him. But shortly after these things were con-
summated, a full opportunity was given to
him and every brave-hearted exile, to take
share in that great demonstration which was
made by William of Orange for the Protestant,
cause in Britain.
Without delay William
Guthrie hastened to Edinburgh, where all the
faithful sufferers for the truth were now over-
whelmed with joy. But for him, alas! there
awaited in that place only sorrow upon sorrow.
Sorrow, they say, will in a night cover the
head of youth with the snows of age; sorrow,
they say, will at once loose the silver cord of
life, and break the golden pitcher at the foun-
tain; and surely hardly less wonderful was the
change wrought on William Guthrie's heart,
which grew cold to the land of his fathers, and
indifferent to the church for which the house
of his fathers had suffered so much. For in
his absence also, his cousin or brother, I wot
not which, the persecuted minister of Fenwick,
and the author of the Trial of the Saving
Interest in Christ, with other principal works
of practical godliness, had been violently ejected
from his parish, and died of sorrow for the
suffering church. Wherefore the youth said
that he would turn his back upon the cruel
land for ever, and with his staff go forth and
seek more genial heavens.

1

by friendly and familiar attentions, taking him from place to place, to show him the monuments of those who, in the much-persecuted dale of the Nith, had sealed their testimony with their blood; skilfully seeking to awaken the devotion of the martyr, that it might contend with the sorrow of the brokenhearted lover. And from day to day, as thus they endeavoured to solace and divert his grief, they would point out to him how, now that the church had gotten rest, she was threatened with a hardly less grievous evil, arising out of the want of well-educated and well-principled ministers, who had been mostly cut off by martyrdom, imprisonment, or exile. And as they spoke to him of these things, they would gently, as he could bear, press upon him their grief and disappointment that he who was fitted by his learning and devotedness to be an example and a help to many should thus surrender himself to unavailing grief, and forsake the church which his fathers had loved unto the death. And being now removed from Edinburgh, the scene of his sufferings, the seat of business and bustle and hard-hearted men, and dwelling amongst the quiet scenes and noble recollections of his country, he felt a calm and repose of soul which made it pleasant to abide amongst his friends.

Now in the neighbourhood of Dumfries there is a parish called Irongray, and in the remote parts of this parish, in a sequestered hollow amongst the hills, looking towards the south and west, whence least danger came, but on every other side surrounded with summits which command the whole of Nithsdale, the foot of Annandale, and a great part of Galloway-in this hollow are to be seen at this day, nearly as they were used, tables and seats cut out of stone, at which the persecuted people of the country were wont to assemble from the

They sought to divert his grief, but it was in vain. They sought to stir him up to exercise his gift and calling of a minister, but it was in vain. His faculties were all absorbed in the greatness of his grief, and the vigour of his heart was gone. One thing only bound him to that cruel city, the charge he had received of the infant child, whom God spared only for a short season after his arrival, and then removed to himself. Upon this, true to his purpose, he took his staff in his hand and turned his face towards England, which hath often yielded shelter since to many a Scotch-face of their enemies and meet their pastors, man tossed in his own land with envious and cruel tempests, and by the way he turned into the town of Dumfries, being desirous to take solemn leave of some of his kindred before, leaving his native land for ever.

His friends soon saw of what disease he was pining, and being men of feeling, they gave themselves to comfort and heal him. Being also men truly devoted to the church, they grieved that one who had proved himself so faithful and true should thus be lost from her service. They meditated, therefore, how they might win him back unto God and to his duty from this selfish grief which had overclouded all his judgment. But wisely hiding their intent, they seemed only to protract his visit

who came forth from their caves and dens of the earth to administer to them the precious memorials of the dying love of our Lord! for which they are called, to this day, the communion-tables of Irongray. And as they were filled by one company after another, some were stationed upon the summits round about to keep watch against the approach of their persecutors.

To these communion tables of Irongray would William Guthrie wander forth and meditate upon the days of old; and then there would come over his heart a questioning of his backwardness and opposition to the work of the Lord, like the voice which spake to Elias in the cleft of the rock of Sinai, saying, "What

dost thou here, Elias?" Now it so happened ence of the Head of the church and the idolat that time, that the faithful people of Iron-atry of a departed saint whom he loved as his gray were without a pastor, and God was preparing to give them one according to his own mind. Little wist William Guthrie why God permitted that darkening of his glory, and hiding of his face, in his soul. Little knew he for what end God had loosened him from Edinburgh, and from Angus, the seat of his fathers, driven him from his station, and "tossed him like a ball in a wide country.' Little thought he wherefore he was turned aside from his heedless course, and drawn and kept for a season at Dumfries.

The people of Irongray, as I said, were, in the south, like the people of Fenwick in the west, a home and a rallying place unto the distressed of the Lord; and if aught under heaven, or in the providence of God, could hallow a spot, which may not be until Jerusalem be rebuilt and his feet stand upon the Mount of Olives, then would these communiontables of stone, from which so many saints, famishing saints, were fed with heavenly food, have hallowed the parish of Irongray. But though there may not be any consecrated places under this dispensation, there is a providence, be assured, which extendeth itself even to the places where worthy and zealous acts have been done for the testimony of God and of his Christ. And in no way was this faithfulness unto a well-deserving and much-enduring parish shown more, than in that providence which drew this much-tried and faithful youth to their borders.

own soul, he surrendered himself to the call of
the heads of the parish, and was ordained over
the flock. Yet so far as nature was concerned,
there was a blank in his heart which he pre-
ferred should remain a blank, rather than seek
the fellowship of any other woman. Year
passed over year, and found him mourning;
for thirty years he continued to deny himself
the greatest comfort and joy of human life,
though drawn thereto by a true and tender
heart; but after this long separation unto the
memory of her who had proved herself so faith-
ful unto him, he at length yielded to the affec-
tions of the living, and married a wife.
which marriage," said the venerable old mother
who told me the history, "I am the fruit."

"Of

Such was the history of her father; after hearing which, you may well believe, my dear friend, I was little disposed to listen to anything besides. My desire for traditions was swallowed up in deep sympathy with the wonderful narrative which I had heard, and I felt disposed to withdraw to my own reflections. But the worthy and venerable woman would not suffer me to depart until she had taken me to her own little apartment and shown me a small picture, but whether of her father or of her husband, who was minister of the neighbouring parish of Kirkmahoe, I cannot now recall to my remembrance. She also showed me the Bible on which she was wont to read, and told me it had been the Bible of a Queen of England. I took my leave; and not many weeks after, I followed her body to the grave: so that this story, if it contain any moral instruction, may be said to be expired by the dying lips of one of the mothers of the Kirk of Scotland. Farewell, my dear friend, may the Lord make us worthy of our sires!

SOLITUDE.

Haply moved thereto, and guided by the friends of the youth, who longed for his stay, the heads of the parish came and entreated him to become their pastor, offering him all affection and duty. Whereupon our worthy was much pressed in spirit, and sorely straitened how he should refuse, or how he should accept the entreaties of the people; and then it was that his heart said, "What art thou, foolish man, who settest thyself up against the providence of God? Hast thou suffered like Job, or like any of the cloud of witnesses? wilt thou leave that land unto which thou hast received thy commission to preach the gospel? What would she thou mournest advise thee to do in this strait? How wouldst thou most honour and best please her whom thou believest to be a saint of God? Would it not be in caring for those with whom she preferred to cast in her lot, and unto whose society she bequeathed her child?" And thus, after sore strugglings between the righteousness of duty See nothing save his dog, his flocks, the sky, and the inclination of grief, between the obedi

High on the bare bleak hills the shepherd lies,
Watching his flocks which spot the green below;
Above him spread the gray and sullen skies,

And on the mountains round the unbroken snow,
What voice instructs him there?-The winds that blow.
What friend has HE?-His dog. Yet with these twain
He grows a prophet of the frost and rain,
And well the fox's cunning learns to know.
There lies he, and through coming years must lie,

More lonely than the lonely hills; for they
Have mute companions, like themselves in form;
But he must live alone till life decay,

Hear nothing save the old eternal storm!

When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of The hills with the deep mournful music were