sparing of his life was owing to their Christian clemency, and to the merciful character of their religious principles. He freely admitted that the spirit with which they were actuated, was very different from that displayed towards them by the party to which he belonged, and that they had amply rewarded him good for evil. He was deeply affected by a sense of the favour shown him, at a time when he had nothing before him but a prospect of immediate death. Kindness, it is said, is the key to the human heart, and in this instance it was attended with the very best results. He avowed on the spot his conviction of the sinfulness of the cause in which he was engaged, and his determination to quit for ever a service in which he was too plainly fighting against God. What kindness he showed on this occasion to Harkness and his companions is not said, but it is affirmed that he became a new man. He inquired into the nature of the Gospel, and embraced with a cordial faith the doctrine of Christ; and all this resulted from the incident above narrated. The ways and means by which the Lord is sometimes pleased to direct the attention of sinners to the truth are surprising, and any means will do when he works. It is not said what incidents befell this individual owing to the change of his views on religious matters; but there can be no doubt that he was afterwards subjected to the same persecutions as those of the party with which he was now associated. Desertion from the ranks of the persecutors must have been visited with punishment peculiarly severe; but He who changed his heart could support him under all his trials, and enable him to hold fast his profession. After this Harkness returned to the south, and kept himself in the retirement of his native mountains. The following anecdote is told of him; but whether the incident which it records took place prior to his being taken to Edinburgh, or after his return, is not said. A party of dragoons called on the knight of Closeburn, and requested his aid in apprehending James Harkness in his house at Locherben, as being a restless and indomitable Covenanter. The good knight was obliged to accompany them, and to guide them through the woods and uplands to the abode of Harkness. A great deal of rain had fallen about the time, and the morasses were full, and all the streams and rivulets overflowed their banks. But though this was the case, so anxious were the troopers to obtain their object, that no consideration could induce them to wait another opportunity. The assiduity which wicked men often display in the service of Satan should stimu late Christians to greater activity and perseverance in the good work of the Lord. It is lamentable to see the people of God so slothful in doing his will, when the adversaries of goodness are so zealous in promoting the interests of the evil one. As the party proceeded on their way to Locherben, Harkness observed their approach. As they were not far from the house when he first saw them, he had no opportunity of making his escape; but necessity, it is said, is the mother of invention, and he adopted, on the spur of the moment, the following plan, with a view to elude, if possible, the observation of his enemies. It occurred to him that the only chance of escape was to attempt to act the part of the cowherd; and accordingly, having thrown around him a tattered plaid, and taken a staff in his hand, he was in the act of driving the cows to the bent when the party arrived. They never once imagined that the man of whom they were in quest would thus dare to present himself in the very presence of his foes, reckless of the consequences that might ensue. His appa rently listless manner in driving the cattle before him slowly and heedlessly, tended to lull suspicion on the part of the dragoons, and hence they took no notice of him. It was the intention of Harkness, in case he should be accosted by any of the party, to pretend to be an insane sort of person, and in this way to imitate David, who "changed his behaviour before Achish, king of Gath, and feigned himself mad.” One of the party having proposed to ride up, and put some questions to him, the knight, who well knew who he was, and who saw at once the purpose for which he had assumed this guise and occupation, remarked, that it was not worth their while to waste time with an old and insane man, from whom nothing satisfactory could be expiscated, and proposed that they should instantly enter the house. The trooper was by this means diverted from his purpose, and the whole company proceeded without delay to the dwelling-house. Having dismounted and entered the abode of our worthy, they began the search. During the time the soldiers were within, Harkness drove the cows with all haste over a rising ground, in the neighbourhood of the house, and then betook himself to flight, and succeeded in making his escape. The Providence that had hitherto protected him, shielded him on the present occasion also, and accomplished his deliverance. Their errand having proved fruitless, the worthy knight left the soldiers to find their way homeward through the woods and moors in the best manner they could, and enjoyed, in his own mind, the satisfaction of having contributed to save the life of a good man. Another anecdote is told of him, relative to an incident that is said to have befallen about the termination of the persecuting period. The people of Moffat, like many of their neighbours in similar circumstances, were tired of the curate of the parish, and earnestly wished his removal. In order to accomplish this purpose, they applied to Harkness, who happened at the time to be residing in the neighbourhood, to assist them in the project. He acceded to their request, and having collected a number of trusty persons, went to the manse, and desired the incumbent to withdraw in a peaceable manner. The curate made a virtue of necessity, and departed, leaving the inhabitants to congratulate themselves on the removal of an incubus that pressed so heavily upon them. Great was the dissatisfaction throughout the country generally, on account of the intrusion of the curates, but no effectual redress could be obtained, and the partial expulsions which took place were attended with no lasting advantage. The following account, which Wodrow gives of the curates, amply justifies the aversion of the people to their incumbency, and their anxious desire for their removal. "When the curates entered the pulpit," says the historian, "it was by an order from the bishop, without any call from, yea, contrary to the inclinations of, the people. Their personal character was black, and no wonder their entertainment was coarse and cold. In some places they were welcomed with tears in abundance, and entreaties to be gone; in others, with reasonings and arguments which confounded them; and some entertained with threats, affronts, and indignities, too many here to be repeated. The bell's tongue in some places was stolen away, that the parishioners might have an excuse for not coming to church. The doors of the churches in other places were barricaded, and they made to enter by the window literally. The laxer of the gentry easily engaged them to join in their drinking cabals, which, with all iniquity, did now fearfully abound, and sadly exposed them. And in some places, the people, fretted with the dismal change, gathered together, and violently opposed their settlement, and received them with showers of stones. This was not, indeed, the practice of the religious and more judicious; such irregularities were committed by the more ignorant vulgar; yet they were so many evidences of the regard which they were like to have from the body of their parish ૨ ioners. Such who were really serious mourned in secret, as doves in the valleys, and from principle could never countenance them; and others dealt with them as hath been said. The longer they continued, and the better they were known, the more they were loathed for their dreadful immoralities." Considering the character of these men, therefore, and the nature of their doctrine, it is not to be wondered at, that the people, in certain localities, should have attempted their expulsion. CHAPTER XXV. William Smith-House Conventicle-Welch of Scar-Fell of THE parish of Closeburn occupies a beautiful spot in the central basin of Nithsdale. The locality is sweetly diversified with wooded spaces, cultivated fields, and undulating heights. It has been long famed for its rural academy, within the walls of which many a literary character has received an early training. The illustrious Boston of Ettrick, who sometimes assisted the famous Mr Murray of Penpont on sacramental occasions, received at one time a call to this parish a circumstance respecting which so much is detailed in the Memoirs of that distinguished man. In the immediate neighbourhood of Closeburn, and in the parish of Morton, stands the village of Thornhill, on a rising ground, occupying the centre point of the charming basin to which Closeburn gives the name. Thornhill itself, a pleasant village, commands a delightful view of the spacious valley with which it is surrounded; few inland districts, perhaps, can furnish, on a similar scale, a finer prospect. On the west, is seen the ducal castle of Drumlanrig, couching like a lion in the forest, with all the variegated scenery in the vicinity of that princely residence; on the north are the frowning hills of Morton, to the east of which lies the far-famed Crichope Linn; and farther on in the distance are seen the circling hills of Durisdeer, so green and gay as to seem the guardians of some enchanted fairy dell; and all around, on the south and southwest, the scene opens in all the richness of a high cultivation, and terminates in the extreme prospective with a long-extended ridge of mountains. The Cairn of Closeburn is situated on the banks of a streamlet called the Ballachin Burn, and was, in the times of persecution, tenanted by a worthy man named William |