He was

heard at the door. The hasty approach of the enemy precluded all possibility of escape; and Andrew, afraid to expose the worthy people of the house to danger a second time on his account, resolved to sit by the fire, and to abide the consequences. When the soldiers rushed into the apartment, Andrew rose up and asked what they wanted. "We want," said they," the Galloway drover; and you are the man we suppose." "I am not a drover," said he, "but a shepherd." "No matter, you are our prisoner." Andrew was instantly overpowered and bound on the spot. placed on horseback behind one of the troopers, and his feet tied below the horse's belly with a straw rope, which was twisted for the occasion. The night was dark, and the track extremely rugged, and Andrew suffered greatly from the springing and plunging of the heavy horse in the morasses. The pain occasioned by the tight binding of his ancles was frequently very great, but then the cause of his uneasiness was ultimately the means of his release. Owing to the violent motions of the animal in leaping the mossy furrows, the straw rope gave way, and the prisoner's feet were disengaged. The horse on which Andrew and the trooper were placed was, owing probably to the double weight which he carried, thrown considerably into the rear. At last the animal lost his footing on the uneven ground, and fell prone in the moss, and the two riders were violently precipitated on the bent. The soldier was stunned by the fall, and lay in a state of insensibility. The murkiness of the night prevented the others from readily seeing what had befallen. Andrew sprung to his feet, and seeing his opportunity, flew along the heath, and was in a few seconds beyond their reach. He escaped to a glen on the Water of Deuch, where he remained during the night. The soldiers halted to ascertain the nature of the occurrence, and were beyond measure chagrined at the accidental release of their captive, whom they could not find in all the moor. They proceeded to their garrison, knowing it was in vain to return to Glenlee to seek him a second time. In the morning, Andrew called on his worthy friends to inform them of his escape, and to tell them that he intended to retire to Fingland in the meantime, and to keep himself in as much secrecy as possible. The worthy couple were delighted beyond measure on finding Andrew safe, for they had mourned all night on his account, knowing that either death or banishment would be his lot. But Providence had rescued him, and they mingled their cordial greetings on account of the deliverance, and they thanked God and took courage.

At Fingland, which is about a mile from Glenlee, Andrew found a retreat, but not a retreat without molestation. Some time after this Mr Renwick held a conventicle at this place, on which occasion a number of children were baptized. Information of the meeting had been communicated to one of the garrisons in Carsphairn-for even this upland parish was supplied with two-and a party of soldiers were sent to disperse the worshippers. The services were ended just as the dragoons came up, and Andrew fled to his seclusion in the moss. Two of the horsemen pursued, and when they were within musket-shot, they fired and wounded him severely in the left arm. He escaped, however, to his cavern, where he continued alone in a very weakly and distressed condition, and must have died had not Providence sent him relief. It was a misty day, and a drove of sheep, coming across the wilderness, had lost the direct path and come in a body into the moss where the wounded man was secreted. He heard the bleating of the sheep, and, moving aside his heathery curtain, shouted as loudly as his strength would permit, and the two shepherds who conducted the flock were attracted to his cavern. He made known his situation, and the men administered what relief they could, and supplied him with part of the provisions which they carried with them. He recovered, by this means, a little strength, and was at length, with much difficulty, enabled to find his way to Fingland. It was long before he fully regained his vigour, but he strove to keep himself out of the way of the enemy-a thing which was not easily done by a man confined through weakness to one spot, and more especially as there were constantly strolling parties of troopers passing between Cumnock and Carsphairn along the line in which Andrew had his places of concealment.

When he recovered sufficient strength to move about, he left the higher parts, and came down to the glens of Afton, where he met with friends; but, as Claverhouse was scouring these parts, he was still obliged to hide himself in the dens and caves of the earth. He was, accordingly, reduced to a state of great destitution, and at one time he was forced to subsist for some days on the eggs of the wild fowls, which he found in considerable abundance in the lowly nests among the bushy heather and in the tufted bent. As he was one day wandering solitary and pensive on the hill, he met with the shepherd of Montquharow, to whom he made himself known. The man took him to his house, a place which had never been suspected, and not hitherto visited by the soldiers, and here

he continued in comparative safety and comfort. In this place he might have remained for a considerable time in concealment, but having heard of a conventicle that was to be held near the head of the Water of Deuch, he left his retreat to assemble with the worshippers. On his return he was pursued by a party of soldiers; but he escaped from them by ascending the steep sides of the hills, and, pursuing his course to the east of Montquharow, descended on the banks of the Scar. When he reached this secluded valley he laid himself down on the bent, and fell asleep. As he lay here he was found by a shepherd of the name of Ker, who was himself a Covenanter. He was taken to his house and kindly entertained, and here he resided till the Revolution. After this he returned to Kirkowan, where he lived for many a long year, and having reached an advanced age, he died in peace. His descendants are still resident in that district, and maintain a respectability of character worthy of their honoured ancestor.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Gordons of Earlston-Story of the White Flag.

THE sufferers in the cause of civil and religious liberty, in the times of Charles II. and his brother James, were, for the most part, individuals in the lowly walks of life. This circumstance reflects an unspeakable credit on the thinking and virtuous peasantry of Scotland. They were men of religious habits, and well acquainted with the fundamental principles of Christianity. The doctrines of the Gospel they understood and believed. They experienced the power of true religion deeply on the heart, and by the precepts of the Bible they regulated their conduct. They clung firmly to the great principles of the Reformation; and when the day of trial came, the day on which their adversaries sought to sever them from these principles, they were found to be identified with them; and the destruction of these principles was the destruction of their lives.

But the honest portion of the peasantry was not alone in this attachment. Not a few of the gentlemen of the country aided and abetted the same cause; and here, among this class of persons, the trial to be sustained was even greater than among the inferior ranks. They were persons more conspicuous in their station, and therefore the more easily observed by their enemies; and they were individuals who, on account of their worldly possessions, were called to make a greater sacrifice. Their wealth was an object of cupidity to their persecutors, who sought only a pretext to despoil them of all they possessed. The indiscriminate plunder of the property of those who were known to incline to covenanting principles, operated as a most powerful check on others of their class who might otherwise be disposed to maintain the same cause. Such individuals found it no easy matter to make the sacrifice which their more independent

and conscientious brethren had the manliness to do; and therefore, instead of standing honestly forward in the defence of the right, they meanly subjected themselves to the yoke of their rulers, and became the truckling minions of a base faction. These country lairds, in connection with the curates, were the cause of unspeakable distress throughout the land; and they became the more violent in persecuting, in proportion as they wished to screen themselves, and to impress their rulers with the notion of their loyalty.

There were some, however, who yielded not, and on whose minds the conviction of the truth had taken too firm a hold to allow them to act a recreant part. These gentlemen hesitated not to sacrifice property, and ease, and honour, and even life itself, for what they considered it their obvious duty to maintain at whatever cost. Such persons proved a special blessing in the localities where they resided. They harboured the field-preachers, they encouraged conventicles, they ministered to the wants of the wanderers, and, by a good example, they stimulated the contending remnant to stedfastness in their profession.

Of this class of gentlemen were the Gordons of Earlston, in Galloway, to whom the following anecdotes refer.

The ancient house of Earlston stands on the banks of the silvery Ken, at a short distance above the village of Dalry. It is thickly surrounded with woods, which cover the base of the southerly slope of the rising ground, near the foot of which it rears its dark and time-worn turrets. To a stranger passing along the opposite bank of the river, from which a full view of the fair lands of Earlston is obtained, few objects more dreary than the ancient pile, looming in the bosom of the forest, can be contemplated. The solitary yew tree, the dusky holly, and the enormous oak, recall the times and scenes that have long since departed, and left the stately tower now tenantless in the lonely woods. One can scarcely conceive of a prison-house, to be confined in which would, on account of its deep dreariness, sooner break the heart than this.

These reflections, however, naturally occur to a stranger only; for when the name and the history of the place are known, the whole train of dismal cogitations is dissipated in a moment, and a bright sunshine gilds the entire scene. These are the lands, and this the house, of the illustrious Gordons of Earlston-illustrious for their piety and their patriotism, and who occupy no obscure niche in their country's history.