Tales of the Covenanters. Ellen Emma Guthrie
I do not see any use in your keeping letters that belonged to that evil man, who did our forefathers such bad service; with your leave I shall put them into the fire.' 'You shall do no such thing!' replied the woman; 'these letters hae been in my possession this mony a day, and it's not very likely I kept them so long to allow them to be burned in the end.' Now for my own part," said Mrs. Anderson, "I think she did perfectly right; for losh pity me! if people were to be condemned for the evil doings o' their ancestors, we might a' hide our heads thegither; and besides, I think it a nice thing to hae these auld relics in one's ain house: there, now, a gentleman was very anxious, a short time ago, for me to send the banner and sword into the Antiquarian Society in Edinburgh; but no, no, says I, I'll just e'en keep them, were it only to show that my forefathers were fighting for the good old cause; but here comes my husband, and he will be able to tell ye plenty about the Covenanters."
Scarcely had Mrs. Anderson finished speaking, when her husband entered. "Here, Willie," she said, addressing him, "I am so glad you have come, for this lady is very anxious to hear some of your stories about the Covenanters."
"Indeed, ma'm," replied Mr. Anderson, taking off his hat on observing me, "it's not much that I know about them, but the little I have came from my forefathers, and you're welcome to it, if you think it would interest you; in the meantime," he added, "I suppose you have seen the standard and sword?"
"Indeed I have; it was the knowledge that you had such things that brought me here to-day."
Mr. Anderson smiled as he observed, that "the standard itself was nothing to look at, being made of such humble materials, but that the silk ones borne by the wealthy farmers and lairds were splendid indeed. Now, for instance, there was Mr. G——, of Green Hill, the standard he had was of the finest yellow silk, with the motto, 'Christ's Crown and Covenant,' engraved in letters of gold; ay, but it was bonnie to see! And I mind well, when the great meetings in connection with the Reform Bill were held throughout the country, that there was one at B——, and the people wished to get all the banners that could be procured, as there was to be a grand procession. Well, as I knew of Mr. G—— having this one, away I went to Green Hill, to see if he would let me have it for the above purpose; and as I was not personally acquainted with him, I got a line from the minister of the parish, testifying that I was trustworthy. Armed with this, I made my request known to Mr. G——, who received me very kindly, saying, that the banner was sadly torn and destroyed, but, if I could manage to get it repaired, I was welcome to it. Accordingly, I brought away the standard, and my wife having got it patched up a little, I took it to B——; and, oh, had you but seen the people's faces, as I laid before them the venerable banner: there was not a dry eye in the whole assembly. Men, women, and children mourned and wept; while gazing on the standard stained with the blood of their forefathers, who nobly fought and died for the cause of the Covenant."
"And who, pray, bore the standard, now in your possession, at Bothwell Bridge?"
"A young man of the name of Telford, who lived up at the Muirhead yonder. My mother was one of that family, and they had many a thing that belonged to the Covenanters; amongst other articles, the musical instruments they made use of when going to battle. My mother kept them until they fell to pieces with age; and the last time I saw the drum, it was holding rowans that the children had gathered; while the bugles which sounded the retreat at Bothwell were devoted to purposes equally peaceful and innocent."
"Can you give me any account of the young man who carried the standard on that occasion?"
"Yes ma'm," replied Mr. Anderson, and after a moment's pause, as if to collect his thoughts, he furnished me with the particulars comprised in the following story:—
On the evening of the 21st of June, 1679, while the royal army lay encamped on Bothwell Moor, a young man might have been observed stealing round the base of the hill, on which the farm of Muirhead was situated, apparently anxious to avoid being seen by any of the hostile army that lay around. He paused every few moments in his progress, as if to assure himself that he remained undetected, and listened eagerly to catch the least sound that gave warning of impending danger. But all was silent. No sound broke in upon the almost Sabbath stillness of the scene, save the voices of the sentinels as they went their solitary rounds.
Young Telford, for it was he, succeeded in gaining the farm-house in safety, and gently raising the latch, was speedily clasped in the arms of his mother, who had started to her feet, apprehensive of danger, on hearing her house entered at that unseasonable hour.
"My son! my son!" exclaimed the delighted woman, "'the Lord be praised, who in his great mercy hath spared you to gladden my eyes once more; but where is Thomas? Why came he not with you?"
"He could not, mother," replied her son, "else had he flown to see you! He stays to guard the banner committed to his care, and as we expect to encounter the foe to-morrow, he charged me to tell you, that never while he lives shall it fall into the hands of the enemy." The mother's eyes glistened at this proof of bravery on the part of her absent son, and gazing fondly in the face of the one now beside her, she inquired with a faltering voice, "and where have you been since last we met? For it seems to me an age since you and Thomas departed to join the ranks of the Covenanters."
"I have but shortly returned from Morayshire," replied her son, "where I sped with the fiery cross through moor and valley, terrifying the inhabitants with the false alarm that the Macdonalds were preparing to descend upon them, in order to prevent them from advancing to aid the royal forces. The peasant was aroused from his slumber, when the unearthly glare streamed in at his cottage window, as onwards I sped. Armed forces who were marching thitherward, swiftly returned to their homes, on hearing the appalling cry! "the Macdonald's are coming!" The bold Highlander turned pale with apprehension as I passed with the fatal symbol of war and desolation, and the fond mother pressed still closer to her bosom, the child who might soon be fatherless, on beholding the fiery track of the herald of woe."
"Oh, Willie!" cried Mrs. Telford, clasping her hands as she spoke.
"Still onwards I sped. Terror was visible on the faces of all, as again the warning voice proclaimed amidst the stillness of night the approach of the Macdonalds. At that dread name, the alarm flew from house to house; signal fires flamed upward from each mountain summit; all thoughts of leaving their country were abandoned, and the King may in vain expect men from thence."
At this moment a low tap at the door interrupted young Telford in the midst of his narration. Without one moment's hesitation, he darted towards the entrance, and presently returned with his arm round the neck of a young girl, whose lovely countenance was almost hid beneath the shepherd's plaid which she had hastily donned to protect her head from the cool breezes of evening.
"Jeanie!" exclaimed Mrs. Telford, warmly embracing the blushing stranger, "how fortunate! just to think you should chance to come when——!"
"It was no chance, mother," interrupted her son, "I durst not venture near Jeanie's house, in case the soldiers might send a bullet after me; so I bade a little boy go to the farm, and tell her that there was one she might wish to see in this house to-night, and, as he could remain but a few minutes, the sooner she came, the better for us both."
"Oh, Willie!" sobbed the weeping girl, "could you but know the cruel state of suspense I have been in these three months back, not knowing where you were, or what might be your fate, you would never, never go away again! Oh! say you winna leave me," she implored, gazing upwards in his face with eager beseeching eyes, while tears coursed rapidly down her cheeks; "say you winna go!"
"Tempt me not, dearest," replied her lover in a voice expressive of the deepest anguish, as he drew her fondly to his bosom, "I cannot—must not remain. To-morrow we may chance to encounter the foe, and I could not endure the thoughts of entering the field, without again obtaining a mother's blessing, and one more glance from those bright eyes; so I stole from the camp, while my brother remained behind to guard the banner. And now I must return, for I may be missed; and I should not like to be long absent at a time like this. Mother, your blessing on me and my absent brother, that we prosper in the fight," so saying, he knelt to receive the desired benediction.
"May the God of battles, in whose hands are the issues of life and