and 'There are twa Covenants, man, which of them do ye mean? 'Soldier. Twa Covenants, say you, where are they?

ye like.

'C. Man. There's the Covenant of Works, man, and the Covenant of Grace.

'Soldier. Fou fa me and I ken, man; but een renounce ane of them, and I am satisfied.

C. Man. With au my heart, Sir, indeed I renounce the Covenant of Works with au my heart.

Upon this dialogue, if the story be true, the soldier let the poor man pass. But be the story true or not true, it serves to give the reader a true idea of the dreadful circumstances every honest man was in at this time, when their life was in the hand of every soldier, nor were the consequences other than might be expected on such occasions.' -Defoe's History of the Church of Scotland.

This story seems to intimate, that the inhumanity of the soldiers did not in all instances keep pace with the severity of their instructions. Indeed even the curates sometimes were said to connive at the recusancy of their parishioners, and held it as a sufficient compliance with the orders of the council, that their parishioners should keep thec hurch; if they occasionally walked in. at one door, and out at the other, though without remaining during divine service. To return to our tale.

Morton is visited in the cell to which he is confined, by Miss

By this time the poor man began to see the soldier was not designing to hart him, and he took the hint, and was encouraged to answer as he did. Fr*

Bellenden, and her hand-maiden Jenny Dennison, the beloved of the exiled Cuddie. The result of their conference, is an attempt on the part of the young lady to secure her lover's safety, through the mediation of her uncle, Major Bellenden, an old cavalier by whom he was known and well-esteemed. She has an opportunity of trying her influence the next morning, when the celebrated Graham of Claverhouse, afterwards Viscount of Dundee, arrives at the castle with the regiment of horse, which he commanded, in search of the refractory covenanters, who were making head on the moors in the vicinity. We will extract the portrait of this celebrated commander, whom one party exalted into a hero, while the other degraded him into a demon, as a favourable specimen of the author's powers of description.

'Grahame of Claverhouse was in the prime of life, rather low of stature, and slightly, though elegantly, formed; his gesture, language, and manners, were those of one whose life had been spent among the noble and the gay. His features exhibited even feminine regularity. An oval face, a straight and well-formed nose, dark hazel eyes, a com plexion just sufficiently tinged with brown to save it from the charge of effeminacy, a short upper lip, curved upward like that of a Grecian statue, and slightly shaded by small mustachios of light-brown, joined to a profusion of long curled locks of the same colour, which tell down on each side of his face, contributed to form such a countenance as limners love to paint and ladies to look upon.

The severity of his character, as well as the higher attributes of undaunted and enterprising valour which even his enemies were compelled to admit, lay concealed under an exterior which seemed adapted to the court or the saloon rather than to the field. The same gentleness and gaiety of expression which reigned in his features seemed to inspire his actions and gestures; and, on the whole, he was generally esteemed, at first sight, rather qualified to be the votary of pleasure than of ambition. But under this soft exterior was hidden a spirit unbounded in daring and aspiring, yet cautious and prudent as that of Machiavel himself. Profound in politics, and imbued, of course, with that disregard for individual rights which its intrigues usually generate, this leader was cool and collected in danger, fierce and ardent in pursuing success, careless of death himself, and ruthles in inflicting it upon others. Such are the characters formed in times of civil discord, when the highest qualities, perverted by party spirit, and inflamed by habitual opposition, are too often combined with vices and excesses which deprive them at once of their merit and of their lustre.'-vol. ii. pp. 286-289.

Major Bellenden's intercession in favour of Morton proves in vain. Claverhouse, with all the politeness of a soldier, exhibited the remorseless rigour which characterized one who had so much distinguished himself in the persecution. A file of dragoons is drawn out for summary execution, when Edith, in the distracting emergency, applies to a young nobleman, holding a subordinate.

commission in Claverhouse's regiment, but possessing, from his rank and political importance, great influence with that officer. Lord Evandale, himself an admirer of Edith, and more than suspecting her partiality for the rival who is now on the point of destruction, yet generously complies with her request, and makes it a point of personal favour with Claverhouse, that the execution of Morton shall not proceed. The following speech expresses the hard and determined character of the superior officer, and his obduracy in the execution of his supposed duty.

A

"Be it so then," replied Grahame :-" but, young man, should you wish in your future life to rise to eminence in the service of your king and country, let it be your first task to subject to the public interest, and to the discharge of your duty, your private passions, affections, and feelings. These are not times to sacrifice to the dotage of gray beards, or the tears of silly women, the measures of salutary severity, which the dangers around compel us to adopt. And remember that if I now yield this point, in compliance with your urgency, my present concession must exempt me from future solicitations of the same nature."

"He then stepped forwards to the table, and bent bis eyes keenly on Morton, as if to observe what effect the pause of awful suspense between death and life, which seemed to freeze the by-standers with horror, should produce upon the prisoner himself. Morton maintained a degree of firmness, which nothing but a mind which had nothing left on earth to love, or to hope, could have supported at such a crisis.

"You see him," said Claverhouse, in a half whisper to Lord Evandale, "he is tottering on the verge between time and eternity, a situation more appalling than the most hideous certainty; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only eye that is calm, the only heart that keeps its usual time, the only nerves that are not quivering. Look at him well, Evandale-If that man heads an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for on account of this morning's work."-vol. ii. 335-337.

Morton is therefore carried off in the rear of the forces, which now are moving towards a place called Loudoun-hill. He finds himself united with three companions in affliction, namely, Kettledrummle, a presbyterian preacher, taken in the act of exhorting a conventicle, and Mause with her forlorn son Cuddie, who had been apprehended among the audience.

Claverhouse finds the insurgents strongly drawn up. They are summoned to surrender, but fire upon the officer (a nephew of Claverhouse, according to the story) and kill him on the spot. The soldiers then rush to the assault, and the various incidents and fluctuations of the battle are described with clearness and accuracy. The most striking part is the personal encounter between Bothwell and Balfour, or Burley, in which the former falls.

"You are the murdering villain, Burley," said Bothwell, griping his sword firmly, and setting his teeth close-"you escaped me once, but" (he swore an oath too tremendeous to be written) "thy head is worth its weight of silver, and it shall go home at my saddle-bow, or my saddle shall go home empty for me.

"Yes, replied Burley," with stern and gloomy deliberation, "I am that John Balfour who promised to lay thy head where thou should'st never lift it again; and God do so to me, and more also, if I do not redeem my word."

"Then a bed of heather, or a thousand marks!" said Bothwell, striking at Burley with his full force.

"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" answered Balfour as he parried and returned the blow.

There have seldom met two combatants more equally matched in strength of body, skill in the management of their weapons and horses, determined courage, and unrelenting hostility. After exchanging many desperate blows, each receiving and inflicting several wounds, though of no great consequence, they grappled together as if with the desperate impatience of mortal hate, and Bothwell, seizing his enemy by the shoulder-belt, while the grasp of Balfour was upon his own collar, they came headlong to the ground. The companions of Burley hastened to his assistance, but were repelled by the dragoons, and the battle became again general But nothing could withdraw the attention of the combatants from each other, or induce them to enclose the deadly clasp in which they rolled together on the ground, tearing, struggling, and foaming, with the inveteracy of thorough-bred bull-dogs.

Several horses passed over them in the melée without their quitting hold of each other, until the sword-arm of Bothwell was broken by a kick of a charger. He then relinquished his grasp with a deep and suppressed groan, and both combatants started to their feet. Bothwell's right hand dropped helpless by his side, but his left griped to the place where his dagger hung; it had escaped from the sheath in the struggle, -and, with a look of mingled rage and despair, he stood totally defenceless, as Balfour, with a laugh of savage joy, flourished his sword aloft, and then passed it through his adversary's body. Bothwell received the thrust without falling-it had only grazed on his ribs. He attempted no further defence, but, looking at Burley with a grin of deadly hatred, exclaimed,- Base peasent churl, thou has spilt the blood of a line of kings!'

"Die, wretch-die," said Balfour, redoubling the thrust with better aim; and setting his foot on Bothwell's body as he fell, he a third time transfixed him with his sword." Die, blood-thirsty dog! die, as thou hast lived!-die, like the beasts that perish-hoping nothing-believing nothing-"

"And FEARING nothing!" said Bothwell, collecting the last effort of respiration to utter these desperate words, and expiring as soon as they were spoken.'—vol. iii. pp. 61-64.

At length Claverhouse and his party are totally routed and

driven from the field.

This is a lively, but exaggerated account of a remarkable skirmish, the only one in which Claverhouse was ever worsted. The relation betwixt him and the Cornet Grahame who was slain is quite imaginary. The accounts given by Creighton and by Guild, (author of a Latin poem, called Bellum Bothuellianum,) state that the body of this officer was brutally mangled after death, by the conquerors, from a belief that it was that of his commander Claverhouse. A curious detail of the action, which we should be tempted to transcribe had we space, from the manuscript of James Russell, one of the murderers of Archbishop Sharpe, and who was himself present, ascribes the mangling of the corpse of Cornet Grahame, to some indiscreet language which he was reported to have held on the morning of the fight. Both parties, no doubt, made a point of believing their own side of the story, which is always a matter of conscience in such cases.

Morton, set at liberty by the victorious Covenanters, is induced to join their cause and accept of a command in their levy; as well by the arguments of Burley and a deep sense of the injustice with which the insurgents have been treated by government, as by natural indignation at the unworthy and cruel treatment which he had himself experienced. But, although he adopts this decisive step, yet it is without participating the narrow minded fanaticism and bitter rancour with which most of the persecuted party regarded the prelatists, and not without an express stipulation, that, as he joined a cause supported by men in open war, so he expected it was to be carried on, according to the laws of civilized nations. If we look to the history of these times, we shall find reason to believe that the Covenanters had not learned mercy in the school of persecution. It was perhaps not to be expected, from a people proscribed and persecuted, having their spirits embittered by the most severe personal sufferings. But that the temper of the victors of Drumclog was cruel and sanguinary, is too evident from the report of their historian, Mr.Howie, of Lochgoin; a character scarcely less interesting or peculiar, than Old Mortality, and who, not many years since, collected, with great assiduity, both from manuscripts and traditions, all that could be recovered concerning the champions of the Covenant. In his History of the rising at Bothwell-bridge and the preceding skirmish of Drumclog, he records the opinions of Mr. Robert Hamilton, who commanded the Whigs upon the latter occasion, concerning the propriety and legality of giving quarter to a vanquished enemy.

Mr. Hamilton discovered a great deal of bravery and valour, both in the conflict with and pursuit of the enemy; but when he and some others were pursuing the enemy, others flew too greedily upon the spoil, small as it was, instead of pursuing the victory; and some, without Mr.