devout sentiments he uncovered his head, the silvery hairs of which were streaming on his shoulders, and, lifting up his hands, he "praised, and honoured, and extolled the King of heaven, all whose works are truth, and whose ways are judgment." He had fixed his eye on a cottage far off in the waste, in which lived a godly man with whom he had frequent intercourse; and there being nothing within view calculated to excite alarm, he resolved to pay his friend a visit. With his staff in his hand he wended his way to the low grounds to gain the track which led to the house. He reached it in safety, was hospitably entertained by the kind landlord, and spent the time with the household, in pious conversation and prayer, till sunset. Not daring to remain all night, he left them, to return to his dreary cave. As he was trudging along the soft footpath, and suspecting no harm, all at once several moss-troopers appeared coming over the bent, and advancing directly upon him. He fled across the moor, and when about to pass a mountain streamlet, he accidentally perceived a cavity underneath its bank, that had been scooped out by the running brook, into which he instinctively crept, and stretching himself at full length, lay hidden beneath the grassy coverlet, waiting the result. In a short time the dragoons came up, and having followed close in his track, reached the rill at the very spot where he was ensconced. As the heavy horses came thundering over the smooth turf on the edge of the rivulet, the foot of one of them sank quite through the hollow covering under which the object of their pursuit lay. The hoof of the animal grazed his head, and pressed his bonnet deep into the soft clay at his pillow, and left him entirely uninjured. His persecutors, having no suspicion that the poor fugitive was so near them, crossed the stream with all speed, and bounded away in quest of him whom God had thus hidden as in his pavilion, and in the secret of his tabernacle. A man like Peden, who read the hand of God in everything, could not fail to see and to acknowledge that divine goodness which was so eminently displayed in this instance; and we may easily conceive with what feelings he would return to his retreat in the wood, and with what cordiality he would send up the voice of thanksgiving and praise to the God of his life.

It is recorded in the "Scots Worthies," that he was favoured with a memorable deliverance from the enemy, who were pursuing him and a small company with him, somewhere in Galloway, after he came out of Ireland. When their hope

of escape was almost cut off, he knelt down among the heather and prayed: "Twine them about the hill, Lord, and cast the lap of thy cloak over old Sandy and thir poor things; and we will keep it in remembrance, and tell it to the commendation of thy goodness, pity, and compassion, what thou didst for us at such a time." Thus he prayed, and his supplication was recorded in heaven; for he had no sooner risen from his knees than dense volumes of snow-white mist came rolling down from the summit of the mountains, and shrouded them from the sight of their pursuers, who, like the men of Sodom, when they were smitten with blindness, could not grope their way after them. Auchengrouch hill, in the vicinity of Glendyne, was the scene of a similar incident. This occurrence is related by old Patrick Walker in the following words: "After this, in Auchengrouch muirs in Nithsdale, Captain John Mathison and others being with him, they were alarmed with a report that the enemy were coming fast upon him; so they designed to put him in some hole, and cover him with heather. But he not being able to run hard by reason of age, he desired them to forbear a little until he prayed, when he said: 'Lord, we are ever needing at thy hand, and if we had not thy command to call upon thee in the day of our trouble, and thy promise of answering us in the day of our distress, we wot not what would become of us. If thou have any more work for us in thy world, allow us the lap of thy cloak this day again; and if this be the day of our going off the stage, let us walk honestly off, and comfortably thorow, and our souls will sing forth thy praises to eternity for what thou hast done for us.' When ended, he ran alone a little, and came quickly back, saying: 'Lads, the bitterest of this blast is over; we will be no more troubled with them this day.' Foot and horse came the length of Andrew Clark's, in Auchengrouch, where they were covered with a dark mist. When they saw it they roared like fleshly devils, as they were crying out: There's the confounded mist again!—we cannot get these execrable Whigs pursued for it. I had these accounts from the said Captain John Mathison." Such is the statement of the incident given by Walker; the local tradition, however, is much more circumstantial.

Castle Gilmour, as its name imports, was an old baronial residence in the moors, about three miles to the east of Sanquhar, and is now a farm-house. The locality must in ancient times have been very dreary and desolate; for even yet its general aspect is anything but interesting. The

mountains, however, by which it is encompassed on the east and on the north, are of a very different description. Few scenes, on a narrow scale, present a more agreeable spectacle than that which meets the view from the northern limits of Sanquhar town common, between the parallel streams of Mennock and the Crawick. The uncultivated moorlands are flanked by hills whose summits rise like lofty colonnades to the clouds, and remind one of the sublime Scripture expression: "The pillars of heaven." The beautiful Knockenhair, in the western corner of the circular range, clad in velvet green, and topped with its ancient warder cairn, stands a stately cone detached from the neighbouring mountains, and, presenting itself in advance, invites the first glance of the spectator's eye. In the eastern corner stands the grey-clothed height of Auchengrouch, the frequent sanctuary of the worthy Peden, and to which the memory of that venerable saint has imparted a hallowed interest. The traveller in the bleak dale land which stretches from the base of. these mountains to the south, often meets with the plover and the peesweep, which, in their aërial gyrations, dive downwards, and flap with their broad wings his head and shoulders, as a chastisement for intruding on their solitary retreats. In this way, it is said, they were occasionally unconscious informers to the enemy of the wanderers who, in the open field, had concealed themselves in the heart of the bracken bush, or among the green coverts of the spratty bent. In the stillness of a sweet summer evening, when, in meditative mood, one surveys the entire scene, and gathers in all its associations, there is felt a kind of enchantment, which one is unwilling to dissipate. We think on the incidents of former times; we reflect on the wanderings and the prayers of our suffering forefathers, who made the solitudes their home, and who, when furthest from men, were nearest God. We think on the times of a still more remote ancestry, and picture the ancient Celtic people who claimed these mountains and wilds as their own, and who traversed these territories as free and as light as the fitful breeze that streams along the heath; and we ruminate on times that are yet to come, when righteous generations shall arise, for whose sake God will remove the curse from the barren wilderness; and when, under the culture of their skilful hands, that same desert, over which the eye roams, will "rejoice and blossom as the rose." An age of millennial blessedness shall arrive, in which changes and improvements shall take place, of which we have little anticipation. But we who live shall have passed

away with the former generations that are already in the dust, and our eyes shall not behold among the living the goodness which God has provided for those who shall come after, and whom he will render more worthy of its enjoyments than we are. If, however, our hope be in heaven, and if after death our souls have their dwelling there, we shall enjoy a better millennium and a higher blessedness than they of earth can boast. Only be it our care to secure, by faith in the Redeemer, an entrance into that rest which remaineth for the people of God, and then we shall have occasion to sing: "O how great is thy goodness which thou hast laid up for them that fear thee, which thou hast wrought for them that trust in thee before the sons of men!"

It was in the farm-house of Castle Gilmour, in the immediate vicinity of Auchengrouch, where Mr Peden and a few friends had taken refuge. In their wandering in the moors they were overcome with fatigue and hunger; and to this friendly house they came seeking rest and refreshment. Andrew Clark, in Auchengrouch, was a good man, a zealous Covenanter, and one who readily afforded shelter to the outcasts; and it seems that his neighbour in Castle Gilmour was no less attached to the good cause, and no less hospitable to those who were suffering for Christ's sake. On the farm of Castle Gilmour the dwelling-house and offices were so constructed as to form an exact square, with openings at the corners, through which one individual or two could pass at a time. Mr Peden and his friends were partaking of a repast after their long fasting; and, dreading no harm, were discoursing freely on the subjects that were most interesting to them, when, to their surprise, and without the least warning, a company of dragoons rode into the enclosure before the dwelling-house, and drew up at the door. The party within, seeing no way of escape except in the very face of the enemy, made a simultaneous rush to the door, and waving with their bonnets, ran here and there among the horses before the riders got time to dismount, and escaped, every one of them, through the narrow passages at the angles of the square. The troopers were confounded at an occurrence so unexpected; for they, thinking that their prey was sure, were very much at their ease, and were making no great haste to enter the house. The dragoons, when they understood the true position of matters, and having learned that the persons who had just now issued with so much impetuosity and disorder from the dwelling-house, were the very individuals of whom they were in quest, wheeled round, and

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departing by the way they entered, pursued with all speed. Meanwhile the fugitives had reached Auchengrouch burn, and arrived at the other side in safety. This was a great point gained; for the place at which they passed the stream was so precipitous, that the horsemen could not follow them. By the time, then, that they emerged on the opposite bank, the troopers, in full chase, were close to the brook; but their progress was instantly arrested by the descent, down which the horses could not march. The shot which they fired across the little ravine took no effect; and the covenanting friends pursued their way along the heath, to where Providence might be pleased to guide them. The soldiers, however, were not to be baffled by the obstacles which now crossed their path; and turning in another direction, cleared the bent with all the speed its rugged surface would permit, and were fast gaining ground. The fleeing party now perceived that there was little likelihood of escape. Mr Peden, whose refuge in the midst of his distresses was prayer, and who used to remark that "it was only praying people that would get through the storm," requested the company to halt a little till he prayed, which he did in the words recorded by Walker, and then he added: "Lads, the bitterest of this blast is over, we will be no more troubled with them this day." The occasion of their rescue was the mist which descended from the hills, and screened them from the view of their pursuers.

Some may be inclined to suppose that this incident is put forth as something miraculous, and to say that the admission of a miracle vitiates the entire statement. There is, however, no occasion whatever to suppose a miracle in this, more than in other providential interferences in answer to prayer. Are we to say, that the Divine Being cannot in any case answer our prayers, in reference to external deliverances, without a miracle? The settling of the mist on the tops of these mountains is a very common occurrence, and could not He who "maketh the clouds his chariot, and who walketh upon the wings of the wind," in answer to the prayer of his servant, in the day of his distress, send a stream of air from the mountain side, and spread the misty covering over his people who trusted in him, without the introduction of a miracle? Some, again, may be inclined to consider the thing as a mere coincidence; but the question is, Who appointed the coincidence, or was it merely fortuitous-a thing of chance and had the great Disposer of events no hand in it? No person will admit this who believes the Scripture doc