Ringan Gilhaize - or The Covenanters
by John Galt
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Among the exiled Covenanters who returned with Argyle, and with whom I became acquainted while with him, was Thomas Ardmillan, when, after my escape at the time when the Earl was taken, I fell in again with at Kirkintilloch, as I was making the best of my way into the East Country, and we went together to Arbroath, where he embarked for Holland.

Being then minded to return back to Edinburgh, and to abide again with Mrs Brownlee, in whose house I had found a safe asylum, and a convenient place of espial, after seeing him on board the vessel, I also took shipping, and returned to Leith under an assurance that I should hear of him from time to time. It was not, however, until the indulgence was proclaimed that I heard from him, about which era he wrote to me a most scriptural letter, by the reverend Mr Patrick Warner, who had received a call from the magistrates and inhabitants of the covenanted town of Irvine, to take upon him the ministry of their parish.

Mr Warner having accepted the call, on arriving at Leith sent to Mrs Brownlee's this letter, with a request that, if I was alive and there, he would be glad to see me in his lodging before departing to the West Country.

As the fragrance of Mr Warner's sufferings was sweet among all the true and faithful, I was much regaled with this invitation, and went forthwith to Leith, where I found him in a house that is clad with oyster-shells, in the Tod's-hole Close. He was sitting in a fair chamber therein, with that worthy bailie that afterwards was next year, at the time of the Revolution, Mr Cornelius Neilsone, and his no less excellent compeer on the same great occasion, Mr George Samsone, both persons of godly repute. Mr Cheyne, the town-clerk, was likewise present, a most discreet character, but being a lawyer by trade, and come of an episcopal stock, he was rather a thought, it was said, inclined to the prelatic sect. Divers others, douce and religious characters, were also there, especially Mr Jaddua Fyfe, a merchant of women's gear, then in much renown for his suavity. Mr Warner was relating to them many consolatory things of the worth and piety of the Prince and Princess of Orange, to whom the eyes of all the protestants, especially of the presbyterians, were at that time directed.

"Aye, aye," said Mr Jaddua Fyfe, "nae doot, nae doot, but the Prince is a man of a sweet-smelling odour,—that's in the way of character;—and the Princess; aye, aye, it is well known, that she's a pure snowdrop, and a lily o' the valley in the Lord's garden,—that's in the way of piety."

"They're the heirs presumptive to the crown," subjoined Mr Cheyne.

"They're weel entitled to the reverence and respect of us a'," added Mr Cornelius Neilsone.

"When I first got the call from Irvine," resumed Mr Warner, "that excellent lady, and precious vessel of godliness, the Countess of Sutherland, being then at the Hague, sought my allowance to let the Princess know of my acceptance of the call, and to inquire if her Highness had any commands for Scotland; and the Princess in a most gracious manner signified to her that the best thing I, and those who were like me, could do for her, was to be earnest in praying that she might be kept firm and faithful in the reformed religion, adding many tender things of her sincere sympathy for the poor persecuted people of Scotland, and recommending that I should wait on the Prince before taking my departure. I was not, however, forward to thrust myself into such honour; but at last yielding to the exhortations of my friends, I went to the house of Mynheer Bentinck, and gave him my name for an audience; and one morning, about eight of the clock, his servant called for me and took me to his house, and he himself conveyed me into the presence of the Prince, where, leaving me with him, we had a most weighty and edifying conversation."

"Aye, aye," interposed Mr Jaddua Fyfe, "it was a great thing to converse wi' a prince; and how did he behave himself,—that's in the way o' manners?"

"Ye need na debate, Mr Fyfe, about that," replied Mr Samsone, "the Prince kens what it's to be civil, especially to his friends;" and I thought, in saying these words, that Mr Samsone looked particular towards me.

"And what passed?" said the town-clerk, in a way as if he pawkily jealoused something. Mr Warner, however, in his placid and minister-like manner, responded,—

"I told his Highness how I had received the call from Irvine, and thought it my duty to inquire if there was any thing wherein I could serve him in Scotland.

"To this the Prince replied in a benign manner—"

"Aye, aye," ejaculated Mr Jaddua Fyfe, "nae doubt it was in a benignant manner, and in a cordial manner. Aye, aye, he has nae his ill-wand to seek when a customer's afore the counter,—that's in the way o' business."

"'I understand,' said his Highness," continued Mr Warner, "'you are called home upon the toleration lately granted; but I can assure you, that toleration is not granted for any kindness to your party, but to favour the papists, and to divide you among yourselves; yet I think you may be so wise as to take good of it, and prevent the evil designed, and, instead of dividing, come to a better harmony among yourselves when you have liberty to see and meet more freely.'

"To which," said Mr Warner, "I answered, that I heartily wished it might prove so, and that nothing would be wanting on my part to make it so; and I added, the presbyterians in Scotland, Great Sir, are looked upon as a very despicable party; but those who do so measure them by the appearance at Pentland and Bothwell, as if the whole power of the presbyterians had been drawn out there; but I can assure your Highness that such are greatly mistaken; for many firm presbyterians were not satisfied as to the grounds and manner of those risings, and did not join; and others were borne down by the Persecution. In verity I am persuaded, that if Scotland were left free, of three parts of the people two would be found presbyterians. We are indeed a poor persecuted party, and have none under God to look to for our help and relief but your Highness, on account of that relation you and the Princess have to the crown."

"That was going a great length, Mr Warner," said Mr Cheyne, the town-clerk.

"No a bit, no a bit," cried I; and Mr Jaddua Fyfe gave me an approving gloom, while Mr Warner quietly continued,—

"I then urged many things, hoping that the Lord would incline his Highness' heart to espouse His interest in Scotland, and befriend the persecuted presbyterians. To which the Prince replied—"

"Aye, aye, I like to hear what his Highness said, that's in the way of counselling," said Mr Jaddua Fyfe.

"The Prince," replied Mr Warner, "then spoke to me earnestly, saying,—

"'I have been educated a presbyterian, and I hope so to continue; and I assure you, if ever it be in my power, I shall make the presbyterian church-government the established church-government of Scotland, and of this you may assure your friends, as in prudence you find it convenient.'"

Discerning the weight and intimation that were in these words, I said, when Mr Warner had made an end, that it was a great thing to know the sentiment of the Prince; for by all signs the time could not be far off when we would maybe require to put his assurance and promise to the test. At which words of mine there were many exchanges of gathered brows and significant nods, and Mr Jaddua Fyfe, to whom I was sitting next, slyly pinched me in the elbow; all which spoke plainer than elocution, that those present were accorded with me in opinion; and I gave inward thanks that such a braird of renewed courage and zeal was beginning to kithe among us.


Besides Mr Warner, many other ministers, who had taken refuge in foreign countries, were called home, and it began openly to be talked that King James would to a surety be set aside, on account of his malversations in the kingly office in England, and the even-down course he was pursuing there, as in Scotland, to abolish all property that the subjects had in the ancient laws and charters of the realm. But the thing came to no definite head till that jesuit-contrived device for cutting out the protestant heirs to the crown was brought to maturity, by palming a man-child upon the nation as the lawful son of the Tyrant and his papistical wife.

In the meantime, I had not been idle in disseminating throughout the land, by the means of the Cameronians, a faithful account of what Mr Warner had related of the pious character and presbyterian dispositions of the Prince of Orange; and through a correspondence that I opened with Thomas Ardmillan, Mynheer Bentinck was kept so informed of the growing affection for his master in Scotland, as soon emboldened the Prince, with what he heard of the inclinations of the English people, to prepare a great host and navy for the deliverance of the kingdoms. In the midst of these human means and stratagems, the bright right hand of Providence was shiningly visible; for, by the news of the Prince's preparations, it smote the councils of King James with confusion and a fatal distraction.

Though he had so alienated the Scottish lieges, that none but the basest of men among us acknowledged his authority, yet he summoned all his forces into England, leaving his power to be upheld here by those only who were vile enough to wish for the continuance of slavery. Thus was the way cleared for the advent of the deliverer; and the faithful nobles and gentry of Scotland, as the army was removed, came flocking into Edinburgh, and the Privy Council, which had been so little slack in any crime, durst not molest them, though the purpose of their being there was a treason which the members could not but all well know. Every thing, in a word, was now moving onward to a great event; all in the land was as when the thaw comes, and the ice is breaking, and the snows melting, and the waters flowing, and the rivers are bursting their frozen fetters, and the sceptre of winter is broken, and the wreck of his domination is drifting and perishing away.

To keep the Privy Council in the confusion of the darkness of ignorance, I concerted with many of the Cameronians that they should spread themselves along the highways, and intercept the government expresses and emissaries, to the end that neither the King's faction in England nor in Scotland might know aught of the undertakings of each other; and when Thomas Ardmillan sent me, from Mynheer Bentinck, the Prince's declaration for Scotland, I hastened into the West Country, that I might exhort the covenanted there to be in readiness, and from the tolbooth stair of Irvine, yea, on the very step where my heart was so pierced by the cries of my son, I was the first in Scotland to publish that glorious pledge of our deliverance. On the same day, at the same hour, the like was done by others of our friends at Glasgow and at Ayr; and there was shouting, and joy, and thanksgiving, and the magnificent voice of freedom resounded throughout the land, and ennobled all hearts again with bravery.

When the news of the Prince's landing at Torbay arrived, we felt that liberty was come; but long oppression had made many distrustful, and from day to day rumours were spread by the despairing members of the prelatic sect, the breathings of their wishes, that made us doubt whether we ought to band ourselves into any array for warfare. In this state of swithering and incertitude we continued for some time, till I began to grow fearful lest the zeal which had been so rekindled would sink and go out if not stirred again in some effectual manner; so I conferred with Quintin Fullarton, who in all these providences had been art and part with me, from the day of the meeting with Mr Renwick near Laswade; and as the Privy Council, when it was known the Prince had been invited over, had directed beacons to be raised on the tops of many mountains, to be fired as signals of alarm for the King's party when the Dutch fleet should be seen approaching the coast, we devised, as a mean for calling forth the strength and spirit of the Covenanters, that we should avail ourselves of their preparations.

Accordingly we instructed four alert young men, of the Cameronian societies, severally and unknown to each other, to be in attendance on the night of the tenth of December, at the beacons on the hills of Knockdolian, Lowthers, Blacklarg, and Bencairn, that they might fire the same if need or signal should so require, Quintin Fullarton having undertaken to kindle the one on Mistylaw himself.

The night was dark, but it was ordained that the air should be moist and heavy, and in that state when the light of flame spreads farthest. Meanwhile fearful reports from Ireland of papistical intents to maintain the cause of King James made the fancies of men awake and full of anxieties. The prelatic curates were also so heartened by those rumours and tidings, that they began to recover from the dismay with which the news of the Prince's landing had overwhelmed them, and to shoot out again the horns of antichristian arrogance. But when, about three hours after sunset, the beacon on the Mistylaw was fired, and when hill after hill was lighted up, the whole country was filled with such consternation and panic, that I was myself smitten with the dread of some terrible consequences. Horsemen passed furiously in all directions—bells were rung, and drums beat—mothers were seen flying with their children they knew not whither—cries and lamentations echoed on every side. The skies were kindled with a red glare, and none could tell where the signal was first shown. Some said the Irish had landed and were burning the towns in the south, and no one knew where to flee from the unknown and invisible enemy.

In the meantime, our Covenanters of the West assembled at their trysting-place, to the number of more than six thousand armed men, ready and girded for battle; and this appearance was an assurance that no power was then in all the Lowlands able to gainsay such a force; and next day, when it was discovered that the alarm had no real cause, it was determined that the prelatic priests should be openly discarded from their parishes. Our vengeance, however, was not meted upon them by the measure of our sufferings, but by the treatment which our own pastors had borne; and, considering how many of them had acted as spies and accusers against us, it is surprising, that of two hundred, who were banished from the parishes, few received any cause of complaint; even the poor feckless thing, Andrew Dornock, was decently expelled from the manse of Quharist, on promising he would never return.

This riddance of the malignants was the first fruit of the expulsion of James Stuart from the throne; but it was not long till we were menaced with new and even greater sufferings than we had yet endured. For though the tyrant had fled, he had left Claverhouse, under the title of Viscount Dundee, behind him; and in the fearless activity of that proud and cruel warrior, there was an engine sufficient to have restored him to his absolute throne, as I shall now proceed to rehearse.


The true and faithful of the West, by the event recorded in the foregoing chapter, being so instructed with respect to their own power and numbers, stood in no reverence of any force that the remnants of the Tyrant's sect and faction could afford to send against them. I therefore resolved to return to Edinburgh; for the longing of my grandfather's spirit to see the current and course of public events flowing from their fountain-head, was upon me, and I had not yet so satisfied the yearnings of justice as to be able to look again on the ashes of my house and the tomb of Sarah Lochrig and her daughters. Accordingly, soon after the turn of the year I went thither, where I found all things in uncertainty and commotion.

Claverhouse, or, as he was now titled, Lord Dundee, with that scorn of public opinion and defect of all principle, save only a canine fidelity, a dog's love, to his papistical master, domineered with his dragoons, as if he himself had been regnant monarch of Scotland; and it was plain and probable, that unless he was soon bridled, he would speedily act upon the wider stage of the kingdom the same Mahound-like part that he had played in the prenticeship of his cruelties of the shire of Ayr. The peril, indeed, from his courage and activity, was made to me very evident, by a conversation that I had with one David Middleton, who had come from England on some business of the Jacobites there, in connection with Dundee.

Providence led me to fall in with this person one morning, as we were standing among a crowd of other onlookers, seeing Claverhouse reviewing his men in the front court of Holyrood-house. I happened to remark, for in sooth it must be so owned, that the Viscount had a brave though a proud look, and that his voice had the manliness of one ordained to command.

"Yes," replied David Middleton, "he is a born soldier, and if the King is to be restored, he is the man that will do it. When his Majesty was at Rochester, before going to France, I was there with my master, and being called in to mend the fire, I heard Dundee and my Lord, then with the King, discoursing concerning the royal affairs.

"'The question,' said Lord Dundee to his Majesty, 'is, whether you shall stay in England or go to France? My opinion, sir, is, that you should stay in England, make your stand here, and summon your subjects to your allegiance. 'Tis true, you have disbanded your army, but give me leave, and I will undertake to get ten thousand men of it together, and march through all England with your standard at their head, and drive the Dutch before you;' and," added David Middleton, "let him have time, and I doubt not, that, even without the King's leave, he will do as much."

Whether the man in this did brag of a knowledge that he had not, the story seemed so likely, that it could scarcely be questioned; so I consulted with my faithful friend and companion, Quintin Fullarton, and other men of weight among the Cameronians; and we agreed, that those of the societies who were scattered along the borders to intercept the correspondence between the English and Scottish Jacobites, should be called into Edinburgh to daunt the rampageous insolence of Claverhouse.

This was done accordingly; and from the day that they began to appear in the streets, the bravery of those who were with him seemed to slacken. But still he carried himself as boldly as ever, and persuaded the Duke of Gordon, then governor of the castle, not to surrender, nor obey any mandate from the Convention of the States, by whom, in that interregnum, the rule of the kingdom was exercised. Still, however, the Cameronians were coming in, and their numbers became so manifest, that the dragoons were backward to show themselves. But their commander affected not to value us, till one day a singular thing took place, which, in its issues, ended the overawing influence of his presence in Edinburgh.

I happened to be standing with Quintin Fullarton, and some four or five other Cameronians, at an entry-mouth forenent the Canongate-cross, when Claverhouse, and that tool of tyranny, Sir George Mackenzie the advocate, were coming up from the palace; and as they passed, the Viscount looked hard at me, and said to Sir George,—

"I have somewhere seen that doure cur before."

Sir George turned round also to look, and I said,—

"It's true, Claverhouse—we met at Drumclog;" and I touched my arm that he had wounded there, adding, "and the blood shed that day has not yet been paid for."

At these words he made a rush upon me with his sword, but my friends were nimbler with theirs; and Sir George Mackenzie interposing, drew him off, and they went away together.

The affair, however, ended not here. Sir George, with the subtlety of a lawyer, tried to turn it to some account, and making a great ado of it, as a design to assassinate Lord Dundee and himself, tried to get the Convention to order all strangers to remove from the town. This, however, was refused; so that Claverhouse, seeing how the spirit of the times was going among the members, and the boldness with which the presbyterians and the Covenanters were daily bearding his arrogance, withdrew with his dragoons from the city and made for Stirling.

In this retreat from Edinburgh he blew the trumpet of civil war; but in less than two hours from the signal, a regiment of eight hundred Cameronians was arrayed in the High-street. The son of Argyle, who had taken his seat in the Convention as a peer, soon after gathered three hundred of the Campbells, and the safety of Scotland now seemed to be secured by the arrival of Mackay with three Scotch regiments, then in the Dutch service, and which the Prince of Orange had brought with him to Torbay.

By the retreat of Claverhouse the Jacobite party in Edinburgh were so disheartened, and any endeavour which they afterwards made to rally was so crazed with consternation, that it was plain the sceptre had departed from their master. The capacity as well as the power for any effectual action was indeed evidently taken from them, and the ploughshare was driven over the ruins of their cause on the ever-memorable eleventh day of April, when William and Mary were proclaimed King and Queen.

But though thus the oppressor was cast down from his throne, and though thus, in Scotland, the chief agents in the work of deliverance were the outlawed Cameronians, as instructed by me, the victory could not be complete, nor the trophies hung up in the hall, while the Tyrant possessed an instrument of such edge and temper as Claverhouse. As for myself, I felt that while the homicide lived the debt of justice and of blood due to my martyred family could never be satisfied; and I heard of his passing from Stirling into the Highlands, and the wonders he was working for the Jacobite cause there, as if nothing had yet been achieved toward the fulfilment of my avenging vow.


When Claverhouse left Stirling, he had but sixty horse. In little more than a month he was at the head of seventeen hundred men. He obtained reinforcements from Ireland. The Macdonalds, and the Camerons, and the Gordons, were all his. A vassal of the Marquis of Athol had declared for him even in the castle of Blair, and defended it against the clan of his master. An event still more strange was produced by the spell of his presence,—the clansmen of Athol deserted their chief, and joined his standard. He kindled the hills in his cause, and all the life of the North was gathering around him.

Mackay, with the Covenanters, the regiments from Holland, and the Cameronians, went from Perth to oppose his entrance into the Lowlands. The minds of men were suspended. Should he defeat Mackay, it was plain that the crown would soon be restored to James Stuart, and the woes of Scotland come again.

In that dismal juncture I was alone; for Quintin Fullarton, with all the Cameronians, was with Mackay.

I was an old man, verging on threescore.

I went to and fro in the streets of Edinburgh all day long, inquiring of every stranger the news; and every answer that I got was some new triumph of Dundee.

No sleep came to my burning pillow, or if indeed my eyelids for very weariness fell down, it was only that I might suffer the stings of anxiety in some sharper form; for my dreams were of flames kindling around me, through which I saw behind the proud and exulting visage of Dundee.

Sometimes in the depths of the night I rushed into the street, and I listened with greedy ears, thinking I heard the trampling of dragoons and the heavy wheels of cannon; and often in the day, when I saw three or four persons speaking together, I ran towards them, and broke in upon their discourse with some wild interrogation, that made them answer me with pity.

But the haste and frenzy of this alarm suddenly changed: I felt that I was a chosen instrument; I thought that the ruin which had fallen on me and mine was assuredly some great mystery of Providence: I remembered the prophecy of my grandfather, that a task was in store for me, though I knew not what it was; I forgot my old age and my infirmities; I hastened to my chamber; I put money in my purse; I spoke to no one; I bought a carabine; and I set out alone to reinforce Mackay.

As I passed down the street, and out at the West-port, I saw the people stop and look at me with silence and wonder. As I went along the road, several that were passing inquired where I was going so fast? but I waived my hand and hurried by.

I reached the Queensferry without, as it were, drawing breath. I embarked; and when the boat arrived at the northern side I had fallen asleep; and the ferryman, in compassion, allowed me to slumber unmolested. When I awoke I felt myself refreshed. I leapt on shore, and went again impatiently on.

But my mind was then somewhat calmer; and when I reached Kinross I bought a little bread, and retiring to the brink of the lake, dipped it in the water, and it was a savoury repast.

As I approached the Brigg of Earn I felt age in my limbs, and though the spirit was willing, the body could not; and I sat down, and I mourned that I was so frail and so feeble. But a marvellous vigour was soon again given to me, and I rose refreshed from my resting-place on the wall of the bridge, and the same night I reached Perth. I stopped in a stabler's till the morning. At break of day, having hired a horse from him, I hastened forward to Dunkeld, where he told me Mackay had encamped the day before, on his way to defend the Pass of Killicrankie.

The road was thronged with women and children flocking into Perth in terror of the Highlanders, but I heeded them not. I had but one thought, and that was to reach the scene of war and Claverhouse.

On arriving at the ferry of Inver, the field in front of the Bishop of Dunkeld's house, where the army had been encamped, was empty. Mackay had marched towards Blair-Athol, to drive Dundee and the Highlanders, if possible, back into the glens and mosses of the North; for he had learnt that his own force greatly exceeded his adversary's.

On hearing this, and my horse being in need of bating, I halted at the ferry-house before crossing the Tay, assured by the boatman that I should be able to overtake the army long before it could reach the meeting of the Tummel and the Gary. And so it proved; for, as I came to that turn of the road where the Tummel pours its roaring waters into the Tay, I heard the echoing of a trumpet among the mountains, and soon after saw the army winding its toilsome course along the river's brink, slowly and heavily, as the chariots of Pharaoh laboured through the sands of the Desert; and the appearance of the long array was as the many-coloured woods that skirt the rivers in autumn.

On the right hand, hills, and rocks, and trees rose like the ruins of the ramparts of some ancient world; and I thought of the epochs when the days of the children of men were a thousand years, and when giants were on the earth, and all were swept away by the flood; and I felt as if I beheld the hand of the Lord in the cloud weighing the things of time in His scales, to see if the sins of the world were indeed become again so great as that the cause of Claverhouse should be suffered to prevail. For my spirit was as a flame that blazeth in the wind, and my thoughts as the sparks that shoot and soar for a moment towards the skies with a glorious splendour, and drop down upon the earth in ashes.


General Mackay halted the host on a spacious green plain which lies at the meeting of the Tummel and the Gary, and which the Highlanders call Fascali, because, as the name in their tongue signifies, no trees are growing thereon. This place is the threshold of the Pass of Killicrankie, through the dark and woody chasms of which the impatient waters of the Gary come with hoarse and wrathful mutterings and murmurs. The hills and mountains around are built up in more olden and antic forms than those of our Lowland parts, and a wild and strange solemnity is mingled there with much fantastical beauty, as if, according to the minstrelsy of ancient times, sullen wizards and gamesome fairies had joined their arts and spells to make a common dwelling-place.

As the soldiers spread themselves over the green bosom of Fascali, and piled their arms and furled their banners, and laid their drums on the ground, and led their horses to the river, the General sent forward a scout through the Pass to discover the movements of Claverhouse, having heard that he was coming from the castle of Blair-Athol, to prevent his entrance into the Highlands.

The officer sent to make the espial had not been gone above half an hour when he came back in great haste to tell that the Highlanders were on the brow of a hill above the house of Rinrorie, and that unless the Pass was immediately taken possession of, it would be mastered by Claverhouse that night.

Mackay, at this news, ordered the trumpets to sound, and as the echoes multiplied and repeated the alarm, it was as if all the spirits of the hills called the men to arms. The soldiers looked around as they formed their ranks, listening with delight and wonder at the universal bravery, and I thought of the sight, which Elisha the prophet gave to the young man at Dothan, of the mountains covered with horses and chariots of fire for his defence against the host of the King of Syria; and I went forward with the confidence of assured victory.

As we issued forth from the Pass into the wide country, extending towards Lude and Blair-Athol, we saw, as the officer had reported, the Highland hosts of Claverhouse arrayed along the lofty brow of the mountain, above the house of Rinrorie, their plaids waving in the breeze on the hill and their arms glittering to the sun.

Mackay directed the troops, at crossing a raging brook called the Girnaig, to keep along a flat of land above the house of Rinrorie, and to form, in order of battle, on the field beyond the garden, and under the hill where the Highlanders were posted; the baggage and camp equipages he at the same time ordered down into a plain that lies between the bank on the crown of which the house stands and the river Gary. An ancient monumental stone in the middle of the lower plain shows, that in some elder age a battle had been fought there, and that some warrior of might and fame had fallen.

In taking his ground on that elevated shelf of land, Mackay was minded to stretch his left wing to intercept the return of the Highlanders towards Blair, and, if possible, oblige them to enter the Pass of Killicrankie, by which he would have cut them off from their resources in the North, and so perhaps mastered them without any great slaughter.

But Claverhouse discerned the intent of his movement, and before our covenanted host had formed their array, it was evident that he was preparing to descend; and as a foretaste of the vehemence wherewith the Highlanders were coming, we saw them rolling large stones to the brow of the hill.

In the meantime the house of Rinrorie having been deserted by the family, the lady, with her children and maidens, had fled to Lude or Struan, Mackay ordered a party to take possession of it, and to post themselves at the windows which look up the hill. I was among those who went into the house, and my station was at the easternmost window, in a small chamber which is entered by two doors,—the one opening from the stair-head, and the other from the drawing-room. In this situation we could see but little of the distribution of the army or the positions that Mackay was taking, for our view was confined to the face of the hill whereon the Highlanders were busily preparing for their descent. But I saw Claverhouse on horseback riding to and fro, and plainly inflaming their valour with many a courageous gesture; and as he turned and winded his prancing war-horse, his breast-plate blazed to the setting sun like a beacon on the hill.

When he had seemingly concluded his exhortation, the Highlanders stooped forward and hurled down the rocks which they had gathered for their forerunners; and while the stones came leaping and bounding with a noise like thunder, the men followed in thick and separate bands, and Mackay gave the signal to commence firing.

We saw from the windows many of the Highlanders, at the first volley, stagger and fall, but the others came furiously down; and before the soldiers had time to stick their bayonets into their guns, the broad swords of the Clansmen hewed hundreds to the ground.

Within a few minutes the battle was general between the two armies; but the smoke of the firing involved all the field, and we could see nothing from the windows. The echoes of the mountains raged with the din, and the sounds were multiplied by them in so many different places, that we could not tell where the fight was hottest. The whole country around resounded as with the uproar of a universal battle.

I felt the passion of my spirit return; I could no longer restrain myself, nor remain where I was. Snatching up my carabine, I left my actionless post at the window, and hurried down stairs, and out of the house. I saw by the flashes through the smoke, that the firing was spreading down into the plain where the baggage was stationed, and by this I knew that there was some movement in the battle; but whether the Highlanders or the Covenanters were shifting their ground, I could not discover, for the valley was filled with smoke, and it was only at times that a sword, like a glance of lightning, could be seen in the cloud wherein the thunders and tempest of the conflict were raging.


As I stood on the brow of the bank in front of Rinrorie-house, a gentle breathing of the evening air turned the smoke like the travelling mist of the hills, and opening it here and there, I had glimpses of the fighting. Sometimes I saw the Highlanders driving the Covenanters down the steep, and sometimes I beheld them in their turn on the ground endeavouring to protect their unbonneted heads with their targets, but to whom the victory was to be given I could discern no sign; and I said to myself the prize at hazard is the liberty of the land and the Lord; surely it shall not be permitted to the champion of bondage to prevail.

A stronger breathing of the gale came rushing along, and the skirts of the smoke where the baggage stood were blown aside, and I beheld many of the Highlanders among the wagons plundering and tearing. Then I heard a great shouting on the right, and looking that way, I saw the children of the Covenant fleeing in remnants across the lower plain, and making toward the river. Presently I also saw Mackay with two regiments, all that kept the order of discipline, also in the plain. He had lost the battle. Claverhouse had won; and the scattered firing, which was continued by a few, was to my ears as the riveting of the shackles on the arms of poor Scotland for ever. My grief was unspeakable.

I ran to and fro on the brow of the hill—and I stampt with my feet—and I beat my breast—and I rubbed my hands with the frenzy of despair—and I threw myself on the ground—and all the sufferings of which I have written returned upon me—and I started up and I cried aloud the blasphemy of the fool, "There is no God."

But scarcely had the dreadful words escaped my profane lips, when I heard, as it were, thunders in the heavens, and the voice of an oracle crying in the ears of my soul, "The victory of this day is given into thy hands!" and strange wonder and awe fell upon me, and a mighty spirit entered into mine, and I felt as if I was in that moment clothed with the armour of divine might.

I took up my carabine, which in these transports had fallen from my hand, and I went round the gable of the house into the garden—and I saw Claverhouse with several of his officers coming along the ground by which our hosts had marched to their position—and ever and anon turning round and exhorting his men to follow him. It was evident he was making for the Pass to intercept our scattered fugitives from escaping that way.

The garden in which I then stood was surrounded by a low wall. A small goose-pool lay on the outside, between which and the garden I perceived that Claverhouse would pass.

I prepared my flint and examined my fire-lock, and I walked towards the top of the garden with a firm step. The ground was buoyant to my tread, and the vigour of youth was renewed in my aged limbs: I thought that those for whom I had so mourned walked before me—that they smiled and beckoned me to come on, and that a glorious light shone around me.

Claverhouse was coming forward—several officers were near him, but his men were still a little behind, and seemed inclined to go down the hill, and he chided at their reluctance. I rested my carabine on the garden-wall. I bent my knee and knelt upon the ground. I aimed and fired,—but when the smoke cleared away I beheld the oppressor still proudly on his war-horse.

I loaded again, again I knelt, and again rested my carabine upon the wall, and fired a second time, and was again disappointed.

Then I remembered that I had not implored the help of Heaven, and I prepared for the third time, and when all was ready, and Claverhouse was coming forward, I took off my bonnet, and kneeling with the gun in my hand, cried, "Lord, remember David and all his afflictions;" and having so prayed, I took aim as I knelt, and Claverhouse raising his arm in command, I fired. In the same moment I looked up, and there was a vision in the air as if all the angels of brightness, and the martyrs in their vestments of glory, were assembled on the walls and battlements of Heaven to witness the event,—and I started up and cried, "I have delivered my native land!" But in the same instant I remembered to whom the glory was due, and falling again on my knees, I raised my hands and bowed my head as I said, "Not mine, O Lord, but thine is the victory!"

When the smoke rolled away I beheld Claverhouse in the arms of his officers, sinking from his horse, and the blood flowing from a wound between the breast-plate and the armpit. The same night he was summoned to the audit of his crimes.

It was not observed by the officers from what quarter the summoning bolt of justice came, but thinking it was from the house, every window was instantly attacked, while I deliberately retired from the spot,—and, till the protection of the darkness enabled me to make my escape across the Gary, and over the hills in the direction I saw Mackay and the remnants of the flock taking, I concealed myself among the bushes and rocks that overhung the violent stream of the Girnaig.

Thus was my avenging vow fulfilled,—and thus was my native land delivered from bondage. For a time yet there may be rumours and bloodshed, but they will prove as the wreck which the waves roll to the shore after a tempest. The fortunes of the papistical Stuarts are foundered for ever. Never again in this land shall any king, of his own caprice and prerogative, dare to violate the conscience of the people.

QUHARIST, 5th November 1696.


Airt, direction, point of the compass.

almous, alms.

atwish, betwixt.

aught, possession.

aumrie, store-cupboard.

Bakie, a large square wooden vessel.

beek, v. bathe; here, bask.

bein, well-to-do, comfortable.

ben, within.

benweed, ragwort.

bield, shelter.

big, v. build.

bilf, a blunt stroke (Jamieson).

bir, impetuosity.

blate, bashful.

blether, v. talk foolishly.

blithemeat gift, gift made to those present at a child's birth.

bout-gait, roundabout.

bow, arch, gateway.

boyne, tub.

braird, the first sprouting of grain.

brattle, v. clatter.

brechan, bracken.

buirdly, burly.

bunker, bench.

busk, adorn.

but, but the house, toward the outer apartment of a house.

by ordinare, out of the common.

Ca', v. drive.

callan, callant, boy.

camstrarie, unmanageable, perverse.

cantrip, magical device.

canty, lively.

cap, a wooden bowl.

carl, fellow (fem.) carlin.

carry, motion of the clouds.

carse, low-lying fertile land, generally adjacent to a river.

causey, street or paved road; crown of the causey, middle of the street.

change-house, a small inn or ale-house.

chap, v. strike.

chappin, a quart measure.

chimla, chumla, chimney; chimla-lug, fireside.

churme, murmur.

clachan, hamlet.

clamper, to make a noise with the feet in walking.

claught, snatched (pret. of v. clatch).

clishmaclavers, idle discourse.

clok, beetle.

clout, ragged cloth.

Cluty, fam. the "Old One."

cod, pillow, cushion.

couthiness, kindness.

cowan-boat, a fishing-boat.

cranreuch, hoar-frost.

creel, basket.

crouse, confident, crack crouse, to "talk big."

cruisie, crusie, a small iron lamp.

cuif simpleton.

cushy-doo, cushat, dove.

Dark, darg, task.

dauner, daunder, stroll.

dauty, pet.

dinle, thrill.

dirl, v. clatter, thrill.

doless, void of energy.

dominie, schoolmaster.

donsie, unfortunate.

door-cheek, door-post.

doure, hard, harsh.

dow, v. can compass.

dowie, dull.

dreich, tedious.

drumly, turbid, troubled.

duds, rags.

dunt, to knock out by repeated blows.

dwam, seizure (sickness).

dyke, boundary wall.

Ellwand, yard-measure.

erles, arles, an earnest.

ettle, v. aim.

excambio, exchange ratified by law.

eydent, zealous, industrious.

Fash, v. vex.

fek, "o' ony fek," of any effect.

fey, infatuated.

fisle, v. rustle.

flesher, butcher.

flit, v. word in general use in Scotland for changing residence.

flyte, v. scold.

foregather, v. get into company together.

fornent, in front of.

fyke, bustle.

Gait, gate, way.

gar, compel.

gardevine, cellaret.

garnel, granary.

gaud, a bar of metal.

gauntrees, gantrees, a stand for a barrel.

gawsie, gaucy, jolly.

geizen't, drought-cracked.

gett, contemptuous term for progeny.

gif, if.

gir, gird, hoop.

girn, a snare.

glaikit, foolish.

glebe, land held ex officio by a parish minister.

gled, hawk.

gleg, eager.

glower, v. glare.

gludder, the sound caused by a body falling among mire (Jamieson).

gowk, fool, lit. cuckoo.

greet, weep.

grew, v. shudder.

grouff, belly.

gude-mother, mother-in-law.

gurl, n. growl.

gurly, surly.

Hack, a rack for horses or cattle.

haffet, side-lock.

Hallowe'en, the eve of All Saints' Day.

hap, wrap.

harl, v. drag.

hass, throat.

havers, foolish or incoherent talk.

hempy, rogue.

herry, harry.

hirkos (Lat. hircus), a he-goat.

hirple, limp.

hirstle, to shove oneself along by the hands in a seated posture.

hobbleshow, a difficulty.

Hogmanae, the last day of the year.

holm, howm, low-lying level ground on the banks of a river.

hooly, cautiously.

horse-setter, job-master.

howdy, midwife.

howf, n. haunt.

howk, dig, burrow.

hyte and fykie, anxious and irritable.

Jawp, v. dash and rebound as water (Jamieson).

jealouse, suspect.

jelly-flowers, gilliflowers.

jimp, scarcely.

jink, chink (corruption).

jo, sweetheart.

jow, v. toll.

Kail, cabbage; soup made with the same.

kell, scurf on a child's head (Jamieson).

kep, catch.

kist, chest.

kithe, show, appear.

Laigh, low.

lair, lore.

lanerly, alanerly, alone, lonely.

laverock, lark.

lawing, reckoning.

lift, firmament.

limmer, "baggage" (term of depreciation).

linn, waterfall.

lippy, a bumper.

litherly, lazily.

lone, loaning, lane.

loun, serene.

lounder, swinging stroke (Jamieson).

low, n. flame.

lum, chimney.

lug, ear.

luggie, a small wooden vessel made of staves.

Mailing, farm.

manse, residence of a minister of the Gospel.

midden, refuse-heap.

morphosings, metamorphoses.

moss, a place where peat may be dug (Jamieson).

mutchkin, a measure equal to a pint.

Napery, household linen.

neb, beak of a bird.

nieve, fist.

notour, notorious.

O'ercome, burden of a song or discourse.

outstropolous, obstreperous.

oxter, arm-pit, also arm.

Pawkie, sly; pawkrie, slyness.

peeseweep, lapwing.

pen-gun, pop-gun; a pen-gun at a crack, a "wunner to talk."

pet-day, term applied to a fair day when the weather is generally foul.

pig, earthenware vessel.

plack, small copper coin.

play-marrow, playmate.

prin, pin.

puddock, toad; puddock-stool bonnet, toadstool or Tam o' Shanter cap.

Rackses, andirons.

raised, delirious.

ree, half-drunk.

reek, smoke.

redde, rede, counsel.

rig, ridge (of ploughed land).

rones, external waterducts of a building.

rug, v. pull roughly.

runkle, crumple.

Scad, gleam, reflection.

schore, a man of high rank.

scog, v. hide.

scomfisht, discomfited.

scowther, scorch.

scrog, a stunted shrub.

shavling-gabbit, shavling mouthed, a shavling being a carpenter's tool of the plane order. Having a mouth which emits sounds like those made in planing.

sicker, certain.

siver, sewer.

skail, skayl, disperse.

skelf, shelf.

skirr, scour.

sklinter, v. splinter.

skreigh, cry.

sleekit, deceitful.

slocken, slake.

smeddam, spirit.

sneck, bolt.

snell, keen.

snod, trim.

snool, subjugate by tyrannical means.

sole, sill.

sorn, to "sponge" upon; used by Galt for to loiter.

sosherie, social intercourse.

sough, murmur.

spae, v. forecast.

spean, v. wean.

speat, flood.

speer, speir, inquire.

spunk, spark.

staincher, stanchion.

stang, a pole; to "ride the stang" was to be subjected to a form of mob justice by which the patient was borne shoulder-high astride a pole.

steek, stitch, fasten.

stock (bed-stock), the fore-part of a bed.

stoure, dust in motion.

straemash, disturbance.

stravaig, v. stroll.

swanky, strapping young countryman (Brockett).

swatch, sample.

swee, a chimney crane for suspending a pot over the fire (Jamieson).

swither, v. to be reluctant, hesitate; n. reluctance, hesitation, indecision.

syne, then.

Tack, lease.

taigle, hinder, delay.

tawnle, bonfire.

temming, a coarse thin woollen cloth.

tent, heed.

thacket, thatched.

thole, endure.

throng, adj. busy.

thumbikins, thumbscrews.

tirl at the pin, old-fashioned mode of intimating desire of admission to a house.

tod, tod lowrie, fox.

tolbooth, a municipal building including a jail.

toom, empty.

toop, a ram.

toupie (French), toupet.

trance, paved passage.

trintle, v. roll.

trone, a public weighing-machine standing in a market-place.

Unco, adj. extraordinary, remarkable; n. remarkable object.

Virl, ring (as those which bind a fishing-rod); frill.

vivers, provisions.

vogie, vain, complacent.

Wae, grieved.

waff, feeble, worn out.

warrandice, warrant.

warsle, wrestle.

wastage, a place of desolation (J.).

wastrie, waste.

waught, a large draught.

wean, child.

whin, furze.

Whigamore, sometimes derived from "whig," a word used in the West for urging on horses, and hence applied as a nickname to a political party. The expedition of the Covenanters under Eglinton to Edinburgh was known as the Whigamore Raid.

whumple, overturn, reverse.

willease, valise.

willy-wa, palaver, wheedle.

wise, v. entice, incline.

wud, wild.

wuddy, "gallows-looking"; widdy is the gallows.

wyte, blame.

Yett, gate.

yird, n. earth; v. a. run to earth.

Colston & Coy. Limited, Printers, Edinburgh.


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Greening's Masterpiece Library

Vathek. An Eastern Romance. By GEO. BECKFORD. Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Full-page illustrations by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 3s 6d. A superb edition of this most interesting and fascinating story.

Asmodeus; or, The Devil on Two Sticks. An Illustrated Edition of the Celebrated Novel by LE SAGE, Author of "Gil Blas." Edited by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Crown 8vo, 5s.

Ringan Gilhaize. A Tale of the Covenanters. By JOHN GALT. Edited with an Introduction by Sir GEORGE DOUGLAS. Crown 8vo, 5s.

Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. A Tale of Adventure. By Dr JOHNSON. Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Full-page illustrations by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 8vo, 5s.

The Epicurean. A Tale of Mystery and Adventure. By THOMAS MOORE. Edited with an Introduction by JUSTIN HANNAFORD. Illustrated. 8vo, art cloth, 3s. 6d.

Several well known and popular works by great writers are in active preparation for this artistic series of masterpieces.



An Obscure Apostle. A Powerful and Dramatic Tale, translated from the Polish of Mdme. ORZESZKO by S. C. de SOISSONS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A Son of Africa. A Tale of Marvellous Adventures. By ANNA, COMTESSE DE BREMONT, Author of "The Gentleman Digger," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Mora: One Woman's History. An interesting novel by T. W. SPEIGHT, Author of "The Crime in the Wood," "The Mysteries of Heron Dyke," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A Girl of the North. A Tale of London and Canada. By HELEN MILICITE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Ashes Tell no Tales. A Novel. By Mrs ALBERT S. BRADSHAW, Author of "The Gates of Temptation," "False Gods," "Wife or Slave," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Such is the Law. An Interesting Story by MARIE M. SADLEIR, Author of "An Uncanny Girl," "In Lightest London," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Fetters of Fire. A Dramatic Tale. By COMPTON READE, Author of "Hard Lines," "Under which King," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A Virtue of Necessity. A Powerful Novel. By HERBERT ADAMS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A Cry in the Night. An exciting Detective Story. By ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY, Author of "Death and the Woman," "Hands in the Darkness," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A Social Upheaval. An Unconventional Dramatic Satirical Tale. By ISIDORE G. ASCHER, Author of "An Odd Man's Story," "The Doom of Destiny," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.

Scotsman.—"The plot is bold, even to audacity; its development is always interesting, picturesque, and, towards the close, deeply pathetic; and the purpose and method of the writer are alike admirable."

Eastern Morning News.—"It is a clever book, splendidly written, and striking in its wonderful power, and keeping the reader interested.... The author has not failed in his effort to prove the case. The awful truth of its pages is borne home upon us as we read chapter after chapter. The book should have a good effect in certain quarters. One of the best features is the dividing line drawn most plainly between Socialism and Anarchism. To its author we tender our thanks, and predict a large sale."

Daily Telegraph.—"The hero is an interesting dreamer, absorbed in his schemes, which are his one weakness. To women, save when they can further the good of his cause, he is obdurate; in business, strong, energetic, and powerful. He is shown to us as the man with a master mind and one absorbing delusion, and as such is a pathetic figure. No one can dispute the prodigality and liveliness of the author's imagination; his plot teems with striking incidents."

Vanity Fair.—"The story tells itself very clearly in three hundred pages of very pleasant and entertaining reading. The men and women we meet are not the men and women we really come across in this world. So much the better for us. But we are delighted to read about them, for all that; and we prophesy success for Mr Ascher's book, particularly as he has taken the precaution of telling us that he is 'only in fun.'"

Aberdeen Free Press.—"A story in which there is not a dull page, nay, not even a dull line. The characters are well drawn, the incidents are novel and often astounding, and the language has a terseness and briskness that gives a character of vivacity to the story, so that the reader is never tired going on unravelling the tangled meshes of the intricate plot until he comes to the end. 'A Social Upheaval' is, indeed, a rattling good book."

A New Tale of the Terror. A Powerful and Dramatic Story of the French Revolution. By the Author of "The Hypocrite" and "Miss Malevolent." (In preparation.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

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Shams! A Social Satire. By——? This is a remarkable and interesting story of Modern Life in London Society. It is a powerful work, written with striking vividness. The plot is fascinating, the incidents exciting, and the dialogue epigrammatic and brilliant. "Shams" is written by one of the most popular novelists of the day. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 3s. 6d.

Miss Malevolent. A Realistic Study. By the Author of "The Hypocrite." Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

A Comedy of Temptation; or, The Amateur Fiend. A Tale by TRISTRAM COUTTS, Author of "The Pottle Papers," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Weird Well. A Tale of To-day. By Mrs ALEC M'MILLAN, Author of "The Evolution of Daphne," "So Runs my Dream," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s, 6d.

Zoroastro. An Historical Romance. By CRESWICK J. THOMPSON, Author of "Poison Romance and Poison Mysteries," "The Mystery and Romance of Alchemy and Pharmacy," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Temptation of Edith Watson. By SYDNEY HALL. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Gentleman Digger. Realistic Pictures of Life in Johannesburg. By ANNA, COMTESSE de BREMONT, Author of "A Son of Africa," etc. New Edition, revised to date, with a new Preface. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Sword of Fate. An Interesting Novel. By HENRY HERMAN, Author of "Eagle Joe," "Scarlet Fortune," etc., and Joint Author of the "Silver King," "Claudian." Crown 8vo, art cloth, 3s. 6d.

Vanity Fair.—"The hand that wrote the 'Silver King' has by no means lost its cunning in painting broad effects of light and shadow. The description of life in Broadmoor is, we fancy, done from actual observation. It is quite new." And the critic of Black and White sums it up pithily as "a story which holds our attention and interests us right from the first chapter. The book is as exciting as even a story of sensation has any need to be." Speaking of the scene of Mr Herman's drama, the beautiful county of Devonshire, where the greater part of the story takes place, the Manchester Courier says: "The author's descriptive powers vividly portray the lovely spots by the winding Tamar, while the rich dialect of the district is so faithfully reproduced as to become not the least feature of an exciting tale."

The Weekly Mercury.—"Mr Henry Herman has carefully studied the little weaknesses of the great army of readers. Like a celebrated and much advertised medicine, he invariably 'touches the spot,' and hence the popularity of his works. His latest novel, 'The Sword of Fate,' contains all the essentials of a popular story. It is well written, sufficiently dramatic, full of life and incident, and above all, right triumphs over wrong. We must, too, congratulate the author upon the omission of all that is disagreeable or likely to offend the susceptibilities of the most delicate minded. It is a clean and healthy novel, a credit to the writer, and a pleasure to the reader.... These are quite capable of affording anyone a pleasant evening's reading, a remark which does not apply to the great majority of the modern novels."

Seven Nights with Satan. A Novel. By J. L. OWEN, Author of "The Great Jekyll Diamond." Cover designed by W. S. ROGERS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

St James's Gazette.—"We have read the book from start to finish with unflagging interest—an interest, by the way, which derives nothing from the 'spice,' for though its title may be suggestive of Zolaism, there is not a single passage which is open to objection. The literary style is good."

Truth.—"I much prefer the ghastly story 'Seven Nights with Satan,' a very clever study of degeneration."

London Morning.—"The story told is a powerful one, evidently based upon close personal knowledge of the events, places, and persons which figure in it. A tragic note pervades it, but still there is lightness and wit in its manner which makes the book a very fascinating as well as eventful volume."

Public Opinion.—"Mr J. L. Owen has given a title to his work which will cause many conjectures as to the nature of the story. Now, if we divulged what were the seven nights, we should be doing the author anything but a service—in fact, we should be giving the whole thing away; therefore, we will only state that the work is cleverly conceived, and carried out with great literary ability. There are numerous flashes of originality that lift the author above ordinary commonplace."

The Green Passion. The Study of a Jealous Soul. A Powerful Novel. By ANTHONY P. VERT. Cover designed by ALFRED PRAGA. Crown 8vo, art cloth, 3s. 6d.

Mr DOUGLAS SLADEN in The Queen.—"A remarkably clever book.... There is no disputing the ability with which the writer handles her subject. I say her subject, because the minuteness of the touches, and the odd, forcible style in which this book is written, point to it being the work of a female hand. The book is an eminently readable one, and it is never dull for a minute."

Daily Telegraph.—"It is a study of one of the worst passions which can ruin a lifetime and mar all human happiness—one of the worst, not because it is necessarily the strongest, but because of its singular effect in altering the complexion of things, transforming love into suspicion, and filling its victim with a petulant and unreasonable madness. All this Anthony Vert understands, and can describe with very uncommon power. The soul of a jealous woman is analysed with artistic completeness, and proved to be the petty, intolerant, half-insane thing it really is.... The plot is well conceived, and well carried out. Anthony Vert may be congratulated on having written a very clever novel."

The Monitor.—"A wonderful piece of writing. The only modern parallel we can find is supplied in Mr F. C. Philip's 'As in a Looking Glass.'"

World.—"As the study of a jealous soul, 'The Green Passion' is a success, and psychological students will be delighted with it.... The tragedy which forms the denouement to this story is of such a nature as to preclude our doing more than remotely alluding to it, for he (or is it she?) has portrayed an 'exceedingly risky situation.'"

Whitehall Review.—"In 'The Green Passion' the author traces with much ability, and not a little analytical insight, the progress of jealousy in the breast of a woman who is born with a very 'intense,' although not a very deep, nature.... There is in Mr Vert's work a certain tendency towards realism which has its due effect in making his characters real. They are no loosely-built fancies of the journalistic brain, but portraits—almost snapshot portraits—of men and women of to-day."

Outrageous Fortune. Being the Confessions of Evelyn Gray, Hospital Nurse. A story founded on fact, proving that truth is stranger than fiction. (In preparation.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Dolomite Cavern. An Exciting Tale of Adventure. By W. PATRICK KELLY, Author of "Schoolboys Three," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

Daily Telegraph.—"Lovers of the sensational in fiction will find abundance of congenial entertainment in Mr W. P. Kelly's new story. In the way of accessories to startling situations all is fish that comes to this ingenious author's net. The wonders of primitive nature, the marvels of latter-day science, the extravagances of human passion—all these he dexterously uses for the purpose of involving his hero in perilous scrapes from which he no less dexterously extricates him by expedients which, however far-fetched they may appear to the unimaginative, are certainly not lacking in originality of device, or cleverness of construction.... This is a specimen incident—those which succeed it derive their special interest from the action of Rontgen rays, subterranean torrents, and devastating inundations. The book is very readable throughout, and ends happily. What more can the average novel reader wish for in holiday time?"

Observer.—"A story full of exciting adventure."

Saturday Review.—"The plot is ingenious, and the style pleasant."

Literature.—"'The Dolomite Cavern' has the great merit of being very well written. The plot is sensational and improbable enough, but with the aid of the author's bright literary manner it carries us on agreeably until the last chapter."

Critic.—"It is a sensational novel with a dash of pseudo-scientific interest about it which is well calculated to attract the public. It is, moreover, well written and vigorous."

Manchester Guardian.—"Mr Kelly's fluent, rapid style makes his story of mysteries readable and amusing. His Irish servant, one of the principal characters, speaks a genuine Irish dialect—almost as rare in fiction as the imitation is common."

St James's Budget.—"Truly thrilling and dramatic, Mr Kelly's book is a cleverly written and absorbing romance. It concludes with a tremendous scene, in which a life-and-death struggle with a madman in the midst of a raging flood is the leading feature."

Madonna Mia, and other Stories. By CLEMENT SCOTT, Author of "Poppyland," "The Wheel of Life," "The Fate of Fenella," "Blossomland," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

Punch.—"'Madonna Mia' is genuinely interesting. All the stories are good; you are 'Scott free' to pick 'em where you like." (The Baron de B. W.)

Weekly Sun.—"Shows Mr Scott's sturdy character painting and love of picturesque adventure."

Weekly Dispatch.—"The book is characteristic of the work of its author—bright, brilliant, informing, and entertaining, and without a dull sentence in it."

St James's Gazette.—"Full of grace and sentiment. The tales have each their individuality and interest, and we can recommend the whole as healthy refreshment for the idle or weary brain."

Pelican.—"Full of living, breathing, human interest. Few writers possess the gift of bringing actual existence to their characters as does Mr Scott, and in the pages of his newest book you shall find tears and smiles, and all the emotions skilfully arranged and put in true literary fashion."

World.—"Clement Scott is nothing if not sympathetic, and every one of the ten stories is not only thoroughly readable, but is instinct with sentiment; for Mr Scott still retains a wonderful enthusiasm, usually the attribute of youth. 'Drifting' is a very fresh and convincing narrative, founded, we understand, upon truth, and containing within a small compass the materials for a very stirring drama. 'A Cross of Heather,' too, is a charming romance, told with real pathos and feeling."

The Shadow on The Manse. A Tale of Religion and the Stage. By CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN, Author of "The Resurrection of His Grace," "Kissing-Cup's Race," etc. Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt, 3s. 6d.

The Lady of the Leopard. A Powerful and Fascinating Novel. By CHAS. L'EPINE, Author of "The Devil in a Domino." Crown 8vo, art cloth, 3s. 6d.

Public Opinion.—"A remarkable book.... We are plunged into a delicious and tantalising romance; incident follows incident like a panorama of exciting pictures. Fertility of imagination is everywhere apparent, and the denouement is artfully concealed till it bursts upon the reader with a suddenness that fairly takes away his breath."

Liverpool Mercury.—"Lovers of the marvellous will enjoy it, for it is cleverly and dramatically written."

Dundee Advertiser.—"Written with dramatic force and vigour."

North British Advertiser.—"This is a weird and strange story that interests and fascinates the reader, with its occult fancies and marvellous experiences.... It may be added, in conclusion, that it is a book well worth reading, and will easily bear a second perusal."

Liverpool Post.—"A very skilfully constructed story, mysterious and strange, with a natural explanation suggested of all the mystery which does not spoil one's enjoyment (here follows analysis of plot). This is the bare outline of the story up to a certain point; it is impossible to convey adequately an idea of the awe-inspiring characteristics of the story. Readers can safely be recommended to turn to the book itself."

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In Monte Carlo. A Tale by HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, Author of "Quo Vadis," "With Fire and Sword," etc., etc. Translated by S. C. de SOISSONS. Crown 8vo, art cloth, with a new Portrait of the Author, 2s. 6d.

The Tragedy of The Lady Palmist. By W. LUTHER LONGSTAFF, Author of "Weeds and Flowers," etc. An exciting tale, descriptive of the "Behind-the-Scenes of the Palmist's Bohemia." Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

My Lady Ruby, and Basileon, Chief of Police. Two stories by G. F. MONKSHOOD, Author of "Nightshades," "Rudyard Kipling: The Man and His Work," "Woman and The Wits," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

The Hypocrite. A Modern Realistic Novel of Oxford and London Life. Fourth Impression. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

This book has been "boycotted" by Messrs Mudie and Messrs W. H. Smith & Son as being "unfit to circulate in their libraries," yet it has been praised by the press at being "a powerful sermon and a moral book."

Daily Telegraph.—"A book by an anonymous author always arouses a certain inquiry, and when the book is clever and original the interest becomes keen; and conjecture is rife, endowing the most unlikely people with authorship.... It is very brilliant, very forcible, very sad.... It is perfect in its way, in style clear, sharp and forcible, the dialogue epigrammatic and sparkling.... Enough has been said to show that 'The Hypocrite' is a striking and powerful piece of work, and that its author has established his claim to be considered a writer of originality and brilliance."

Daily Graphic.—"A very moral book."

Court Circular.—"The work is decidedly clever, full of ready wit, sparkling epigram, and cutting sarcasm."

Echo.—"The story is thoroughly interesting, the wit and epigram of the writing are not to be denied, and altogether 'The Hypocrite' is so brilliant that it can only be fittingly compared with 'The Green Carnation' or 'The Babe B.A.'"

Liverpool Courier.—"A genuinely clever book. Furthermore, it is a book with a wholesome moral vividly enforced."

Lady.—"Whoever the author may be, he has the right literary method, his work is absolutely realistic, his style is fluent and distinctive, and he has the rare faculty of gripping the reader's attention at the outset and retaining it to the very last.... 'The Hypocrite' is something more than a remarkable novel—it is, in effect, a sermon, conveying a definite message to those who have the wit to understand it."

Morning Post.—"It is entitled to be regarded as one of the clever books of the day. The writer shows artistic perception. He maintains throughout an atmosphere perfectly in harmony with the idea that has suggested his work."

The Wandering Romanoff. A Romance. By BART KENNEDY, Author of "A Man Adrift," "Darab's Wine-Cup," etc. New and Cheaper Edition, crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Dona Rufina. A Nineteenth Century Romance. Being a Story of Carlist Conspiracy. By HEBER DANIELS, Author of "Our Tenants." Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Bookman.—"A highly emotional, cleverly written story."

Lady.—"A thrilling romance with a mediaeval atmosphere, although the scene is laid in the Cotswolds in the year of grace 1898. The story is well constructed, and is a good example of the widely imaginative type of fiction that is so eagerly devoured by young people nowadays."

Lloyd's.—"The author has woven a clever story out of strange materials.... The interest of the book only ceases when the end is reached."

Society.—"Altogether a very intelligible and interesting story of intrigue and love. The author has put some excellent work into the book."

Eastern Morning News.—"Readers will be fascinated by the stirring scenes, the swiftly moving panorama, the enacted tragedies, the wild, passionate, lawless loves depicted in the most sensational manner in this volume."

Englishman (Calcutta).—"It is a lurid tale of Spanish plotters.... Around this central figure the author weaves an effective story with more than considerable skill. He has achieved a brilliant success with the character of Rufina; it is a masterpiece in its own way, and invested with freshness, grace, and a magnetic personality."

Lord Jimmy. A Story of Music-Hall Life. By GEORGE MARTYN. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Outlook.—"The book is both humorous and dramatic."

Pelican.—"It is amusing and interesting—two very good qualities for a novel to possess."

Sheffield Telegraph.—"The book is vivaciously written, several of the characters being human enough to look like studies from life."

Aberdeen Free Press.—"The characters are skilfully depicted, and the whole book is amusing and interesting."

Glasgow Citizen.—"'Decidedly clever' will be the verdict of the reader on closing this book."

Vanity Fair.—"The author has a peculiar knowledge of the 'Halls' and those who frequent them; and especially, as it seems to us, of those Jewish persons who sometimes run them. And he has made good use of his knowledge here. But there is more than this in the book; for 'George Martyn' has considerable descriptive talent. His account, for instance, of the fight between the hero and the butcher is quite good. The story is straightforward, convincing, and full of human nature and promise."

The Lady of Criswold. A Sensational Story. By LEONARD OUTRAM. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

North British Advertiser.—"A thrilling tale of love and madness."

Whitehall Review.—"No one can complain of lack of sensation, it is full of startling episodes. The characters are drawn with a rapid and vigorous touch. The interest is well maintained."

Court Circular.—"It reminds us forcibly of a story in real life that engrossed public attention many years ago. Whether this was in the author's mind we cannot say, but the book is deeply interesting, the characters well and strongly drawn, and we doubt not this tale will fascinate many a reader."

London Morning.—"The story is cleverly constructed, is full of incident with more than a dash of tragedy, and holds the attention of the reader to the close. Dealing with modern life of the higher class, Mr Outram's story is consistent, and though it aims at romantic effect, is not strained or overdrawn."

Church Gazette.—"We can heartily recommend 'The Lady of Criswold.' One likes to meet now and again a book which forsakes the eternal sex question, or the hairsplitting discussion of ethical or psychological problems, and treats us to simpler and more satisfying fare.... There are several good hours' reading in the book, and plenty of excitement of the dramatic order. Another good point is that it is healthy in tone."

The Gates of Temptation. A Natural Novel by Mrs ALBERT S. BRADSHAW, Author of "False Gods," "Wife or Slave," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Weekly Dispatch.—"This is a story full of power and pathos, the strong dramatic interest of which is sustained from the opening chapter to the close."

Midland Mail.—"The characters are vividly drawn. There are many pleasant and painful incidents in the book, which is interesting from beginning to end."

London Morning.—"Mrs Albert Bradshaw has done such uniformly good work that we have grown to expect much from her. Her latest book is one which will enhance her reputation, and equally please new and old readers of her novels. It is called 'The Gates of Temptation,' and professes to be a natural novel. The story told is one of deep interest. There is no veneer in its presentation, no artificiality about it."

Aberdeen Free Press.—"Mrs Bradshaw has written several good novels, and the outstanding feature of all of them has been her skilful development of plot, and her tasteful, pleasing style. In connection with the present story we are able to amply reiterate those praises. The plot again is well developed and logically carried out, while the language used by the authoress is always happy and well chosen, and never commonplace.... The story is a very powerful one indeed, and may be highly commended as a piece of painstaking fiction of the very highest kind."

The Resurrection of His Grace. Being the very candid Confessions of the Honourable BERTIE BEAUCLERC. A Sporting Novel. By CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN, Author of "Richard Barlow," "Kissing Cup's Race," etc. Second Impression. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Gentlewoman.—"Fantastic and impossible, but at the same time amusing.... The whole story is strongly dramatic."

Saturday Review.—"A grotesquely improbable story, but readers of sporting novels will find much amusement in it."

Scotsman.—"The book is lightly and briskly written throughout. Its pleasant cynicism is always entertaining."

Star.—"An ingeniously horrible story with a diabolically clever plot."

St James's Budget.—"A sporting romance which is indisputably cleverly written.... The book is full of interesting items of sporting life which are fascinating to lovers of the turf."

Edinburgh Evening News.—"It has certainly an audacious idea for its central motive.... This bright idea is handled with no little skill, and the interest is kept up breathlessly until the tragic end of the experiment. The whole story has a racy flavour of the turf."

Sporting Life.—"The character of the heartless roue, who tells his story, is very well sustained, and the rich parvenu, Peter Drewitt, the owner of the favourite that is very nearly nobbled by the unscrupulous Beauclerc, is cleverly drawn. Altogether it is an exciting and an uncommon tale, and is quite correct in all the sporting details."

Anna Marsden's Experiment. An interesting Novel. By ELLEN WILLIAMS. Crown 8vo, art cloth, 2s. 6d.

Outlook.—"A good story cleverly told and worked out."

Echo.—"A very natural and interesting tale is carefully set forth in Ellen Williams' clever little book."

Western Morning News.—"It is a smartly written and deeply interesting story, well out of the beaten track of novelists."

Literary World.—"The story is well told.... Four racy chapters take us thus far, and seven lively ones follow."

Public Opinion.—"From this point the interest in the story is such that there is no putting the book down till the denouement is reached. The writing is smart, clever, and telling."

Critic.—"A powerful story, unconventional as regards both subject and treatment. [Here the reviewer analyses the plot.] This situation is handled with extraordinary delicacy and skill, and the book is an admirable study of repressed emotions."

Monitor.—"Miss Williams has here seized on an original concept, and given it fitting presentation. The 'experiment' is a novel one, and its working out is a deft piece of writing. The psychology of the work is faultless, and this study of a beautiful temperament, in a crude frame, has with it the verity of deep observation and acute insight.... We await with considerable confidence Miss Williams' next venture."

Sheffield Independent.—"The writer has treated a delicate and unusual situation with delicacy and originality. The heroine's character is drawn with firmness and clearness, and the whole story is vivid and picturesque.... The history of the experiment is exceedingly well told. Keen insight into character, and cleverness in its delineation, as well as shrewd observation and intense sympathy, mark the writer's work, while the style is terse and clear, and the management of trying scenes extremely good."

Darab's Wine-Cup, and other Powerful and Vividly-Written Stories. By BART KENNEDY, Author of "The Wandering Romanoff," etc. New and cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

Aberdeen Free Press.—"Will be welcomed as something fresh in the world of fiction."

St James's Budget.—"A volume characteristic of the author's splendid powers."

M. A. P.—"Mr Kennedy writes powerfully, and can grip the reader's imagination, or whirl it off into the strangest domains of glamour and romance at will.... There is a future for this clever young man from Tipperary. He will do great things."

Outlook.—"Mr Bart Kennedy is a young writer of singular imaginative gifts, and a style as individual as Mr Kipling's."

Weekly Dispatch.—"The author has exceptional gifts, a strong and powerful individuality, a facile pen, rich imagination, and constructive ability of a high order. This volume ought to find a place on every library shelf."

Critic.—"Of a highly imaginative order, and distinctly out of the ordinary run.... The author has a remarkable talent for imaginative and dramatic presentation. He sets before himself a higher standard of achievement than most young writers of fiction."

Cork Herald.—"Gracefully written, easy and attractive in diction and style, the stories are as choice a collection as we have happened on for a long time. They are clever; they are varied; they are fascinating. We admit them into the sacred circle of the most beautiful that have been told by the most sympathetic and skilled writers.... Mr Kennedy has a style, and that is rare enough nowadays—as refreshing as it is rare."

"Fame, the Fiddler." A Story of Literary and Theatrical Life. By S. J. ADAIR FITZ-GERALD. Crown 8vo, cloth, new and cheaper edition, 2s. 6d.

Graphic.—"The volume will please and amuse numberless people."

Pall Mall Gazette.—"A pleasant, cheery story. Displays a rich vein of robust imagination."

Sun.—"Interesting all through, and the inclination is towards finishing it at one sitting."

Scotsman.—"An amusing and entertaining story of Bohemian life in London."

Standard.—"There are many pleasant pages in 'Fame, the Fiddler,' which reminds us of 'Trilby,' with its pictures of Bohemian life, and its happy-go-lucky group of good-hearted, generous scribblers, artists, and playwrights. Some of the characters are so true to life that it is impossible not to recognise them. Among the best incidents in the volume must be mentioned the production of Pryor's play, and the account of poor Jimmy Lambert's death, which is as moving an incident as we have read for a long time. Altogether, 'Fame, the Fiddler' is a very human book, and an amusing one as well."

Catholic Times.—"We read the volume through, and at the conclusion marvelled at the wonderful knowledge of life the author displays. For although the whole work is written In a light, humorous vein, underneath this current of humour there is really an astonishing amount of wisdom, and wisdom that is not displayed every day.... It is a vivid description of times gay and melancholy, that occur in many lives. Mr Fitz-Gerald has done his work well, so well that we loitered on many pages, and closed the book finally with a feeling that it is a faithful history of the journalist, the author, the theatrical individual, and the man who ekes out a living by playing the role of all three."


Pelican Tails. A Collection of smart, up-to-date Tales of Modern Life, written, edited and selected by FRANK M. BOYD (Editor of "The Pelican.") One of the most popular and entertaining volumes of short stories that has ever been published. An ideal companion for a railway journey or a spare hour or two. Crown 8vo, picture wrapper designed and drawn by W. S. ROGERS, 1s. (In active preparation.)

The Devil in a Domino. A Psychological Mystery. By CHAS. L'EPINE, Author of "The Lady of the Leopard," "Miracle Plays," etc. Cover designed by C H. BEAUVAIS. Long 12mo, cloth, 1s.

Truth.—"The story is written with remarkable literary skill, and, notwithstanding its gruesomeness, is undeniably fascinating."

Sketch.—"It is a well-written story. An admirable literary style, natural and concise construction, succeed in compelling the reader's attention through every line. We hope to welcome the author again, working on a larger scene."

Star.—"May be guaranteed to disturb your night's rest. It is a gruesome, ghastly, blood-curdling, hair-erecting, sleep-murdering piece of work, with a thrill on every page. Read it."

Sunday Chronicle.—"A very clever study by 'Charles L'Epine,' who should by his style be an accomplished author not unknown in other ranks of literature. Beyond comparison it is the strongest shilling shocker we have read for many a day. The author has succeeded in heaping horror upon horror until one's blood is curdled."

That Fascinating Widow, and other Frivolous and Fantastic Tales, for River, Road and Rail. By S. J. ADAIR FITZ-GERALD. Long 12mo, cloth, 1s.

The Scotsman.—"The widow is a charmingly wicked person. The stories are well written, with a pleasant humour of a farcical sort; they are never dull."

Whitehall Review.—"Written with all the dash and ease which Mr Fitz-Gerald has accustomed us to in his journalistic work. There is a breezy, invigorating style about this little book which will make it a favourite on the bookstalls."

Glasgow Herald.—"Nonsense, genial harmless nonsense, to which the most captious and morose of readers will find it difficult to refuse the tribute of a broad smile, even if he can so far restrain himself as not to burst out into genuine laughter."

The Referee.—"Another little humorous book is 'That Fascinating Widow,' by Mr S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald, who can be very funny when he tries. The story which gives the title to the book would make a capital farce. 'The Blue-blooded Coster' is an amusing piece of buffoonery."

The Globe.—"The author, Mr S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald, has already shown himself to be the possessor of a store of humour, on which he has again drawn for the furnishing of the little volume he has just put together. Among the tales included are several which might be suitable for reading or recitation, and none which are dull. Mr Fitz-Gerald frankly addresses himself to that portion of the public which desires nothing so much as to be amused, and likes even its amusements in small doses. Such a public will entertain itself very pleasantly with Mr Fitz-Gerald's lively tales, and will probably name as its favourites those titled 'Pure Cussedness,' 'Splidgings' First Baby,' and 'The Blue-blooded Coster.'"

Shadows. A Series of Side Lights on Modern Society. By ERNEST MARTIN. (Dedicated to Sir Henry Irving.) Crown 8vo, art cloth, gilt tops, 2s.

Phoenix.—"'Shadows' is a very clever work."

Western Mercury.—"Clever sketches, intensely dramatic, original and forceful, based on scenes from actual life, and narrated with much skill."

Weekly Times.—"A series of pictures sketched with considerable power. The last one, 'Hell in Paradise,' is terrible in the probable truth of conception."

Northern Figaro.—"Mr Martin's descriptive paragraphs are couched in trenchant, convincing language, without a superfluous word sandwiched in anywhere.... 'Shadows' may be read with much profit, and will give more than a superficial insight into various phases of society life and manners."

Death and the Woman. A Powerful Tale. By ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY. Picture cover drawn by SYDNEY H. SYME. Crown 8vo, 1s.

Scotsman.—"A cleverly constructed story about a murder and a gang of diamond robbers.... The tale never has to go far without a strong situation. It is a capital book for a railway journey."

Star.—"A good shilling's worth of highly coloured sensationalism. Those readers who want a good melodramatic story smartly told, Mr Golsworthy's latest effort will suit down to the ground."

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