John Cargill, to whom the face of danger brought no fear, seemed to have a kind of secret satisfaction in detaining the procession. He suspected the sincerity of the young nobleman, and believed that he only accompanied them to observe character and pick up fresh matter for mirth. He had watched every motion of his head, and every glance of his eye; and he imagined he saw a lurking devil of quiet enjoyment in his face, which his Lordship expected he had concealed under an exterior of deep gravity and sedate thought. All this displeased the old man, and he resolved to punish the scoffer, and lead him where he would find little matter for merriment. This was to be accomplished only by an obstinate adherence to what was in keeping with his own character; and his resolution he had already begun to put into practice. As they entered the stream, he said, - "I love to go down, my Lord, into the deep stream,-into the rushing of many waters. But what do I see?-The stream runs backwards, the little bubbles pass upwards,—and see that feather new dropt, from yon cormorant's wing, it floats onwards to Dumfries, instead of going downwards to the ocean. There is a meaning in all this. I have heard my grandsire say, that, for a whole week before the battle of Bothwell-bridge, the stream shuddered and bubbled up blood, and ran backwards many a mile." "But there is neither miracle nor omen here," said Lord Dalveen; "the coming tide presses the waters of the river back; and, if you will look steadily towards Barnhourie for a moment, you will see, beneath yon flock of sea-fowl advancing on the wing, a deep and foaming line of tide, out of which, with many a plunge, they are picking a morsel. I can hear the deep murmur of its coming, the swelling of the tide of Solway is a beautiful sight." "the "Yes, young man," answered Cargill, ocean, whether swelling or falling, is a beautiful, -nay, a terrible sight. As the deep waters whirl around that little feather, so deal they with the mightiest works of man. Go, when the wind is awakened in a tempest,-when the lightning darts from the cloud, and the big rain descendeth, and look on man's mightiest works; even those floating towers, those magnificent palaces, called ships, they are but as grains of chaff amid the terrible element, they seem placed there to show how great God is compared with the noblest works of man. Surely this river grows deeper as it grows older, I have ridden in my youth through Caerlaverock ford, when the water did little more than moisten the dust on my horses' fetlocks; now it flows up to my spurs." Lord Dalveen now began to think that the surest way of extracting amusement, worth the pain it had given him to personate repentance, would be to plunge the Cameronian into deep conversa tion, out of which he could not well escape till such a time as the tide had cut off his retreat,trusting to the activity and vigour of his own horse, and his skill as a rider, to bear him safely through. With this charitable resolution at heart, he proceeded to try the experiment. "It has been matter of wonder to me, John," said Lord Thomas, laying his bridle on his horse's neck, and moving onwards at a slow and tardy pace," it has often been matter of wonder with me, why the children of the covenanted church continue to worship God on the mountain-tops? It is a fair sight indeed to see devout people worshipping on a wild hill-side, with the bright heaven above them, and the wide world spread at their feet. But then, my friend, there are such casualties as wind, and rain, and hail. I have seen a black thunder-cloud shedding its mercies on the Faithful Remnant, as if they had been the nine grey stones of god Thor himself standing at Lincluden." "You are a considerate and a sensible youth," said Cargill, slackening his pace, ❝ and speak well according to your own light. Descend from the hill of the covenant ?-such a thing can never be. It is a beautiful thing to worship Heaven beneath the bright sky, and amid the free balmy air, compared to doing God homage in a painted chamber. Ah! little is his devotion who sits on a cushioned seat, and hears the gentle words of a well-powdered priest, with a carved roof above him and a carpet under his feet. If ye will worship God in spirit and in truth, leave your luxurious temples, and go to the wild desert. Kneel to him on the hard rock and on the hill of heather, -sit and hear his word preached with the green sod for a seat, on which it hath rained three nights and days. Then will men believe in your faith, and not till then." "Of a truth," said Lord Thomas, " you have spoken as a devout man and a good poet. To hear a holy psalm come sounding down from the green hill-top,-to hear a devout man uttering a prayer by some romantic stream,-and to listen to a sermon scriptural, argumentative, and eloquent, preached when the lark and the plover are in the cloud above you, are to me far more moving and impressive, than when heard under a roof the work of man's hands. There is but one thing which hinders me from becoming a Cameronian." "And what is that, Lord Thomas ?" said Cargill, with a glance of mingled sincerity and suspicion." Why, simply this, my friend,-The persecution of men drove ye to the hills and to the caves; and while evil men ruled in the land, among the hills and holds it behoved ye to abide. But when the blessed long-prayed-for days came,when the reign of the saints commenced, why came ye not down from your wild places, and why do you still expose your own grey hairs to the winter blast,-to rain, and hail, and snow? Age looks for a sheltered place and a soft warm pillow. Yours is a religion that requires health, and strength, and constant youth. As I cannot hope these blessings will abide with me, I am no Cameronian." "The reign of the saints, Lord Thomas ?" said Cargill,-" alas! kings reign, but not saints. My king must be a covenanted king, and till him on the throne signs the covenant I have no king save Him of heaven. It was this which drove us to the mountains, and it is this which keeps us there. Keep your carved roofs from above me while I worship the God of the covenant." "But," said the young nobleman, "this is a penance which seems not to be required of you. Nay, have I not often seen that your covenanted festival, instead of obtaining one of the brightest and balmiest days of June, was favoured with rain after its kind, and hail, while thunders muttered and lightnings flashed, and the bald bare heads of the old and devout were shining and smoking with the descending storm. Let me advise you, my friend, to build a place of worship into which you can retire when the season forgets to smile, and shelter your grey hairs. And I, Thomas Lord Dalveen, will give you a plot of ground for your church, even a little entire hill-free and freely, now and for ever." |