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thirty-five minutes long, all of which was on the paper before him, and I have heard him many a time when he had nothing even to serve as a brief. During this past summer, I listened to Dr Parker in London twice: once he read closely from voluminous sheets, and once he seemed just talking without a skeleton or anything else. Most of us have watched Mr Gough for years when he disdained all paper helps of late he has read his lectures with a pince-nez for his eyes. Within three years I heard Dr Storrs deliver two splendid addresses, two hours each in length, with a felicity that was utterly discouraging to ordinary mortals; and then I listened with the rest of the community to his course, week after week, before the Seminary students, and

every word of those appeared to be written ready for the printer. These be thy gods, O Israel.' Hence, I am not prepared to admit everybody is bound to pluck out or cut off his sermons, and cast them (new revision) 'into the hell of fire,' unless they do really cause him 'to stumble.'

Meantime, my old friend, we share together the memories of the White Meeting House,' where my name stands in membership still; and the brave old preacher who, after he had given 'Irenæus' his name and burned his sermons, gave to my father his bride in the distant days before either of them began the lengthened acquaintance with Yours truly,

CHARLES S. ROBINSON.

THE MARTYR GRAVES OF THE SOUTH OF SCOTLAND. BY REV. J. H. THOMSON, HIGHTAE, BY LOCKERBIE. CHAPTER V.

DURISDEER.

HEN we first visited Durisdeer we approached it by rather a circuitous road, yet a road that will amply repay the extra time and expenditure of strength it requires. We came at it from the Elvanfoot Station on the Caledonian Railway. Durisdeer is about ten miles by the road south from Elvanfoot. Shortly after leaving the station, the road turns off from that to Leadhills, and goes south. For the first two miles the Clyde, now a small stream, runs at no great distance to the east of the road, but at a quarter of a mile from Glenochar it loses its name, and divides into two burns-the Patrail and the Daer Water. We followed up the road for six or seven miles with the Patrail always in view, until at Durisdeer Hill we lost sight of it by our turning south-west when we were not much more than a mile from its source. Soon after leaving the station on the east side of the road, traces of an older road begin to appear, and they are more or less visible all the way until we almost reach Durisdeer. They are traces of a Roman road that must have connected the valley of the Nith with the road that runs up not far from Lockerbie, very nearly parallel to the line of the Caledonian Railway until it reaches Carstairs. It is of no great breadth, and would do little more than allow a single cart to pass, so that it must have been for files of beasts of burden rather than for modern means of conveyance. It was in use up till the beginning of the present century. Save where it has been incorporated with the present road, it is now grass-grown, but its straightness, and the way in which it cuts through the knolls that cross its path, make it easily recognisable to the passer-by.

For seven miles from the station the road ran through a pastoral country, with ranges of hills, grass-grown to the summit, rising on either side, some of them as high, as in the case of the Green Lowther, as 2403 feet. It was the beginning of autumn, and although the country was bare of trees, yet the grass all around, and the patches of heather here and there beginning to come into flower, the bleating of the sheep, the occasional hum of the wild bee as it passed by, the round-topped hills, scarred here and there by loose shingle that the rain and the frost had broken out from their sides, and the perfect solitude-for we walked for miles without meeting a person— made it a scene full of attraction. As we travelled along we had been gradually rising from the 889 feet above the sea, the height of Elvanfoot Station, until, when opposite Comb Law at the toll-bar, where the road turns off to Dalveen Pass, we had reached a height of fully 1100 feet. At the toll-bar we now left the turnpike road, and followed the Roman road due south through the moor. For two miles the road still rose, until we reached its highest point, about 1300 feet above the sea. About the highest point we passed out of Lanarkshire into Dumfriesshire, and gradually crossed over to the other side of the valley. As we crossed the Roman road came into greater prominence. It was fully nine to ten feet in breadth, and in the next two miles it sloped downwards by a regular descent, as if laid down by the straight line of an engineer, until we reached Durisdeer, where we were only 575 feet above the level of the sea. About the middle of this descent we could plainly see a Roman camp on the other side of the valley.

Durisdeer is so small as to be a clachan rather than a village. The church is its one prominent object. It bears the look of being of the seventeenth century. A house is attached to it which, until it fell into its

present neglect, was used as a school. The church itself is cruciform. Built on to its northern end is the mausoleum of the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry. It contains a recumbent marble full-length statue of the Duchess, who died in 1709; another of the Duke, who died in 1711, has since been added. Both statues are of great beauty. A gate of wrought-iron, that is quite a work of art, separates the mausoleum from the church. The gate is said to have been made by a smith at Drumlanrig Mains, in the neighbourhood. The church contains a few old stones. We noticed one with the date 1540, and another to an 'Andro Patrik,' the builder of Drumlanrig Castle, of date 1685.

The stone we were in search of we found on the south side of the churchyard, close to the wall of the church. It is a flat stone, raised about 18 inches from the ground, and is 5 feet in length by 2 feet in breadth. It is in good preservation. Behind it is a modern stone telling of a sermon preached to raise a collection to repair it, and of the date and the name of the preacher. The inscription on the stone

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Wodrow, under the year 1685, gives an account of the last days of Daniel M Michael, and Dr Simpson, in his Gleanings Among the Mountains, chapter iv., has gathered up the traditions about him that were still lingering in the district. He had a brother, James, described by Wodrow as fowler to the Laird of Maxweltown, and a bold, daring man, who was at Aird's Moss, and escaped after Richard Cameron fell. He was concerned in a rescue of prisoners at Enterkin, and in the scuffle with Pierson, the curate of Carsphairn, he shot him dead. The Societies highly disapproved of this action, and expelled him from their association. Shortly after his ex

pulsion, James M'Michael and a few companions were hiding among the hills near the Water of Dee. Claverhouse received information of where they were, and came upon them when not expecting any attack from the persecutor. Two of their number escaped unnoticed, but the rest saw no way of escape, and had to defend themselves. Claverhouse singled out James M'Michael. M'Michael valiantly defended himself, until Claverhouse, dreading the worst, had to call out for assistance. Tradition records that M'Michael now cried out to his assailant, 'You dare not abide the issue of a single combat; and had your helmet been like mine, a soft bonnet, your carcase had ere this found its bed on the heath.' Claverhouse's call for assistance brought a dragoon, who stealthily came upon M'Michael from behind, and with one stroke of his sword split his skull.

His

The bold daring of his brother very likely made Daniel M'Michael to be sought after by the enemies of freedom. But he was altogether of a different stamp, quiet and peaceful, rather than a daring man of war. house at Blairfoot, near the ruins of Morton Castle, was not unlike that of John Brown of Priesthill, a favourite place of resort to the pious people in the district. In January 1685 Daniel was overtaken by fever. His old friends did not forsake him in his trouble, and occasionally met with him, and worshipped God together a terrible crime in the estimation of the men then in power. At one of these meetings they had taken the precaution to post one of their number at some distance from the place where they had met, in order to give the alarm if the persecutor were seen approaching. The precaution was not unneeded, for the watcher soon observed the approach of a party of fifty soldiers under the command of Sir John Dalziel of Kirkmichael and Lieutenant Straiton. An informer had given intelligence of the prayer-meeting, and hence the approach of the soldiers. watcher immediately ran back and told his friends of the nearness of danger. They at once prepared for flight. As they well knew, sickness would not save Daniel M'Michael from ill-treatment by the soldiers, they wrapped him up, and took him with them to a cave close at hand, that had often in the past proved a place of concealment. They reached the cave in safety. But there had been a Judas among them, and he soon left the cave to give information. The character of the traitor was discovered by one of their number, who left shortly after he had gone. He immediately went back and told his brethren that their place of retreat was known to their enemies. It was agreed instantly to leave, and to divide into two companies, the one to go with Daniel M'Michael northwards to Durisdeer, and the other southwards, as a decoy, to the mosses of Kirkhope. But the dragoons also divided, and the division that followed the company with Daniel M‘Michael rapidly gained upon them, when it was re

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solved, at the pressing request of the sick man himself, that they should leave him behind, as escape was otherwise impossible.

They had time to conceal him in a cave which he had reminded them of, and then left him to provide for their own safety, under the hope that his hiding-place would not be found out. But the dogs the dragoons had with them scented out the spot where he lay. He was at once dragged out and taken to Durisdeer. Many questions were put to him, which he declined to answer; and many charges were brought against him, which he denied, and affirmed he knew nothing about them. At last he was told that unless he owned the royal supremacy in Church and State, by taking the oath of allegiance, now pressed upon him, the law made him liable to present death. Wodrow says, 'Daniel was a very sedate, sensible countryman,' and replied to Dalziel, Sir, that is what in all things I cannot do, but very cheerfully I submit to the Lord's disposal as to my life.' 'Do you not know,' responded Dalziel, 'your life is in my hand?' No, sir,' answered M'Michael; I know my life is in the Lord's hand, and if He see good He can make you the instrument to take it away.' M'Michael was now ordered to prepare for death on the morrow. He was able to reply with the calmness that men in his situation have often evinced, 'If my life must go for His cause, I am willing. My God will prepare me.'

He was kept prisoner all night in Durisdeer. "That night, records Wodrow,' he enjoyed a sweet time of communion and fellowship with God, and great outlets of joy and consolation, so that some of the soldiers desired to die his death, and not a few convictions were left in their bosoms.'

He was brought out of prison next day, fever-stricken though he was, in order to be taken to the garrison in Crawford Moor, some twelve or thirteen miles to the north. But it was soon found that he was too feeble to be carried so far, and at the entrance to Dalveen Pass, one of the most striking passes in the south of Scotland, at a spot still marked out by a small stone, with an inscription commemorating the fact of his death, he was told to prepare to die. He had liberty granted him to pray, a liberty often denied to his fellow-sufferers, and he prayed to the wonder of the by-standers. He sang part of the Forty-second Psalm, a psalm that most probably describes the experience of David when excluded from the sanctuary by the rebellion of his son Absalom, and a psalm peculiarly fitted to be the expression of the thoughts of the people of God when called to face death because of their attachment to truth

'Like as the hart for water-brooks
In thirst doth pant and bray;
So pants my longing soul, O God,
That come to Thee I may.

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'Tis as a sword within my bones, When my foes me upbraid; Ev'n when by them, Where is thy God? 'Tis daily to me said.

O why art thou cast down, my soul?
Why, thus with grief opprest,
Art thou disquieted in me?

In God still hope and rest:

For yet I know I shall Him praise,
Who graciously to me

The health is of my countenance,
Yea, mine own God is He.'

He then read over the sixteenth chapter of John's Gospel, a chapter in which these words occur:-These things have I spoken unto you, that ye should not be offended. They shall put you out of the synagogues: yea, the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service. And these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor Me. . . . In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.' He then 'spoke with much gravity and solidity to Captain Dalziel.' After the napkin was put over his head, he said, 'Lord, Thou broughtst Daniel through many straits, and hast brought me, Thy servant, hither to witness for Thee and Thy cause. Into Thy hands I commit my spirit, and hope to praise Thee through all eternity.' At a given sign four of the soldiers shot him dead.

It is not to be wondered at that 'some of the poor soldiers were for some time after in confusion for their obeying commands in this matter,' for it would have needed a heart of stone to have been unmoved at the spectacle of a sick man put to death because he had allowed a prayer-meeting to be held in his house.

At a second visit to Durisdeer we took a much shorter road to reach it. We came out at the Carronbridge Station of the SouthWestern Railway. Durisdeer lies two miles to the north of the station. The railway crosses the Carron a few yards to the south of the station, and we went down the road to the south of the bridge to see the wild and deep glens spanned by the viaduct. The scene well repaid the short detour. The central arches are of great height, and through them, as if set in their frame, were to be seen in the background the grass-grown, lofty ranges of the Lowthers.

The road to Durisdeer for the first mile runs not far from the Carron, that noisily flows in a deep ravine between it and the high hills that begin the Lowthers. In threequarters of a mile the road turns off from the main road which leads on to Dalveen Pass, and, as we turn off, Durisdeer and the tower of its church come into view, and behind them the Durisdeer Pass, while more to the west were the equally wild-looking entrances to the passes of the Dalveen and the Enterkin. Between the hills the large fields, with their trim-cut hedges, seemed admirably cultivated. The week before our visit to Durisdeer we had come from London by the North-Western Railway, and had been struck with the untrimmed and many-gapped hedges, the small and irregularly-shaped fields, and the want of

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proper drainage, in the reeds and standing water so often seen, not far from the line of railway, all betokening to a Scotch eye indifferent farming. The memory of what we had seen the week before perhaps helped to increase our admiration of the cleanly kept soil, and the large fields that we now gazed upon, in which a plough had ample room to turn, and in which as little as possible space was taken up with fences, that are so often a harbour for weeds.

But we found there was a dark side to this attractive picture, for a good woman that we met with on the road told us of the depopulation going on in Durisdeer, as is the case in so many other country parishes. The large farm we looked at embraced what was once

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T is hard work to keep the run | of the revisions that scientific theories undergo. Sir John Lubbock, in his address, as President of the British Association, at York, makes the following statement:

As regards the physical character of the earth, two theories have been held one, that of a fluid interior covered by a thin crust; the other, of a practically solid sphere. The former is now very generally admitted, both by astronomers and geologists, to be untenable. The prevailing feeling of geologists on this subject has been well expressed by Professor Le Conte, who says: "The whole theory of igneous agencies-which is little less than the whole foundation of theoretic geology-must be reconstructed on the basis of a solid

earth."

This is the latest word from the most advanced teachers of modern science. After the long battle between Moses and Geology-a battle specially distinguished by timid concessions of friends of Moses-it has at last come to this, that the President of the British Association and the Vice-President of the American Academy of Natural Sciences have admitted, as the prevailing feeling of geologists, that the whole foundation of theoretic geology must be reconstructed.

One's indignation exceeds his surprise, when he reads such an ignominious confession by men of the highest standing in the scientific world. After long years of fierce contention that the Mosaic account of the earth's creation is inconsistent with the determined, settled, immutable facts of geology, we are now coolly informed by the great teachers of science that 'the whole foundation must be reconstructed.' It would suggest itself to a mind not wholly engrossed with self-conceit, that geology might be a trifle modest after such a confession. The admission that the British and the American Scientific Associations do not yet know whether the earth is a solid body or filled with fire or water, and that the whole

eleven farms, and in the beginning of the century there were eleven homesteads with their families, where now there was only one, and two ploughmen. The use of machinery had lessened the demand for manual labour, and the country population now felt itself compelled to go to the cities in search of employment. We thought too of the increasing number of small congregations in the country, and of how every year these congregations are becoming smaller, and of yet how these congregations must be supported, for their members need the gospel to be preached to them, and the homes of these members are really nurseries for the supply of fresh plants, yet to be trees of righteousness in our great cities.

RECONSTRUCTED.

foundation of the science of geology is to be torn up and rebuilt, indicates the most stupendous failure we have had to record in forty years.

Similar in kind, but not in degree, have been the reconstructions of theories in chemistry and natural philosophy. The obituaries of theories furnish amusing as well as instructive pages in literature. Each year hears the explosion of cherished ideas, supposed to be founded in everlasting fact, established by satisfactory experiment. Suddenly a crash comes, and what was held to be founded on a rock proves to have no basis at all. These are discoveries in science. They indicate the progress of the age. But they also serve to show that science is not always knowledge. They might, but they do not, make us diffident in accepting as a finality what men of learning and research teach as the conclusions of investigation.

The word of the Lord standeth sure. Half-hearted and unread defenders of the Bible try to compromise with geology by admitting that the words of Genesis may not mean what they say; that biblical history is allegory, and creation is evolution. But now geologists themselves have given up their theories, and when they have reconstructed' their books, we shall have to go over the whole controversy again and slay the slain.

The progress of science is grand, and every intelligent mind rejoices in its triumphs. It has advanced the enjoyments of the human race, and in a merely temporal aspect of the case this is the highest good. But when it seeks to overturn the knowledge we have derived from the revealed Word of God, we have a right to challenge it, and to demand that it shall be sure of its facts before it claims to be wise above what is written. There is many a conflict between religion and science but there will never be a conflict between religion and knowledge.

To all the leaders of 'modern thought' we commend the advice of David Crockett, M.C., 'Be sure you are right, then go ahead.'

THE LINDSAYS OF REDKNOCK HAUGH.

BY MARY DOIG, AUTHOR OF ROSALIA VANDERWERF,' ETC.

CHAPTER XIV.

'At the lone midnight hour When bad spirits have power, In thy chamber will I be.'

T

-SIR WALTER SCOTT.

HE time of the trial of Stobow is now drawing on, and Mrs Lindsay, knowing this, begs her brother, who is one of the magistrates of Edinburgh, to make interest for him, in the hope that he may escape with his life. He has many friends, too, throughout the land, and, on account of their intercession, the punishment

decreed him is banishment, not death.

The band of soldiers who for a time were

quartered in the neighbourhood of Redknock Haugh, believing that young Lindsay is not in the neighbourhood, have been removed, and Ralph, who is recovered, has ventured home, for Spence, his chief enemy, has now fallen sick.

There has been another late fall of snow,

and the old shepherd is out at midnight putting his lambs in shelter, when he sees a horseman riding towards him, and is about to accost him, when he becomes convinced that it is no earthly horse nor earthly rider that he beholds. They pass by him and go in the direction of Moss-bog.

On the following morning it is heard that On the following morning it is heard that at that very hour three loud knocks came to the window of the Laid of Moss-bog, and the persecutor died.

On the low stone dyke in front of the house they say the mark of a horse's hoof is left, the mark remaining until this day.

CHAPTER XV.

'I watched his body the night and the day,
No living creature came my way.'

--BORDER WIDOW'S LAMENT.

Years have passed, and the battle of Bothwell Bridge being over, the defeated Covenanters are pursued by the enemy, those of then who are taken prisoners being subjected to the most wanton cruelty, as they are bound two by two together and driven into Edinburgh, being taunted all the way with such questions as these, 'Where is phet Welsh? who told you ye should win the day? where are your Covenants, that were never to fail?'

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Arrived in Edinburgh, the Council gave orders to the magistrates that the prisoners be placed in the Greyfriars Churchyard, where sentinels are placed over them night and day. Nor is it those alone who have taken arms who suffer; many who have merely come to the field preaching which preceded the battle are shot dead by the wayside.

Stobow, who had returned after his first banishment, has been wounded in this battle, but has nevertheless escaped to Glasgow, where he is in hiding in the house of a friend till an opportunity occurs of flying by ship to a foreign land.

Many females who have come to the great field preaching, and have watched the battle at a distance, come on the field when the fight is over to render what help they can to the wounded. But, alas! even in this they are frustrated, some of the King's troops seizing their pitchers and pouring the water on the ground, that the agonies of thirst which the dying feel may not be relieved even by a cup of cold water.

When the women have been driven from

the field, and the soldiers have gone, Lilias Stobow returns, for she thinks she has seen among a heap of slain that some one is yet alive. She therefore makes the utmost efforts to extricate the living man from among his dead companions, and discovers, as she does so that he whom she has thus liberated is

Ralph Lindsay.

His strength is not yet gone, although his him to a little stream, from whence she brings life-blood is flowing fast away, so she leads him water to assuage his dying thirst.

'Lilias,' he says, as she sits holding him in her arms; Lilias, when I am dead, tell my mother that, though vanquished, I die a victor. "Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through the Lord Jesus Christ."

with his blood, he says: 'My father's blood Then, seeing the hands which hold him red was on your infant face and baptismal robe, and mine is on you now;' then, looking round, he adds, 'Have you no fear to stay and see me die, with nothing but the dead around?'

"There is no fear in love,' says Lilias; 'perfect love casteth out fear.'

And so she sits holding him in her arms, till, at the darkest hour of the midsummer night, she knows that the life has fled; yet still she does not rise to go, but continues holding the unconscious clay, and sees, when the morning dawns, that the martyr's spirit has left on the lifeless face a beauty rarely seen in death.

And all the bright July morning, and cloudless summer day, she continues her watch, till in the evening a band of friendly countrymen appear to bury the slain where they have died. And so she sees them lay him in his grave, then she goes her way.

THE END.

A FALSE TEACHER.-A sheep's skin may cover a wolf's heart. A false teacher puts on the livery of Christ to serve the devil in. He will have his reward.

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