1
10
90
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/be06e38f435c91630a9a9cf54d071070.jpg
fa1b0e85bf58911134b418d0f7921499
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying Portrait of the God, Mercury in winged sandles holding a caduceus
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/052804740a3bafbf02c3a044e2aaa942.pdf
aaec18b35db795b1ecc9fa19bf6d6319
PDF Text
Text
THE
I i A I R B OF
COOL'S
GHOST:
BEING
Several Conferences and Meetings betwixt the
Reverend Mr. O G I L V I E ,
Late Minister of the Gospel at Innerwick;
AND
THE
GHOST of Mr. MAXWELL,
L A T E L A I R D OF
COOL;
As it was found in Mr. Ogilvie's Closet aftei
his Death—Written with his own hand.
GLASGOW :
PRINTED
FOR T H E
BOOKSELLER®*
�1 0
* ( »
tTwnia
y'Aoo^
imiaH
< H txiwjsd a^nhssM bm> 890if9i8ino0 hnsvsB
* t
. i M bn9i9Y9fl
t a i v j i o o
; ibiwisnnl jx* iaqaoic) siij 'io rs^rnxM sJBvI
3HT
(ITFA
J J 3 W X A M /xM> T8OH0
J JOOO
riO
emiAJ
3TAwl
isiiii JssofO 8 91vff^O .iM /ix ixfijjot ^bw jx eA
.bniui nwo aixi ibi// nsJJnW —jilesQ girl
: WO 08 A JO
. a j i i j j a a ^ o o f i rniT HOI aaTMifW
�I'loa tiiMida J io fto^st vd '(imq
>
w i s ^fiidtemoa
•)[ oiod vj-.• 3JJoiixjwo'xdl
ff^uorfit
; floiai/hicpff^ii ni oixnla
had lo^ms
•bn£ii ^tfi 3© ^ o weft ft eta mmmtim bsdgind od
srfj i k
diiv/ qu oiiiinoo
90IIG mifLbsjfoj I
yhi jiffies® &bw 1 oniit
j ...
GMIDOIDRT
to bius J 9fii saw od li <teiiri ?bemi/pne I AooD
S leritirfi mid id^uo'id JSd/f ^IbnoosS .looO
HJ
t Ssm fhiw e$9fli<ufd giilefw JxidV/ .vlfnidT J I S
U PON the third day of February, 1722* at seven
•'clock in the evening, after I had parted with
Thurston, and coming up the burial road, one
came up riding after me : upon hearing the noise
of the horse's feet, I took it to be Thurston, but
looking back, and seeing the horse of a grey colour, I called, Who's there? the answer was the
Laird of Cool, be not afraid. Looking to him
with the little light the moon afforded, 1 took
him to be Collector Castlelaw, who had a mind A
to put a trick upon me, and immediately I struck
with all my force with my cane, thinking 1 should
leave a mark upon him that would make him remember his presumption; .but although sensible
I aimed as well as ever I did in my life, yet uiy
cane finding no resistance, but flying out of my
hand tg the distance of sixty fet, and observing
it by its white head, I dismounted and took it
up, but had some difficulty in mounting again,
�i
4
partly by reason of a certain sort of trembling
throughout my whole joints, something also
anger had its share in my confusion; for though
he laughed when my staff flew out of my hand, |
Y
coming up with him again, '(who" halted all the
j
time I was seeking my staff,) I asked him once
f
more who h e - w a ^ fe -answered, The Laird of
Cool. I enquired, First, if he was the Laird oi
Cool. Secondly, What brought him thither?
and, Thirdly, What was his business with m e ?
'
he answered, The reason that I want you is,
that I know you are disposed to do for me what
none of your brethren in Nithsdale will so much
.
as: attempt,'though it serve never so good a pur|
pose. I told him, I would never refuse to do
any thing to serve a good purpose, if I thought
•
vWk Obliged to do it as my duty. He answered,
Mnce I had undertaken what few in Nithsdale
Would, for he had tried several persons oil that
subject, who were more obliged to him than I
was to any person living. Upon
bridle reins, and asked in surprise, what I had
undertaken ? he answered, That on Sabbatti last,
I heard you condemned Mr. Paton, and the other
ministers of Dumfries, foi dissuading Mr. Merizies
from keeping his appointment with me ; and i f
you had been in their place, would have persuaded
the lad to do as THaired, and that yl5tt would hare
juioa bjid JuJ
tiiia^a ^nijiufoai ni vjlij'jifiil
f
�5
gone with him yourself, if he had been afraid ; and
if you had been in Mr. Paton's place, you would
have delivered my commissions yourself, as they
tended to do several persons justice. I asked
him, Pray, Cool, who informed you that I talked at that rate ? to which he answered, You must
know that we are acquainted with fmany things
that the living know nothing about; these things
you did say, and much more to that purpose, and
deliver my commissions to my loving wife. Upon
this I said, 'tis a pity Cool, that you who know
so many things should not know the difference
between an absolute and conditional promise; 1
did,, indeed, at the time you mention, blame Mr.
Patony folr I thought him justly blameablei im
hindering- the lad'to meet with you, and if I had
been in his place, I w^uld havie acted quite the
reverse ; butr>I did never .say, that if you would
come to Innerwick and employ me, that I would
g o a i the way to-Ditafrigs on such an errand, that
is what never s6 much as entered into my
thoughts.
Be answered, What were your
thoughts I don't pretend }to 1:now* but I can depend on mv information these* were your words;
but I fsee you aFe in some disorder, I will wait
upon y iu. when you have more presence of mind.
By this time we were at James JOickson's
iaclosure, below the church-yard ; ; ^ud- while
�6
was recollecting in my mind, if ever I had spoken
these words he alledged, he broke off from me
through the church-yard, with greater violence
than any man on horseback is capable of, with
such a singing and buzzing noise, as put me in
greater disorder than I was in all the time I was
with him. I came to my house, and my wife
observed more than ordinary paleness in my countenance, and alledged that something ailed me.
I called for a dram, and told her I was a little
uneasy. After I found myself a little refreshed,
I went to my closet to meditate on this most astonishing adventure.
Upon the 5th of March, 1722, being at Harehead, baptizing the shepherd's child, I came off
about sunsetting, and near Wm. White's march
the Laird of Cool came up with me as formerly,
and after his first salutation, bade me not be
afraid. I told him I was not in the least afraid,
in the name of G O D and Christ my Saviour,
that he would do me the least harm; for I knew
that he in whom I trusted, was stronger than all
they put together; and if any of them should attempt to do, even to the horse that I ride upon,
as you have done to Doctor Menzie's man, I have
free access to complain to my Lord and Master,
to the lash whose resentment you are liable as
now as before.
�Cool. YdU need not.multiply words on that
head, for you are safe with me, and safer, if safer
can be, than when I was alive.
<;
OgU. Well then, (gftgk let me ^ v e a peaceable and easy conversation with you for the time
we, ride together, and give[me some information
concerning the affairs of the other world, for no
man inclines to lose his time in conversing with
the dead, without hearing or learning something
^ S ^ i o i w l obh mso
snoTted
mnJoi fens
Cool. Well,. Sir, I will satisfy you as far r.s
1 .think proper and convenient. Let me know
what information you wantq nco I
Qgil.
?^n<>[q
uoy
May I then ask you, if you be in a,
state of happiness or not? -j ori vih lot . dAir
Cool. There are a great many things I can
answer, that the living are ignorant of; there are
a great j&any things that, notwithstanding the
additional knowledge I have acquired since my
death, I cannott answer; ai)d th^tejjwe A great
many
may
ofjwjtfch the last
is one, that I will not answer.
?0{>n oi esnifoni
Ogil. Then
how to ^anagfL o w qqiv}
versation; whatever I eftqjL&ve of you, 1 see you
c^u^^Asily ^Mft i^ia 1 ^ j thal1jmigliitt profit iiaore
by coiM^fswg
m^lt
.ahijsm hrrr> gse&sxierni
Cool. You may try.
.il^eb hi vhvh snob
Ogil. Well, then, what sort of a body is thaf
�8
you appear in ; and what sort of a horse is that
you lide upon, which appears to be so full of
metal ?
Cool. You may depend upon it, it is not the
same body that I was witness to your marriage
in, nor in which I died, for that is in the grave
rotting ; but it is such a body as serves me in a
moment, for I can fly as fleet with it as my soul
can do Without it; so that I can go to Dumfries,
and return again, before you can ride twice the
length of your horse, nay, if I have a mind to
go to London, or Jerusalem, or to the moon, if
you please, I can perform all these journies
equally soon, for it costs me nothing but a thought
or wish : for this body is as fleet as your thought,
for in the moment of time you can turn your
thoughts on Rome, I can go there in person : and
as for my horse, he is much like myself, for he
is Andrew Johnston, my tenant, who died fortyeight hours before me. I •^wari/ijomifio I edjiiob
Ogil. So it seems when Andrew Johnston
inclines to ride, you must serve him ik the quality
of an horse, as he does you now.
Cool. You are m i s t a k e i i . ' f w * i ^ w 5 noiffiiwr
Ogil. I thought that all distinctions between
mistresses and maids, lairds and tenants, had beet)
done away at death.
« (hod r 1o tin* u d rr (wmIi ,11s//
>
.IijO
�ft
Cool. True it is, but you do not t,ake 4p
matter*
'•
• .\t . ;
, . : how
< Ogil. This is one of the questions you wc^i'fc
odw 9moR 9*ff> 9 ^ 1 Jniiui *?odto od}
Cooll You are mistaken, for the question I
can answer, and after you may understand it.
Ogil. Well then, Cool, have you never ypx
appeared before God, nor received any sentence
from him as a Judge.
q JiH-'uur- a v^fnwn
Cool. Never yet.
Ogil. I know you was a scholar, Cool, and
'tis generally believed there is a private judgment, besides the general at the great day, the
former immediately after death.—Upon this lie
interrupted me, arguing.
Cool. No such thing, no such thing! No
trial-, no trial till the great day! The heaven
which good men enjoy after death, consists o n l y
in the serenity of their minds, and the satisfaction
of a good conscience; and the certain hopes they
uave of eternal^joy, when that day shall come.
The punishment or hell of the wicked, immediately after death, consists in the stings of an awakened conscience, and : the .terrors -of • facing: gthe
great Judge! and the sensible apprehensions of
eternal torments ensuing! And this bears still a
due proportion to the evils they did when living.
S<r indeed the state of some g ood folks differ but
�1
0
little in happiness from what they enjoyed in the
world, save only that they are free from thebody,
and the ^ins and sorrows that attended it. )On
the other hand, there are some who may be?, s$id
ratter rO > to have been good, than that theyare
i|
wicked H while livings their state is not .easily disr
'iHgittifeted from that of the former ; and under
*
hat1 class comes a great herd of souls; a vast
number of ignorant people, who have not much
minded the affairs of eternity, but/at the Same
irme have lived in -much indolence, ignorance
^MjiotBiriaqcai "i oiedt hsvsiiod ^Ilmsuo^ eh*
Ggil.
I thought that their rejecting the terms
of salvation offered, was sufficient ground for
God to punish them with eternal, displeasure;
and as4o their ignorance, thatcould neverexcuse
them, since they live in a p k c e oij the W f W ,
where the true knowledge of these things^migjit
have teen easily attained.
('' •
- U
. • • 5. Cool. They never properly rejected the terms
'
of salvation; fthey nev^r, strictly speaking, Rejected Christ; poor souls, they had as greatl a
liking both to him and heaven, as thei? gross imaginations: were capable of ^ Impartial reason
nMst make many allowances, as the stupidity of
their parents,7 want of education, distance from
people of good sense and knowledge, and the Mnintferrdpt^d applications they, were oblige4 t°
�11
give to their secular affairs for their daily bread,
the impious treachery of their pastors, who persuaded them, that if they were of such a party
all was well; and many other consideratibns
which God, who is pure and perfect reason itself,
will not overlook : these are not sp much under the
load of divine displeasure, as they are out of his
grace and favour; and you know it is one thing
to be discouraged, and quite another thing to be
persecuted with all the power and rage of an incensed earthly king. I assure you, mens* faces
are not more various and different in the world,
Hi' ' ViiLl j
than their circumstances are after death.
Ogil. I am loath to believe all that you have
said at this time. Cool, (but,I will not dispute
those matters with you) because some things you
have advanced seem to contradict the Scriptures,
which I shall always look upon as the infallible
truth of God. For I find, in the parable of Dives
and Lazarus, that the one was immediately after
death carried up by the angels into Abraham's
bosom, and the other immediately thrust down
to hell.
9IB b9iiB(pb tmtn boog 'io 8ii;iiqa
Cool. Excuse me, Sir, that does no»r contradict one word that I have said, but you seem
not to understand the parable, whose only end is
to illustrate the truth, that a man be very happy
and 'flourishing' in this world, and wretched and
�it
miserable in the next; and that a man may be
miserable in this world, and happy and glorious
W » # f 4i«bt4* io
li Jfifll
Ogil. BeitfSb, Cool, I shall yield that point
to you, and pass to another, which has afforded
me much speculation since our last encounter ;
and that is, How you came to know that I talked after the manner that I did concerning Mr.
Paton, on the first Skbbath o f February last.
Was you present with me, but invisible ? He
answered very haughtily, No, Sir, I was not present myself. I answered, I would not have you
angry, Cool, I proposed this question for my
own satisfaction, but if you don't think proper to
answer, let it pass. After he had paused, with
his eyes on the ground, for three or four minutes
of time at most, with some haste and seeming
h ">'
;.j;WW*
1
cheerfulness, says.
Cool. Well, Sir, I will satisfy you in that
point. You must know that there are sent from
heaven, angels to guard and comfort and to do
other good services to good people, and even the
spirits of good men departed are employed in
t^Mfr^MW^ob Ifidi f
<9in SMI^M .roovj
Ogil. And do you not think that every man
has a good angel ? fousq ed* bfuii^ienua o i Jon
Cool. No, but a great many particular men
have: there are but few houses of distinction
�13
especially, but what have at least one attending
them; and from what you have already heard of
spirits, it is no difficult matter to understand how
they may be serviceable to each particular member, though at different places at a great distance.
Many are the good offices which the good angels
do to them that fear God, though many times
they are not sensible of i t : and I know assuredly,
that one powerful angel, or even an active clever
soul departed, may be sufficient for some villages;
but for your great cities, such as London, Edinburgh, or the like, there is one great angel,
that has the superin tendance of the whole ; and
there are inferior angels, or souls departed, to
whose particulars care such a man, of such a particular weight or business, is committed.
Now,
Sir, the kingdom of Satan does ape the kingdom
of Christ as much in matters of politics, as can
be, well knowing that the court of wisdom is from
above ; so that from thence are sent out missionaries in the same order. But because the kingdom of Satan is much better replenished than
the other, instead of one devil, there are in many
instances two or three commissioned to attend a
particular family of influence and distinction.
Ogil. I read that there are ten thousand
times ten thousand of angels that wait upon God,
and sing his praise and do his will, and I cannot
�14
understand how the good angels dan be
<§ IflMiloy S&jftfae ^xriR uov iisdw moil bnfi f inadJ
Cool. Did not I say that whatever the number be, the spirits departed are employed in the
same business ; so that as to the number of original deities, whereof Satan is chief, I cannot
determine, but you need not doubt but there are
more souls departed in that place, which in a loose
sense you call helh by almost an infinity, than
what are gone to that place, which in a like sense
you call heaven, which likewise are employed in
the same purpose; and I can assure you that there
is as great n difference between angels, both good
and bad, as there is among men, with respect to
their senge, knowledge, cunning, cleverness, and
action; nay, which is more, the departed souls
on both sides, o u t d o severals, from their very
first departure, of the original angels. This
you will perhaps think a paradox, but is true.
Ogil. I do not doubt it, but what is that to
my question, about which I am solicitous ?
Cool. Take a little patience, Sir ; from what
I have said you might have understood me; if
ypu had your thoughts about you ; but I shall
explain Myself to you. Both the good and the
bad angels have stated times of rendezvous, and
the principal angels, who have the charge either
of towns, cities, or kingdoms, not to mention par-
�15
tloular. persona, villages, and Amities, and all that
is transacted in these several parts o f the eouniryiare. there-made open : and at their re-encounter on each side, every thing is told, as in you?
parish, ih milns, kilns, and smithies, with this
difference that many things false are talked at
the living re-encounters, but nothing but what
is exact truth, is said or told among the dead ;
only:I must observe to you, that, as I aim crediU
ably in formed, several of the inferior bad angels,
and souls of wicked men departed, have told
many things that they hkve done, and then When
a more intelligent spirit is selt out upon enquiry,
and the report of the former seeding doubtful,
he brings in a contrary report,' and makes it appear truth, the former fares very i l l : neveiWeless
their regard to truth iffr0t*efl'4s i t ; #F'\vhila ^thfe}
observe the truth, they do their business and
keep their station, for God
truth.
Ogil. So much truth being among the'|>t>od
angels, I,am-'apt to think that lies and falsehood
will be as much in vogue among the bad.
Cool. A gross mistake, and it is not alone* the
mistake which the living folks fall under With
respect to the other world; for tfie ^ s e ; plainly
^s this, an ill mah will not stick at a falsfeh&dd tb
p ^ » i o t e his design ; ds little will air evil ^o ul departed, stop at any thing that can makd hirtMfeJf
�46
successful; but in admitting report he must tell
the truth, or woe be to him. But besides their
monthly, quarterly* or yearly meetings, or whatever they be, departed souls acquainted, may take
a trip to see one another yearly, weekly, daily,
or oftener if they please. Thus then I answer
your question that you was so much concerned
about; for my information was from no less than
three persons, viz. Aikman, who attends Thurston's family; James Corbet, who waits upon
Mr. Paton; for at that time he was then looking after Mrs. Sarah Paton, who was at your
house; and an original emissary appointed to
I f f l & J l e r i n c f t vfo 'io Jioqoi srit biu;
At this I was much surprised, and after a little thinking, I asked him, And is there really,
Cool, an emissary from hell, in whatever sense
you take it, that attends my family ?
Cool.
You may depfend upon it.
Ogil. And what do you think is his business ?
Cool. T o divert you from your duty, and
cause you to do as many ill things as he can; for
much depends on having the minister on their
ishrui Hut ajlloi gnivil sdi Hqirfw odfitaim
Upon this I was struck with a sort of terror,
which I cannot account for. In the mean time
he said several things I did not understand. But
after coming to my former presence of mind, said.
�17
Ogil.
But, Cool, tell me in earnest, if there
be a devil that attends niy family, though invisible.
CooL Just as sure as you are breathing, but
be not so mueh dejected upon this information,
for 1 telUyou likewise, that there is a good angel
who attends you, who is stronger than the other.
Ogil.
Are you sure of that, C o o l ?
Cool.
Yes, there is one riding oh your right
hand, who might as well have been elsewhere,
for I meant you no harm.
Ogil.
And how long has he been with me ?
Cool.
Only since We passed Brand*s-lee, but
now he is gone.
Ogil.
We are just upon Elenscleugh, and )
desire to part with you, though perhaps I have
gained more by conversation than I could have
other wise done in a twelvemonth ; I choose rather to see you another time, when you're at leisure
and I wish it were at as great a distance from
fHiteft^BllWyoft^cfiJi? 11 ^ H) t
Cool.
1
*
Be it so, Sir; but I hope you will be
as obliging to me, next re-encounter, as I have
ifeen i b ybWtn& r
Ogil.
5
fi<I
<H
Vi
nK
I promise you I will, as far as is con-
sistent with my duty to my Lord and Mastei
Christ Jesus: and since you have obliged me so
much by information, J will answer all the qiites-
�fcions you propose, as far as consists witji my
Jpipwledgej but f believe you want no inforillation from me.
. Jf!t
I came not here to be instructed by
; CooJ.
you, but I want your help of another kind.
Upon the 5th of April, 1722, as I was returning from f Old Hamstocks, Cool came up with
me on horseback at the foot of the ruinous inclosure, before we came to D o d ; I told him his
last conversation had proved §o acceptable to me,
that I was well pleased to see, him agaiii; that
there was a number of things that I wanted to
inform myself further of, if he would be so good
as satisfy me.
sijo-q ei sd won
Cool. Last time we met, I refused you nothing you asked; and now I expect that you shall
refuse me nothing that I shall ask.
Ogil. Nothing, Sir, that is in my power, oy
that I can do with safety^ to my reputation and
character.
What then are your demands.
Cool. All that I desire of you is, that as you
prpmjs^c| Jfyaj^ pn ^ SaJbbath day you wosuld .go
to my wife, who now possesses all my effects,
and tell her the following particulars: and tell
h^r in my n.^me to j rectify th$$$ ^att^rs. jflfgst,
That I was owing justly to Provost Crosby, 501.
Scots, and three years interest, but on hearing
of his death, my good-brother the Laird of C — I
�w
and I forged a discharge, narrated the bond, the
sum, and other particulars, with this honourable
clause, " And at the time it had fallen by, and
could not be found. ,, With an obligation on the
Provost's part to deliver up this Bond as soon at
he could hit upon it. And this discharge was
dated three months before the Provost's death.
And when his son and successor, Andrew Crosby, wrote to me concerning this Bond, I came
to him and shewed him the forged discharge,
which silenced him; so that I got up my bond
without more ado. And when I heard of Robert
Kennedy's death, with the same help of C—1, I
got a bill upon him for 1901. of which I got full •
and complete payment, C—1 got the half. When
I was at Dumfries, the same day that Robert
©Her died, to whom I was owing an account of
361. G—1, my good-brother, was then) at London, and not being able of myself, being but a
bad writer, to make out a discharge of the account, which I; wan ted, I met accidently with
one Robert Boyd, a poor Writer lad in Dumfries .;
I took him to Mrs* Carnodk's, and gave him a»
bottle of wine, and told him I had paid 'Thomas
Grier's account but had neglected to get ;a dfecharge, and if he would help me to one* T w o £dd
reward him. He flew away from me in a great
passion, sayings he would rather he hanged * but
s
�20
if I had a mind for these things, 1 had better
wait till C—1 came home.
This gave me great
trouble, fearing- what G - J and I had done formerly was no secret.
I followed Boyd to the
street, and made an apology, saying, I was jesting, commending him for his honesty, and got
his promise never to repeat what had passed.
I
sent for my Cousin B^r-m H—rie, your goodbrother, who with no difficulty, for a guinea and
a half, undertook and performed all that I wanted ; and for a guinea more made me up a discharge
for 2001, Scots that I was owing to your fatherin-law, and his friend Mr. Muirhead, which discharge I gave to John Ewart, when he desired
the money, and he at my desire? produced it to
you, which you sustained.
A great many of the like instances were told,
of which I cannot remember the persons names
and things; but, says he, what vexes me more
than all these, is the injustice I did Homer M a x well, tenant to my Lord Nithsdale, for whom I
was factor.
I borrowed 20001. from him, 5001
of which he borrowed from another hand : I gave
him my bond, and, for reasons I contrived, I obliged him to secrecy.
H e died within the yean
and left nine children, his wife being dead before
himself.
I came to seal up his papers for my
Wd's security; his eldest daughter intreated me
�21
to look through them all, and to give her an account what was their stock, and what was their
debt. 1 very willingly undertook it, and in going through the papers, I put my own bond in
my p$cke$0, tj^s circumstances proving bad, his
nine children are now starving. These things 1
desire you to represent to my wife, and take her
brother with you, and let them be immediately
rectified, for she has a sufficient fund to do it upon ; and if it were done. 1 think I would be easy
and therefore I hope you will make no delay.
After a short pause, I answered, Tis a good
errand Cool, you are sending me to do justice to
the oppressed and injured^ but notwithstanding
I see myself come in for 2001. Scots, yet X beg
a little time to consider the matter. Ar^d since
I find you are as much master of reason now as
ever, and more than ever, I will reason upon the
matter in its general view, and then with respect
to the expediency of my being the messenger;
and jsmxI will do \yithluu / manner T J * \
Bjit this
•669niow" all »I J 7 ofAfrankness*
I\ T
T
From what you have said, I see clearly what
your present condition is, so that I need not ask
any more questions on (that head; and you need
not bid me take courage, for at this moment I
am no more afraid of you than a new born child.
Cool. Well, say on.
Ogil. Tell me then, since such is your ability
�<>o
that you can fly 9, thousand miieg in the twinkling
^f an eye, if your desire to do the oppressed jusdee, .be as great as you
what's the rfeks-
dont fly to the coffers of some rich Jew
or Banker, where are thousands df gold and silver^ invisibly left, and invisibly return it to the
coffers of the injured ? A n d since your wife has
sufficient fund, and more, why cannot you empty
her purse invisibly, to make these people amends.
Cool.
Because I cannot.
Ogil,
Y o u have satisfied me entirely upon
that head.
But pray, Cool, what is the reason
that you cannot g o to your wife yourself, and
tell her What you have a mind; I should think
this a more sure way to gain your point.
Ogil. That is not an answer to me, CooL
Mool.
That is one of the ques tions that I told
you long ago I would not answer: but if you go
as I desire, I promise to give you full satisfaction
after you have done your business. Trust me
tor once, and believe me I will not disappoint
ybtt.30it f m n I tndl o* d n o b i b n p y i i i ^ a i q W Q Y
Upon the 10th of April, 1722, coming from
Old Cambus, upon the post road, I met with
Cool on the head of the heath called the Pees.
He asked me, if I had coiisidered the matter he
had.recommemled ? I told him I had, and was in
�23
like game opinion I was in when we parted; that
I would not possibly undertake his commissions,
unless he could give me them in writing under
his hand. I told him that the list; of his grievances were so great, that I could not possibly remember them without being put in writing; and
that I wanted nothing bufcuteason to determine
toe in that, and all other affairs of m y
know, says he, this M a mere evasion>~biH teU
me if the Laird otoDhurston will do ito?^ J am- sur%
said I, he will n o t : and if he should, I would do
all that I could to hinder him;i&rul think h e k m
as little to do in these matters as.myself.
But
tell me, Cool, fa fit notas eidsyf to^write^your
ry a&tell it, or iiide o n • whathdprychcaili-hiBi
•
I have forgot your horse's name.
Cool. N o , S&,9«pis n o t ; and pei>hapa>i -raayi
convince you of the reasonableness
it after4
wwrdkumi oJ oomcM d*>inu tu ol> ^ a i tiwvi-g svud
Ogil.
I would be glad to hear a reason that
is solid, for not speaking to your wife yourself*?
but, however, any rational creature may see what
a fool I would make of myself, if I would g o to
Dumfries, and tell your wife you had appeared
to me, and told so ma^y^|orgeries and villanies
that you had commitea, and" that she behoved to
make reparation; the consequence might perhaps
Ve, that rhe would seold me ; for she would be
�24
loath to part with any money she possesses, and
therefore tell me I was mad, or possibly pursue
me for calumny; how would I vindicate myself,
how eould I prove that you-ever* spoke with me H
Mr.
Paton, and other ministers, in Dumfries
would tell me, the devil had spoken with m e ; and
why should I repeat these things for truth, which
he, that was a liar from the beginning, had told
m e ; C—-p—1 and B-—r H—-rie would be upon
me, and pursue me before the Commissary ; every
body would look upon mbim brain-sick or mad *
therefore I entreat you do not insist upon sending me so ridiculous an errand.
T h e reasonable-
ness of my demands 1 leave to your o wn consideration, as you did your former to mine.
But drop-
ping the matter till out next interview^ give md
leave to enter upon some more diverting subject:
I do not-know, Cool, but the information yow
have given, may do as much service to mankind,
as the redress of all these grievances would- ai^Mtfitrd^.dliw *wo\ ot ^ubhsscp ion to! <biioa m
Mr. Ogilvie died very soon after.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 016: Title-page illustration of the God, Mercury, wearing winged sandals and holding a caduceus .
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Laird of Cool's Ghost: being Several Conferences and Meeting betwixt the Reverend Mr. Ogilvie, Late Minister of the Gospel at Innerwick; and the Ghost of Mr. Maxwell, late Laird of Cool; as it was found in Mr. Ogilvie's Closet after his Death - Written with his own hand.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Ghost of Mr. Maxwell, late Laird of Cool; as it was found in Mr. Ogilvie's Closet after his Death - Written with his own hand.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831073505154">s0615b40</a>
Description
An account of the resource
8 printed at the foot of the title page
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850?
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
supernatural & ghost stories
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: supernatural
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): armour
Gender: man/men
Object: walking stick/ staff
Religious Figure: Mercury (Hermes)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0b1d1e19a33c1c4732c1c881d5c0cf73.jpg
17c47f0d1fb27ce0c0fdd51e90a5c88b
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying Portrait of the God, Mercury in winged sandles holding a caduceus
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0cfc9aeb8307a5c3bcd5876cb3586396.pdf
0b7640089ba2e1329d4f7eebe0677833
PDF Text
Text
y
f\
T O K E N FOR
MOURNERS.
W I T H A SELECTION OF
SCRIPTURE PROMISES,
RELATIVE
TO
THE TROUBLES of LIFE.
m
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.
£
f
5
? S
IJ
k
ms
GLASGOW ;
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS,
nw^j^v-
MJV^^V
�T
O
K
E
N
FOR
^
P^IPiT/
O{Ici
\r <ttT r i if r ^ r r ) 2
MOURNERS.
2. KINGS, iv. 26.
she answered, It is well.
S H O R T words, soon spoken ; but to have a suitableness of heart to them is one of the highest
attainments of faith. T o be sure," It is well
we think so, when all things go according to oni
wish ; when there is nothing in Providence that
crosses our desires, that thwarts our designs, that
sinks our hopes, or awakens our fears; Submission is easy work then ; but to have all things
seemingly against us, to have God smiting in
the tenderest part, unravelling all our schemes,
con tradicting our desires, und standing aloof from
�3
our very prayers ; how do our souls beliave then ?
This is the true touchstone of our sincerity and
submission ; " Here, as it is said, Rev. xiii. 10.
c ; is the patience and faith of the saints
this
shews what they are made of, what they are
within ; but instances there are many in the book
of God, wherein we find this sweet, frame prevailing, as Abraham, Job, David, and the Shulamite in my text, than whose story we meet
with few things in Providence more affecting. If
you look back a little,,you may see what were her
circumstances, and those of her family. She was
a " great woman," says verse 8, and that she was
a " g o o d woman," the whole context shews, Her
husband and she wanted but one thing to make
them as happy as the vanity and uncertainty of
all human affairs would admit of. T h e y had
enough of the world, a i d they seem ro Iiavre had
the enjoyment of it ; for when Elisha, to requite
her kindness, asks ; " What shall be done for
thee ? Wouldst thou be spoken for to the king ?
&c. she answers, 44 No, I dwell among mine
own people,"
" I seek nothing greater than
what I have : " only ( a s Gehazie learned from
her) they wanted a child to comfort them now,
and to inherit what they bad when they were
gone. God in a miraculous way, gives this request. This child grows up, and was no doubt
�4
the delight of its parents. Just at the time of life
when children are most engaging, before they are
capable of doing any great thing to grieve their
parents, God lays his hand suddenly upon him
and takes him away. T h e dearest comforts are
but short lived, and the dearer they are when living, the deeper they cut when they are removed.
Many of you can judge what the loss of a son, an
only son, must be, and when there is no hope of
a Seth instead of Abel. But, behold, " he tak
eth away, and who shall hinder him ?" Well :
What does the mother do now ? One would
think all her hope is cut off, and all her comfort
dried up : No, it is far otherwise. T h e same
power that gave him could also raise him ; in faith
of this, she lays him upon the prophet's bed, and
makes all the haste to him she could. She concealing what had happened (as it is probable)
from her husband, he objects to her going to the
prophet, ver. 23. " Wherefore wilt thou go to
him to-day ? It is neither new-moon nor Sabbath.*
And she said, " It shall be well." Faith sets aside
every obstacle : " It shall be well : the end will
be peace
" God is with me, and he will make
all things work together for good." Commentators, in general, make very light of this, and
her answer to Elisha's message in my text. Some
suppose she has a reserve in her breast, when
�5
'
Gea<a& 4sks after her family, that this " Trell"
only refers to her husband and herself.
Others
think it is but a transition to something farther,
which she was in haste to say ; as if she had said,
" All is well do not hinder me, I have urgent business with your master Elisha, and cannot stay to
talk farther with you upon any matters."
This
is the sense which most annotators incline to,
which, I confess, I the more wonder at, because
all agree, that the apostle's words in part refer to
this story, Ileb. xi. 35. " Women received their
dead raised to life again." How they received
them is there specified ; namely, by or " through
faith
Faith, not as some carry it, in the prophet, but in the persons who had their dead restored to them; or else there would have been no
need to make mention of any by name. N o w
wherein this woman's faith appeared, my text and
context make manifest. Here was a dependance
upon God's promise, an abiding by that, God
had promised her a son ; a son, not to lose him
but to have comfort in him ; and, as if she had
said, " As for God, his work is perfect, he does
not use to raise his people's expectations for nothing; to give and immediately take away again,
M y son is dead, but God, all sufficient liveth ;
why should I mourn as though I had no hope ?
A s for v/od's power and faithfulness there is no
�6
abatement in them."
Therefore, she makes no
preparation for his burial tells her husband nothing of his death, but seeks to G o d by the prophet, and expects help from him,
See how she
expresses herself: " Is it well w ith thee ? " (and
says Gehazzi,)
u
Is it well with thy husband ?
Is it well with the child ? and she answered, It
is well".
Here is the greatest submission in the
greatest distress : Her son, her only son, the son
of all her love, the son of her old age, he is taken
away with a stroke, and yet all is well.
There is
nothing amiss in the dispensation ; had she been
to choose it, it is w e l l ; she has nothing to object.
Here are submission and faith both discovered ih
their sweet exercise ; submission to what God hath
done ; faith in what he is able to do, and in what
she "believed he would do : c t B y faith women received their dead raised to life again ; so that
the words, thus explained, afford us this plain and
useful observation.
OBSERV.
Faith in God'S promise and power
will bring a man to submit to the sorest and most
trying dispensations of his Providence ; or thus.
Faith where it is in exercise, will teach a Christian to say of all G o d does,
cc
It is well."
In discoursing on this propossition, I will endeavour to show what submission is, or how arid
�7
in what sense we are to understand the expression
in my text, " It is welL"
This " well" dost not suppose there is nothing
in providential dispensations, which to flesh and
sense appears evil. Submission quiets under an
affliction, but it does not take away our sense and
feeling of the affliction. T h e apostle speaks
what is every believer's experience, Heb. xii. 11.
" N o chastening for the present seemeth to be
joyous, but grievous. Whatever be spoken of
the good of it, it presents itself unto us with a
very different face ; it is matter of present grief
and sorrow to them that are chastised ; nor are
we blamed for our feeling and sense of it. Our
blessed Lord himself wept at the grave of his dear
friend, John xi. 35. A n d at the approach of his
last sufferings, " his soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death," Matt. xxvi. 38. " yet he
was led as a lamb to the slaughter ; he opened
not his mouth ": there was patience and quiet
submission under all his sorrows, while nature
had some vent ; for groans a"re sometimes an
easement to our grief. Thus it is said of the good
woman, " that her soul was bitter within her,"
ver. 27. Elisha saw her agony in her looks,
though he knew not the cause of i t ; and yet
" All is well." When Job lost his substance and
his children, and was smitten in his body with sore
�8
boils ; when Heman, and when the church in the
Lamentations were deprived of the consolations
from God, when the Comforter, who would relieve their souls, was far from them ; when D a vid also was cursed by Shimei, and turned out
of doors by his own son ; can you think that in
all these there was no feeling ? Had there been
none, there could have been no profit by any of
the dispensations. Unless we realize our trials indeed, what are we the better for them? This
would be to despise the chastening of the Lord, to
be above correction, to be smitten and not grieve,
is one of God's sorest judgments, and always argues a soul ripe for ruin : this " w e l l " does not
suppose us insensible of the evil of afflicting.
Though we believe all that befals us is well,
this does not forbid our inquiring into the reasons
of God's providential dispensations, and a searching out the cause for which they come upon us.
Every rod hath a voice in it, and the " man of
understanding will hear it," and " see the name
of God in it, " Micah vi. 9. what God intends by
it, what is his ends and design in i t ; for he does
not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of
men, L a m . iii. 33. There is a " need be " in
every dispensation that befals us : 1 Pet. i. 6.
"Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a
season" (if need be) " ye are in heaviness through
�9
manifold temptations." G o d acts with judgment
in proportion to our needs; there is a conveniencv
and fitness, nay, there is an absolute necessity in
the case ; it must be that we are in heaviness and
that through manifold temptations. One single
trial oftentimes will not do,
empty us of self,
to wean us from the world, to shew us the vanity
of the creature, the sinfulness of sin, & c . : it must
be repeated or others joined with it, so fast are
our affections glued to the things of time and
sense. Now, what this need is in us, what this
intention and end is in God, the Christian will
and ought to be searching out, and inquiring daily into. This wras Job's frame, (and ye have
heard, as says the, apostle, of the patience of
J o b . ) Job xxxiv. 31. 32. " Surely it is meet
to be said unto God I have borne chistisement,
I will not offend any more. That which a see
not, teach thou m e ; if I have done iniquity, I
will do no more. Sin lies deep, it must be searched after in the deep and secret corners of the
heart; there is so much self-love and self-flattery
hid there, that a man cannot judge aright of
himself, or of God without divine teachings. " It
It is meet to be said unto God, I have borne
chastisment." Sirs, it is one thing to be chastised, and another thing to bear chastisement; to
behave aiight under i t ; to be patient, submissive,
�K)
thankful; to have a frame of heart suited to the
dispensation, whatever it is. This is to bear chastisement:, and wherever this is, the language of
the soul will be, " That which I see wot teach
thou m e ; I have done inquity,. I will do no more."
When an affliction is sanctifiedy it always begets
godly fear and jealousy. A man is then most afraid of his own heart, lest that should deceive
him; lest he should come out of the furnace unpurged, unrefined; lest the end of God's visitation
upon him should be unstained. And this is well
consistent with our believing all that God does is
well done. Once more,
A soul may say in a becoming frame,- and in
the exercise of suitable affections, <c It is well, "
and yet long, and pray, and wait from the trial.
Submission to the wifr of God, under awful dispensations, is not inconsistent with earnest prayer
for a gracious and speedy issue to these 'very dispensations. a It is well, " says this good-woman
in my text; and yet h(Vw does she plead for the
life of the child, ver. 28.
Did I desire a son of
my lord ? Did not I say do not deceive me ? As
if she had said, " I asked it not, I could scarce
believe it when it was promised me; God raised my
expectations himself, he encouraged my hopes*
and surely he will not go back from his own word."
It was a wonderful act of faith; but the promises
�11
of God can never lie long unfulfilled: when he
has prepared the heart to pray, his own ear is
epen to hear. H e has not called himself " I am
that I am," for nothing.
Abraham staggered
not at the promise through unbelief, no more does
the daughter of Abraham here ; it is blessed pleading, " Did not I say, do not deceive me ? " . " May
I trust ? M a y I venture ? He has given me the
faithful word of God to rely on; here my faith
resteth." -'And a son came in due season. Now she
looks to God, the author of the mercy, and applies to the prophet, who was the revealer of it.
He sends Gehazi with his staff, but this will not
content her, except Elisha goes himself: she knows
that he was great with G o d ; she will therefore
have his prayers and presence " A s the Lord liveth, and as .thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee,"
ver. 30, A l l this argues the strong desires of her
heart after the return of the child's -life, though
still she says, " All is well " While, we bear chastenings, we may pray, and pray hard that God
would take them off. " I f it be possible," ( says
iunocent aggrieved nature in the man Christ, )
"let this cup pass from me," Matthew xxvi. '26.
Opening our mouth against God is our sin, but
it is our duty to open our mouths and our hearts
to him. In the former sense, says D a v i d , . " I
was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because thoia
�12
didst it," Psal. xxxix, 9 . : and yet, w ith the same
breath, he adds, 66 Remove thy stroke away from
me : I am consumed by the blow of thine hand,"
ver. 10. Was a child under the direction of a
parent to intimate no desire of his forbearance,
should we not rather account him stubborn than
submissive ? In like manner, not to ask of God
release from troubles, is as offensive as to mourn
at them. It is the token of a proud heart and a
relentless spirit. God expects other things at our
hands ; even of1 the wicked he says, " In their
affliction they will seek me early; " much more
shall his own people, who have known his name,
and put their trust in him ; who have known the
advantage of prayer, and been so often set at liberty by it from all their fears.
If these are silent,
they cannot be sensible nor submissive. Only in
all their prayers, when they are most earnest and
vehement, 6 ''If it be consistent with the will oi
God," and there will be no limiting him as to
time or way.
These things are neither of them inconsistent
with the soul's saying, under the most awful rebukes," A l l is well."
Now, what is included in this " well" in my
text, or what is this submission to the will of
G o d ? . It takes in, as I apprehend, these three
things 5
�13
1. A justifying God in all he does " It is
w e l l G o d cannot do amiss; he worketh all
things after the counsel of his own will, to the
praise of his glory. And after all that is come
upon us," says the Church, E z r a i x . 13. " thou,
our God, hast punished us less than our iniquities deserve; thou hast taken vengeance according to the desert of our sins, When sin appears
to be what it is in itself, exceeding sinful, affliction
will appear light, and not till then. Wherefore,
says the church, L a m . iii. 39, " wherefore, does
a living man complain, a man for the punishment
of his sins ? So long as we are. out of hell, God
punishes less than our iniquities deserve.
Whatever be our trial, it comes from God : he
is the author, whoever be the instrument, therefore, " it is well," He cannot do iniquity : David
had not one word to say, by way of complaint,
when he saw God's hand in the affliction : yea,
let him curse, for " the Lord hath bid Shimci
curse David," 2 Sam. xvi. 12. We may puzzle
and distress ourselves about instruments and second causes, but no quiet no rest can we have,
till we are led to the first. " Lie performeth
the thing appointed for me;" that settles the soul,
but nothing else will do it. " Be still and know
that I am God," Psal. xlvi. 10. If thy children are taken, thy substance fails, thy body is
�14
sore vexea, thy comforts, and even the presence
of thy God leaves thee; yet be still, that is, do
not say a word against the dispensation, do not
fret, do not censure and condemn Providence.
I
am God, thy God in a l l ; and a covenant God
cannot do amiss. God will be glorified and exalted, that's enough for us. This, " It is well,"
implies in it, not in some things, but in all.
2. This submission implies in it, our approving of all God does ; not only it is not amiss, but
it is right; it is the best way, the only sure way
to bring about our good : Therefore holy Job
blesses God in all, chap. i. 21. " Naked came
I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I
return thither : the Lord gave and the Lord hath
taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.'
He had the same great and good thought of God
as ever he h a d ; God was his God still, and the
God of his mercy. He should have an expected,
a desired end; that he believed still, still, because
God's thoughts were the same they ever were;
that is thoughts of peace and not of evil. And
this is the frame in which we find the poor saints,
diat were scattered up and down throughout the
whole world almost, I Pet. i. 6. " who are kept
by the power of God through salvation,, ready to
be revealed in the last time, wherein ye greatly
rejoice," &c. T h e y were far from one another to
�lo
avoid persecution, it was in their w a y : but none
of these things moved them. There was joy in
their expected rest in happiness at last, though
there was great pain and heaviness in the way to
i t : the way was rough, but right; therefore they
approved of it, they acquiesced in i t ; nay, herein " they greatly rejoiced." Thus the saints of
old took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, and
were tortured* not accepting deliverance, because
they knew in themselves, " t h a t they had in
heaven a better and an enduring substance, "
Heb. x. 34. O that blessed knowledge ! it comforts, refreshes, it fills the soul, and lifts a. man
above himself.
Every path which God takes is right then
and the believer chooses to walk in i t : His God,
his Father, has marked it out, and nothing goes
so against the grain, but that " all is well,"
which his Father does : His will is brought to be
one with God's; the soul approves of all God
does.
3. This submission implies in it our cleaving
to God in all. T o be pleased with God as a
frienc, when he seems to he coming forth against,
us as an enemy; to lean upon a promise, w
1 all
the ways leading to the performance are shut up ;
to rejoice in God when we have nothing left beside to rejoice in, and faith is hard put to it to
�16
call God ours. Thus, to cleave to God when
we do not find comfort from him, this is believing
indeed; to love the hand that smites, this is true
grace and great grace. A noble act of faith was
that, Job xiii. 15. " though he slay me, yet will
I trust in him
So " Abraham staggered not
at the promises through unbelief, " Rom. iv. 20.
He brought God's promises and faithfulness close
together, and considered none of the difficulties
nay absurdities, which came between them: It
was n o t — " I s this reasonable ? What probability
is there in that ? How can these things be ?"
&c. but being not weak in faith, he considered
not his own body now dead, neither yet the deadness of Sarah's womb, but was strong in faith,
giving glory to G o d ; he clave to him, abode by
his promise in a way of faith and firm dependance.
This is the true nature of submission, and is contained in that expression in my text, " It is well."
A word of u s e . —
USE 1. Wonder not at your trials, be they
never so strange: " A l l is w e l l ; some secret end
is to be answered which you see not; God is in
a l l ; the hand and love of a Father is there. T h e y
are to purge from sin, to wean from the world, to
bring you from the foot of God, to shew you that
your rest is not here, that it lies beyond the
�ir
grave. What though they make you smart,
they do you the more good: this argues your sen~
sibleness under the rod ; that is not a rod which
does not cause smart; the sharpest physic does
most service, because it reaches the inward, hidden cause, not one of our many trials which we
could well spare.
USE 2. D o not think any trial sanctified,
till you have a suitable frame to the trial, whatever it be. Are you humbled ? Are you prayerful ? Are you submissive ? Have you looked
inward, and confessed your sin, saying. T a k e
away all iniquity ? If the affliction has not
brought you to this, it hath done you no good.
For all you may have borne, his anger is not
turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.
USE 3. D o not think of other means, whereby God's end in visiting you might have been as
well answered; that is, in fact, to quarrel with
God in what he has done, or is doing. Have
a care of your thoughts; unsubmission slips in
at that door before one is aware. " It is well, "
is the only soul quickening and God-glorifying
frame. God that has oppointed the end, has
settled, and he will order the means: Rest there,
and " all is w e l l "
�18
HINTS
TO
THE
AFFLICTED
fatal mischiefs-would follow, if there was no
variety in our experience ! There are so many
remains of depraved nature in the hearts of the
saints, that if the warm sun of prosperity did always shine upon the Lord's garden, the we£ds
would quickly multiply, the choicest f l o w r s wither, and an army of caterpillars devour the pleasant
fruits. T o prevent th^se, God will not suffer his
•people to enjoy uninterrupted prosperity, but wisely appoints seasons of affliction and trouble.
On the other hand, were we to groan under perpetual adversity, our souls perhaps would suffer
equal prejudice. Our heavenly father will not always chide; he remembers that we are but dust,
and that our flesh is not like brass or iron. Were
we never in the fire, our dross would not be consumed, and were we always to be in the fire, our
.ilver and gold would be w asted.
WHAT
Hereby G o d takes a proper method for the exercise and improvement of the graces of his children. Without such a mixed condition, there
could be noToom for many of them, and not room
enough for any of them to appear in their glory
and beauty. Were it always a day of prosperity
where would be the proof of their faith, hope and
patience ? — the evil day brings thee to rest.
To
�19
possess our souls in patience, in the day of trouble
to believe the good will and fatherly love of God
even when he smites, is a point of no small diffic u l t y . — But, were we never to enjoy a season of
prosperity, where would be the evidence of our
humility, heavenly mindedness, and contempt of a
present world ? Variety adds a beauty and lustre
to providence. In the day of prosperity therefore,
we ought to rejoice with trembling, and in the day
of adversity, to consider and faint not; for " G o d
hath set one against the other, to the end that no
man might find any thing after him," Eccl. vii 14.
in this valley of tears, it is not wonderful
that believers should be often called to weep.
T o mingle their tears with those of their brethren
— o r in the words of the apostle, to " w e e p with
those that weep,—is apart of the holy fellowship
they are called to by the gospel.
A t present, the way of providence in general
is dark and mysterious. There is a depth in it,
for which we have no line. There are many seals
011 it, not fit as yet to be opened. But when the
Lamb who is in the midst of the throne, shall open
the seals, and shew the meaning of all the dark
passages in that mysterious book, and eveiy one is
WHILE
�20
made to view that part of it that related to the
way in which they were brought through manifold
tribulations to the kingdom, when they will all
strike up on the highest key, and sing 66 HE
HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELJ, !"
Believers ought to comfort one another with
these words. It is heartsome for travellers on
the road in a dark night, and going to the same
place, to speak to each other in the language of
the country to which they are going, and to say,
" What of the night! what of the night!"
And
O
O
to encourage one another, by often reiterating
that animating reply, " T h e morning cometh."
T h e shadows of the evening are daily growing
longer with all the travellers to the heavenly
Sion. But at evening time it shall be light.
T h e bright shining of the sun of Righteousness
will make even the passage through the dark valley of the shadow of death lightsome and pleasant.
Faith can see eternal day at the farther end of it.
Jesus went through the Jordan of death when it
overflowed all its banks, and was brimful of the
curse. B u t his death drank up the curse, and left
nothing but a blessing to all his redeemed: and his
sweet and cheering voice is still to be heard in the
passage—"Fear not! I am He that liveth, and
was dead; and behold I am alive for evermore ;
and have the keys of hell and of death ! "
�21
" I F T H E I R U N C I R C U M C I S E D H E A R T S , " said
the Lord respecting ancient Israel, " be humbled,
and they ACCEPT of the punishment of their iniquity, then will I remember my covenant with
Jacob," &c. L e v . xxvi. 4 1 — o f the punishment of their iniquity ! that is, bear it willingly
contentedly. It is a happy state of mind when
our trials are A C C E P T E D ones: when God's chastening hand is even esteemed a k i n d n e s s — L o r d !
may the believer say, I will not puzzle myself
with hows, and whys, and yets. T H O U hast
done i t ; I rest there. It seemed good in thy sight
that is a sufficient reason. L e t God choose my
portion; I am sure it will be best in the e n d —
Even when He acts as a Sovereign, he forgets
not his relation as a fathe
SCRIPTURE
PROMISES.
A father of the fatherless, and
f . Psalm G8—6.
a judge of the widow is God in his holy habitation.
Jeremiah 4 9 — 1 1 . Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.
i Job 5 . — 1 7 . Happy is the man whom God
correcteth: therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty. Verse 18. For he
maketh sore, and bindeth u p ; he woundeth, and
his hands make whole.
�22
Psalm 1 1 9 — 6 7 .
Before I was afflicted I
went astray; but now have I kept thy word.
Verse 7 1 . It is good for me, that I have been
afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes. 75.
I know, O Lord, thy judgements are right, arid
thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me.
2. Corinthians 4 — 1 6 . For which cause we
faint not; but though our outward man perish,
yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
Verse 17. For our light affliction which is but
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.
Hebrews 21
6. Whom the Lord loveth he
chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he
receiveth. Verse 7. If ye endure chastening,
God dealeth with you as with sons; for what
son is he whom th^ father chasteneth not? 10.
T h e y verily, for a few days chastened us after
their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that ^'e
might be partakers of his holiness. 11. Now
no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless, afterward it
yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness,
unto them which are exercised thereby.
Deut. 8 — 5 . As a man chasteneth his son.
so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee.
Job 3 6 — 8 .
And if they be bound in fetters,
and be holden in cords of affliction. Verse 9.
�23
Then he sheweth them their work and their transgressions, that they have exceeded. 10,
He
openeth also their ear to discipline, andcommandeth that they return fron iniquity.
Psalm 94
12.
Blessed is the
man whom
thou chastenest, O Lord and teachest him out of
thy law. Verse 13. T h a t thou may est give
him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit
be digged for the wicked.
Romans 5 . — 3 .
We glory in tribulation also,
knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and
patience experience, and experience hope.
Job 19 4 —2 G. Though after my skin worms
destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall 1 see
God. Verse 27. Whom I shall see for myself,
and mine eyes shall behold, and not another,
though my reins shall be consumed within me.
Isaiah 26
19. T h y dead men shall live,
together with my dead body shall they arise.
Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust: for thy
dew is as the dew of herbs: and the earth shall ,
oast out the dead.
�24
A
soft answer turneth away
wrath ; but
grievous words stir up anger.
Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith than an house full of sacrifices with strife.
Better is the poor that walketh in his integrity, than he that is perverse in his lips, and is
a fool.
A good name is rather to be chosen than great
riches, and loving favour rather than silver and
gold.
B e not thou envious against evil men, neither desire to be with them.
A s snow in summer, and as rain in harvest;
so honour is not seemly for h fool.
A s a dog returncth to his vomit; so a fool
returnctlx to his folly.
A false balance is abomination to the L o r d ;
but a just weight is his delight.
A wise son heareth his father's instruction;
but a scorner heareth not rebuke.
E v e r y wise woman buildeth her house; but
the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.
Fools make a mock at s i n ; but among the
righteous there is favour.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 016: Title-page illustration of the God, Mercury, wearing winged sandals and holding a caduceus .
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
A token for mourners. with a selection of scripture promises, relative to the troubles of life.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935749653505154">s0598b24</a>
Description
An account of the resource
Quote on title page: "Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Subject
The topic of the resource
Religion and Morals
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
elegy
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: elegy
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): armour
Gender: man/men
Object: walking stick/ staff
Religious Figure: Mercury (Hermes)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/db65924097fbe8f5fa9815d2b381b1a4.jpg
015fc486fc7da3852ab672a0f741a714
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying a man wearing a long coat and part of a broken hat (top of hat on ground) with ball in raised hand; winged angel in tree holding fruit?; house and trees in background
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/6a089a53bb85b5bbb86ae324fceb0382.pdf
eeeab63c4404e28a80d44ec1c34f14d1
PDF Text
Text
LIFE AND DEATH
OR THE
L O S T
A N D
U N D O N E
GLASGOW
P R I N T E D FOR T H E
BOOKSELLERS,
�HHT
H T A a o
(i ^ k
a n u
3 H T HO
i T A O CI VL U
G J A
T8
0 J
i
W O 0 8 A J O
.anajjae/iooa
aiiT hoi
ciaTmai
�THE
>
ii([ lohffll
LOST
• hffffH .<*[.«m v f,vV j .
t'
UNDONE SON OF PERDITION.
IT is to be observed, that the Scrijjfciiro makes mention of three Judases ; the first is Judas Maccabeus *
the second Judas the son of Jo^fcph, the reputed
father of our Lord; and third, Judas Iscariot, thb
son of a Tanner, living in depute M Joppa, or Japho,
a beautiful sea-port on the west of Oanaail, about
thirty-four miles North ivest of Jertisal^ ftoni
i i was
as it stood o n h i l l amidst a
jfl&ih. IT^rfi rvt^i :rrs(Mro<!
li{V.%rj,t KcSWfo th* m ^ ^ s of PokS^UmP UP
* i i' • rt' rhf' Antichrist inn war of
.
ot Orasctdo^ Lewis of France, and C4odfrey of
Boulogne, and others, repaired and adorned it;
but in these unhappy times, what was one year a
beautiful city, was oft in the next a heap of ruins.
At present, and for ages past, it hath but a bad
harbour, and is remarkable for nothing biit ruinous
remains of antiquity. This1' Judas who betrayed
our Lord, was his mother's first child, who dream
ed that the child in her womb would prove both a
thief and a murderer, and bring her and her generation to shame and disgrace : which so terrified her,
that she was like to go distracted ; but her husband
strove) to pacify her, bidding "her leave it to God the
�4
wise disposer of all things, who may take it away in
its infancy or endue it with more grace than ever
to be guilty of such dishonourable actions.— This
somewhat quieted her, and she was soon after delivered of a lovely male child; but under his left
breast was the following curious marks viz. a cross,
a gallows, twp daggers, and several pieces of money :
this likewise terrified his mother, who concealed it
from her husband, determining, as soon as she was
able, to go to a magician and know the signification
of these surprising marks. The child being circumcised, and she purified, according to the old Jewish
custom, she dressed herself in disguise, put a veil on
her face, and taking with her a kinswoman, went to
the magician's, and being introduced to him, she related her dream, her fears and the marks ifpon her
son, desiring the interpretation of the dream, and
the signification of the marks.
The magician replied, I am no interpreter of
dreams, neither do I justly know the signification of
marks ; and the whole of your story appears as
strange to me, as it can be amazing to you ; but if
you can tell me when the child was born, I will calculate its nativity, and see what it pretends. He
then called for pen, ink, and paper, and sitting down,
calculated his nativity ; and when he had finished it,
he shook his head, and his countenance waxed pale ;
which being perceived by Judass mother, she said
unto him, do not deceive me, but tell me true, hide
nothing from me, whether it be good or evil.—Then,
said the magician, to your sorrow, I have seen the
rules of the planet that reigned predominant at your
son's birth, that he would prove a thief and a murderer, and what is worse, he will, for lucre, betray
the Lord of Life ; for which act he will afterwards
despair of mercy, lay violent hands on himself, and
�5
come to a shameful end.—These words pierced the
mother's heart, who wringing her hands, wished she
had never been born, rather than to have been the
mother of such an unhappy child; and asked the
magician what she could do to prevent the bringing
of shame or disgrace on her family ? He told her he
knew no way of prevention, but by laying violent
hands on it, which might be now easily done in its
infancy and in a manner so as not to be discovered.
To this she replied, that she would not for ten thousand worlds commit such an act of violence on her
son ; for if her husband had the least suspicion of it,
he was so fond of Judas, that he would never be reconciled to her any more ; yet for the sake of her
family, she would by some means or other prevent it
without destroying it; and then told the magician,
that if she had a small boat made like a shell, with
a cover to go down close that no water might get in,
and a little vent to let in air at the top, and room in
it to lie soft and easy, she might without danger send
him down the river Jordan, and so commit him
wholly to the protection of providence, which might
conduct him to some distant shore, into the hands
of some tender persons, and thereby preserve his
life ; and if he afterwards commits those base actions
the shame will fall on his own head, as no one will
know from whom he is descended. The magician
highly commended her for her invention, and said
he would procure such a boat for her ; and-she promising him a good reward for his assistance, returned home. After she was gone, the magician
sent for one Rot, a very cunning Artist, a Joiner bv
trade, who undertook to make the boat, drawing
out with his pencil, the form of it, carried it home
with him, wrought upon it in private, and having
soon finished it, brought it to the magician's house,
�6
who paid him largely for it, and sent a semnt to
the house of Simon, who told Judas's mother, that
the matter which his master and she spoke of was
now finished. She understanding him, went next
morning to the magician's house, viewed the boat,
and liked it well, saying it was very convenient for
the end intended, but seemed perplexed how she
should do it privately, and keep it from -discovery,
as death was the consequence thereof. Her kinswoman begged her to leave that -to her, and all
should be safe enough ; for we will feign the child
sick for a day or two, in the meantime we will make
some inquiry in the city for the dead body of some
poor male child which we will buy of its parents,
and have it privately brought to our house to be
buried ; in the meantime we wffl dispatch your son
to sea, and make him believe the other child to be
his, and that he died during his absence ; so having
it buried, the matter can never be brought to light.
The mother liked the contrivance, and going
home with a promise af a g^eat reward, and her
friendship lor life, she swore her servants to secrecy,
and then said she, we must- act in this manner.
When your master comes home at night, I shall
put on very dejected looks, and when he asks the
cause, I shall tell him that Judas is not well, and
that I am apprehensive of his death, which you
must all testify and confirm. She accordingly put
this scheme into practice at night, when flier husband did all he could to comfort her, telling her that
they were young, they might, be parents of many
children : and going up stairs to see the child, the
maid then pinched its neck till it was black in the
face, and thinking it in convulsions, gjave it over
'o death, As soon -as he was gone out in the
morning, the mother and kinswoman took the child
�and went to the magician's house, in order to put
the child to sea. They put on him many warm
and rich garments, with an upper coat of oil, that
no water might penetrate it; and the magician, on
a piece of parchment, wrote the following words:
MY NAME IS JUI)AS.
which his mother sewed round his neck and pu^
him into the boat, and shutdown the coyer. At
parting with the child the mother was almost distracted, wringing her hands and keeping bitterly,
but being comforted by the magician, and her kinswoman she was at last pacified, and desired to go
home, as she could not bear to see the child put into
the water, so she and her kinswoman departed home.
The magician then took the boat -and carried it
down to his own garden, at thp foot of which ran
the river Jordan, and putting it in where a strong
stream ran, it was soon carried out of sight.
The mother when she got Jiorne fainted away,
but was revived by being informed by her maidservant, that during her absence, they had almost
brought the matter to a close, having found a neighbour's male 6hild, who had died the day before, and
was just of the same.age as Judas, for whose body
they had given the parents a small sum of ;moneyf
and paid the expense of burying a coffin full of
bones, by way of a blind : and the only thing that
remained was to deceive her "husband, and get this
phyd buried under the sanction of Judas's body.
The father coming hon,ie at night, and finding
his wife in tears, soon guessed the dismal pause ;
and inquiring of the servants, they with dissembled
grief informed him, that jthe child died in the
morning soon after his departure.. The man was
�8
much affected with the loss of his child, and thinking to prevent his wife's grief by the sight of the
body he had it removed to a kinsman's house, and
in a day or two interred it from thence, supposing
it to be his son Judas.
By this time Providence had conducted Judas,
alive and well, unto the coast of Iscariot, a kingdom in Palestine, where Pheophilus the king often
used to recreate himself, in beholding the ships
pass and repass at sea. It happened that the very
day that Judas was cast on the coast, the king and
his nobles came on that diversion, and as they were
standing on the top of the rock, looking into the
sea, the king espied a little boat floating upon the
water, and thinking it to be a chest of some wrecked ship, he ordered a servant to put out a boat and
fetch it; which being done, and brought to the
king, he ordered it to be broken open; when to
their great surprise, they found a lovely babe, who
look'd up, and smiled in the king's face. Then
said the king to the child, icelcome as my own child ;
and expressed much joy in being providentially
sent to preserve the babe's life, and taking it up in
his arms, said if thou wert a child begat by me, I
could not esteem or value thee more. Then he
espied about its neck the aforementioned parchment, viz:
MY NAME IS JUDAS.
Well, said the king, as thy name is Judas, I will
now double name thee, and then called him Judas
Iscariot, because he found him near the coast of
that name. He was then brought to court, treated
as the king's own child, and at a proper age educated well, and at last became a man of learning and
�9
genius and behaved himself so wisely, that the king
made him his principal steward.
Judas being arrived at this rank, still coveted
greater, and remembering the queen one day said,
that if the prince, her son died, Judas should be
her heir, he therefore set about contriving to kill
him, accordingly he professed great love and friendship for him; and one day being walking together,
Judas took occasion to quarrel with the prince, and
maliciously slew him, thinking all would go well
with him if he was dead.
Behold the serpent, which the king
Long nourished in his breast,
Grown warm, strikes forth his baneful sting,
And robb'd him of his rest.
Though none accused him of the murder, yet his
conscience so stung him, that he so#n quitted the
kingdom, leaving all his pomp and finery behind
him, and changing his name, took upon him the
mean employ of a servant, wandering about from
place to place, until at length he arrived at Joppa,
the place of his nativity ; here he soon got a place
in a nobleman's family, where he behaved so well
as to gain the esteem of his lord and lady, and all
that knew him. One day it happened that as his
lady was walking abroad big with child, she longed
for some fruit, which she saw in Judas's father's
garden, bidding him go and buy her some. He
took the money, but was resolved to steal the fruit;
and going to the garden, broke down the fences,
which as he was doing his father came out, and
seized him for the robbery ; and Judas to extricate
himself from the hand of justice murdered his
father upon the spot, and immediately escaped to
�10
about ;
Theba, a city
Seventy-mi leagties
Here lie continued ftmr years, in which time the
noise of the murder b&ing blown over, he returned
back again, and got another place in a nobleman's
family, where he lived sometime, till hi£ own mother
accidentally seeing him fell in love with iand married
j^ggn't bad %rmtaoTgoewolo*iq od '{Igmb-iooon tmirf
About fivo yei&rs alfer they had boeil married,
p.no morning in bed Judas -s shirt bosom lay open,
^hen she saw under his left breast the marks he
was born with ; upon wliieh she waked Hftii in an
agony, and told him the whole story of his birth,
and the part she had acted therein. Judas heard
this with wonder and astonishment, ancV on his part
confessed to her the many crimes he had been guilty
o f ; after which she desired him to depart from her,
and seek mercy of God in another country ; protesting she would never be carnally known to him any
gnuia oa soaoip&mb
Judas full of grief and remorse of conscience, left
Joppa, and wandered about like a pilgrim, till he
heard of a mighty prophet, called Jesus of Nazareth,
in the land of Judea, who wrought many miracles,
and wonderful works; to hint he went, and liking
his doctrine and seeing his miracles, he begged of
our Lord to be admitted one of his followers: Our
Saviour chose him to be one of his- disciples, and
gave him the charge of what money or provision
he carried about with him. There is no evidence
that his rerligious instructions, or his preaching
the word, or miracles, were inferior to those of his
brethren: but covetousness still reigned in his
heart. Notwithstanding all this Judas could not
forget his covetousness, for when Mary Magdalene
brought a box of costly ointment, to anoint our dear
Lord's feet, at the house of Simon the Leper, Judas
�11
Wghly offended {hereai, because the value
thereof was not put into his bag. But our Lord
knowing his covetous and wicked heart, sharply rebtiked him; at \VliicIi he was so enraged, that he
fit revenge premeditated, and put into execution,
the worst action of all his life, and going to the
chief priests' and elders, he said unto them, what
will you give me, and I will betray him they call
Jesus into your hands ? And they agreed with
hfan for thirty pieces of silver; or £3, 8s. 5d.
English money.
The love of money is a i-ock
Which causes cafe and trouble,
And he that hastetli to fee rich,
He makes his sorrows double,
Money's a most alluring bait,
Conducive unto evil,
For this base Judas sold his God,
Himself unto the devil.
When 6\\± Lord was instituting his last supper,
he* £aidf unto his disciptfes, I have chosen you twelve,
but one of you is a devil. And again, Verify I say
urito you, one of yd* ttiis nio-ht shall betray me, and
lie it is* unfo whomsoever I shall give a sop: then
giving a sop tinto Jiiclas, he said unto him what
tten' dost do quietly. With the sop the devil entered into Judas, and lie went out from amongst
them.—cfect&s then went to tlie chief priests, and
received tfie thirty pieces of silver ; so taking witli
hint an armed band of men, to apprehend his master, He led them to the Garden, of Gethsemane
Where Jesus was wont to retire for his devotion;
he went telling them, thai! whomsoever he should
�12
kiss, the same was he, hold him fast There our
Lord beheld his adversaries coming with burning
torches and lanterns, and weapons to apprehend
him; then spake he to his disciples, and said,
a Rise let us go ; behold Tie is at hand that will betray meAnd
while he was speaking, came Judas
the traitor, saying, Hail, Master, and kissed him.
For it is written, that it was the manner and custom
of our Lord Jesus towards his disciples, that when
at any time he had sent them out, at their return
again, he would receive them with a loving kiss.
Then they laid hands on the Lord, and bound him
as a thief and a murderer, and led him away to
the high Priest and Elders, who asked him many
questions ; to which our Lord gave them no answer,
but stood like a lamb dumb before his shearers.
And here let us behold our Lord Jesus, how patiently and meekly he receives that false and treacherous kiss from that unfaithful disciple, whose feet
he had vouchsafed to wash with his own hands,
and whom out of his unspeakable charity he refused
not to feed with the precious food of his blessed
oody. Consider likewise how meekly he suffered
himself to be taken, bound, struck, and furiously
dragged away, as if he had been a thief, or the
most wicked person in the world, void of power to
help himself. Contemplate also the great sorrow
and inward affliction he had of his disciples, who
fled and left him in the hands of those ravenous
wolves. And on the other side, consider the grief of
their hearts, since the cause of their leaving him was
not the perversity of their will, but the frailty of
their weak nature : for which they heartily mourn
and sigh, like poor orphans that know not what they
do, or whither to go ; and their sorrow was so much
the greater, as they knew in what villanous man-
�13
ner their Lord and master would be treated and
abused. Nevertheless, the whole assembly, though
they found nothing worthy of death in him, one by
one passed the following sentences on him.
tidi dleoijbde oil -ramrod
Us'jb lo viU'iow
n
JERUSALEM'S
BLACK T R I B U N A L ;
,eib 'woulw, siit
> «iou 'io vJliiu)
1
OR THE
BLOODY SENTENCE OF THE JEWS,
AGAINST
OUR
BLESSED
LORD
JESUS
AND
SAVIOUR.
CHRIST.
.ofqosq eiijt qu
v
CAIPHAS.
Better one man should die, than all perish.
JEHOSOPHAT.
Let him be bound, and kept fast in chains.
A i F f X AJE& u
Let us put him to death.
�F A R I A S ,
dguorii ,^{dJXft>B£« olodw orfi
.Loaudst
Let us baaish him, or he will destroy our country,
.mirf no gooneinoa gnxwolfol
one
DIARRHIAS.
He is worthy of death, because he seduceth the
people.
. . . . . • ;T)
R A B I N T H .
Guilty or not, let the seducer die.
stir, 1
0
<ewsi sh
ftRMA^
Yaoaia
Let us banwli him for ever,
,a v o i v a t
a k a a a o J aan 8 a j g n u o
C H I E R I E I S .
If lie be initoCefit h6%frhll did, bbcrtuse he stirreth
up the people.
FTOL.EMEUS.
Guilty or not g)iftfyflet us sentence him to death
or punrahmient.
. T A T E E A S .
It.
Either banish him, or send kim unto Csesar.
LEM^CH.
r.fjk MUM « | |i m i.i.fa
|M
—
'
Punish ftitiv with death.
�P O T I F H A K E 8
Let him be banished for seducing the people.
The mob also cried out to Pontius Pilate, if yoi
let this man go, you are not Ceesar's friend; therefore, crucify him ! crucify him !
THE
SENTENCE: OF D E A T H
PASSED
JESUS
ON
CHRIST
PJT
PONTIUS PILATE
1 PONTIUS PILATE, Judge m Jerusalem under the
most potent Tiberius, happy and prosperous be his
reign, having heard and known the accusation of
JESUS of NAZARETH, whom the Jews brought bound,
to pronounce his sentence ; seeing he, by presump
tuous expressions, called himself the SON of GOD,
and the KING of the JEWS, and said he would destroy
the TEMPLE of Solomon. Let him be condemned to
the cross with the two Thieves.
�IG
Thus was the Lord of Life condemn'd,
On Calv'ry's mount to die,
As Moses' Serpent so was he
There lifted up on high.
'Twas not for sins that were his own,
He there shed forth his blood,
But that such sinners yile as we,
Might be brought near to God.
Let us obey the gospel call,
Now while it is to-day,
Lest ere to-morrow Death should cry,
To judgment come away.
MISERABLE AND AWFUL END OF THE TRAITOR JUDAS.
NOW JUDAS, the Traitor, had no sooner seen
his master condemned by the Jewish council, than
his conscience upbraided him ; he brought back the
thirty pieces of silver, and confessed he had betrayed his innocent master. But the Jewish rulers
replied, that that was none of their business, he
might blame himself. And he threw back the
thirty pieces of silver and went out and hanged himself; but the rope breaking, or the tree giving way,
he fell and his body burst asunder, and his bowels
gushed out. Then the Jews, as they thought the
price of blood was not fit for the Treasury, they, as
agents for Judas, gave it for the Potters-field to
bury strangers in.
�17
T W Judas 'mongst the Apostles was
And with them took his part,
His awful end proved him to be
A traitor in his heart.
On the Evening after our Lord's resurrection he
appeared unto ten of the apostles, Judas being dead,
and Thomas absent: he renewed their mission, and
breathed on them, as a token of his sending the
Holy Ghost. After giving them repeated proofs of
his resurrection, he just before his ascension gave
them a formal commission, saying, " Go ye therefore,
and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of
the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;
Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have
commanded you: andy lo, I am with you alway, even
unto the end of the world. Amen.11 After they had
witnessed their master's departure to the heavenly
mansions, Peter proposed, that one who had been a
constant witness of his marvellous sufferings and
conduct, should be chosen to fill the room of Judas.
The disciples chose Barsabas and Matthias for the
candidates. As the office was extraordinary, and
perhaps the votes equal, the final determination,
which of the two should be the apostle, was left to
the decision of God by the lot. After prayer, the
lots were cast, and it fell upon Matthias: he was
therefore numbered with the eleven apostles.
On the day of Pentecost, a feast appointed to
commemorate the giving of the law, the Holy Ghost,
in the shape of cloven tongues of fire, descended on
each of them; rendered them bold and infallible
in preaching the gospel; qualified them with power,
to speak in every language, to discern men's tem-
�lSf
pers, and to confer the miraculous influence of
speaking with tongues on others, by the laying on
of hands.
< J oi mid bovoiq bm lirhrs «iH
M
Learn hence a lot's a sacred thing,
Let's not it vanity use,
Since God thereby has oft thought fit,
9H no
fo^j^qgrfft r, vainer!! mh nO
ifflttd M f o l
odi \o a9t otitis
fctwqy
Let's be content with what' s our lot,
Since God to us it gave,
Let's pray that Christ
be the gift,
Greater can't sinners have.
Correspondent to the twelve patriarchs, or twelve
tribes of Israel, our Saviour, in the second or third
year of his public ministry, first appointed, and then
sent forth twelve of this followers, whom fee named
Apostles. These he sent out
two's,
vlogvaarf edi oi
ihdj boeamii*
SIMON P E T E R , and A N D R E W Ms brother ;
JAMErS the son rof Z E B E D E E , and J O H N his
brother $
P H I L I P , and B A R T H O L O M E W : ;
THOMAS, and M A T T H E W ;
JAMES the son of A L P H E U S , And JUDE lids
forother;
SIMON 4be G&naanite, and JUDAS ISC ARIOT ;
M A T T H I A S , succeeded Judas after the resurrection of our Lord.
�19
A S C E N S I O N
;xla uo\ %atHaw 7 on A 0 -I o £ DO.
•
»
OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.
TOUCHING the wonderful ascension of our Lord
Jesus, it behoves thee, pious reader, to awaken thy
heart, and render thyself with more than ordinarly
attention to all that is here said or done, relating
to this subject, if thou desire to feed thy soul with
heavenly comfort, and reap the spiritual ^notion,
which plentifully flows from the devout contemplation of so divine a subject _ hfaorfa YQffa ffatforfi
On the fortieth day after the resurrectiou, our
Lord Jesus, knowing that his time was new come to
depart from this world, and to pass hence to his
Father, taking with him the holy patrian?hs, prophets, and others, who after his xesiu'iiefttion were
in the terrestrial paradise, and blessjlng. Enoch
and Elias, who remained there still aliye, he came
to his apostles, who were gathered together on
Mount Sion, which was the place F^pe be made
his last supper the night before his passion. There
were likewise with the apostles at this place, the
Messed Virgin, and many other disciples; and our
Lord appearing to :tliem said, that he would eat
with them before he departed from them, as a
special token and memorial of the love he tore them.
And as they were all eating, bej.^g full of joy and
spiritual comfort at this last refection of our Lord
Jesus, lie said to them> " The time is now come in
which I must return again to him that sent me:
but you shall remain in the city till you are clothed
with tlie yirtue descending from above ; for within
�(Tf
20
a few days you shall be filled with the Holy Ghost,
as I before promised you. After which, you shall
be dispersed throughout the whole world, to preach
my gospel, baptizing all that shall believe in me, so
that you shall be my witnesses to the utmost confines of the earth." He likewise reproved them
for their incredulity in not believing them who had
seen him rise, that is the angels. This he chose to
do at the time ho was speaking to them of preaching his gospel, to give them to understand, that
they ought to have believed the angels, even before they saw him, much sooner than they ought to
be believed by those to whom they were to preach,
who, nevertheless, would believe them (the apostles)
though they should not see him, (Jesus Christ.)
And this he did, that by knowing their fault they
might remain humble; shewing them at his departure how much he admired that virtue, and that
he recommended it to them in a singular manner.
They asked him concerning many things that wero
to come to pass ; but he would not resolve them, inasmuch as it was not necessary for them to know
the secrets of God, which his father had reserved
in his own power, to fulfill at his o^n will and
pleasure. And thus they continued discoursing and
eating together, with great comfort and satisfaction,
occasioned by the presence of their Lord; yet their
comfort was mixed with some grief, by reason of his
departure from them. For they loved him so tenderly, that they could not hear him speak of leaving
them without heaviness and sorrow.
And what can we think of his blessed Mother ?
May we not devoutly imagine that, sitting near
him, and hearing what he said concerning his departure, she was moved with the tenderness of her
motherly affection ; and that overcome with grief.
�21
which suddenly seized, and oppressed her blessed
soul, she inclined her head towards him, and rested it upon his sacred breast! For, if John the
Evangelist at the last supper, took this freedom,
with much more reason may we suppose her to do
the same on this doleful occasion. Hence, then,
with tears, and many sighs, she spoke to him in
this manner: " Oh my beloved son, I beseech thee
not to leave me ; but if thou must depart, and return again to thy heavenly Father, take me, thv
afflicted Mother, along with thee !" But our blessed
Lord endeavoured to comfort her, and said, " Grieve
not, oh beloved parent, at my leaving you because
I go to my Father; and it is expedient that you remain here a short time longer, to confirm in their
faith, such as shall be converted, and believe in me,
and afterwards I will come again, and take you with
me, to be a partaker of my glory." To whom again,
our Lady replied, " My beloved Son, may thy will
always be fulfilled in all things, for I am not only
contented to remain here during thy pleasure, but
also, to suffer death for love of those souls, for which
thou hast so willingly vouchsafed to lay down thy
life: this, however, I beseech thee, be thou ever
mindful of me." Our Lord then again comforted
her, with the disciples, and Mary Magdalene, saying, " Let not your hearts be troubled, nor fear ye
any thing, I will not leave you desolate ; I go, but
will shortly return again to you, and will remain
always with you." At length he bid them remove
from thence, and go to Mount Olivet, because from
that place he would ascend into heaven, in the
presence of them all: saying this, he disappeared.
His holy Mother, with the rest of the company,
without any delay, hastened to the said mount, about
a mile distant from Jerusalem, as he had appointed
�them, where our Lof d again soon appeared to them.
Behold on this day we have two different apparitions
of our ( Lord. Thus being all together, our iioihfc
embraced his lioly Mother, and she again embraced
him in a most tender manner, taking leave -of- oiukother. And the disciples, Mary Magdalene, and tho
rest falling down to the ground, and weeing with
tenderness, kissed his Messed feet, and he, raising
theniup, embraced all his apostles most lovingly; =
Let us now, pious Reader, , diligently- consider
them, and devoutly
all that is hem
done ; and amongst the rest* let m behold ihe holy
Fathers, whp being there present ithougli invisible,
joyfully admire, aijd inwardly praisethe blessed
Yirgiii^iby whom they received So great & benefit as
then- salvation. They behold with pleasing admiral
tiony the gltaious champions, and leaders of God's*
host?, the apostles, whpm x)ur Lord Jesus had chosen
from among all others, to coii^uer Mid subdue the
•V'.rlr1. aivri \>rw$ •
O • \ht Mlfef r>f hif-h^jp
o
Jocft^BmpGohq vrfo gnhnb oioif xiifirrm oi L^ioinoo
M
>iehm itȣ liairjrfsirftttMat*->
oompletftH. vnfer
began p<«dualliy M
raise himself up before them,' &ad to ascend by ixm
own- virtue and power into : heaven. And then the
blessedVirgin, with the rest, fell down and devoutly
worshipped him. And our Lady said, 0 iny beloved> I beseech thee to be mindful of me/' and
with. this she burst into tears, not being: able t«r
refrain^ when she reflected on his departure, yet
was.fehe M l of inward joy, to sep her blessed Son
thus gloriously asoenci into heaven. His disciples*
also, whei* they beheld him ascending, said', ^ Thou
knowest, ObLord1, that we have renonueed all thiags
for the©, wherefore, we beseech thee nafcifcx forget
lis, but be ever -mindful of us, for whom we have.
�foypj^ji aJV.'
Mf
with serene and pleasing aspect, crowned with glory, .
victoriously ^sceuded into heaven, but first blessing
them, he said, < Be stedfast, and fight courageously,
<
for I shall always be. with you, even to the end of
the world."
Thus, our Lord Jesus, ascended into heaven,
fulfilling that which the prophet Mi pah bad said
long before his asccnsiQn ; And their King $hallpats
before them, and the Lord at the head of them. j3pthat tljpy §11 followed him with unspeakable joy,
and never-ending felicity.
And Miqhael, the prince of God's eglestial host,
£oing before,
% jqjC&l tilings pf their
Lord's ascending, at ^hich the whqle he^Y^nly court
of celestial spirits came forth to meet thpir Lord,
and with all worship and reyereuee, they
him
with hymns and songs of jubilation, repeating with.
i naxpressible joy, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, ^
Having paid their dug f e v m m to" M
tlu> joy fill, n w t y ] ^ zhv;U H ^ l t h } :
M
nappy meeting ? The blessed spirits began to
gratulate them on their arrival, saying • Ye pfinces
of God'^ ppople, you are welcome to pur eternal
habitation, and we rejoice and are glad %tf your
a r i ; ^ : you # m gathered tqgp.thpf, m $ woxidQvfully exalted with pur God; Alleluia. Therefore
rejoice and sing tp him who M gloriovislv ascended
into, heaven, and above the htyvm pf
To which the Fathers again joyfully replied,
To you, princes of God's people, Alleluia: Our
guardians and helpers, A t t ^ * 3 , :
peace for
�24
ever, Alleluia : Let us siug and make mirth to our
King and our Saviour, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Now we joyfully enter into the house of our Lord,
Alleluia : to remain for ever in the glorious city of
God, Alleluia. As sheep of our Lord's pasture we
enter his gates, Alleluia : With hymns and canticles,
Alleluia : For the Lord of power is with us, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia." For according to the prophet,
The Lord is ascending in shouts of joy, and the
Lord in the sound of a trumpet.
Our Lord Jesus ascended visibly for the greater
comfort of hi* mother and disciples, that they might
see him as far as they could. And behold a cloud
received him out of their sight, and in an instant they
were present in heaven! And as the blessed Virgin
and the disciples were looking still up to heaven,
two angels stood beside them in white garments,
who began to comfort them, telling them not to
look loager after his body, which they saw ascend
so gloriously into heaven, for that they should not
see him any more in that form till the day of
Judgment, when he should come to judge the quick
and the dead. They bid them return into the city
again, and their to expect the coming of the Holy
Ghost, as he himself had told them. His blessed
Mother spoke to the angels, desiring them to recommend her to her blessed son ; who profoundly
inclining to her, promised gladly to fulfil her commands. And the apostles and Mary Magdalene recommended themselves in the same manner. After
this, the angels departing, they went according rs
they had been appointed into the city, unto Mount
Sion, and waited there the coming of the Holy
Ghost.
FINIS,
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 021_a: Title-page illustration of a sleeping man at a table with his head resting on his hand. A skull & crossbones is on top of the table. There is a lion inside the table. A town and rural scene with trees and a hill (topped with two pillars) appear in the background. At the bottom of the hill, is a man in a kilt with a backpack, who is walking while reading a book.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The life and death of Judas Iscariot, or the lost and undone son of perdition.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
lost and undone son of perdition.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935682193505154">s0598b22</a>
Description
An account of the resource
129 printed on the foot of the title page
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Subject
The topic of the resource
Religion and Morals
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Iscariot, Judas
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
biography
# of Woodcuts: 1
Architecture: house
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: biography
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): top hat
Fashion (Clothing): upper class
Gender: man/men
Nature: tree(s)
Object: walking stick/ staff
Outdoor Scene
Religious Figures: angel(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/dcf233037728291f04dd07ce45977b8e.jpg
e032cd5f215a3c5868cd9af5be706f64
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
23: Portrait on title-page of a man wearing a wig and dressed in a coat and lace collar
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/52b2c2fd983f5a48d3333959f46694f8.pdf
80d09d1efcf76d928d3a64cfe5800caa
PDF Text
Text
�f
1 w*
B«
<i|i
*f§ i
t ;.
me
; •
• • i * * t ; vj \
�SINS AND SORROWS
SPREAD BEFORE GOD.
JOB xxiii. 3, 4.
Oh that I knew where I might find him! that 1
might come even to his seat! I would order
my cause before him, and fill my mouth with
arguments.
T H E R E is such a thing as converse with God in
prayer, and it is the life and pleasure of a pious
soul; without it we are no Christians; and he
that practises it most, is the best follower of
Christ, for our Lord spent much time in converse
with his heavenly Father. This is the balm
that eases the most raging pains of the mind,
when the wounded conscience comes to the mercy-seat, and finds pardon and peace there. This
is the cordial that revives and exalts our natures,
when the spirit, broken with sorrows and almost
fainting with death, draws near to the almighty
Physician, and is healed and refreshed. TH®
mercy-seat in heaven is our surest and sweetest
refuge in ever hour of distress and darkness oi\
earth; this is our daily support and relief while
�4
we are passing through a world of temptations
and hardships in the way to the promised land.
" It is good for us to draw near to God." Psal.
Lxxiii. 28.
And yet so much is human nature sunk down
and fallen from God, that even his own children
are ready to indulge a neglect of converse with
him, if their souls are not always upon the watch
But let it be remembered here, that so much as
we abate of this divine entertainment among the
vanities or amusements of the world, the businesses or burdens of life; so much we lose of the
glory and joy of religion, and deprive our souls
of the comfort that God invites us to receive.
Job was encompassed with sorrows all around,
and his friends had censured him as a vile hypocrite, and a great sinner, because he was so terribly afflicted by the hand of G o d : whither
should he run now but to his heavenly Father,
and tell him of all his sufferings ?
From the practice of this holy man, I thought
we might have sufficient warrant to draw this inference, viz. that when a saint gets near to God
in prayer, he tells him all his circumstances, and
pleads for help. And this is the doctrine which
1 am endeavouring now to improve. O if I could
but come near him; I would spread all my concerns before his eye, and I would plead with him
for relief; I would fill my mouth with arguments.
�5
Four things I proposed in the prosecution of
this doctrine.
I. T o consider what it is for a soul to get
near to God in prayer.
I I . What particular subjects doth a soul, thus
brought near to the mercy-seat, converse with
God about.
I I I . Why he cnuses to tell ail his circumstances and his sorrows to God, when he is thus near
him.
I V . How he pleads for relief.
I. We have already considered what it is for
a soul to get near to the seat of God, and what
are the usual attendants of such a privilege. At
such a season the holy soul will have an awful
and adoring sense of the majesty of God, a becoming fear of his terrors, and some sweeter taste
of his love. There will be a divine hatred of
every sin, and a sensible virtue and influence proceeding from a present God, to resist every temptation ; there will be a spiritual and heavenly
temper diffusing itself through the whole soul,
and ail the powers of i t ; a fixedness of heart
without wTandering; and a liveliness without tiring ; no weariness is felt in the spirit at such a
season, even though the flesh may be ready to
faint under the overpowering sweetness; then the
soul with freedom opens itself before the eye of
God, and melts and flow in divine language,
�6
whether it complain or rejoice. But I have finished this head, and repeat no more.
I I . What are some of the particular circumitances or subjects of complaint, that a saint
brings to God when he comes near to him.
In general, a saint, when he is near to God,
has all the fulness of his heart breaking out into
holy language; he pours out his whole self before
his God and his Father; all the infinite affairs
that relate to the flesh and spirit, to this life and
that which is to come; all things in heaven, and
all things on earth, created or uncreated, may, at
one time or other, be the subjects of converse
between God and a holy soul. When the question is asked by a carnal man, " What can a Christian talk with God so long and so often about ?"
The Christian, in a divine frame, answers, " He
that hath matter enough for converse with God,
to wear out time, and to fill up e t e r n i t y I t
may as well be asked on the other side, What
has he not to say ? What is there that relates
to God, or to himself, to the upper, or the lower
world, that he may not at some time say to his
God?
But I must confine myself from wandering in
so large a field, that I may comport with the design of my text. Though a good man, in devout
prayer often spreads his hopes and his joys before
the Lord as well as his sorrows, fear, and dis-
�7
tresses; yet I shall at present endeavour to set
forth only the mournful and complaining representations of his circumstances that he makes before the throne of God.
1. If I could but come near the mercy-seat,
I would confess how great my sins are, and I
would pray for pardoning grace. I would say,
" How vile I am by n a t u r e I would count my
original descent from Adam the great transgressor, and humble myself at the foot of a holy
God, because I am the descent of such a sinner.
I would tell him how much viler I have made
myself by practice: " I have been an enemy in
my mind by nature, and guilty of many wicked
works, whereby I have farther estranged myself
from him." I would tell my God how multiplied
rny transgressions have been before 1 knew him,
and how aggravated they have been since I have
been acquainted with him. I would acquaint
him with the frequency of my returning guilt,
how I have sinned against mercies, against reproofs, against warnings received often from his
word, and often from his providence.
I may appeal to the souls of many present,
whether they have not had the greatest freedom
of confession of their sins when they have been
nearest to God, even though he be a God of
holiness. At other times they have not only
been averse to confess to any friend, but eren
�8
unwilling to talk over to themselves the aggravation of their iniquities, or to mention them in
prayer; but when they are brought thus near the
throne of God, they unbosom themselves befor©
him, they pour out their sins and their tears together, with a sweet and mournful satisfaction.
" I behold (says the saint) the great atonement, the blood of Jesus, and therefore I may
venture to confess my great iniquities, for the
satisfaction is equal to them all. VVLen I behold
God upon his seat, I behold the Lamb in the
midst of the throne as it had been slain, and he
is my Peace-maker. I see his all-sufficient sacrifice, his atoning blood, his perfect, his justifying
righteousness." The soul then answers the call
of God with great readiness, when God says in
Isaiah i, 18. " Come let us reason together;
though your sins have been as scarlet, they shall
be as wool." " I am ready (says the soul) to
enter into such reasonings ; I am ready to confess
before thee, that my sins are ail crimson and
scarlet, but there is cleansing blood with thy
Son. Blood that has washed the garments of a
thousand sinners, and made them as white as
snow; and it has the same virtue still to wash
mine too;. I trust in it, and rejoice when I behold
that blood sprinkled upon the mercy-seat, and
therefore I grow confident in hope, and draw yet
nearer to God, a reconciled God, since his throne
�has the memorials of a (needing sacrifice upon
it."
2. If I could get nearer the seat of God 1
would tell him how many my enemies are, and
how strong; how malicious, and how full of rage.
And I would beg strength against them, and victory over them. I would say as David, 44 Many
there be that hate me, many there be that rise
up against me, and many there be that say of my
soul, There is no help for him -n God ; but thou,
0 God, art my glory, my shield, and the lifter
up of my head," Psal. iii. Then, says the soul,
1 would complain to God of all my indwelling
corruptions, of the body of death that dwells in
me, or in which I dwell; and say; " O wretched
man that I am, who shall deliver me!" I would
tell him then of the secret working of pride in my
heart, though I long to be humble; of the rising
of ambition in my soul, though I would willingly maintain .a middle state amongst men, and not
aim and aspire to be great. I would acquaint
him of the vanity of my own mind, though 1 am
perpetually endeavouring to subdue it. I would
tell him, with tears, of my sinful passions, of my
anger and impatience, and the workings of envy
and revenge in me; of the perpetual stirrings of
disorderly appetites, whereby I am led away from
my G o d ; I would tell him of the hardness of my
heart, and the obstinacy of my temper, I would
�10
open before his eyes all the vices of my constitution ; all those sacred seeds of iniquity that are
ever budding and blossoming to bring forth fruit
to death. These things are fit to mourn before
the Lord, when the soul is come near to his seat.
I would complain of this sore enemy, the world,
that is perpetually besetting me, that strikes upon
all my senses, that by the ears, and the eyes,
and all the outward faculties, draws my heart
away from God my best friend. I would tell
him of the rage of Satan, that watchful and malicious adversary; that I cannot engage in any
duty of worship but he is ready to throw in some
foolish or vain suggestion to divert me; and 1
would look forward, and point to my last enemy,
death, and beg the presence of my God with me,
when I walk through the dark valley; " Lord,
when I enter into that conflict, assist me, that I
may fear no evil, but be made more than a conqueror through him that has loved me."
3. I would tell him what darkness I labour
under, either in respect of faith or practice. If I
am perplexed in my mind, and entangled about
any of the doctrines of the gospel, I would tell
them my God what my entanglements are, where
the difficulty lies; and I would beg, that by his
Spirit and his word, he would solve the controversy, and set his own truth before me in his
own divine light. And then in point of practice,
�11
what darkness lies upon the spirit at such a time,
is revealed before G o d : u My way is hedged up,
I know not what path to chuse; it is very hard
for me to find out duty; show me, O Lord, the
way wherein I should walk, and mark out my
path plain for me.
4. I would mourn, and tell him how little
converse I have with himself, how much he is
hidden from me; I would complain to him, how
far off I am from him the most part of my life,
how few are tne hours of my communion with
him, how short is the visit, how much his face is
concealed from me, and how far my heart i3
divided from him. A soul then says, " Surely
there is too great a distance between me and my
God, my heavenly Father;" and cries out with
bitterness, " Why is God so far from me, and
why is my heart so far from God ? How often
do I wait upon him in his own sanctuary, and
among his saints, but I am not favoured with a
sight of his power and glory there! And how
often do I seek him in my secret retirements, but
I find him not I I would tell him how often I
read his promises in the gospel, and taste no
sweetness; I go frequently to those wells of consolation and they seem to be dry ; then I turn my
face, and go away ashamed."
5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I get near to God, because they unfit me
�12
for Lis service, ihey make me uncapable of honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for
enjoying him in his ordinances; I would tell him
how they damp my zeal, how they bow my spirit
down, and make me go mourning all the day long5
to the dishonour of Christianity, which is a dispensation of grace and joy. Thus I might complain before God of pains, of weakness, of sickness, of the disorders of my flesh ; I might complain there too of the weakness of all my powers,
the want of memory, the scatterings and confusions that are upon my thoughts, the wanderings
of my fancy, and the unhappy influence that a
feeble and diseased body has upon the mind : " O
my God, how am I divided from thee by dwelling in such a tabernacle ! Still patching up a
tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours
in a painful attendance on the infirmities of the
flesh!"
I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God all the sorrows and vexations of
life, that unhinge my soul from its centre, that
throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to daily temptations. I might cornplain of my reproaches from friends and ene*
mies; because these, many times, wear out the
spirit and unfit it for acts of lively worship.
These are my weekly sorrows and groans, these
are my daily fears and troubles; and these shall
�13
be spread before the eyes of my God, in the
happy hour when I get near him.
Lastly, I would not go away without a word
of pity and complaint concerning my relations,
my friends and acquaintance, that are afar off
from God. I would put in one word of petition
for them that are careless unconcerned for themselves; I WDuld weep a little at the seat of God
for them: I would leave a tear or two at the
throne of rnercy, for my dearest relatives in the
flesh, for children, brothers or sisters, that they
may be brought near to God, in the bonds of the
Spirit. Then would I remember my friends in
Christ, my brethren and kindred in the gospel;
such as labour under heavy burdens, languish
under various infirmities of life, or groan under
the power of strong temptations. When God
indulges me the favour of his ear, I would spread
their wants and sorrows before him, together
with my own, and make supplication for all the
saints. I would leave a petition at the mercyseat for my native country, that knowledge and
holiness may overspread the nation ; that our king
may be a nursing-father to the church, and our
princes may be blessings to the land. And while
I send up my request for the British Islands, I
would breathe out many a sigh for Zion, that she
may be the joy of the whole earth.—I proceed
now to.
�14
III. The third head of inquiry, which is this:
Why does a saint, when he gets near to God delight to tell hiir all his circumstances, and all his
sorrows ?
In general I might say this, because it is so
seldom, at least in our day, that a saint gets very
near to God; therefore when he finds that happy
minute, he says to his God all he wants to say;
he tells him all his heart; he pours out all his
wants before him ; because these seasons are very
few. It is but here and there an extraordinary
Christian, who maintains constant nearness to
God; the best complain of too much distance
and estrangement. But to descend to particulars.
1. He is our chief friend, and it is an ease to
the soul to vent itself in the bosom of a friend,
when we are in his company. More especially
as it was in the ease of Job, when other friends
failed him when he began to tell them some of
his sorrows, and withal maintained his own integrity ; they w7ould not believe him, but became
his troublers instead of his comforters;
My
friends, scorn me," saith Job, ch. xvi. 20, but
mine eye pours out tears to God. I go to my
best friend, my friend in heaven, when my friends
here on earth neglect me.
Man is a sociable creature, and our joys and
our sorrows are made to be communicated,, that
�15
hereby we may double the one and alleviate the
other. There is scarce any piece of human nature,
be it ever so stupid, but feels some satisfaction
in the pleasure of a friend, in communicating the
troubles and the pleasures that it feels; but those
that have God for their highest and best friend,
they love to be often exercising such acts of
friendship with him, and rather with him than
with any friend besides, rather with him than all
besides him. This is the noblest and highest
friendship; all condescension and compassion on
the one side, and all infirmity and dependance on
the other! and yet both joined is mutual satisfaction. Amazing grace of God to man ! The
Christian rejoices in this admirable divine indulgence, and delights in all opportunities to employ
and improve it.
Besides, this is the way to maintain the vigour
of piety, and keep all the springs of divine love
ever open and flowing in his own heart; therefore
he makes many a visit to the mercy-seat, and
takes occasion from every troublesome occurence
in life, to betake himself to his knees, and improves every sorrow he meets on earth, to increase his acquaintance with heaven. He delights to talk all his grievances over with his
God. Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is a
blessed example of this practice, 1 Sam. i. 10.
When she was in bitterness of soul, by reason of
�16
a sore atfliction, and the teazing humour of hei
rival, she prayed to the Lord, and wept sore J
and when she had left her sorrows at the mercyseat, she went away, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad, ver. 18. So saith the
Christian, " I commit my sorrows to my God,
he is my best friend, and I go away, and am no
more sad f I have poured out my cares into his
ear, and cast my burdens upon him, and I leave
them there in peace "
2. The saint knows God will understand him
right, and will judge right concerning his case
and his meaning. Though the expression (it
may be) are very imperfect, below the common
language of men, and propriety of speech, yet
God knows the meaning of the soul, and he
knows the mind of hi5 Spirit, Rom. viii. The
friends of Job perverted his sense; therefore he
turns aside to God, for he knows God would understand him. It is a very great advantage,
when we spread our concerns before another person, to be well assured that person will take us
right, will take in our meaning fully, and judge
aright concerning our cause. Now we may be
assured of this when we speak to our God; he
knows our thoughts afar, off, and all our circumstances, better infinitely than we can tell him.
These our poor imperfect expressions of our
wants, shall be no hinderance to his full sup-
�17
plies, nor any bar to his exercise of friendship
toward us.
3. A saint pours out his soul before God,
because he is sure of secrecy there. How many
things are there transacted between God and a
holy soul, that he could never publish to the
world ! and many things also that concern his
conduct in life, his embarassment of spirit, his
difficulties,, his follies, or the obstinacy, guilt, or
follies of his friends or relatives, which prudence
or shame forbid him to tell his fellow creatures:
and yet he wants to spread them all before God
his best friend, God his dearest relative, the friend
nearest to his heart. There may be many circumstances and cases in life, especially in the
spiritual life, which one Christian could hardly
communicate to another, though under the strictest bonds and ties of natural, and civil, and sacred
relation ; though we may communicate these very
affairs, these secret concerns, with our God, and
unburden our souls of every care, without the least
public notice.
We cannot be perfect secure of this with regard
to any creature; for when we have experienced
the faithfulness of a friend many years, he may
possibly be at last unfaithful: unfaithfulness is
mingled with our nature since the fall, and it ii
impossible any person can be infallibly secure from
it. Psal. lxii. 9# Meu of low degree are vanity,
�18
and great men are a lie; but we may leave our
case with our God, as secure as though we had
communicated it to none: nay, we may be easily
secure and free in speaking, because God knows
all before-hand. Our complaint adds nothing to
his knowledge, although it eases our souls, and
gives us sweet satisfaction in having such a friend
to speak to.
4. A saint believes the equity, faithfulness,
and the love of God; therefore he spreads his case
before him. His equity, that the judge of all the
earth will do right; the righteous may plead with
him. His faithfulness, that he will fulfil all his
promises; and his love, that he will take compassion on those who are afflicted; he will be tender
to those who are miserable. David takes occasion from this to address God under his sufferings
and sorrows: Psal. lxii. 1, 2. 66 He is my rock,
and my salvation, and my defence; I shall not
be moved; therefore my soul waits upon God;
my refuge is in him; he is a God that hears
prayer, therefore unto him shall all flesh come,"
Psal. lxv. 1. God will not account our complaints troublesome, though they be never so often repeated; whereas men are quickly wearied
with the importunities of those who are poor and
needy. Great men are ready to shut their doors
against those who come too often for relief; but
God delights to hear often from his people, and
�19
to have them ask continually at his door for mercy.
Though he has almighty power with him, saith
Job, yet he will not plead against me with his
great power; no, but he would put strength in
me; he would teach me how I should answer
him; how I should answer his justice, by appeals
to his mercy; and how I should speak prevailingly before him.
5. Lastly, A saint tells God all his circumstances and sorrows at such a season, because he
hopes for relief from him, and from him only; for
it is impossible creatures can give relief under
any trouble, unless God make them instruments
of relief. And there are some troubles in which
creatures cannot be our helpers, but our help must
come only from God, and that in a more immediate way. Whatsoever be our distress, whether
it arise from past guilt and the torments of an
anxious and troubled conscience, or whether it arise from the working of indwelling sin, the
strength of temptation, or the violence of temporal afflictions, still God is able and willing to
give relief. " Call upon me (saith the Lord) in
the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou
shalt glorify me;" Psal. 1. 12* And he hath
never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face
in vain, Isa. xlv. 19.
IV.
The fourth general head of discourse
�20
which I proposed, is to shew how a saint, near
the mercyseat, pleads with God for relief.
Holy Job tells us in this text, that if he was
got near to the seat of God, he would fill his
mouth with arguments.
Not as though he would"inform God of the necessity, or the justice of his cause, beyond what
he knew before; no, this is impossible; he that
teacheth man all things, shall he not know?
Psal. xciv. 9, 10. He who orders all the circumstances of our lives, and every stroke of his own
rod, can he be unacquainted with any thing that
relates to our sorrows ?
Nor can we use arguments with God to awaken his ear, or move his compassion, as though
he had neglected us or forgotten our distress; for
all things are for ever naked and open before the
eyes of him with whom we have to do. The
shepherd of Israel cannot slumber ; nor does his
mercy want our awakenings.
But in this sort of expressions, the great God
condescends to talk, and to transact affairs with
us, and permits us to treat with him in a way
suited to our weakness; he would have us plead
and argue with him, that we may show how deep
a sense we have of our own wants, and how entirely we depend on his mercy. Since we cannot converse wkh him in a way equal to his own
majesty and Godhead he stoops to talk with us
�21
in such a way as is most agreeable to our state,
and most easy to our apprehension, he speaks
such language as we can understand, and invites
us to humble conference with him in the same
way. Come, says God to his people, by Isaiah
his prophet, Come now, and let us reason together, Isa. i. 18. And he often in holy scripture, represents himself as moved and influenced
by the prayers and pleadings of his afflicted saints;
and he has ordained before hand, that the day
when he prepares their hearts to pray, shall be
the day when his ear shall hear the desire of the
humble, and shall be the season of their deliverence, Psal. x. 17.
If you inquire, how a Christian pleads with
his God, and whence does he borrow his arguments ; I answer, that according to the various
sorrows and difficulties which attend him, so
various may his pleadings be for the removal of
them. There is not a circumstance which belongs to his affliction, but he may draw some argument from it to plead for mercy ; there is not
one attribute of the divine nature, but he may
use it with holy skill, and thereby plead for
grace; there is not one relation in which God
stands to his people, nor one promise of his covenant, but may at some time or other afford an
argument in prayer. But the strongest and
iweetest argument that, a Christian knows, b the
�22
name and mediation of Jesus Christ his Lord.
It is for the sake of Christ, who has purchased
all the blessings of the covenant, that a saint
hopes to receive them; and for the sake of Christ,
he pleads that God would bestow them.
But having treated largely oil this subject, it
remains that I make a few useful reflections on
the whole foregoing discourse.
R E F L E C T I O N I.
a dull and uncomfortable thing is religion without drawing near to God 1 for this is the
very business for which religion is designed ; the
end and aim of religion is getting nigh to God ;
if it attain not this end it is nothing.
O the madness of hypocrites, who satisfy them
selves to toil in long forms of worship, and appear
perpetually in the shapes of religion, but unconcerned whether they ever get near to God by it
or no! They lose the end and design for which
religion was made. What if we know all the
doctrines of the gospel; what if we can talk rationally about natural religion; what if we can
deduce one truth from another, so as to spread a
whole scheme of godliness before the eyes or ears
of those we converse with; what if we can prove
all the points of Christianity, and give uncontestable arguments for the belief of them; yet
we have 110 religion if our souls never get near to
God by them. A saint thinks it a very melanWHAT
�23
choly thing when he is at a distance from God,
and cannot tell God his wants and sorrows.
Though he be never so much studied in divinity,
and the deep things of God, yet if God be not
with him, if he does not come near to his mercyseat, so as to converse with him as his friend, the
soul is concerned and grieved, and never rests till
this distance be removed. It is to little purpose
all these forms are maintained, if we have not the
substance and the powrer of godliness; if our
God be not near us, if we never get near to God.
R E F L E C T I O N II.
How happy are we under the gospel, above
aL ages and nations besides us, and before us!
For we have advantages of getting near to God,
beyond what any other religion has ; above what
the heathen world ever enjoyed; for their light
of nature could never show them the throne of
grace; above what the ancient petriarchs had,
though God same down in visible shapes, and
revealed and discovered himself to them as a man
or an angel; above what the Jews had, though
God dwelt among them in visible glory in the
holy of holies. The people were kept at a distance, and the high-priest was to come thither
but once a-year; and their veil, and smokes, and
shadows, did, as it were, conceal God from them,
although they were types of a future Messiah; and
«yen their Shekinah itself, or cloud of glory,
�21
gave them no spiritual idea or notion of Godhead,
though it was a shining emblem of God dwelling
among them.
R E F L E C T I O N III.
Lastly, That future state of glory must be
blessed indeed where we shall be ever near to
God, even to his seat, and have no sorrows to tell
him of. If it be so delightful a thing to come
near the seat of God here upon earth, to mourn
before him, and to tell him all our circumstances,
and all our sorrows, how pleasurable a blessedness
must that of heaven be, where we shall be ever
rejoicing before him, as Christ Jesus was before
the world was made, rejoicing daily before him;
and our delight shall be with that God who
created the sons of men; where we shall be for
ever telling him of our joys, and our pleasures,
with humble adoration of his grace, and everlasting gratitude.
O that I could raise your souls, and mine, to
blessed breathings after this felicity, by such representations ! But how infinitely short must the
brightest descriptions fall of this state and place !
May you and I, who speak and hear this, may
every soul of us be made thus happy one day, and
learn the extent and glory of this blessedness, by
sweet and everlasting experience. Amen.
FINIS.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 023: Title-page illustration in triple ruled border of a portrait of a man in a wig and dressed in a coat with a lace collar.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Sins and Sorrows spread before God: a sermon, by the Rev. Isaac Watts.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935661163505154">s0587b42</a>
Description
An account of the resource
99 printed at the foot of the title page
Woodcut #23: Portrait on title-page of a man wearing a wig and dressed in a coat and lace collar
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Religion and Morals
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
sermon
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Watts, Isaac, 1674-1748
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Genre: sermon
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): religious
Gender: man/men
occupation: clergy
Portrait: Isaac Watts
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/42dbb0dede9ae3a3a5d2ee3f6babf05d.pdf
6fae4ad94569c572c30f022e0d63dbdd
PDF Text
Text
STORYS
YOUNG
OF
ROBBER,
AD
N
PUSS IN BOOTS.
1
GLASGOW:
29
��STORY OF
THE YOUNG ROBBER.
I WAS born at the little town of Frosinone,
which lies at the skirts of the Abruzzi.
M y father had made a little property in
trade, and gave me some education, as he
intended me for the church; but I had kept
gay company too much to relish the cowl,
so I grew up a loiterer about the place.
I
was a heedless fellow, a little quarrelsome
on occasion, but goodhumoured in the main;
so I made my way very well for a time,
until I fell in love. There lived in our town
a surveyor or land-bailiff of the prince's,
who had a young daughter, a beautiful girl
of sixteen: she was looked upon as something
better than the common run of our
townsfolk,
I saw her occasionally, and became madly
in love with her she looked so fresh and
tender, and so different from the sun-burned
females to whom I had been accustomed.
A s my father kept me in money, I
of showing myself off to advantage in the
eyes of the little beauty. I used to see her
always
and was kept al
dressed we
�4
at church ; and as 1 could play a little upon
the guitar, I gave a tune sometimes under
her window of an evening; and I tried to
have interviews with her in her father's
vineyard, not far from the town, where she
sometimes walked. She was evidently pleased
with me, but she was young and s h y ; and
her father kept a strict eye upon her, and
took alarm at my attentions, for he had a
bad opinion of me, and looked for a better
match for his daughter.
I became furious
at the difficulties thrown in my way, having
been accustomed always to easy success
among the women, being considered one of
the smartest young fellows of the place.
Her father brought home a suitor for her,
a rich farmer from a neighbouring town.
T h e wedding-day was appointed, and preparations were making
at her window, and 1 thought she looked
sadly at me. I determined the match should
not take place, cost what it might.
I met
her intended bridegroom in the market place,
and could not restrain the expression of
when I drew my stiletto and stabbed him
to the heart. 1 fled to a neighbouring church
for refuge, and with a little money I obtained
absolution, but I did not dare to venture
from my asylum.
At that time our captain was forming his
�5
troop. He had known me from boyhood ;
and hearing' of my situation, came to me in
secret, and made such offers, that I agreed
to enrol myself among his followers. Indeed,
I had more than once thought of taking to
this mode of life, having known several
brave fellows of the mountains, who used to
spend their money freely among us
youngsters
asylum late one night, repaired to the
appointed
were for some time in a distant part of the
mountains, and our wild adventurous kind of
life hit my fancy wonderfully, and diverted
my thoughts. A t length they returned
with all their violence to the recollection of
Rosetta : the solitude in which I often found
myself gave me time to brood over her
image; and, as I have kept watch at night
over our sleeping camp in the mountains,
my feelings have been roused almost to a
fever.
A t length we shifted our ground, and
determined to make a descent upon the road
between Terracina and Naples. In the
course of our expedition we passed a day or
two in the woody mountains which rise
above Frosinone.
I cannot tell you how I
felt when I looked down upon the place, and
distinguished the residence of Rosetta.
I
of the town
place of meeti
�V
determined to have an interview with h e r ;
but to what purpose ? I could not expect
that she would quit her home, and accompany
me in mv hazardous life among the mountains. She had bee
for that; and when I looked upon the
women who were associated with some of our
troop, I could not have borne the thoughts
of her being their companion. A l l return
to my former life was likewise hopeless, for
a price was set upon my head. Still I
determined
fruitlessness of the thing made me furious to
accomplish it.
It is about three weeks since I persuaded
our captain to draw down to the vicinity of
Frosinone, in hopes of entrapping some of
its principal inhabitants, and compelling
them to a ransom. W e were l y i n g in
ambush towards evening, not far from the
vineyard of Rosetta's father. I stole quietly
from my companions, and drew near to
reconnoitre the place of her frequent walks.
How my heart beat when among the vines
I beheld the gloaming of a white dress ! I
knew it must be Rossetta's; it being rare for
any female of the place to dress in white.
I
advanced secretly and without noise, until,
putting aside the vines, and stood suddenly
before her.
She uttered a piercing shriek,
but I seized her in my arms, put my hand
�7
upon her mouth, and conjured her to be
silent. I poured out all the frenzy of m y
passion; offered to renounce my mode of
life; to put my fate in her hands; to fly
with her where we might live in safety
together. A l l that I could say or do would
not pacify her. Instead of love, horror and
affright seemed to have taken possession of
her breast.
She struggled partly from my
grasp, and filled the air with her cries.
In an instant the captain and the rest of
my companions were around us. I would
have given any thing at that moment had
she been safe out of our hands, and in her
father's house. It was too late. The captain
pronounced her a prize, and ordered that she
should be borne to the mountains. I
represented
had a previous claim to her; and I
mentioned
bitterly in reply; observed that brigands
had no business with village intrigues, and
that, according to the laws of the troop, all
spoils of the kind were determined by lot.
Love and jealously were r a g i n g in my heart,
but I had to choose between obedience and
death. I surrendered her to the captain,
and we made for the mountains.
She was overcome by affright, and her
steps were so feeble and faltering that it was
necessary to support her. I could not en-
to him
my form
�dure the idea that my comrades should touch
her, and assuming a forced tranquility,
begged that she might be confided to me,
as one to whom she was more accustomed.
The captain regarded me, for a moment,
with a searching look, but I bore it without
flinching, and he consented. I took her in
my arms; she was almost senseless.
Her
head rested on my shoulder; I felt her
breath on my face, and it seemed to fan the
flame which devoured me. Oh G o d ! to
have this glowing treasure in my arms, and
yet to think it was not mine!
W e arrived at the foot of the mountain.
I ascended it with difficulty, particularly
where the woods were thick, but I would
not relinquish my delicious burden. I
reflected
do so. T h e thoughts that so delicate a
creature must be abandoned to my rude
companions, maddened me. I felt tempted,
the stiletto in my hand, to cut my way
through them all, and bear her off in triumph.
I scarcely conceived the idea before I saw
its rashness; but my brain was fevered with
the thought that any but myself should
enjoy
her ch
my companions by the quickness of my
movements,' and to get a little distance
ahead in case any favourable opportunity
of escape should present.
Vain effort!
�9
T h e voice of the captain suddenly ordered
a halt. I trembled, but had to obey.
The
poor girl partly opened a languid eye, but
was without strength or motion. I laid her
upon the grass. T h e captain darted on
me a terrible look of suspicion, and ordered
me to scour the woods with my companions
in search of some shepherd, who might be
sent to her father's to demand a ransom.
I saw at once the peril. T o resist with
violence was certain death, but to leave her
alone, in the power of the captain ! I spoke
out then with a fervour, inspired by my
passion and my despair. I reminded the
captain that I was the first to seize her;
that she was my prize; and that myprevious
sacred among my companions. I insisted,
therefore, that he should pledge me his
word to respect her, otherwise I should
refuse obedience to his orders. His only
reply was to cock his carbine, and at the
signal my comrades did the same.
They
laughed with cruelty at my impotent rage.
What could I do? I felt the madness
of resistance. I was menaced on all hands,
and my companions obliged me to follow
them. She remained alone with the chief
yes, alone and almost lifeless !
Here the robber paused in his recital,
overpowered by his emotions, Great drops of
�10
sweat stood on his forehead; he panted
rather than breathed; his brawny bosom rose
and fell like the waves of a troubled sea.
i When he had become a little calm, he
continued
I was not long in finding a shepherd,
said he. I ran with the rapidity of a deer,
eager, if possible, to get back before what
I dreaded might take place. I had left my
companions far behind, and I rejoined them
before they had reached onehalf the distance
I had made. I hurried them back to the
place where we had left the captain.
As
we approached, I beheld him seated by the
side of Rosetta. His triumphant look, and
the dessolate condition of the unfortunate
girl, left me no doubt of her fate. I know
not how I restrained my fury.
It was with extreme difficulty, and by
guiding her hand, that she was made to
trace a few characters, requesting her father
to send three hundred dollars as her ransom.
The letter was dispatched by the shepherd.
When he was gone, the chief turned sternly
t o m e : " Y o u have set an example," said
he, " o f mutiny and self-will, which, if
indulged, would be ruinous to the troop.
Had I treated you as our laws require, this
bullet would have been driven through your
brain. But you are an old friend; I have
borne patiently with your fury and your
hi
�11
folly. 1 have even protected you from a
foolish passion that would have unmanned
you. A s to this girl, the laws of our association
he gave his commands: lots were drawn, an I
the helpless girl was abandoned to the troop.
must have their c
Here the robber paused again, panting
with fury, and it was some moments before
he could resume his story.
Hell, said he, was r a g i n g in my heart. 1
beheld the impossibility of avenging myself;
and I felt that, according to the articles
in which we stood bound to one another, the
captain was in the right. I rushed with
frenzy from the place; I threw myself upon
the earth ; tore up the grass with my hands,
and beat my head and gnashed my teeth
in agony and rage. When at length I
returned, I beheld the wretched victim, pale,
dishevelled, her dress torn and disordered.
A n emotion of pity, for a moment, subdued
my fierce feelings. I bore her to the foot
of a tree, and leaned her gently against it.
I took my gourd, which was filled with wine,
and applying it to her lips, endeavoured to
make her swallow a little. T o what a
condition
was she
once seen the pride of Frosinone! whom
but a short time before I had beheld sporting
in her father's vineyard, so fresh, and
beautiful,
and happy!
�12
her eyes fixed on the ground; her form
without motion, and in a state of absolute
insensibility, I hung over her in an agony
of recollection at all that she had been, and
of anguish at what I now beheld her.
I
darted round a look of horror at my companions, who seemed
exulting in the downfall of an angel! and
I felt a horror at myself for being their
accomplice.
T h e captain, always suspicious, saw, with
his usual penetration, what was passing
within me, and ordered me to go upon the
ridge of the woods, to keep a look-out over
the neighbourhood, and await the return of
the shepherd. I obeyed, of course, stifling
the fury that raged within me, though I
felt for the moment that he was my most
deadly foe.
On my way, however, a ray of reflection
came across my mind. I perceived that the
captain was but following, with strictness,
the terrible laws to which we had sworn
fidelity. T h a t the passion by which I had
been blinded might, with justice, have been
fatal to me, but for his forbearance ; that
lie had penetrated my soul, and had taken
precautions, by sending me out of the way,
to prevent my committing any excess in my
anger. From that instant I felt that I was
capable of pardoning him.
�13
Occupied with these thoughts, I arrived
at the foot of the mountain. T h e country
was solitary and secure, and in a short time
I beheld the shepherd at a distance crossing
the plain. I hastened to meet him.
He
had obtained nothing.
He had found the
father plunged in the deepest distress.
He
had read the letter with violent emotion, and
then calming himself with a sudden exertion,
he had replied coldly, " M y daughter has
been dishonoured by those wretches : let her
be returned without ransom, or let her die I"
I shuddered at this reply. I knew,
according
was inevitable. O u r oaths required it.
I
felt, nevertheless, that not having been able
to have her to myself, I could become her
executioner!
T h e robber again paused with agitation.
1 sat musing upon his last frightful words,
which proves to what excess the passions
may be carried when escaped from all moral
restraint. There was a horrible verity in
this story that reminded me of some of the
tragic fictions of Dante.
W e now come to a fatal moment, resumed the bandit.
A f t e r the report of the
shepherd, I returned with him, and the
chieftain received from his lips the refusal
of the father.
A t a signal, which we all understood,
to the laws of
�14
we followed him to some distance from the
victim. He there pronounced her sentence
of death. Every one stood ready to execute
his order; but I interfered. I observed
that there was something due to pity as well
as to justice. That I was as ready as any
one to approve the implacable law, which
was to serve as a warning to all those who
hesitated to pay the ransoms demanded for
our prisoners ; but that though the sacrifice
was proper, it ought to be made without
cruelty.
The night is approaching,continue
let her then be dispatched. A l l I now
claim on the score of former fondness for
her is, let me strike the blow. I will do it
as surely, but more tenderly than another.
Several raised their voices against my
proposition,
but the c
them. He told me I might conduct her
into a thicket at some distance, and he relied
upon my promise.
I hastened to seize upon my prey.
There
was a forlorn kind of triumph at having at
length become her exclusive possessor. I
bore her off into the thickness of the forest
She remained in the same state of
insensibility
did not recollect me; for had she once
murmured
and stupo
my name
�15
him who was to poniard her. Many were
the conflicts I underwent before I could
bring myself to strike the blow. But my
heart had become sore by the recent conflicts
it had undergone, and I dreaded lest, by
procrastination, some other should become
her executioner. When her repose had
continued for some time, I separated myself
gently from her, that I might not disturb
her sleep, and seizing suddenly my poinard,
plunged it into her bosom. A painful and
concentrated murmur, but without anyconvulsive
sigh. So perished this unfortunate!
�16
PUSS IN BOOTS.
THERE was a miller who had three sons,
and when he died he divided what he possessed
He gave his mill to the eldest, his ass to
the second, and his cat to the youngest.
Each of the brothers accordingly took
what belonged to him without the help of an
attorney, who would soon have brought their
little fortune to nothing in law-expenses.
The poor young fellow who had nothing
but the cat complained that he was hardly
used: " M y brothers," said he, " by
joining
in the world; but for me, when I have eaten
my cat, and made a fur-cap of his skin, I
may soon die of h u n g e r ! "
The cat, which all this time sat listening just
inside the door of a cupboard, now ventured
to come out, and addressed him as follows:
" Do not thus afflict yourself, my good
master; you have only to give me a bag,
and get a pair of boots made for me, so
that I may scamper through the dirt and
the brambles, and you shall see that you are
not so ill provided for as you imagine."
Though the cat's master did not much
among- the
their
�17
depend upon these promises yet as he had
often observed the cunning tricks Puss used
to catch rats and mice, such as hanging by
the hindlegs, and hiding in the meal to
make them believe that he was dead, he did
not entirely despair of his being of some
use to him in his unhappy condition.
When the cat had obtained what he asked
for, he gaily began to equip himself; he
drew on the boots and putting the bag
about his neck, he took hold of strings with
his forepaws, and, bidding his master take
courage, immediately sallied forth.
The first attempt Puss made was to go
into a warren, in which there was a great
number of rabbits. He put some bran and
some parsley into his b a g ; and then,
stretching himself out at full length as if
he was dead, he waited for some young
rabbits, (which as yet knew nothing of the
cunning tricks of the world) to come and
get into the bag, the better to feast upon the
dainties he had put into it.
Scarcely had he lain down before he
succeeded
young rabbit crept into the bag, and the cat
immediately drew the strings, and killed
him without mercy.
Puss, proud of his prey, hastened directly
to the palace, where he asked to speak to
the king.
On being shown into the apart
as well as
�18
meat of his majesty, he made a low bow,
and s a i d , " I have brought you, sire, this
rabbit from the warren of my lord the
marquis
o
present it to your majesty with the assurance
of his respect." This was the title the cat
thought proper to bestow upon his master.
" Tell my lord marquis of Carabas," replied the king, " th
with pleasure, and that I am greatly obliged
to him."
Soon after the cat laid himself down in
the same manner in a field of corn, and
had as much good fortune as before; for
two fine partridges got into his bag, which
he immediately killed and carried to the
palace. The k i n g received them as he had
done the rabbit, and ordered his servants to
give the messenger something to drink.
In
this manner he continued to carry presents
of game to the k i n g from my lord marquis
of Carabas, once at least every week.
One day, the cat having heard that the
king intended to take a ride that morning
by the river side with his daughter, who was
the most beautiful princess in the world, he
said to his m a s t e r , " I f you will but
off your clothes, and bathe yourself in the
river, just in the place I shall show you,
and leave the rest to me."
follow
m
�The marquis of Carabas did exactly as
he was desired, without being able to guess
at what the cat intended. While he was
bathing the k i n g passed by, and Puss
directly called out as loud as he could bawl,
" Help! help! my lord marquis of
Carabas is in danger of being drowned!"
The k i n g hearing the cries, put his head
out at the window of his carriage to see
what was the matter; when, perceiving
the very cat which had brought him so many
presents, he ordered his attendants to go
directly to the assistance of my lord marquis
of Carabas.
While they were employed in taking the
marquis out of the river, the cat ran to the
king's carriage and told his majesty, that
while his master was bathing, some thieves
had run off with his clothes as they lay by
the river side, the cunning cat all the time
having hid them under a large stone.
The k i n g hearing this, commanded the
officers of his wardrobe to fetch one of the
handsomest suits it contained, and present it
to my lord marquis of Carabas, at the same
time loading him with a thousand attentions.
A s the fine clothes they brought him made
him look like a gentleman, and set off his
person, which was very comely, to the
greatest advantage, the king's daughter
was mightily taken with his appearance,
�20
and the marquis of Carabas had no sooner
cast upon her two or three respectful glances,
than she became violently in love with him.
The k i n g insisted on his getting into the
carriage, and taking a ride with them.
The cat, enchanted to see how well his
scheme was likely to succeed, ran before to a
meadow that was reaping, and said to the
reapers, " Good people, If you do not tell
the king, who will soon pass this way, that
the meadow you are reaping belongs to my
lord marquis of Carabas, you shall be
chopped
The k i n g did not fail to ask the reapers
to whom the meadow belonged. " T o my
lord marquis of Carabas," said they all at
once; for the threats of the cat had terribly
frightened them. " Y o u have hear a very
fine piece of land, my lord marquis," said
the king.
" T r u l y , sire," replied he, " i t
does not fail to bring me every year a plentiful
The cat, which still went on before, now
came to a field where some other labourers
were making sheaves of the corn they had
reaped, to whom he said as before,
"Good
people, if you do not tell the k i n g , who will
presently pass this way, that the corn you
have reaped in this field belongs to my lord
marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped
as small as minced meat."
harvest."
�J
21
The king accordingly passed a moment
after, and inquired to whom the corn he saw
belonged. " T o my lord marquis of Carabas," answered they very
which the k i n g again complimented the
marquis on his noble possessions.
g
The cat still continued to go before, and
gave the same charge to all the people he
met with; so that the k i n g was greatly
astonished at the splendid fortune of my lord
marquis of Carabas.
Puss at length arrived at a stately castle,
which belonged to an Ogre, the richest ever
known; for all the lands the k i n g had passed
through and admired were his. The cat
took care to learn every particular about the
Ogre, and what he could do, and then asked
to speak with him, saying, as he entered
the room in which he was, that he could not
pass so near his castle without doing himself
the honour to inquire for his health.
The Ogre received him as civilly as an
Ogre could do, and desired him to be seated.
" I have been informed," said the cat,
" that you have the gift of changingyourself
or an elephant, for example."
It is very
true," replied the Ogre somewhat sternly;
" a n d to convince you, I will directly take
the form of a lion." T h e cat was so much
terrified at finding himself so near a lion,
�22
that he sprang from him, and climbed to
the roof of the house; but not without much
difficulty, as his boots were not very fit to
walk upon the tiles.
Some minutes after, the cat perceiving
that the O g r e had quitted the form of a lion,
ventured to come down from the tiles, and
owned that he had been a good dealfrightened.'1have
continued the cat, " but I know not how to
believe it, that you have the power of taking
the form of the smallest animals also; for
example, of changing yourself to a rat or a
mouse; I confess I should think this must
be impossible."
Impossible! you
sha
see;" and at the same instant he chancer
himself into a mouse, and began to frisk
about the room. T h e cat no sooner cast
his eyes upon the O g r e in this form, than
he sprang upon him, and devoured him in
an instant.
In the mean time the k i n g , admiring, as
he came near it, the magnificent castle of
the Ogre, ordered his attendants to drive up
to the gates, as he wished to take a nearer
view of it. The cat, hearing the noise of
the Carriage on the drawbridge, immediately
came out, saying
" Your majesty is
Carabas."
A n d is this splendid castle
your's
my lord marquis of Carabas ?
welcome
�23
I never saw any thing more stately than the
Building,
or more beautiful than the park
and pleasure-grounds around i t ; no doubt
the castle is no less magnificent within than
without; pray, my lord marquis, indulge
me with a sight of it."
T h e marquis gave his hand to the young
princess as she alighted, and followed the
king, who went before; they entered a
spacious hall, where they found a splendid
collation which the Ogre had prepared for
some friends he had that day expected to
visit him; but who, hearing that the k i n g
with the princess and a great gentleman of
the court were within had not dared to enter.
T h e k i n g was so much charmed with the
amiable qualities and noble fortune of the
marquis of Carabas, and the young princess
too had fallen so violently in love with him,
that when the k i n g had partaken of the
collation, and drank a few glasses of wine,
he said to the m a r q u i s , " It will be your
own fault, my lord marquis of Carabas, if
you do not soon become my son-in-law."
T h e marquis received the intelligence with
a thousand respectful acknowledgments,
accepted the honour confered upon him, and
married the princess that very day.
The cat became a great lord, and never
after ran after rats and mice but for his
amusement.
�24
ANCEDOTE.
THE LAWYER AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER.
A
ROGUISH old lawyer was planning new sin,
A s he lay on his bed in a fit of the g o u t ;
T h e mails and the daylight were just coming in,
The milkmaids and rush-lights were just going out;
W h e n a chimney-sweep's boy, who had made a mistake,
Came flop down the flue with a clattering rush,
A n d bawl'd, as he gave his black muzzle a shake,
"
M y master's a-coming to give you a brush."
" If that be the case," said the cunning old elf,
" There's no time to lose it is high time to
flee.
Ere he gives me a brush, I will brush off myself
So he limp'd to the door without saying his prayers;
B u t Old Nick was too deep to be nick'd of his
prey;
For the knave broke his neck by a tumble down
stairs,
And thus ran to the devil by running away.
FINIS.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1d050a9f2bd9f8822e086f0958874df9.jpg
ac707a280ab736d630f26d8e6cae983b
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Illustration on title-page of a sitting man holding a rifle
in an outdoor scene with ruins in the background.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 024: Title-page illustration of a man sitting with a rifle with ruins in the background.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Storys of the young robber, and Puss in boots
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Puss in boots
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935682553505154">s0587b41</a>
Description
An account of the resource
29 printed at the foot of the title page
Woodcut #24: Illustration on title-page of a sitting man holding a rifle in an outdoor scene with ruins in the background.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850?
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
fairytale/folk lore
Architecture: ruins
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale
Gender: man/men
Nature: tree(s)
Outdoor Scene
Weapons: gun(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/8d9380d55c332591430ba8e53d9a17d0.jpg
e32c68b335c29afde46fa6beaa5f9e16
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying a man wearing a hat, kilt, and plaid socks holding an upright rifle. To his left is a door marked with the letter V
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/04173de2230ee97b8691b56ec3e8ff6b.pdf
b6f5cabe7a639a6fe3a2274f08150103
PDF Text
Text
THE
BATTLE OP
PHILIPHAUQH;
TOGETHER WITH THE
BATTLE
OF
LOUBONHILL,
AND
AUCHINDOWN,
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
80.
�THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH.
On Pliiliphaugh a fray began,
At Hairhead wood it ended ;
The Scots out o'er the Graemes they ran,
Sae merrily they bended.
Sir David frae the border came,
W i ' heart an' hand came he ;
Wi' him three thousand bonnie Scots,
To bear him company.
W i ' him three thousand valiant men,
A noble sight to see!
A cloud o' mist them weel concealed,
As close as e'er might be.
When they came to the Shaw burn,
Said he, " Sae weel we frame,
I think it is convenient,
That we should sing a psalm."
When they came to the Lingly burn,
As day-light did appear,
They spy'd an aged father,
And he did draw t. em near.
�" Come hither, aged father!"
Sir David he did cry,
" And tell me where Montrose lies,
With all his great army.
" But, first, you must come tell to me.
If friends or foes you be ;
I fear you are Montrose's men,
Come frae the north country."
" No, we are nane o' Montrose's men,
Nor e'er intend to be ;
I am Sir David Lesly,
That's speaking unto thee."
" If you're Sir David Lesly,
As I think weel ye be,
<
I'm sorry ye ha'e brought so few
Into your company.
There's fifteen thousand armed men,
Encamped on yon lee ;
Ye'll never be a bite to them,
For aught that I can see.
44
" But, halve your men in equal parts,
Your purpose to fulfil;
Let ae half keep the water side,
The rest gae round the hill.
" Your nether party fire must,
Then beat a flying drum;
And then they'll think the day's their ain,
And frae the trench they 11 come.
�4
" Then, those that are behind them maun
Gi'e shot, baith grit and sma';
And so, between your armies twa,
Ye may make them to fa'."
" 0 were ye ever a soldier ? "
Sir David Lesly said;
" 0 yes; I was at Solway flow,
Where we were all betray'd.
" Again I was curst at Dunbar,
And was a pris'ner ta'en :
And many a weary night and day,
In prison I lia'e lien."
" If ye will lead these men aright,
Rewarded shall ye be ;
But, if that ye a traitor prove,
I'll hang thee on a tree."
" Sir, I will not a traitor prove ;
Montrose has plundered me ;
I'll do my best to banish him
Away frae this country."
He halv'd his men in equal parts,
His purpose to fulfil;
The one part kept the water side,
The other gaed round the hill.
The nether party fired brisk,
Then turn'd and seem'd to rin;
And then they a' came frae the trench,
And cry'd, " The day's our ain!"
�5
The rest then ran into the trench,
And loos'd their cannons a ' ;
And thus, betweeen his armies twa,
He made them fast to fa'.
Now, let us a' for Lesly pray,
And his brave company!
For they ha'e vanquish'd great Montrose,
Our cruel enemy.
T H E B A T T L E OF LOUDON-HILL.
marvel when I tell ye o*
Our noble Burly, and his train ;
When last he march'd up thro' the land,
Wi' sax-and-twenty westland men.
YOU'L
Than they I ne'er o' braver heard,
For they had a* baith wit and skill;
They proved right well, as I heard tell.
As they cam* up o'er Loudon-hill.
Weel prosper a' the gospel lads,
That are into the west countrie ;
Ay wicked Claver'se to demean,
And ay an ill dead may he die!
For he's drawn up i' battle rank,
An' that baith soon and hastilie ;
But they wha live till simmer come,
Some bludie days for this will see.
s
�6
But up spak' cruel Claver'se then,
W i ' hastie wit, an' wicked skill;
" G i ' e fire on yon westlan' men ;
I think it is my sov'reign's will."
But up bespake his cornet, then,
" It's be wi' nae consent o' me!
I ken I'll ne'er come back again,
An* mony mae as weel as me.
'* There is not ane of a' yon men,
But wha is worthy other three ;
There is na ane amang them a',
That in his cause will stap to die.
" An' as for Burly, him I knaw ;
He's a man of honour, birth, an' fame
Gi'e him a sword into his hand,
He'll fight thysel' an' other ten."
But up spake wicked Claver'se then,
I wat his heart it raise fu' hie!
And he has cry'd that a' might hear,
" Man, ye ha'e sair deceived me.
" I never ken'd the like afore,
Na, never since I came frae hame,
That you sae cowardly here .suld prove,
An' yet come of a noble Graeme."
But up bespake his cornet, then,
44 Since that it is your honour's will,
Mysel' shall be the foremost man,
That shall gi'e fire on Loudon-liill.
�r»
4
" At your command 1*11 lead them on,
But yet wi' nae consent o' me ;
F o r Weel I ken I'll ne'er return,
A n d mony mae as weel as me."
Then up he drew in battle rank;
I wat he had a bonnie train!
But the first time that bullets flew,
Ay he lost twenty o' his men.
Then back he came the way he gaed,
I wat right soon and suddenly!
He gave command amang his men,
And sent them back, and bade them flee.
Then up came Burly, bauld an' stout,
W i s little train o' Westland men ;
Wha inair than either aince or twice
In Edinburgh confined had been.
They ha'e been up to London sent,
An' yet they're a' come safely flown ;
Sax troop o' horsemefc they ha'e beat,
And chased them into Glasgow town.
AUCHINDOWN.
AT Auchindown, the tenth of June,
Sae merry blythe, and gay. Sir,
Each lad and lass did fill a glass.
And drink a health that day, Sir
�8
We drank a health, and nae by stealth,
'Mang kimmers bright and lordly:
" King James the Eighth! for him we'll'fight,
And down wi' cuckold Geordie!"
We took a spring, and danc'd a fling,
And wow but we were vogie!
We didna fear, though we lay near
The Campbells, in Stra'bogie ;
Nor yet the loons, the black dragoons,
At Fochabers a-raising:
If they durst come, we'd pack them home,
And send them to their grazing.
We fear'd no harm, and no alarm,
No word was spoke of dangers;
We join'd the dance, and kiss'd the lance,
And swore us foes to strangers,
To ilka name that dar'd disclaim
Our Jamie and his Charlie.
" King James the Eighth! for him we'll fight,
And down the cuckold carlie!"
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 026: Title-page illustration of a Highland soldier in a kilt and plaid socks holding an upright rifle in a outdoor scene. A door in background is imprinted with the letter "V".
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Battle of Philiphaugh; together with the Battle of Loudon-Hill, and Auchindown.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Battle of Loudon-Hill
Auchindown
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
15 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228133505154">s0585b36</a>
Description
An account of the resource
80 printed at the foot of the title page
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
Subject
The topic of the resource
War
Covenanters
Philiphaugh, Battle of, Scotland, 1645
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet
Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire
Fashion (Clothing): kilt
Fashion (Clothing): military
Fashion (Clothing): sporran
Gender: man/men
Indoor Scene
Occupation: soldier
Weapons: gun(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ee45fbaacfead75f4b81d207502b80b6.pdf
0c002c4d456d9f40f1c4c93bb839d685
PDF Text
Text
THE
GHOST
OF
MY UNCLE.
TO WHICH IS ADDED, THE
OUTWITTED TAX-GATHERER.
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
25
��GHOST
OF
M Y
U N C L E .
I AROSE early in the morning, and after
taking a good breakfast, set out from home.
A quantity of rain had fallen in the night
It was, however, fair when I commenced
my expedition, and I wished it so to remain.
The morning was still and beautiful; it was
the early hour of four; I could not yet
distinguish the sun, though I was sensible
he had left his ocean bed from the beautiful
streaks of colouring in the eastern sky. To
express the softness, mildness, and calmness
of the scenery, at that hour, I cannot find
adequate words; those only can conceive it
who have witnessed the scene. I had not
proceeded more than two miles, before a few
drops alarmed me with apprehension of a
soaking shower, from a heavy black cloud
that was slowly sailing over my head, and
my fears were soon realized by a very thick
descent that followed, on which I betook
�4
myself with all speed to a thatched cottage, that
I saw at some distance, for shelter.
Many years had elapsed since I had
wandered about in this spot in careless infancy,
and the pretty secluded cot to which I was
advancing,
had once been my home. I
looked around on the hills and dales, and
could easily recognise them as my old
acquaintances. ' Ha,' said I, ' ye change not
your appearance, ye grow not old in the
course of time, the feebleness of age cometh
not upon you ;---ye still smile in the brightness
of summer, and frown in the lowering
winter.
For ages ye have reared your
towering crests and given food to the flocks
and the herds that have chequered your dark
surface; ye have given a direction to the
murmuring brook that proceeds from you,
till it seeks, far distant, the mighty ocean;
and while generation after generation hath
passed away, ye have preserved unvaried the
features ye possessed in ages gone--- Even
now, as in years past, my eyes behold the
still sunshine sleeping upon your gentle
s'oping declivities, interrupted only when
the light cloud of spring, for a moment,
casts over them its passing shadow ! My
cogitations were suddenly interrupted by the
gate at the end of the pasture, whichIopened.
In another moment I was in the porch
of the cottage; I lifted the latch, and went
�5
in. The house appeared just the same as I
had left it ten years before. The furniture
was the same, and each piece occupied the
same position. The old clock stood ticking
in the corner, as it had done for four-score
years, the oaken settle remained behind the
door, and my uncle's antique two armed
chair by the fire-side; but I saw no living
creature in the house besides the cat on the
hearthstone. I listened awhile, but could
hear nothing. At this I rather wondered,
as of yore the house was seldom, scarcely
ever, totally deserted. I then went forward
into the spence, or country parlour, where I
found several neighbour cousins, and the
servants, all standing in deep silence around
the bed of my dying uncle.
On entering, all eyes turned upon me;
I was a stranger to most of them; there
were, however, one or two who remembered
me. I advanced to the bed-side, and the
countenance of my uncle for a moment
brightened up at my approach, but soon
subsided again into a cold tranquil indifference.
It was plain that death was rapidly
approaching.
He had been speechless
several hours; consequently we could hold
no conversation. He, however, put out his
hand, which I grasped with an affection
redoubled by the prospect of soon losing him
for ever. In my younger days I had lived
�with him, and he having no children of his
own, was then remarkably fond of me;
subsequently that affection was strengthened
between us, and although circumstances had
cast my lot in another country, yet we had
kept up a friendly and affectionate
intercourse. Some time previous to his indisposition,
I had again removed to within thirty
miles of his residence, which was the place
from whence I set out on this sorrowful
visit.
My uncle was a man of sound judgment,
keen observation, and cheerful social disposition,
joined to a thorough knowledge of
mankind; he possessed a good portion of
eccentricity and humour. He loved a cheerful
glass; he was kind to his servants, and
dependants, and though rather of a frugal
and saving disposition, yet he was charitable
to his poor neighbours. In his freindships
he was rather capricious, but firm in his
attachment to the kirk and goverment of his
country. He was apt to be a little passionate
and hasty in his temper; but his resentment
was seldom of long duration. He was
well beloved by those among whom he dwelt,
and might be pronounced a good neighbour,
and an excellent subject. By a long course
of industry in his profession, he had amassed
a pretty good property, the knowledge of
which had drawn around him a host of needy
�7
relations, who besieged him with flattery and
professions, but those attentions were chiefly
drawn forth by their hopes of inheriting the
old man's property. How he had willed it
was not known. He was a man of prudence,
and seldom blabbed out his private affairs.
On my arrival, I found all the friends
about him remarkably attentive and duteous
in their behaviour, though it was evident
that a good deal of the affection was assumed.
Shortly after, he fell into a kind of a
dose, and all left the room save an attendant
or two. Peggy, the servant who had lived
With my uncle fourteen years, now insisted
on my taking some refreshment. But I
was too much agitated to feel any thing like
pleasure in my repast, and what I ate was
more to please the faithful old domestic, than
from any inclination of my own. When
my slight meal was over, I got up and went
to the window in a serious and reflecting
mood. The afternoon was far advanced,
and the scenery without was wrapped in
tranquillity. I was soon summoned from
my station to the parlour. My uncle had
somewhat revived, and his speech had returned.
He told us death was making rapid
advances, and that we might soon expect
the moment of his dissolution. He informed
us where we should find his will, and gave us
some excellent advice on our future conduct.
�8
Some things he requested us to perform,
which I thought were a little odd. He
wished us to read his will in the room where
he was, immediately after he had expired.
He desired that he might not he laid out, as
it is commonly called, until at least twelve
hours after his departure; that his large two
armed oaken chair might be placed in all
order and solemnity at the head of the table
every meal, and that it should remain
unoccupied
till after his funeral. He also wished
to be interred in a very deep grave. All
these requests, we promised faithfully to
observe, when, after taking an affectinate
farewell of each, he quietly resigned himself
to his pillow; his breathing became more
and more faint, till at last we could perceive
it no more.
During these transactions my mind was
in a state I cannot well describe : my
thoughts were all confusion, while at the
same time I struggled to be calm and
composed. Poignant as were my feelings, I
gazed on my dying relative with a sort of
apathy and grief, and at the moment when
nature was yielding up the contest I could
not shed a tear. In a short time all quitted
the appartment, and I was left alone. The
branches of the huge elm trees, with their
thickening foliage, partially screening the
window, made it, under such circumstances,
�9
awfully gloomy and tranquil. I took several
turns about the room, and with a soft step
I approached the bed, gazed a moment,
turned away, and then going up to the
window, strove to divert my thoughts by
looking at the surrounding landscape.
Twilight
was descending, and the sober hues of
evening gradually enveloped the lofty hills.
No sound struck my ear, except the faint
and low murmers of the brook, which brawled
down the valley at the bottom of the
Flinty Knowe—the shout, softened by
distance, of the peasant committing his herds to
the pasture—and now and then the solitary
barking of a shepherd's dog among the echoing
dales, attendant on his master looking
out his charge for the night.
I had not stood at the casement many
minutes when my cousins, all talking in a
rude, noisy, and indecorous manner, came
into the room with the will, which it seems
they had departed in search of the moment
the testator had expired. I was a good deal
shocked at the frivolity they manifested,
and could not help reproving them, though
in a mild and gentle manner, for the little
respect they paid to the deceased. ' Why
ye ken,' said one, 'he tauld us to read the
will amaist as soon as he died.''Ay,'cried
another, ' and sae in conformity wi' his
command, we went straight up the stairs and
�10
rummaged o'er his auld kist, till we found
it.' ' Mind your ain concerns, gudeman,
and we'll mind ours,' rejoined a third, rather
gruffly; so that my well meant admonitions
had no better effect than to cause me to be
more disliked by the party; for I could
perceive before this that they looked on me in
the light of an unwelcome intruder.
The will was now read, to which all paid
the greatest attention. A mute anxiety and
deep interest sat on every countenance : their
aspects was, however, instantly changed into
those of intense disappointment and
vexation, on hearing that my uncle had made
a stranger, whom none of us knew, the heir
of all his property, real and personal. For
my part, this circumstance did not affect me
in the least. I had not had any expectation
of inheriting the smallest portion; therefore
could not feel disappointed. But with the
others it was different; they had clung to
him like so many leeches, or like the ivy to
the old ruin, and with about as much affection
as the two before-mentioned things have
for the objects to which they so closely
adhere. A most appalling and disgusting
scene now took place among the disappointed
legacy hunters. They abused the old
man in the most shocking terms: they taxed
him with injustice and villany, and even
proceeded to call down imprecations upon his
�11
lifeless corse. I shuddered at the conduct of
the unprincipled villains; I trembled at the
impiety of men who could, at a time the
most solemn and impressive to a human
being, act in a manner sufficient to call down
upon them immediate and divine vengeance.
I was chilled with horror. I almost expected
every moment to see the lifeless corse of
my uncle start from the bed, on which it lay,
to take vengeance on the audacious wretches.
Once, indeed, I actually thought I saw his
lips quiver with rage—his eyebrows knit
together—and all the muscles of his
countenance
contract into a dreadful frown. I
shuddered at the sight, and withdrew my
gaze.
At length they went into the kitchen, and
I was once more left, alone in the chamber of
death. I went to the bed-side, and the scene
I had just witnessed operated so forcibly tin
my feelings, that I burst into tears, and
uttered aloud my lamentations overmylifeless
relative.
When this ebullition had
somewhatsubsided,I began to reflect a little
where I was, and a sort of timidity came
creeping over me. There is an
undefinable
apprehension which we feel while we are in
company with the dead. We imagine, in
spite of the efforts of reason, that the departed
spirit is hovering near its former tenement,
It being now quite dark, and having these
�feelings in a strong degree, it is no wonder
that I rather preferred the company of the
wretches in the kitchen, than to remain long
where I was.
I accordingly proceeded thither, where I
found them all carousing round a large table,
on which were placed the fragments of the
dinner, and plenty of liquor. I reminded
them of our promise to place my uncle's old
two armed chair at the head of the table, as
he had requested, which they had neglected
to do, and which they now strenuously
opposed my doing. I was, however,
resolutely determined to have it done, and at
length succeeded. I then retired to the
fireside, where I sat, without taking any part
in the conversation, or in any thing that
passed during the whole evening. I shall
pass over the several succeeding hours, the
whole of which they sat drinking, till they
were all in a greater or less degree intoxicated,
and generally brawling, wrangling,
and swearing in a loud and boisterous
manner. The night became stormy as it
advanced. The wind arose, and at intervals
moaned, sighed, and whistled shrilly
without,
roared in the wide chimney, and as it
furiously bent the trees in which the house
was embosomed, made a sound similar to the
dashing of the waves on the shore of the
ocean. The rain fell in torrents, and the
�13
large drops pattered against the window with
a ceaseless and melancholy cadence.
It was now getting nigh the 'witching
time of night,' and I saw no signs of the
revellers quitting the table. On the
contrary, they grew more loud and boisterous.
In obedience to their imperious commands,
yet evidently with the greatest reluctance,
Peggy had kept replenishing the exhausted
vessels with more liquor, and their demands
increased in proportion to the reluctance with
which they were satisfied. At length,
however, on receiving an intimation from me
that I would interpose, she absolutely refused
to draw any more liquor for them, telling
them they had plenty, and that it was time
to retire to bed. The scene that now ensued
was such as is impossible for me to describe;
maddened and inflamed with rage at being
thus refused, the wretches began to throw
the furniture up and down the house, break
the glasses and jugs, and to abuse the
servant, from whom they attempted to wrest
the key of the cellar, yelling out at the same
time the most horrid oaths and
imprecations.
The table was shortly overset, and the
lights put out in the scuffle, and in a few
moments we should, in all probability, have
had blood shed, as I felt myself roused to a
pitch of fury, and was advancing with the
�14
large heavy headed fire-poker to the assistance
of the servant, who was loudly shrieking
for help: just then the old clock struck
twelve rapid strokes, and the bell had not
ceased to vibrate, when we heard three heavy
knocks, as if given by a mallet upon the
wall, which seperated the kitchen from the
parlour where my uncle lay. There appeared
to be something supernatural in this.
The whole house seemed to shake to its very
foundation. A deep silence ensued. I stood
still. The wretches instantly became sober.
We all gazed earnestly and wildly at the place
from whence the noise proceeded. Scarce
had we recovered from the shock, when we
were again thunderstruck with a noise in the
parlour; it was unlike any sound that I had
ever heard before. It seemed as if all the
furniture in the room was violently crashed
together, mingled with the noise of fire-arms.
Shrieks and exclamations burst from all.
The windows shook and every door of the
habitation gave a momentary jar. I trembled
with awe. I felt every hair of my head
bristling upwards—my knees smote against
each other—a deathly paleness sat on every
countenance, and all eyes were fixed in an
intense gaze on the door, at the upper part
of the kitchen, which led to the staircase,
buttery, and parlour. When, to complete
the horror of the scene, the door burst wide
�15
open—dashed against the wall, and in, gliding
at a slow pace, came a dreadful apparition.
Its countenance was that of death.
It seemed to have been long the inhabitant
of that dark and narrow house— the grave;
the worms had revelled upon its eyes, and
left nothing but the orbless sockets. The
rest of the skeleton was enveloped in a long
and white sheet. The horrid spectre
advanced into the middle of the room. I
involuntarily shrunk back—the heavy weapon
dropped from my hand and rang loudly on
the stone floor; overcome with terror, I sank
into a chair. A cold sweat broke from my
forehead, and I had well nigh fainted on its
first appearance; the others had tumbled one
over the other, in the greatest horror and
confusion, and now lay as if dead in all
directions.
The spectre gazed wildly round for a
moment—at the clock—at the fire—and
then turned its eyeless sockets upon each
individual, motioning at the same time with
its long arm, and pointing to the outer door,
seemingly directing to an outlet for an
escape, and wishing for their exit. They
were not long in obeying this intimation,
out severally crawled away on their hands
and knees, with all the speed they could
possibly make; none of them daring to stand
upright.
The spectre all the while was
�16
standing in the middle of the floor, eyeing,
or rather appearing to eye them, through
the void sockets, where eyes had once
glistened, as they retreated one by one in the
greatest fear and trepidation. When Peggy
and I offered to decamp along with the rest,
the spectre motioned us to remain where we
were, and we durst not for our lives disobey.
When the last of the crew was making his
exit, and had crawled nearly to the door, the
spectre, which had hitherto stood motionless,
except waving its arm and slowly turning
its eyeless countenance on the wretches as
they crept successively out of the door,
bounded with the rapidity of lightning after
the terrified wretch. But swift as the flight
of spirits are, in this case that of the mortal
was swifter : the fellow gave a thrilling
scream—made a convulsive spring—his
heels struck violently against the lintel of the
door in his course, and he vanished from my
sight and the spectre after him. ' Gude
defend us,' said Peggy. For my part, ill
as I was frightened, I could scarce forbear
laughing outright at the last incident so
comic and farcical.
Half a minute had not elapsed, when I
heard a step, and in another instant (I still
kept my eyes on the door) in came the very
form of my uncle, muttering, ' Villains!
Rascals! Hypocrites !' He fastened the door
�17
after him, shut out his nephews and the
spectre, and then came towards the fire. A t
this I was more amazed than ever. He,
however, gave me to understand that he was
alive and well, and that all I had seen
transacted
in the afternoon and evening, was
nothing but a stratagem he had made use of
to try the sincerity of his relations, and if he
found them, as he conjectured, false in their
professions, to get rid of them. The scheme
answered nobly, and, it must be confessed,
the stratagem was well planned and exceedingly
well executed.
My uncle concluded his relation with
assuring me, that, excepting a good legacy
for his faithful servant Peggy, I should
inherit all that he possessed, as some little
acknowledgement for the fright he had
caused me; and as for the wretches he had
expelled from his house, in so singular a
manner, they should never more cross the
threshold of his door. W e all three now
sat down to a little supper, of which my
uncle stood in great need, and after taking
a cheerful glass retired to bed.
Notwithstanding the fatigue of my journey,
and sitting up so late, my sleep was
far from being sound and refreshing. I
was disturbed with fearful dreams the whole
night. At length the cocks began to crow
—the clouds of the eastern sky to break
�18
assunder, and the morning to dawn.
When
it was tolerably light I started up, resolved
on a stroll over the meadows. Before going
out, however, I went into the parlour, where
I found every thing in the utmost confusion.
Chairs, tables, walking-sticks, and logs of
wood, lay all over the floor, and every thing
upset or in a wrong position. I then
proceeded to the outer door, which I opened,
but started back in horror, on perceiving a
human skull lying on a sheet at my right
hand, just without the door. Recovering
from my fright, I gathered it up, and could
not restrain my laughter, when I discovered
it to be nothing more than a mask,
representing
a death's head. It seems while we
were all wrangling the night before, my
uncle had stepped out of bed—dressed
himself
—piled all the furniture, logs of wood
and timber, he could in the apartment, in a
heap, crowning the pyramid with a dozen or
more walking-sticks, which had lain time
out of mind on the top of an old cupboard
—then gone up stairs and put on the horrid
mask—brought down a pistol, and enveloped
himself from his feet to his chin, in a clean
white sheet; after alarming us, just as the
clock struck the awful hour of twelve, by
striking three heavy blows against the
wall with a huge log of wood, he contrived
to tumble down the whole mass of furniture
�19
at once—fired his pistol at the same moment,
and then burst in upon us in the manner
described.
I now went out. As I was crossing the
yard, I discovered several drops of blood on
a stone, which I could no way account for,
but by supposing some of my good cousins
had received, in their retreat, a fall; and, a
little further, I discovered a pair of shoes.
A receptacle for the filth of the byre, in
another part of the yard, bore evident marks
of some one having had therein a severe
struggle.
Indeed the adventures of the flying heroes
had been various and woful; one of them,
he at whom the spectre had made such a
sudden bound, as I afterwards ascertained,
actually ran seven miles without stopping,
and with his shrieks, supposing the grim
monster close at his heels, almost raised the
whole country. I now proceeded onwards
over the fields, listening to the warbling
lark ' springing blithely up to greet the
purpling east.' The air was fresh and
pure, and, in the beauties of nature, I
awhile forgot the events of the preceding
evening. With hasty steps I roved over
the faintly recollected scenes, where I had
in childhood spent some of my happiest
hours, until weary with my rambles I
returned to breakfast.
�20
OUTWITTING A TAX-GATHERER.
SOME writers have stated the number of
islands in Strangford Lough to be upwards
of two hundred, but it has been ascertained
that there are not more than fifty-four. Some
are inhabited ; on others cattle of various
kinds are kept by the proprietors of the
grounds on the opposite shore. Upon one
of them there is a very extensive rabbitwarren. The individual who resides on this
island had for many years derived a very
considerable income from the sale of the
rabbit skins, and although he had erected a
very good house, he never once dreamed of
paying any thing in the shape of excise or
taxes. At length, however, a tax-gatherer,
who had paid a visit to the houses on the
neighbouring shore, beheld with anxious
gaze the goodly edifice which presented
itself upon the island, and determined upon
visiting it in the name of his Majesty. The
proprietor of the place, having been in the
habit of receiving visits from persons who
came to purchase his skins, and supposing
the taxman to be one of them, sent off a boat
to fetch him to the island. On reaching the
place, the man of taxes began to make
various enquires as to the time the house had
�21
been erected, the number of windows,
hearths, &c., it contained: and, having
gained the desired information, he immediately
demanded, on behalf of his Majesty,
a considerable sum, as the amount of taxes
and arrears due upon the place. In vain
the poor man protested against the proceeding,
as an imposition, in vain he contended,
that the demand, never having been made
before, he had no right to pay it then. The
stranger was inexorable, and nothing would
satisfy him but the payment of the money
down, or, in default thereof, he threatened
to return direct, with a party of the army,
and lead, drive, and carry away all that he
couldfinduponthe island. Atlength,fearing
such a catastrophe, and finding every
effort to soften the hard heart of the exciseman
completely fruitless, the poor man paid
down the amount demanded, and got a
regular acknowledgement for the same; and
the officer, having put the money in his
pocket, haughtily desired that he might be
put ashore. ' No, no,' said the old man ;
'althoughhis Majesty may compel me to
pay taxes, he cannot compel me to keep a
boat to row you, and the likes ofyou,back
and forward.' After many threats and
entreaties, the, islanderatlastconsented,as
he had brought his visitorover,togivehim
' a bit of arow'backagain;andboth
�getting into the boat, along with a young lad,
son to the proprietor, they pulled for some
time in the direction of shore. When about
midway, however, the islander, quietly laying
down his oar, informed the officer, that
although he had promised to give him ' a
bit of a row,'he had never any intention of
taking him the entire way, and that he must
now do the best he could, as he was himself
obliged to return to the island, or that they
would land him on Phaddy Lhug, (a large
rock, which was visible at low water, but
was many feet beneath the surface at full
tide,) from which, if he shouted loud enough,
perhaps some of his friends on the shore
might hear him, and send a boat to convey
him the remainder of the distance. On the
other protesting against such conduct, and
insisting that they should continue their
labour, and take him ashore—the old man,
pulling his oar into the boat, and desiring
his son to do the same, very drily observed,
that if the gentleman did not wish to quit
the boat, they would not insist upon his doing
so, as they ' could swim like two water dogs,
and thus easily regain the island; but that
if he chose to pay him for it, he would
willingly land him at any place he wished.
Finding himself outwitted by the islanders,
the officer deemed it the more advisable way
to accede to the terms proposed—when, to his
�23
astonishment, he found that the demand was
nothing less than the entire amount he had
received for the taxes, together with a receipt
for those of the following year, and a special
engagement, that he would never again
return to that island to demand taxes on excise.
Hard as the terms were, he was at length
compelled to accede to them, rather than
take on a tide which, at the time, was
running at the rate of nine mites an hour, the
alternative of being left to drift out to sea in
an open boat, with scarcely a hope of relief
from any quarter. It is scarcely necessary
to observe, that having paid back the money,
and giving the required receipt, the
crestfallentaxmanwas put safely ashore, and
never again visited the island, or trusted
himself in company with so tricky a customer
as the old dealer in rabbit skins.
SCARLET
DISCOVERED.
A Highlander entered a haberdasher's shop
in Perth, and asked for a piece of scarlet
cloth to make him a waistcoat. The rustic
manner of the Gael set some young women
who were at the counter a-giggling; and
the shopman, willing to afford them sport,
began to play off his small wit upon the
�24
stranger. " So, goodman, ye want a piece
of scarlet ? Would you know scarlet if you
saw it?" " I tink I would," replied the
mountaineer. The shopman threw down a
piece of blue cloth: " Is that scarlet ?"
" Hout no, no! that no be it." A piece of
green cloth was produced; the same question
was repeated, and received a similar answer
to the great amusement of the querist and
his female friends, who were at no pains to
conceal their mirth. The Highlander took
revenge in his own way ; He put his nose
to the cloth, and affected to judge of the
colour by the smell. The shopman, at
request, did the same; but the instant he
bent his nose towards the counter, the
Highlander seized him by the ears, and
made his nasal protuberance come, in such
violent contact with the boards, that the blood
sprung from it " Tat," said the
Highlander,
" i s ta colour o', scarlet tae ye noo,
lad;" and he walked away.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5f93b7a2701fc16b147fb28c25a60766.jpg
16b01e124a931a6ad032976f2674b360
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut portraying outdoor scene with man in boat in foreground and village in background; a basket and anchor on path leading to village
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 027: Title-page illustration of a man in a small boat. A village can be seen in the background.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Ghost of My Uncle. To which is added, the Outwitted Tax-Gatherer.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Outwitted Tax-Gatherer
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
15 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228043505154">s0585b34</a>
Description
An account of the resource
25 printed at the foot of the title page
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
ca.1840-1850?
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
supernatural & ghost stories
Architecture: city view
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: supernatural
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Gender: man/men
Object: anchor(s)
Object: basket(s)
Outdoor Scene
Transportation: ship/boat(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ff370ed0dfac18091c39429d0a0b8efa.jpg
9eb1fdac8b87bc5076e3412099488f34
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Illustration on title-page of a soldier with his face turned to right, sitting on a chair and holding a sword.
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a6058a463770edfa42220f626f83834b.pdf
99e5e193bf8e7bb53ad0134b377142af
PDF Text
Text
5^XXX>C>C>0<>C<::<>C-C^>C>c>0'0<>:
NARRATIVE
OF T H E
BATTLES
DRUMCLOG,
BOTHWELL
BRIDGE.
GLASGOW
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS,
�q
aviti
g
" •
S W d T T h a jf H T
t
r iQ
O O J WIIJJiG
OV»
•
- . B e a u z s
j : : r w H T o a
71T
i
J
6
§
.mi
m
•
*'
l'v*
ki
' -
T -
-
£
I
•
<*? . • v.:
5l * i ^ ^
{j
v
2
k
-V
." :
>T
f V
•
•WO.KAJO
• i -
;
'
iiri
«
Kim
>GOC<X>00QQa90C*X
%I
- f
�THK
BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG.
••
thfe following Account of the Battles of Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge, is taken from an American Newspaper, entitled
the 4 National Gazette.' It is written by the Laird of Torfoot, an officer in the Presbyterian army, whose estate is at
this day in the possession of his lineal descendants of the fifth
generafkm.
" It was a fair Sabbath morning, 1st Jane 1679,
that an assembly of the Covenanters sat down on the
heathy mountains of Drumclog.
W e had assembled
not to fight, but to worship the God of our fathers.
W e were far from the tumult of cities.—The long dark
heath waved around us; and we disturbed no living
creatures, saving the pees-weep and the heather-cock.
As usual, we had come armed. I t was for self-defence.
For desperate and ferocious bands made bloody raids
through the country, and, pretending to put down
treason, they waged war against religion and morals.
They spread ruin and havoc over the face of bleeding
Scotland.
The venerable Douglas had commenced the solemnities
of the day. He was expatiating on the execrable evils
of tyranny. Our souls were on fire at the rememberance of our country's sufferings and the wrongs of the
church. In this moment of intense feeling, our watchman posted on the neighbouring heights fired his carabine and ran towards the congregation. He announced
the approach of the enemy. W e raised our eyes to the
minister,
" I have done," said Douglas with his usual
firmness-~You
have got the theory,—now for the
�4
practice; you know your duty; self-defence is always
lawful. But the enemy approaches," He raised his eyes
to heaven and uttered a prayer—brief and emphatic—
like the prayer of Richard Cameron, " Lord, spare the
green, and take the ripe."
The officers collected their mm, and placed themselves each at the head of those of his own district. Sit
Robert Hamilton placed the foot in the centre, in three
ranks. A company of horse, well armed and mounted,
was placed on the left; and a small sqnadron also on the
left. These were drawn back, and they occupied the
more solid ground; as well with a view to have a more
solid footing, as to arrest any flanking party that might
take them on the wings. A deep morass lay between
us and the ground of the enemy. Our aged men, our
females and children retired ; but they retired slowly4
They had the hearts and the courage of the female and
children in those days of intense religious feeling and of
suffering. They manefested more concern for the fate
of relatives, for the fate of the church than for their own
personal safety. As Claverhouse descended the opposite
mountain, they retired to the rising ground in the rear
of our host. The aged men walked with their bonnets
in hand. Their long grey hairs waving to the breeze.
They sang a cheering psalm. The music was that of
the well-known tune of " The Martyrs
and the sentiment breathed defiance.—The music floated down on
the wind,—our men gave them three cheers as they
fell into their ranks. Never did I witness such animation in the looks of men. For me, my spouse and my
little children were in the rear. M y native plains, and
the W i s of my father, far below, in the deal of Aven,
were in full view from the heights which we occupied.
M y country seemed to raise her voice—the bleeding
church seemed to wail aloud. * And these,' I said, as
Clavers and his troops winded slowly down the dark
mountain's side, ' these are the unworthy slaves, and
bloody executioners, by which the tyrant completes our
miseries,'
�5
Hamilton here displayed the hero. His portly figure
was seen hastening from rank to rank. He inspiied
courage into our raw and undisciplined troops.
The
brave Hacks tone, and Hall of Haughhead, stood at the
head of the foot, and re-echoed the sentiments of theii
Chief. Burley and Cleland had inflamed the minds of
the horsemen on the left to a noble enthusiasm.
My
small troop on the right needed no exhortation; we
were a band of brothers, resolved to conquer or fall.
The trumpet of Clavers sounded a loud note of defiance
—thekettle drum mixed its tumultuous roll—they halted
—they made a long pause. W e could see an officer
with four file, conducting 15 persons from the ranks, to
a knoll on their left. I could perceive one in black: it
was my friend King, the Chaplain at Lord Cardross,
(Let
who had been taken by Clavers at Hamilton.
them be shot through the head,' said Clavers, in his
usual dry way, ' if they should offer to run away.' W e
could see him view our position with great care. His
officers came around him. W e soon learned that he
wished to treat with us. He never betrayed symptoms
of mercy or of justice, nor offered terms of reconciliation,
unless when he dreaded that he had met his match;
and, even then, it was only a manoeuvre to gain time 01
to deceive. His flag approached the edge of the bog.
Sir Robert held a flag sacred; had it been borne by
Clavers himself he had honoured it. He demanded the
purpose for which he came. ' I come,' said he, ' in
the name of his sacred Majesty, and of Colonel Graham,
to offer you a pardon, on condition that you lay down
your arms, and deliver up your ringleaders.'—' Tell
your officer,' said Sir Robert, ' that we are fully aware
of the deception he practices. He is not clothed with
any powers to treat, nor was he sent out to treat with
us, and attempt reconciliation. The Government against
whom we have risen, refuses to redress our grievances,
or to restore to us our liberties. Had the tyrant wished
to render us justice, he had riot sent by the hand of such
a ferocious assassin as Claverhouse. Let him, however.
�6
show his powers, aud we refuse not to treat; and we
,haU lay down our arms to treat, provided that he also
lay down his. Thou hast my answer.*—' It is a perfectly hopeless case,' said Burley, while he called after
Ihe flag-bearer.—f Let me add one word by your leave,
General. Get thee up to that bloody dragoon, Clavers,
i, ;d tell him, that we will spare his life, and the lives of
iis troops, on condition that he, your Clavers, lay down
ns arms, and the arms of these troops. W e will do
nore, as we have no prisoners on these wild mountains,
vVci will even let him go on his parole, on condition that
swear never to lift arms against the religion and the
''berties of his country. A loud burst of applause re«
echoed from the ranks; and after a long pause in deep
aiience, the army sung the following verses of a psalm:—
The arrows of the bow he brake :
The shield, the sword, the war.
More glorious thou than hills of prey,
More excellent art far.
4
Those that were stout of heart are spoil'a,
They sleep their sleep outright;
And none of these their hands did find,
That were the men of might.
When the report was made to Claverhouse, he gave
word with a savage ferocity, ' Their blood be on their
own heads. Be—no quarter—the word this day.' His
fierce dragoons raised a yell, and 4 N o quarter,' re-echoed
f?om rank to rank, while they galloped down the mountain side.
It is stated, that Burleigh was heard to say,
1 Then be it so, even let there be i no quarter'—at least
in my wing of the host. So God send me a meeting,'
cried he aloud, ' with that chief under the white plume.
— M y country would bless my memory, could my sword
give his villainous carcase to the crows.
Our raw troops beheld with firmness the approach of
the foemen; and at the moment when the enemy halted
to fire, the whole of our foot dropped on the heatb.
�f
Mot a man was seen down when the order was given to
rise, and return the fire. The first flank fired, then
kneeling down while the second fired. They made each
bullet tell. As often as the lazy rolling smoke was
carried over the enemy's head, a shower of bullets fell
on his ranks. Many a gallant man tumbled on the
heath. The fire was incessant. It resembled one blazing sheet of fiame, for several minutes, along the line of
the Covenanters. Clavers attempted to cross the morass,
and break our centre. ' Spearmen I to the front,'—I
could hear the deep-toned voice of Hamilton say, 6 Kneel^
and place your spears to receive the enemy's cavalry;
and you, my gallant fellows lire—God and our country
is our word.'—Our officers flew from rank to rank. Not
a peasant gave way that day. As the smoke rolled off,
we could see Clavers urging 011 his men with the violence
of despair. His troops fell in heaps around him, and
still the gaps were filled up. A galled trooper would
occasionally flinch; but ere he could turn or flee, the
sword of Clavers was waving over his head. I could
bee him in his fury, strike both man and horse. In the
fearful carnage he himself sometimes reeled. He would
stop short in the midst of a movement, then contradict
his own orders, and strike the man, because he could
not comprehend his meaning.
He orueied the flanking parties to take us on our
right and left. " In the name of G o d , " cried he,
4 ' cross the bog, and charge them on the flanks till W€
get over the morass. If this fail we are lost."
It now fell to my lot to come into action.—HitherU
we had fired only some distant shot. A gallant officer led
his band down to the borders of the swamp, in search
of a proper place to cross. W e threw ourselves before
him, a severe firing commenced. M y gallant men fired
with great steadiness. W e could see many tumbling
from their saddles. Not content with repelling the foemen, we found an opportunity to cross, and attack thtiu
sword in hand. The Captain, whose name I afteiwards
ascertained tp be Arrol, threw himself into my path. l e
�8
the first shock, 1 discharged my pistols. His 6udden
start in the saddle, told me that one of them had taken
effect. With one of the tremendous oaths of Charles
I I . he closed with me. He fired his steel pistol. I was
in front of him ; — m y sword glanced on the weapon, and
gave a direction to the bullet, which saved my life. By
this time my men had driven the enemy before them,
and had left the ground clear for the single combat. As
he made a lounge at my breast, I turned his sword
aside, by one of those sweeping blows, which are rather
the dictate of a kind of instinct of self-defence, than a
movement of art.—As our strokes redoubled, my antagonist's dark features put on a look of deep and settled
ferocity. N o man who has not encountered the steel
of his enemy, in the field of battle, can conceive the
looks and the manner of the warrior, in the moments of
his intense feelings. May I never witness them again !
W e fought in silence. M y stroke fell on his left shoulder;
it cut the belt of his carabine, which fell to the ground.
His blow cut me to the rib, glanced along the bone, and
"id me also of the weight of my carabine. He had now
advanced too near me to be struck with the sword.
I
grasped him by the collar.
I pushed him backwards ;
and, with an entangled blow of my Ferrara, I struck him
across his throat.
It cut only the strap of his headpiece, and it fell off. With a sudden spring, lie seized
me by the sword belt. Our horses reared, and we both
came to the ground. W e rolled on the heath in deadly
conflict. It was in this situation of matters, that my
brave fellows had returned from the rout of the flanking
party, to look after their commander. One of them was
actually rushing on my antagonist, when I called on him
to retire. W e started to our feet. Each grasped his
sword. W e closed in conflict again. After parrying
strokes of mine enemy, which indicated a hellish ferocity*
I told him, my object was to take him prisoner ; that
sooner than kill him, I should order ipy men to seize him.
Sooner let my soul be brandered on my ribs in hell,"
sflid he, " than be captured by a Whiginore. ' No
�9
quarter' Is the word of my Colonel, and my woid.
h a v e at the W h i g — I dare the whole of you to the
c o m b a t . " — " Leave the mad man to me—leave the
field instantly," said I to my party, whom I could
hardly restrain. M y sword fell on his left shoulder.—
His sword dropped from his hand.—I lowered my sword,
and offered him his life. i No quarter,' said he, with
a shriek of despair. He snatched his sword, which I
held in my hand, and made a lounge at my breast.
I
parried his blows till he was nearly exhausted ; but,
gathering up his huge limbs, he put forth all his energy
in a thrust at my heart.—My Andro Ferrara received
it, so as to weaken its deadly force ; but it made a deep
cut. Though I was faint with loss of blood, I left him
no time for another blow. M y sword glanced on his
shoulder, cut through his buff coat, and skin, and flesh ;
swept through his jaw, and laid open his throat from
ear to ear. The fire of his ferocious eye was quenched
in a moment. He reeled, and falling with a terrible
clash, he poure! out his soul with a torrent of blood on
the heath.
I sunk down, insensible for a moment.
M y faithful men, who never lost sight of me, raised me
up. In the fierce combat, the soldier suffers most from
thirst. I stooped down to fill my helmet with the
water which oozed through the morass. It was deeply
tinged with human blood, which flowed in the conflict
above me. I started back with horror; and Gawn
Witherspoon bringing up my steed, we set forward in
the tumult of the battle.
All this while, the storm of war had raged on our
left. Cleland and the fierce Burley had charged the
strong company sent to flank them. These officers permitted me to cross the swamp, then, charged them
with a terrible shout. ' No quarter,' cried the dragoons.
Be no quarter to you, then, ye murderous loons,' cried
Burley ; and at one blow he cut their leader through
the steel cap, and scattered his brains on his followers.
His every blow overthrew a foeman. Their whole forces
were now brought up, and they drove the dragoons of
�10
CkTers into the swamp. They rolled over each other.
All stuck fast. The Covenanters dismounted, and fought
on foot. They left not one man to bear the tidings to
their Colonel.
The firing of the platoons had long ago ceased, and
the dreadfid work of death was carried on by the sword.
A t this moment, a trumpet was heard in the rear of our
army. There was an awful pause, all looked up.
It
was only the gallant Captain Nesbit, and his guide,
YVoodburn of Mains ; he had no reinforcements for us,
but himself was a host. With a loud huzza, and flourish
of his sword, he placed himself by the side of Burley,
and cried, 'jump the ditch, and charge the enemy'.
He and Burley struggled through the marsh. The men
followed as they could, They formed and marched on
the enemy's right flank.
A t this instant, Hamilton and Hackstone brought
forward the whole line of infantry in front. ' God and
our Country' re-echoed from all the ranks—' No quarters' said the fierce squadrons of Clavers—Here commenced a bloody scene.
I seized the opportunity this moment offered to me of
making a movement to the left of the enemy to save my
friend King and the other prisoners.—We came in time
to save tiiem. Our sword speedily severed the ropes
which tyranny had bound on the arms of the men. The
weapons of the fallen foe supplied what was lacking of
arms ; and with great vigour we moved forward to
charge the enemy on the lef t flank. Claverhouse formed
a hollow square—himself in the centre ; his men fought
gallantly ; they did all that soldiers could do in their
situation. Wherever a gap was made, Clavers thrust
the men forward, and speedily filled it up. Three times
he rolled headlong on the heath as he hastened from
rank to rank, and as oftei 1
'
band thinned his ranks.
distinctly saw the features and shape of this far-famed
man. He was small of stature, and not well formed.
His ajipprWOT *9ng in proportion to his legs ; h* had a
�11
complexion unusually dark ; his features were not lighted
up with sprightliness, as some fabulously reported ; they
geemed gloomy as hell: his cheeks were lank and deeply
furrowed ; his eye-brows were drawn down and gatherer!
into a kind of knot at their junctions, and thrown up at
their extremeties ; they had, in short, the strong expression given by our painters to those on the face ol
Judas Iscariot, his eyes were hollow, they had not the
lustre of genius nor the fire of vivacity ; they were
lighted up by that dark fire of wrath which is kindled
and fanned by an internal anxiety, and conciousness of
criminal deeds ; his irregular and large teeth were pre
sented through a smile, which was very unnatural 011
his set of features ; his mouth seemed to be unusually
large from the extremeties being drawn backward and
downward—as if in the intense application to something
cruel and disgusting ; in short, his upper teeth projected
over his under lip, and on the whole, presented to my
view the mouth on the image of the Emperor Julian the
Apostate.—In one of his rapid courses past us, my
sword could only shear off his white plumb and a fragment of his buff coat. In a moment he was at the othei
side of the square. Our officers eagerly sought a meeting with him. ' He has the proof of lead,' cried some
of our mei^ — ' Take the cold steel or a piece of silvwr.*
' N o , ' cried Burley, ' It is his rapid movement on that
fine charger that bids defiance to any thing like an r.iiii
in the tumult of the bloody fray. I could sooner shoot
ten heather cocks on the wing, than one flying Clavers.'
A t that moment Burley, whose eye watched his antagonist, pushed into the hollow square. But Burley was
too impatient. His blow wras levelled at him before he
came within its reach. His heavy sword descended on
the head of Clavers' horse and felled him to the ground.
—Burley's men rushed pell-mell on the fallen Clave*
but his faithful dragoons threw themselves upon thei/i,
and by their overpowering force drove Burley back.
Clavers was in an instant on a fresh steed. His buglenan recalled the party who were driving back the flank-
�12
ing party of Burley. He collected his whole troops to
make his last and desperate attack- -He charged our
infantry with such force, that they began to reel.
It
was only for a moment. The gallant Hamilton snatched
the white flag of the Covenant, and placed himself in
tfie fore front of the battle. Our men shouted ' God
end our countryand
rallied under the flag. They
fought like heroes. Clavers fought no less bravely.
His blows were aimed at our officers. His steel fell on
the helmet of Hackstone, whose sword was entangled
in the body of a fierce dragoon, who had just wounded
him. He wTas born by his men into the rear. I
directed my men on Clavers. ' Victory or death,'
was their reply to me. Clavers received us.
He
stiuck a desperate blow at me as he raised himself,
with all his force, in the saddle. M y steel cap resisted
it. The second stroke I received on my Ferrara and
bis steel was shivered to pieces. W e rushed headlong
on each other. His pistol missed fire—it had been
soaked in blood. Mine took effect. But the wound
was not deadly. Our horses reared. W e rolled on the
ground.
In vain we sought to grasp each other. In
the tiiclcy men and horse tumbled on us. W e were for
a few moments buried under our men, whose eagerness
to save the respective officers brought them in multitudes
down upon us. By the aid of my faithful man Gawn,
I had extricated myself from my fallen horse ; and we
were rushing on the bloody Clavers, when we were
again literally buried under a mass of men ; for Hamilton had by this time brought up his whole line, and he
hnd planted his standard where we and Clavers were
rolling on the heath. Our men gave three cheers and
h ove in the troops of Clavers. Here I was born along
with the moving mass of men ; and, almost suffocated
and faint with the loss of blood, I knew nothing more
till I opened my eye 011 my faithful attendant. H e had
dragged me from the very grasp of the enemy, and had
borne me into the rear, and was bathing my temples
with water.
We speedily regained our friends ; and
�13
what a spectacle presented itself!—It seemed that I
beheld an immense moving mass heaped up togetiter in
the greatest confusion.—Some shrieking, some groaning,
some shouted, horses neighed and pranced, swords rung
on the steel helmets. I placed around me a few of my
hardy men, and we rushed into the thickest of the enemy in search of Clavers, but it was in vain. A t that
instant, his trumpet sounded the loud notes of retreat;
and we saw on a knoll Clavers borne away by his men.
H e threw himself on a horse, and without sword, without helmet, he fled in the first ranks of their retreating
host. His troops galloped up the hill in the utmost
confusion. M y little line closed with that of Burleys,
and took a number of prisoners. Our main body pursued the enemy two miles, and strewed the ground with
men and horses. I could see the bare-headed Clavers
in front of his men, kicking and struggling up the steep
sides of Calder hill. He halted only a moment on the
top to look behind him, then plunged his rowels into his
horse, and darted forward ; nor did he recover from his
panic till he found himself in the city of Glasgow.
' And, my children,' the Laird would say, after he
had told the adventures of this bloody day, 6 1 visited
the field of battle next day ; I shall never forget the
sight. Men and horses lay in their gory beds. I turned
away from the horrible spectacle. I passed by the spot
where God saved my life in the single combat, and
where the unhappy Captain Arrol fell, I observed that,
in the subsequent fray, the body had been trampled on
by a horse, and his bowels were poured out. Thus, my
children, the defence of our lives, and the regaining oi
our liberty and religion, has subjected us to severe trials.
Arid how great must be the love of liberty, when it
carries men forward, under the impulse of self-defence,
to witness the most disgusting spectacles, and to encounter the most cruel hardships of war 1'
�14
i A T T L E OF B O T H W E L L
BRIDGE.
* Hca! Tlctojacet pietas."
* * * After the ranks of the patriotic Whigs were
broken by overwhelming forces, and while Dalzell and
Clavers swept the south and wTest of Scotland like the
blast of the desert, breathing pestilence and death—the
individual wanderers betook themselves to the caves and
fastnesses of their rugged country. This was their
situation chiefly from A . D . 1680, to the Revolution.
The Laird spent his days in seclusion ; but still he fearlessly attended the weekly assemblies in the fields, for
the worship of Almighty God. What had he to fear ?
— H i s estate had been confiscated. His wife arid babes
stript by the life guards of the last remnant of earthly
comfort which they could take away; and himself
doomed as an outlaw, to be executed by the military
assassins when taken. He became reckless of the
world.
' I have lived,' said he in anguish, ( t o see a Prince,
twice of his own choice, take the oath of the covenants
to support religion, and the fundamental laws of the
land. I have lived to see that Prince turn traitor to
his country, and, wTith unblushing impiety order these
Covenants to be burned by the hands of the executioner.
I have seen him subvert the liberty of my country, both
civil and religious.—I have seen him erect a bloody inquisition. The priest imposed on us by tyranny, instead
of wooing us over by the loveliness of religion, have
thrown off the bowels of mercy. They occupy seats in
the bloody Council. They stimulate the cruelties of
Lauderdale, M'Kenzie and York. Their hands are
dipt in blood to the wrests. This Council will not permit us to live in peace,
Our property they confiscate.
�15
Our houses they convert into barracks.
They drag
free men into chains. They bring no witnesses of our
guilt.—They invent new tortures to convert us. They
employ the thumb-screws and bootkins. If we are silent they condemn us. If we confess our Christian
creed, they doom us to the gibbet. Not only our sentence, but the manner of our execution is fixed before
our trial. Clavers is our judge ; his dragoons are our
executioners ; and these savages do still continue to
employ even the sagacity of blood hounds to hunt us
d o w n . — M y soul turns away from these loathsome
spectacles*
A t this moment his brother John entered, with looks
which betrayed unusual anxiety.
* M y brother,' said
he, ' a trooper advances at full speed, and he is followed
iby a dark column. W e have not even time to fly.—
The mind of the laird like those of the rest of the wanJere is, always brightened up at the approach of danger.
' L e t us reconnoiter,' said he, ' w h a t do I see, but one
trooper. And that motely crowd is but a rabble—not
a troop. That trooper is not of Clavers' band ; nor
does he belong to Douglas—nor to Ingles—nor to
St radian's dragoons. He waves a small flag. I can
discover the scarlet and blue colour of the Covenanters
flag Ha ! welcome you, John Howie of Lochgoin—
But what news ?—Lives our country ? Lives the good
old cause P—* Glorious news,' exclaimed Howie,
' Scotland for ever ! She is free. The tyrant James
has abdicated. The Stuarts are banished by an indignant nation, Orange triumphs, our wounds are binding
up.—Huzza! Scotland, and King William and the
Covenant for ever !
The Laird made no reply. He laid his steel cap on
the ground, and threw himself on his knees; he uttered
a brief prayer, in which this was the close : 6 M y bleeding country, and thy wailing kirk, and my brethren ii
the furnace, have come in remembrance before thee.
For ever lauded be thy name.'—Hasten to the meeting
at Lesmahagow, Our friends behind me, you see, hare
�16
already set o u t / said Howie. And he set out with enthusiastic ardour to spread the news.
6 These news,' said the Laird, after along pause while
his eyes followed the courser over the plains of Aven—
' these news are to me as life from the dead. I have
a mind to meet my old friends at Lesmahagow.
And
then, when serious business is despatched, we can take
Both well field in our return. It will yield me at least
a melancholy pleasure to visit the spot where we
fought, I trust, our last battle against the enemies of
our country, and of the good old cause.
Serious matters of church and state having been discussed at the public meeting, the brothers found themselves, on the fourth day, on the battle ground of Bothwell.
' On that moor,' said the Laird, after a long silence
•—and without being conscious of it, he had, by a kind
of instinct, natural enough to a soldier, drawTn his
sword, and was pointing with i t — ' On that moor the
enemy first formed under Monmouth.
There, on the
right, Clavers led on the life-guards, breathing fury,
and resolute to wipe off the disgrace of the affair of
Drumclog. Dalzell formed his men on that knoll. Lord
Livingstone led the van of the foeinen. W e had taken
care to have Bothwell Bridge strongly secured by a
barricade, and our little battery of cannon was planted
on the spot below us, in order to sweep the bridge. And
we did rake it
The foemen's blood streamed there.
Again and pgain the troops of the tyrant marched on,
and our cannon annihilated their columns. Sir Robert
Hamilton was our Commander-in-Chief.—The gallant
general Hackston stood on that spot with his brave
men. Along the river, and above the bridge, Burley's
foot and captain Nisbet's dragoons were stationed. For
one hour we kept the enemy in check ; they were defeated in every attempt to cross the Clyde. Livingstone
sent another strong column to storm the bridge. I shall
never forget the effect of one fire from our battery, whers
my men stood. W e saw the line of the foe advance in
�1?
all the military glory of brave and beautiful men, the
horses pranced—the armour gleamed. In one moment
nothing was seen but a shocking mass of mortality.
Human limbs, and the bodies and limbs of horses were
mingled in one huge heap, or blown to a great distance.
Another column attempted to cross above the bridge.
Some threw themselves into the current. One welldirected fire from Burley's troops threw them into disorder, and drove them back. Meantime, while we
were thus warmly engaged, Hamilton was labouring to
bring down the different divisions of our main body into
action; but in vain he called on Colonel Cleland's troop
—in vain he ordered Henderson's to fall in—in vain he
called on Colonel Fleming's. Hackstone flew from troop
to troop—all was confusion ; in vain he besought, he
intreated, he threatened. Our disputes and fiery misguided zeal, my brother, contracted a deep and deadly
guilt that day. The Whig turned his arm in fierce
heat that day against his own vitals. Our Chaplains,
Cargil and King, and Kid> and Douglas, interposed
again and again, Cargil mounted the pulpit; he preached
concord ; he called aloud for mutual forbearance. ' Behold the banners of the enemy,' cried he, 6 hear ye not
the fire of the foe, and of our brethren?
Our brothers
and fathers are fallen beneath their sword. Hasten to
their aid. See the flag of the Covenant. See the
motto in letters of gold—' Christ's Crown and the Covenant.' Hear the wailings of the bleeding Kirk.
Banish discord. And let us, as a band of brothers present a bold front to the foeman—Follow me all ye who
love your country and the Covenant.
I go to die in
the fore-front of the battle. All the ministers and
officers followed him, amidst a flourish of trumpets ; but
the great body remained to listen to the harangues of
the factious.—We sent again and again for ammunition.
M y men were at the last round. Treachery, or a
fatal error, had sent a barrel of raisins instead of powder. M y heart sunk within me while I beheld the
despair on the faces of my brave fellows, as I struck
�18
out the head of the vessel. Hackstone called his officers to him. W e threw ourselves around him.— i What
must be done ? ' said he in an agony of despair. i Conquer or die,' we said, as if with one voice. ' W e have
our swords yet. Lead back the men to their places
and let the ensign bear down the blue and scarlet colours. Our God and our country be the word.* Hackstone rushed forward. W e ran to our respective corps
— w e cheered our men but they were languid and disspirited. Their ammunition was nearly expended, and
they seemed anxious to husband what remained. They
fought only with their carabines. The cannons could
no more be loaded. The enemy soon perceived this.
W e saw a troop of horse approach the bridge. It was
that of the life-guards. I recognised the plumb of
Clavers. They approached in rapid march. A solid
column of infantry followed. I sent a request to Caplain Nesbit to join his troop to mine. He was in
an instant with m e . — W e charged the life-guards.
Our swords rung on their steel caps. — Many of our
brave lads fell on all sides of me. But we hewed down
the foe. They began to reel.—The whole column was
kept stationary on the bridge.
Clavers* dreadful voice
was heard—more like the yell of a savage, than the
commanding voice of a soldier.
He pushed forward his
men, and again we hewed them down. A third mass
was pushed up. Our exhausted dragoon fled.—Unsupported, I found myself by the brave Nesbit, and
Pat on, and Hackstone. W e looked for a moment's
space in silence on each other. W e galloped in front
of our retreating men. W e rallied them. W e pointed
to the General almost alone. W e pointed to the white
and to the scarlet colours floating near him. W e cried,
:t God and our Country. They faced about. W e charged
Clavers once more.—* Torfoot,' cried Nesbit, 6 1 dare
you to the fore-front of the battle.' W e rushed up at full
gallop. Our men seeing this followed also at full speed.
— W e broke down the enemy's line, bearing down those
Sles which we encountered. W e cut our way through
�19
tliebr ranks. But they had now lengthened their frost*
Superior numbers drove us in. They had gained entira
possession of the bridge. Livingstone and Dalzell were
actually taking us on the flank.—A band had got between us and Burley's infantry. ' M y friends,' said
Hackstone to his officers, we are last on the field. We
can do no more.—We must retreat.—Let us attempt,
at least, to bring aid to the deluded men behind us.
They have brought ruin on themselves and on us. Not
Monmouth, but our own divisions have scattered us.
A t this moment one of the life-guards aimed a blow
at Hackstone—My sword received it—and a stroke
from Ne^bit laid the foeman's hand and sword in the
dust. He fainted and tumbled from the saddle.
We
reined our horses, and galloped to our main body. But
what a scene presented itself here ! These misguided
men had their eyes now fully opened on their fatal
errors. The enemy were bringing up their whole force
against them. I was not long a near spectator of i t ;
for a ball grazed my courser. He plunged and reared
--then shot off like an arrow. Several of our officers
drew to the same place. On the knoll we faced about
—the battle raged below us. W e beheld our commander doing every thing that a brave soldier could do
with factious men against an overpowering foe.
Burley and his troops were in close conflict with Clavers*
dragoons. W e saw him dismount three troopers with
his own hand. He could not turn the tide of battle,
but he was covering the retreat of these misguided men.
Before we could rejoin him, a party threw themselves
in our way. Kennoway, one of Clavers' officers led
them on. c Would to God that this was Graharrie himself,' some of my comrades ejaculated aloud. 6 He falls
to my share,' said I , ' whoever the officer b e . ' — I advanced—he met me, I parried several thrusts, he received a cut on the left arm; and the sword by the
tame stroke, shore off one of his horse's ears ; it plunged
and reared. W e closed again. I received a stroke on
the left shoulder. M y blow fell on his sword arm. He
�20
reined his horse around, retreated a few paces, then returned at full gallop. M y courser reared instinctively
as he approached ; I received his stroke on the back of
my ferrara, and by a back stroke, I gave hirn a deep
cut on the cheek. And before he could recover a position of defence, my sword fell with a terrible blow on
his steel cap. Stunned by the blow, he bent himself
forward—and, grasping the mane, he tumbled from his
saddle, and his steed galloped over the field. I did not
repeat the blow. His left hand presented his sword ;
his right arm was disabled ; his life was given to him.
M y companions having disposed of their antagonists,
(and some of them had two a-piece,) we paused to see
the fate of the battle. Dalzell and Livingstone were
riding over the field like furies, cutting down all in their
way. Monmouth was galloping from rank to rank, and
calling on his men to give quarter. Clavers, to wipe
off the disgrace of Drumclog, was committing dreadful
havoc. * Can we not find Clavers,' said Halhead,
' no said Captain Paton, c the gallant Colonel takes care
to have a solid guard of his rogues about him. I have
sought him over the field; but I found him, as I now
perceive him, with a mass of his guards about him. •
A t this instant we saw our General, at some distance,
disentangling himself from the men who had tumbled
over him in the mele. His face, his hands, and clothes,
were covered with gore. He had been dismounted, and
was fighting on foot. W e rushed to the spot, and
cheered him. Our party drove back the scattered bands
of Dalzell. ' M y friends,' said Sir Robert, as we
mounted him on a stray horse, ( t h e day is lost!
But
—you Paton ; you Brownlee of Torfoot, and you Halhead ; let not that flag fall into the hands of these incarnate devils. W e have lost the battle, but by the
grace of God, neither Dalzell, nor Clavers shall say that
he took our colours. M y ensign has done his duty. He
is down. This sword has saved it twice. I leave it
to your care.
You see its perilous situation.'
He
pointed with his sword to the spot.
W e collected
�21
some of our scattered troops, and flew to the place. The
standard bearer was down, but he was born upright by
the mass of men who had thrown themselves in fierce
contest around it. Its well known blue and scarlet colours, and its m o t t o , * CHRIST'S CROWN AND COVENANT/
in brilliant gold letters, inspired us with a sacred enthusiasm. W e gave a loud cheer to the wounded ensign,
and rushed into the combat. The redemption of that
flag cost the foe many a gallant man. They fell beneath our broad swords ; and, with horrible execrations
dying on their lips, they gave up their souls to their
Judge.
Here I met in front that ferocious dragoon of Clavers,
named Tam Halliday, who had more than once, in his
raids, plundered my halls ; and had snatched the bread
from my weeping babes. He had just seized the white
staff of the flag. But his tremenduous oath of exultation, (we of the covenant never swear)—his oath had
scarcely passed its polluted threshold, when this Andrew
Ferrara fell on the guard of his steel and shivered it to
pieces. ' Recreant loon !' said I , ' thou shalt this day
remember thy evil deeds.' Another blow on his helmet
laid him at his huge length, and made him bite the dust.
In the mele that followed, I lost sight of him.
We
fought like lions—but with the hearts of Christians.
While my gallant companions stemmed the tide of battle, the standard, rent to tatters, fell across my breast.
I tore it from the staff, and wrapt it round my body.
W e cut our way through the enemy, and carried our
General off the field.
Having gained a small knoll, we beheld once more
the dreadful spectacle below. Thick volumes of smoke
and dust rolled in a hazy cloud over the dark bands
mingled in deadly fray. It was no longer a battle, but a
massacre. In the struggle of my feelings I turned my
eyes on the General and Paton.
I saw, in the face of
the latter, an indiscribable conflict of passions. His long
and shaggy eye-brows were drawn over his eyes. His
hand grasped his sword. ' I cannot yet leave the field
�22
mid the undaunted Pa ton—' With the General* fNtf <
*
masion, I shall try to save some of our wretched m$o
beset by those hell-hounds. W h o will go P — A t Kilsyth I saw service. When deserted by my troops, I
cut my way through Montrose's men, and reached the
epot where Colonels Halket and Strachan were. W e left
the field together. Fifteen dragoons attacked us. W e
cut down thirteen, and two fled. Thiiteen next assailed
us. W e left ten on the field, and three fled. Eleven
Highlanders next met us. W e paused and cheered each
other: ' N o w , Johnny/ cried Halket to me, ' put
forth your metal, else we are gone,' nine others we sent
after their comrades, and two
fled
N o w , who will
join this raid J'* ' I will be your leader,' said Sir Robert, as we fell into the ranks.
W e marched on the enemy's flank. ' Yonder is
Clavers,' said Paton, while he directed his courser on
him. The bloody man was, at that moment, nearly
alone, hacking to pieces some poor fellows already on
their knees disarmed, and imploring hiin by the common
feelings of humanity to spare their lives. He had just
finished his usual oath against their * feelings of humanity,' when Paton presented himself. He instantly let
go his prey and slunk back into the midst of his troopers. Having formed them, he advanced.—We formed,
and made a furious onset. A t our first charge his troop
reeled. Clavers was dismounted.—But at that moment Dalzell assailed us on the flank and rear.—Our
men fell around us like grass before the mower.
The
buglemen sounded a retreat. Once more in the mele
I fell in with the General and Paton, we were covered
with wounds. W e directed our flight in the rear of
our broken troops. By the direction of the General I
* This chivalrous defence is recorded, I find, in the life of
Captain Paton, in the 4 Scots Wcrthies,' Edin. edit, of A . D.
1813.
This celebrated Officer was trained up to warfare in the
army of Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden.
This is a specimen of these heroic Whigs, who brought about the Revolution
of A. D. 1688.
�93
had unfurled the standard. It was born off the fie
flying at the sword's point.
But that honour cost wot
much. I was assailed by three fierce dragoons; five
followed close in the rear. I called to Pa ton,—in a
moment he was by my side. I threw the standard to
the General, and we rushed on the foe. They fell beneath our swords ; but my faithful steed, which had
carried me through all my dangers was mortally wounded. He fell. I was thrown in among the fallen enemy. I fainted. I opened my eyes on misery. I found
myself in the presence of Monmouth—a prisoner—with
other wretched creatures, awaiting, in awful suspense,
their ultimate destiny. * * * *
W . C. B.
LONG
CREDIT.
Soon after the battle of Preston, two Highlanders,
in roaming through the south of Mid-Lothian, entered
the farm-house of Swanston, near the Pentland Hills,
where they found no one at home but an old woman.
They immediately proceeded to search the house, anr
soon finding a web of coarse home-spun cloth, made I
M
scruple to unroll and cut off as much as they though*
would make a coat to each. The woman was exceedingly incenced at their rapacity, roared and cried, anc
even had the hardihood to invoke divine vengeance upon
their heads. " Ye villains ! " she cried, " ye'11 ha'e to
account for this y e t ! " — 4 4 And when will we pe account for't?" asked one of the Highlanders.—" A t the
1; st day, ye blackguards ! " exclaimed the woman.
' Ta last tay !" replied the Highlander: « Tat pc
cood long credit—we'll e'en pe tak a waistcoat too ! "
at the same time cutting off a few additional yards of
the cloth.
D E A T H OF A
WATCH.
After the battle of Falkirk, in 1746, a Highlandman
was observed extracting a gold watch from the fob at
�24
an English officer who had been killed. His comrade
viewed him with a greedy eye ; which the man taking
notice of, said to him " T a m n you gapin1 creedy bitch,
gang an* shoot a shentleman for hersel', an no en vie
me o' my pit watch. Next morning finding his watch
motionless, and meeting his comrade, says to him,
€< Och ! she no be care muckle about a watch, an' you
be like mine what will you gie me for her ? " The othe*
replied, I be venture a kinny."—Weel then,*' said the
other, " Shust tak her, an' welcome, for she be die
yester night."
CAPTAIN
SILK.
In a party of ladies, on it being reported that a Captain Silk had arrived in town, they exclaimed, with one
exception, ' What a name for a soldier !' ' The fittest
Barne in the world,' replied a witty female, ' for Silk
•ever can be Worsted
#
\
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 028: Title-page illustration of a soldier with his face turned to the right, sitting on a chair and holding a sword.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Narrative of the Battles of Drumclog, and Bothwell Bridge.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228163505154">s0585b33</a>
Description
An account of the resource
1 printed at the foot of the title page
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850?
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Brownlee, Thomas, Laird of Torfoot
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
history
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
War
Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679
Drumclog, Battle of, Scotland, 1679
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook genre: history
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): military
Furniture: bench(s)
Gender: man/men
Occupation: soldier
Weapons: sword
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/37612a07cf6f7236810b0f4742f97443.jpg
fa8a33e42102afe71bd8251c4cbf12f9
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying a bull charging a man on rocky terrain
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/675f04f5a6d5dadd02d401394f2dd5c0.pdf
2c78690376c26d798f2bbefa6419abae
PDF Text
Text
STORYS OF
THE
THREE
BEGGARS
SOLDIER'S WIFE,
AND
JACK EASY,
GLASGOW
PRINTED FOR TIIE BOOKSELLERS,
��THE THREE
BEGGARS.
THREE blind beggars were on their way from
Cornpiegne, to seek alms in the neighbourhood. They kept the high road to Seal is,
and walked at a great pace, each holding a
cup and stick in his hand. A young
ecclesiastic, well mounted, who was riding
towards Compiegne, and attended by a valet
on horseback, was struck at a distance with
their steady and rappid strides.
" Those fellows," said he, " for men who
appear blind, make very firm steps; PJ1 endeavour to find them out, and see if they are
not impostors."
Accordingly, as he came near them, and
as the beggars, hearing the trampling of the
horses' feet, had ranged themselves in a line
to ask for charity, he called to them, and
pretending to give them some money, but in
reality giving them nothing, said :—
66
There is a besant; it is intended for
you all three; and you will divide it between
you."
" Yes, your reverence; and may God
bless you in return for it!"
Although no one of them received the
�4
money? yet each was confident his comrade
had got it. Thus, after many thanks and
good wishes to the horseman, they resumed
their march, full of spirits; but at the same
dme slackening their pace.
The churchman feigned also to proceed
on his journey: but at some distance he
alighted, and delivering his horse to the care
of his valet, directed him to wait his arrival
at the gates of Compiegne : he then gently
approached the beggars, and followed them,
10 watch the issue of the adventure.
When they 110 longer heard the noise of
horses, the leader of this little band halted.
" Comrades," said he, " we have made a
good day's work ; and I think we had best
return to Compiegne, and spend the money
this good christian hath given us. It is a
long time since we have had a carousal:
and now we have enough to enjoy ourselves
completely, let us think of nothing but pleasure.
On their arrival in town, they heard aery
of u Good wine!—wine of Soisons!—wine
of Auxerre !—lish and good fare! Walkin gentlemen ; pray walk in."
They would not go any farther, but enter' d the first house; and after having cautioned
the people not tojudge of their means by their
outward appearance, (in the tone of men who
derive confidence from the weight of their
�5
purse) they desired that they might be served
quickly and well.
Nicholas (for that was the name of the
landlord) being used sometimes to see persons
of their vocation spend more than such as
appear to be much more in affluent circumstances, received them respectfully.
He
showed them into his best dining-room;
begged they would be seated, and order what
they liked best; assuring them that there
was nothing in Compiegne but what he could
set before them, and in a style that would
give them perfect satisfaction.
They desired that plenty of good tilings
mi^ht be got ready; and, instantly, master,
waiter, maid, all in the house set about it.
A neighbour was even sent for to assist.
At length, by virtue of several hands and
good speed, they contrived to serve up a
good dinner of live dishes; and immediately
the beggars sat down to it, laughing, singing, drinking to each other, and diverting
themselves with clumsy jokes on the simple
traveller who was at the expence of the
feast.
He had followed them with his valet to
the inn, and was within hearing of the merriment.— He even resolved, that he might
not lose any part of it, to dine and sup in a
snug manner with the landlord. The beggars all this while occupied the best room,
�,:nd were waited on like noblemen. Their
mirth was thus prolonged till the night was
pretty far advanced, when, to make a suitable close to so jovial a day, they each called
ft/r a bed, and went to rest.
The next morning the landlord, who
wanted to get rid of them, sent his servant
to call them up. When they were come
down stairs, he made out their bill, which
amounted to ten pence.
That was the
moment the mischievous churchman so impatiently expected. To enjoy the transaction more at his ease, he came and posted
himself in a corner of the room, but without
showing himself, least his presence might be
a restraint on the guests.
u
Master," says the blind men to the landlord, ' ' we have a besant; take your account,
and give us our change."
He holds out his hand to receive it; and,
ns no one offers it him, he asks them again,
when each says, " It is not I."
The landlord then gets into a passion.—
u
So, gentlemen vagrants, you think I am
to serve here as a butt for your diversion.
Be so good as to end all this mockery, and
pay me immediately my ten-pence, otherwise
I'll give you all three a drubbing."
1 hey then began to enquire of each other
for the piece of money—to suspect each
other's honesty—to call names—to quarrel;
�7
ti!l at length such an uproar and confusion
ensued, that the landlord, after giving each
of them a box on the ear, called his servant
to come down with two good sticks.
The ecclesiastic all this while kept laughing in his hiding-place till he was ready to
fall into convulsions. But when lie found
the affair was becoming serious, and heard
them talk of sticks, he came forward, and,
with an air of surprise, asked the cause of
the quarrel. " Sir, here are three knaves
who came yesterday to consume my provisions ; and now I ask them for my due, they
have the insolence to mock me. But, by
all that's sacred, they shall not get off :n
that manner, and before they go out
."
" Softly, softly, master Nicholas," said
the churchman, "these poor men have not
wherewithal to pay you; and, in that case,
they deserve rather your pity than your resentment. How much does their bill amount
to?"
" Ten-pence."
" W h a t ! is it for so paltry a sum that
you raise all this disturbance?
Come,
make yourselves easy; I will take it upon
myself. And, for my part, what am I to
pay you ?"
"Five-pence, Sir."
" That's enough. I shall pay you fifteenpence ; now let these unfortunate men go;
�8
and know that to harass the poor is a sin of
the first magnitude."
The blind men, who were terrified at the
apprehension of the bastinado, made their
escape with all possible haste; while Nicholas,
who had reckoned 011 losing his ten-pence^
(being delighted to find a person to pay it)
launched out into the most flattering encomiums 011 the churchman.
" What a good man !" cried he; " that
is the kind of priests we should have, and
then they would be respected. But, unfortunately, there are lew such ! Be assured,
Sir, so handsome an action will not go unrewarded. You will prosper in the world,
take my word for it; and will find the good
effects of your generosity."
All that the crafty traveller had been
saying to his host, was but a fresh piece of
roguery on his part; for, in luring the inn- .
keeper with such ostentation of generosity,
he only meant to trick him as he had already
done the beggars.
Just at that moment the parish-bell was
ringing to prayers. He asked who was to
perform the service: they told him it wa3
their parson.
" As he is your pastor, master Nicholas,"
he further said, " you are mopt probably
acquainted with him ?
" Y e s , Sir."
�9
" And if lie would engage to pay the
fifteen-pence that I owe you, would you not
acknowledge us quit ?"
" Undoubtedly, Sir, if it were thirty, and
you desired it."
" Well then, come along with me to the
church, and we will speak to him."
They went out together; but first the
ecclesiastic directed his valet to saddle the
horses, and to keep them in readiness.
The priest, as they entered the church,
had just put on his sacerdotal habit, and was
going- to read prayers.
u
This will keep us very long," said the
traveller to his host; 6 6 1 have not time to
wait, but must proceed immediately upon
my journey. It will satisfy you, I should
imagine, to have the parson's word for the
money ?"
Nicholas having nodded assent, the other
went up to the parson, and dexterously slipping into his hand twelve deniers, said :—
u
Sir, you will pardon my coming so near
the pulpit to speak to you; but much ceremony need not be observed between persons
of the same condition. I am travelling
through your town, and lodged last night
at one of your parishioners', whom in all probability you know, and whom you may see
hard by. He is a well-meaning man, honest,
and entirely exempt f n m vice; but, unfor-
�10
tunately, his head is not so sound as his
heart; his brain is somewhat cracked: last
night one of his fits of madness prevented
us all from sleeping. He is a good deal
better, thank God, this morning; nevertheless, as his head is still aliected, and full ol
religion, he begged we would conduct him
to church, and that he might hear you say
a prayer, that the Lord may, in his good3iess, restore him to perfect health."
" Most cheerfully," answered the parson.
He then turned to his parishioner, and said
to him, u Friend, wait till I have done the
service, when I'll take care that you shall
have what you desire."
Nicholas, who thought this an ample assurance of what he went for, said 110 more :
but attended the traveller back to his inn,
wished him a good journey, and then returned to the church to receive his payment from
the parson.
The latter, as soon as he had performed
the service, came with his stole and book
towards the innkeeper.
" Friend," said he, " go down upon your
knees."
The other, surprised at this preamble,
observed that there was 110 occassion for such
ceremony in receiving fifteen-pence.
66
Truly they are not mistaken," said the
parson to himself; u this man cannot be in
�11
his right senses." Then asuining a tone of
soft insinuation, u Come, my good friend,"
said he, " place your trust in God; he will
havre pity on your condition."
At the same time he puts the Bible on thp
other's head, and begins his prayer.—
Nicholas, in anger, pushes away the book;
declares he cannot stay to be trifled with,
guests being waiting for him at his house;
that he wants his fifteen-pence, and has no
occasion for prayers.
The priest, irritated at this, calls to Lie
congregation, as they were going out KA
church, and desires thern to seize the ma
who was raving.
" No, 110! 1 am not mad; and, by Si.
Corneille, you shall not trick me in this
manner. You engaged to pay me, and 1
will not leave this place till I get my
money."
" Seize him ! seize him!" cried the priest
They accordingly lastened upon the poor
devil; one taking hold of his arms, another
of his legs, a third clasping him round the
middle, while a fourth exhorted him to be
composed. He makes violent efforts to gel
out of their clutches, swears and foams with
rage, like one possessed,—but all in vain ;
for the parson puts the stole round his neck,
and reads quickly his prayer from beginning
to endj without excusing him a single word. - —
tJ
�After which he sprinkles him copiously with
holy water, bestows on him a few benedictions, and lets him loose.
The unlucky wight saw clearly that he
had been made a dupe—He went home,
overwhelmed with shame and vexation at
the loss of his fifteen-pence ; but then he had
in lieu of them, got a prayer and benediction.
�13
THE SOLDIERS
WIFE.
WALDEN was playing on his flute in a slow
and pensive strain, when the mournful cries
of a child, and the complaining voice of a
woman, struck his ears. 66 Oh ! merciful
God ?" exclaimed the poor creature, u hear
with compassion the moans of my unhappy
babe !"
Walden ceased to play, and looking over
the hedge, he surveyed the child with compassion, as the woman lay on the grass to
rest herself: he asked her, in a soft voice,
why the poor infant cried.
u
He is hungry," replied the wroman,
weeping bitterly, u we have not had anything to eat since yesterday morning."
u
Gracious God! since yesterday morning ! wait here a few minutes, and I will
v
eturn."
He flew away with incredible swiftness,
and re-appeared in a short time, with a bowl
of milk and a small loaf, towards which the
child stretched out his little arms, and the
woman to whom he delivered them began to
feed it.
u
Sit down my good woman, and eat of it
�*
4
yourself," said Walden, u I will take jarcof
your infant." Placing himself on the gTaS3
beside it, he dipped a bit of the loaf in tlie
milk, and patiently assisted his little famished charge.
The child looked up in his face and smiled:
Walden, pleased and affected at this intuitive mark of gratitude, kissed its little forehead.
u
What is your occupation?" he asked
the woman, who was eating with avidity;
"you are, I suppose, the mother of this little
creature : where do you live ?"
u
No, it is not my own," replied she, < -and
I did not know its parents. I am the wife
of a poor soldier, my worthy sir, and I have
travelled from beyond Berlin a great way;
my husband had been away from me three
years, and I wanted to see him again—for I
loved him dearly. My own two little children I left with their grandmother, and I
sold every thing I did not absolutely want at
home, that I might carry him a little trifle
of money. Accordingly I set out, and got
to the end of my journey just as my husband
had marched with his corps to drive a party
of Austrians from some little village; so
when it was all over, and they had done
what they had been ordered, 1 ran to the
place to meet him."
Here the poor woman burst into tears.
�15
u
And when I got there lie was dying of his
wounds; yet he knew me, and stretched out
his hand, saying, < Oh, Annete! our child r e n T h e s e were his last words; I thought
I should have died too, but God willed, for
the sake of our little ones and this babe,
that I shoidd live. In the same house where
my poor husband expired, was the wife of an
Austrian soldier, who died two days afterwrards, and left this babe, which nobody on
earth seemed to take care about. Almost all
the village had been burned down, and all
the inhabitants had run away; so that when
our soldiers marched, I begged them to take
the poor child with them ; but then they said
to me, 6 What could wre do with it ?' and
that was very true; but to let the child stay,
and die with hunger, was impossible; so 1
resolved to take it, let what would happen :
and I set out to return to my own home,
with the babe in mine arms. In my way I
was weary enough; but I never met with
any body that took compassion on me or my
burden, so I walked on; but I fell sick, as
you may see by my looks, and spent the
little money I had left, and then I sold my
clothes and every thing I could spare. All
wrent except these poor rags; vet still I
thought if I could but get home I should do
very well. I am used to hard work, and I
could even do for this little creature, who has
�16
nobody in the world but me to put a morsel
of bread into its poor mouth; so I can't bear
to let it starve !"
As she said this, she pressed the child to
her bosom, and her tears dropped upon it,
whilst she repeated, " i f I was but able to
work, or I couM but get enough to keep it
till I reach my home!"
" Poor babe!" said Walden, " poor, yet
happy creature, who, in losing her who gave
thee birth, found a second mother! eyes
that dropt tears of pity on thy lot, and a
heart that loves thee! no, thou slialt not
from hard necessity be deserted!"
Walden then wrote upon a leaf of his
pocket-book the name of the woman, and
that of the village where she informed him
she lived with her family; and giving her a
small sum of money, promised that he would
remit the same to her every year.
The woman, on holding the gold in her
hand, which had never contained so much
before, exclaimed, " O h ! this is to much,
worthy sir:" and being desired to keep it,
die added, " w e shall now be rich indeed!
my own little ones, and this one, and their
grandmother, we shall all be rich !"
"Goodcreature!" exclaimed Walden with
emotion, " y o u are rich indeed, in a heart
to which all other riches are dross! your
humanity to this orphan will be better re-
�warded ; but if this were my last crown you
should have it. Hasten away, or I may be
tempted to take the child, to have the pleasure of bringing it up, that it may love me
as it will you." On hearing this, the woman
hastily pressed the infant to her bosom, and
giving Walden a farewell benediction, pursued her journey with alacrity.
)
�18
BARON TRENCK.
• •
BARON TRENCK, at the time of the first war
between the king of Prussia and the house
of Austria, being young and enterprising,
offered himself, with a small band of determined men, to carry off the king of Prussia,
when he went out from his camp to reconnoitre the position of the Austrians. In fact,
he did attempt the enterprise; but succeeded
so ill that he was taken prisoner himself, and
condemned to perpetual confinement in the
castle of Magdeburgh. The treatment he
received was equally singular and cruel.
He was chained, standing against the wall;
F that, for several years, he coidd neither
O
sit nor lie down. His gaurds had orders not
to let him sleep more than a certain time;
very short, but long enough to prevent his
strength from being entirely exhausted.
He remained four or five years in this dreadfid situation; after which, there being
reason to fear he could not live long in that «
<
state, he was chained in such a manner that
he might sit down, which appeared to him
to be a great alleviation of his sufferings.
He told me himself, that after having suffered
�19
severe illness during the first year of his imprisonment, his constitution, which was
strong and robust, was so unbroken, that he
recovered his health; and though he received
no other sustenance than bread and water,
yet he was remarkably well, and resumed
his former gaiety. In this state of mind he
found means to soothe the tedium of so long
an imprisonment by making verses; which
he set to music as well as he could, and sung
for half the day. As he had nothing worse
to dread, the king of Prussia was frequently
the subject of his songs, and was not spared
in them. He also had recourse to the power
of imagination, to soothe the horrors of his
situation; and the whole time that he did
not spend in singing, was passed in turning
his ideas to all the agreeable conditions whicli
it was possible for him to conceive. He was
almost brought to consider these wanderings
of his imagination as realities, and to regard
his misfortunes as mere dreams. At last the
Empress Queen, who for a long time had
believed that lie was dead, being informed of
his miserable existence, solicited his liberty
from the king of Prussia with so much earnestness, that she obtained his release. I
saw him at Aix-la-Chapelle, enjoying very
good health; having married a handsome
woman, the daughter of one of the principal
inhabitants of that imperial city, to which
�20
lie had retired, that he might not be exposed
to the power of an arbitrary goverment.
He published several German works, some
of which are the fruits of the reflections he
made during the time of his imprisonment;
some poetry against the king of Prussia,
and some details relative to the manner in
which he passed his time at MagdeburgL
He gave them to me himself; and though
his works had no great merit in the style,
yet the singularity of his thoughts, and the
extraordinary fate of the author, rendered
them interesting.
What astonished me
most in him was, the force of mind, the
courage, and the constancy which had supported him in a situation in which there was
no hope of his seeing better days. He appeared now to have forgotten the whole, or to
recall the remembrance of his past sufferings,
only that he might the better enjoy the happiness of his present condition. He was
very gay; and there were moments when
one might have supposed, without doing
him great injustice, that his reason had been
in some degree affected by his long confinement; but it was only surprising that this
did not appear in a more eminent degree.*
* Poor Treiiek, wishing to take a part in the French
Revolution, went to Paris in the year 1 7 9 3 , and was
guillotined on the 25th of July, 1 7 9 4 , two days before
the execution of Robespierre
�21
J A C K EASY.
4
But Hmlibras, who scorn'd to stoop
To Fortune, or be said to droop,
Cheer'd up liiinself with ends of verse,
And sayings of philosophers."
AMONG the happy people in the world, art
those, in whose minds nature or philosophy
has placed a kind of acid, with which care
or disappointment will not easily mix.
This acid differs very much from ill-nature;
it is rather a kind of salt, expressed from
frequent observations on the folly, the vanity,
and the uncertainty of human events; from
that best of all philosophy, which teaches us
to take men as we find them, and circumstances as they occur, good or bad, for better
or lor worse; that dwells not on future prospects, reflects not on past troubles, and cares
not a lig for present difficulties, but dexterously turns them to ridicule or advantage;
snatching, at every opportunity, accidental
pleasures, and nobly bearing up against the
rubs of ill-fortune.
When reflections upon the troubles of life
are mixed up in a disposition naturally illtempered, they compose what is called
�22
melancholy; but as they have no chemical
affinity with good humour, they will not
easily combine; and the small particles that
are miscible, produce only the sweet and acid
salt of true philosophy.
Such a traveller, in his journey through
the world, was my honest friend Jack Easy.
Jack came to a good fortune at the death of
his father, and mounted his hobby without
its ever having been properly broken in ; he
galloped over the plains of Fancy, went off
in a full canter to the road of Dissipation,
and leaped over all the five-barred gates of
Advice and Discretion. It may naturally
be supposed, that before long his filly gave
him a fall: poor Jack came down sure
enough ; but he only shook himself, brushed
off the dirt of the road, and mounted again
in as high spirits as ever; excepting, that
he nowT began to sit firmer in the saddle, and
to look about him : this, however, did not
hinder him from getting into a swamp, called
a law-suit, where he remained a considerable
time before he could get out: his fortune
was now reduced from some thousands to a
few hundreds; and by this time, no man
better knew the way of life than my friend
Jack Easy. He had been through all the
dirty cross-roads of business, money-borrowing, bankruptcy, and law; and at last
arrived at a goal.
�23
My friend Jack did not despond; he
consoled himself with the reflection that he
was a single man; some of his misfortunes
were the consequences of his own imprudence,
others of unforseen accidents, and most of
them originated from his good nature and
generosity. He, however, never excused;
lie lumped them all together, took them in
good part, and blamed nobody but himself;
he whistled away his troubles, and often repeated.
" I am out of Fortune's power :
" H e who is down can sink no lower."
The goddess, however, at last put on her
best smiles, and paid Jack a visit in the
King's-Bench, in the shape of a handsome
legacy. Jack smiled at the thing, being,
as he called it, so extremely a-propos! and
once more mounted his nag. He now rode
more cautiously, and turned into the road of
Economy, which led to a comfortable inn
with the sign of Competency over the door;
lie had borrowed a martingale from an old
hostler called experience; and for the first
time in his life used a curb. He began
already to find, that though he did not gallop
away as formerly, yet he went on in his journey pleasantly enough. Some dashing riders
passed him, laughing at his jog-trot pace;
but he had no occassion to envy them long;
for presently some of them got into nits, others
�24
wore stuck fast in bogs and quagmires, and
the rest were thrown from their saddles to the
great danger of their necks. Jack Easy,
meanwhile, jogged on merrily; hot or cold,
wet or dry, he never complained; he now
preferred getting off, and opening a gate, to
leaping over it; and smiled at an obstacle
as at a turnpike, where lie must necessarily
pay toll.
The man who is contented either to walk,
trot, or canter through life, has by much the
advantage of his fellow travellers. He suits
himself to all paces, and seldom quarrels with
the tricks which the jade Fortune is sometimes disposed to play him. You might now
see Jack Easy walking his hobby along the
road, enjoying the scene around him, with
contentment sparkling in his eyes. If the
way happened to be crowded with horsemen
and carriages, you might observe him very
readily taking his own side of the road, and
letting them pass. * If it began to rain or
blow, Jack only pulled up the collar of his
great-coat, flapped his hat, and retreated to
the best shelter he could find till the storm
was over.
Thus my frienu Jack Easy came in with
a jog-trot to the end of his journey, leaving
his example behind him as a kind of fingerpost for the good of other travellers,
FINIS.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 029_a: Title-page illustration of a bull charging a man on rocky terrain.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Storys of the Three Beggars, Soldier's Wife, Baron Trenk, and Jack Easy.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Soldier's Wife
Baron Trenk
Jack Easy
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228083505154">s0585b29</a>
Description
An account of the resource
31 printed at the foot of the title page
Woodcut #29a: Illustration on title-page of a bull charging a man on rocky terrain
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Language
A language of the resource
English
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
fairytale/folk lore
# of Woodcuts: 1
Activity: running
Animal: bull(s)
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Gender: man/men
Nature: flower(s)
Nature: rock(s)
Nature: tree(s)
Outdoor Scene
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/aaf07b3ccb960334c9b24566cc23a47b.jpg
3d36ceabd990e04e93ef0ce2e72828c4
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut on title-page portraying an old man wearing a wig and dressed in a coat and collar
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d09bb33c4c6eca8df230078ab3a141b8.pdf
7882f8e9f4e9c795de5a643e490b3668
PDF Text
Text
THE
PLANT OF RENOWN:
TWO
SERMONS,
PREACIIED BY TIIB
EEV. EBENEZER ERSKINE,
LATE MINISTER OF TIIE GOSPEL IN STIRLING.
GLASGOW:
�f'
- '.mfOVMA
aiiT
*0 i / AJ I
r
r
(
, . a « O F : : 18' 0 7 M
t 7 a a • ini .
a m l h a a & a a s a 7 a *i a . v a *i
?.» &vi?.<)\> am r.naiziM MW
1
t
w
<1.
fell
rffonp/AJ^
Il
a5I?IJT38HO0f{ aitT AOS (IT! ,'IH'I
Ml
m
U
|1
�T H E
PLANT OF RENOWN.
SERMON I.
EZEKIEL, xxxiv. 29.
And I will raise tip for them a Plant of Renown.
I we cast our eyes back upon tlie foregoing part
F
of this chapter, we shall find a very melancholy
scene casting up; we shall find the flock and heritage of God scattered, robbed and peeled by tho
civil and ecclesiastical rulers that were in being in
that day ; a day much like to the day wherein we
live: the ruin of the church of Christ in all ages
and periods of the world, has been owing to combinations betwixt corrupt churchmen, and corrupt
statesmen ; and so you will find it In the preceding part of this chapter there is a high charge
brought in against the Shepherds of Israel, and ft
terrible and awful threatening denounced by tho
great and chief shepherd against them, for the bad
treatment that the flock of Christ had met with in
their hands : However the sheep of Christ may be
fleeced, and scattered, and spoiled, yet the Lord
looks on them ; and many great and precious promises are made for their encouragement in that
evil day ; you may read them at your own leisure,
for I must not stay upon them just now, But
�4
among all the rest of the promises that are made,
Christ is the chief; Christ is the To-look of the
church, whatever trouble she be in. In the 7th
chapter of Isaiah, the church had a trembling heart,
God's Israel was shaken as ever you saw the leaves
of the wood shaken by the wind, by reason of two
Kings combining against them: Well, the Lord
tells them, " A Virgin shall conceive and bear a
Son* and call his name IMMANUEL." But, might not
tbs Church say, what is that to us ? What encouragement doth this afford in the present distress ?
hy, the Messiah is to come of the tribe of Judah
and the family of David ; and therefore that tribe
and family must be preserved, in order to the
accomplishment of that promise. Whatever distance of time, suppose hundreds or thousands of
years, may intervene before the actual coming of
the Messiah ; yet the promise of his coming, as it
is the ground of your faith for eternal salvation, so
it is a security for the present, that the enemy
shall not prevail, to the total ruin of Judah and
the royal family of David. In all the distresses of
the church, Christ is always presented to her, in
the promise, as the object of her faith, and the
ground of her consolation ; and accordingly," They
looked to him," in the promise, and were lightened ; and their faces were not ashamed." He is
here promised under the notion of God's Servant;
audi in the words of the text, he is promised as a
Renowned Plant, that was to rise in the fulness of
time. And, blessed be God, he has sprung up,
and is in heaven already, and has overtopt all his
ernemies, and all his enemies shall be his foot-stool.
jFirst, Here then, you have a comfortable promise
of the Messiah ; where, again, you may notice the
prom iser; /, / will raise up, <&c. It is a great
�indeed; it is JEHOVAH, in the person of the
F a t h e r : It was he that in a peculiar manner,
sent him ; " God so loved the world, that he gave
his only begotten Son, that whosoever belie ve'th in
him should not perish, but have everlasting life.—
In the fulness of time he sent forth his Son, made
of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them
that were under the law, that we might receive
the adoption of Sons." God promised to send
him, and accordingly he has actually fulfilled his
promise. Again,
Secondly, We may notice the blessing promised,
and that is, a Plant of Renown.—Christ gets a great
many metaphorical names and descriptions in
Scripture :—Sometimes he is called a Rose, sometimes he is called a Sun, and sometimes he is
called a Door ; sometimes he is called the Tree of
Life ; sometimes he is called one thing, and sometimes another ; And he is content to be called
any thing, to make himself known to us; and
here he is called a Plant, and a Renowned Plant;
but more of this afterwards. But then.
Thirdly, We have the production of this Plant,
I will raise him up. Hell will endeavour to keep
him down ; the Devil and his Angels will endeavour to smother him, when he sets his head above
ground : So we find Satan sends Herod, and Herod
sends the Bloody Dragoons to murder him, when
he came into tlie world• But let hell do its utmost,
as it hath done in all ages, and is doing this day,
to smother that plant, up it will be ; I ivill raise
him up, and therefore he shall prosper. But then
again,
Fourthly, We may notice here, for whom, or
for what end, for whose use and benefit it is: I
will raise up for them a Plant of Renown. Who
�tliese are, you will sco by casting your eye on the
former part of this chapter; it is for the Lord's
flock, his oppressed heritage, that are borne down
by wicked rulers, civil and ecclesiastic : I will
raise up for them a Plant of Renown, and ho will
be their deliverer.
The doctrine that naturally arises from this first
clause of the verse, is in short this, That Christ
is a Plant of Renown, of God's raising up, for the
benefit and advantage of his people, or for their
comfort and relief in all their distresses; he is a
Renowned Plant of God's raising up."
Now, in discoursing this doctrine, if time and
strength would allow, I might,
First, Premise a few things concerning this
blessed Plant.
Secondly, I might enquire, why ho is called a
Plant of Renown ?
Thirdly, Speak a little to the raising up of this
Plant.
Fourthly, For whom he is raised up.
Fifthly, For what end. And then,
Lastly, Apply.
As to the first of these, namely,
First, To premise a few things concerning this
blessed Plant.
First, I would haye you to know what is here
attributed and ascribed to Christ: It is not to be
understood absolutely of him as God, but officially
as he is Mediator and Redeemer. Considering
him absolutely as God, this cannot be properly
said of him, that he was raised up: for he is God
co-equal and co-essential with the Father; But
viewing him as Mediator, he is a Plant, as it wero
of God's training. You will see from the context,
all that is said of Christ has a respect to him as a
44
�7
Mediator, that ho was to bo God's Servant to do
his work: In that consideration he is here called a
Plant, and, a Plant of Benown. Hence, Zacharias,
when speaking of him, has a phrase much to the
same purpose ; " He hath raised up a Horn of
Salvation for us in the house of his servant David*
Again,
Secondly, Another thing I would have you to
remark, is, That this Plant is but small and little
in the eyes of a blind world. He was little looked
upon when he sprung up in his Incarnation ; and
when he was here in a state of humiliation, men
looked upon him " as a Root sprung up out of a dry
ground; they saw no comeliness in him why he
should be desired." And to this day, though he
be in a state of exaltation at the right hand of God,
yet he is little thought of, and looked upon, by the
generality of mankind, and the hearers of the
gospel; He is despised and rejected of men. But
then,
Thirdly, Another thing I would have y<ra to
remark, is, That however contemptible this Plant
of Renown is in the eyes of a blind world, yet he
is the tallest Plant in all God's Lebanon, there is
not the like of him in it, " He is fairer than the
children of men and, " He is as the apple-tree
among the trees of the wood,' If ever you saw
him, you will be ready to say so too, and with David*
" Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is
none upon the earth that I desire besides thee."
Again,
Fourthly, Another thing I remark, is, That this
blessed Plant of Renown, he was cut down in his
death, and sprung up gloriously in his resurrection ;
the sword of divine justice hewed down this Plant
upon Mount Calvary, but within three days he
1
�8
sprung up again more glorious and more beautiful
and amiable than ever ; arid He was declared to
be the Son of God with power, according to tho
Spirit of holiness, b j his resurrection from the
dead."
Lastly, I would have you to remark, that all
the little plants in the garden are ingrafted in this
Plant of Renown: " I am the Vine, ye are the
branches; he that abideth in me, and I in him,
the same bringeth forth much fruit: For without
me ye can do nothing—I am a green fir tree, from
me is thy fruit found." If you be not ingrafted
firs, in this Plant, you will never grow; and all
the trees that are not planted in him, they are all
but weeds. There is a time coming when all the
weeds will be plucked up, and therefore take heed
that you be ingrafted in him by a faith of God's
operation. So much for the first thing I proposed.
The second thing was to shew, that he is a
Renowned Plant. He is renowned in heaven, and
he is renowned on earth, and will be so, For his
name shall endure for ever, Psal. lxxii. 17. 0 he is
renowned!
For what, say you, is he renowned ? I might
here enter upon a very large field ; I shall only
tell you,
1. That he is renowned in his Person, There
was never the like of him ! The two natures, God
and Man, are joined together in one, in him : Did
you ever see that ? If you have not seen that, you
have not seen the Mystery of Godliness : lie is the
most renowned person in heaven ; but he is I M
God manifested in the flesh.—Then he is,
2. Renowned for his Pedigree: Who can declare his Generation ? Considering him as God,
his eternal generation from the Father cannot be
44
MANUEL,
�9
told. We can tell you he is the only begotten of
the Father, but we cannot tell you the manner o
his generation ; it is a secret that God has drawn
a vail upon, and it is dangerous to venture into a
search of it; and they that have attempted it,
have commonly been boged into Arian, Arminian, and Sabellian errors. Considering him as
man, he is sprung of a race of ancient Kings, a
famous catalogue of them you read of in first
of Matthew.—And who can declare his generation
even as man ? For he was born of a Virgin, and
conceived by the overshadowing power of the
Highest. Then,
3. He is renowned for his name.— He hath a
Name above every name that can be named,
whether in this world or that which is to come."
4. He is renowned for his Wisdom.—For, All
the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are in
him."
5. He is renowned for his Power.—For he is
not only the Wisdom of God, but the Poicer of God«
He is the Man of God's right hand, even the
Son of Man, whom he hath made strong for himself."
6. He is renowned for his Veracity and Fidelity.
For, Faithfulness is the girdle of his loins."
Have you got a word from him ? Depend upon it,
it is a sicker word, it does not fail: The word of
the Lord endures for ever, when heaven and earth
shall pass away
7. He is renowned for his Righteousness. For,
He hath brought in an everlasting Righteousness, whereby the Law is magnified and made
honourable ;" and by the imputation of which, the
guilty transgressors are acquitted : He was made
sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be
4
44
44
44
44
44
44
�10
made the Righteousness of God in h i m T h a t is
liis Name, The Lord our Righteousness.
8 He is renowned for his fulness.—For, " All
the fulness of the Godhead dwells bodily in him
He is full of grace and truth ; full of all created
and uncreated excellencies.
9. He is renowned for his Love.—What but
love brought him out of the bosom of the Father
to this lower world ? What but love made him lay
down his life for his people ?
10. He is renowned for his Liberality. He has
a full hand and a free heart, as we use to say ; he
gives without money, and he invites all to come
&nd share of his fulness.
11. He is renowned for his Constancy. He is
Jesus Christ, the same to-day, yesterday and for
ever." The best of men, will fail us when we trust
them ; they will run like splinters into our hands,
when we lean upon them: But, sirs, you will find
Christ always the same, to-day, yesterday and for
ever. And then,
12. He is renowned for nis Authority and Dominion. It is great, and extends far and wide,
whether in heaven above, or in the earth beneath:
And his dominion reaches "from sea to sea, and*
from the river unto the ends of the e a r t h A n d
all the kings of the earth are but his vassals
Thus, I say, Christ in every respect is renowned.
But here, to keep by the phraseology of the text,
He is a renowned Plant: Wherein is he renowned ?
First, I say he is renowned for his Antiquity:
I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was," &c. All the plants
in the higher and lower gardens of God, they are
but just upstarts in comparison of him: Angels
a&d Arch-angels, and the greatest Seraphims are
�11
but of yesterday, in comparison of this Plant. He
is renowned for his Antiquity, for he is, " The
Ancient of days, and the Eyerlasting Father,"
Isaiah, 9th chapter.
N.B.—Here he was desired to conclude his Discourse, in respect the Work in the Church was
over, and that he might give way to another
Minister that was to preach the Evening Sermon,
SERMON II.
xxxiv. 29.
And I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown.
I had occasion, upon a solemnity of this nature,
not long ago, to enter upon these words, but had
not time to go far into the import of them. After
I had traced the connection of the words a little, I
took them up in the few following particulars.
1. We have here a great blessing promised unto
the church ; and that is none other than Christ,
under the notion of a Prince, and A Plant of Renown.
2. We have the Party by whom this promise is
made, in the pronoun /,—I JEHOVAH, the Eternal
GOD, I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown.
EZEKIEL,
�12
3. We have tlie way how this Plant of Renown
is raised ; And I will raise him up. I that am the
great Husbandman of the vineyard, I ivill raise up
for them, &c. Then,
• 4. I noticed the persons to whom the promise is
made, I will raise up for them ; that is, for his
Church, for his people that are brought into a very
low condition ; as you will see by reading the preceding part of the chapter. The flock of Christ
were scattered by the shepherds of Israel; they
were torn, they were devoured, and under manifold
trials ; Well, what will the Lord do for his flock in
that condition ? He says, I will raise up for them
a Plant of Renown, and they shall hunger no more.
The observation is much the same with the
words themselves, namely, " that our Lord Jesus
Christ is a Plant of Renown of his Father's upbringing I will raise up for them a Plant of
Renown. In prosecution of this doctrine, I proposed to observe the order and method following.
First, To premise a few things concerning this
blessed Plant.
Secondly, To shew that indeed he is a Plant of
Renown. And then,
Thirdly, To speak a little concerning the raising
up of this Plant.
Fourthly, For whom he is raised up.
Fifthly, For what good, or for what benefit and
advantage he is raised up. And,
Lastly, To apply the whole.
As to the first, I spoke to it, and premised a few
things concerning this blessed Plant; therefore I
shall not stay to resume what was said on that
Head. I likewise entered upon the second, and
shewed that Christ is A Plant of Renown in several
respects: I mentioned eleven or twelve particulars
�13
wherein Christ is renowned, but I shall not resume
these neither: I shall only tell you a few things
wherein this blessed Plant is renowned.
1. In the first place, this blessed Plant, he is
renowned for his antiquity. There are many
other plants in God's garden, as angels, seraphims,
cherubims, saints militant and triumphant, they
are all but upstarts in comparison of him ; for he
was set up before ever the earth was. You will
see that one name of this Plant of Renown is, The
Everlasting Father, or, " The Father of Eternity,"
as it may be rendered.
2. As he is renowned for his antiquity, so for
his Beauty: he is the most beautiful Plant in all
the garden of God ; " I am the Rose of Sharon,
and the Lily of the valleys.—He is the apple-tree
among the trees of the wood." He is renowned I
say, for his beauty and his glory ; for the glory of
a God is in him. Is there any glory in his eternal
Father ? Why, that glory shines in our
in the very brightness of it, Heb. i. 3. " He is the
brightness of the Father's glory, and the express
image of his person." Now, sirs, if ever your eyes
were opened by the Spirit of God, to take up the
glory of this Plant, his glory has just dazzled your
very eyes ! You that never saw any glory in him,
you never saw him to this very day: Pray that
the light of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus
Christ, may yet shine into your hearts. It would
make a heartsome Sacrament, if this Plant were
displayed in his glory among us. Sirs, have you
come to see him in his glory ? O give God no rest
till he make a discovery of himself to your souls.
Then,
3. He is renowned for his verdure, for his perpetual greenness. Other plants are fading; you
IMMANUEL,
�14
and 1 are fading plants ; " All flesh is grass, and
all the jjoodliness thereof is as the flower of the
f i e l d H e is a Tree ever green, he never fades,
summer nor winter, and shall be ever a green
Plant to the Saints as it were to eternity ! When
millions of ages, yea, myriads of ages are past in
heaven, he will be as fresh and green to the believer, as when he first saw him, or the first moment the saint entered glory : therefore it is, that
the songs of the redeemed in glory are always new ;
and throughout eternity, will be new, because they
will constantly see matter of a new song ; and the
more they see, they will wonder the more at him
throughout eternity! Again,
4. This Plant is renowned not only for his
verdure, but for his virtue. We read, Rev. xxii,
" That the leaves of the Tree of Life were for the
healing of the nations." That Tree of Life is the
very same with this Plant of Renown; the leaves
of this Plant are for the healing of the nations ;
and we that are ministers are come this day to
scatter the leaves of this Tree of Life, of this Plant
of Renown ; try if you can get a leaf of it applied
and set home upon your souls. Depend upon it,
there is virtue in every word of his. Sirs, mingle
faith with a word, and you will find that it will
jiave the same efficacy with you as it had with
the poor woman with the bloody issue, that was
healed with a touch of the hern of his garment,
who had spent all her living on doctors. 0 see if
you can find him! I assure you he is here ; he is
behind the door of every man's heart: Behold I
stand (says lie,) at the door and knock! If any
man hear my voice, and open the door, I will
come in to him, and' sup with him, and he with
mo." And 0 let him in! there is virtue in him
44
�15
for curing you all, though there were ten thousand
millions of you more than there are ; there is
virtue in him for healing every one of you. But
then,
5. This blessed Plant is not only renowned for
his virtue, but likewise for his fertility. He is
not a barren Plant; he would not be renowned if
he were barren: He brings forth all manner of
fruit every month; yea, I may add, every day,
every moment. You read in Rev. xxii. of the
Tree of Life that brings forth twelve manner of
fruits every month ; that is to say, he brings forth
all fruit that is necessary for a poor soul: whatever
thy soul stands in need of, is to be found in him ;
see then and gather, see if you can gather some of
it. There is the fruit of his incarnation ; there is
the fruit of his death ; there is the fruit of his
resurrection ; there is the fruit of his ascension ;
there is the fruit of his intercession, and sitting at
the right hand of God ; there is the fruit of his
prophetic office ; there is the fruit of his priestly
office; there is the fruit of his kingly office ;
there is the fruit of his appearing within the
vail ; there is the fruit of what he did without
the vail, and without the camp. 0 what fruit is
here! Here is wisdom for fools; here is justification
for the condemned soul; here is sanctification for
the polluted soul, and clothing for the naked;
riches for the poor, bread for the hungry, drink for
the thirsty. All manner of fruit is here, and we are
trying, sirs, to shake the Tree of Life among you ;
and blessed be God, they may be gathered : O
sirs ! they are dropping among you ; 0 gather,
gather, for salvation is in every word that drop3
from him ; for his words are the words of eternal
life. But, in the
�16
C. Place, this blessed Plant is renowned for his
scent and pleasant savour. O sirs! there is such
a blessed savour in this Plant of Renown, as has
cast a perfume through all the Paradise above !
He has cast a perfume through the church militant,
which in Isaiah v. is called God's vineyard. 0
sirs! do you find any thing of the scent of this
Plant ? 1 can tell you, if ever you, have been mado
to know him, it will bo so : "because of the savour
of thy good ointment, thy name is as ointment
poured forth, therefore do the Virgins love thee."
The believer he finds a scent about him, he draws
a savour from him. What is the deisgn of us
ministers, but to cast abroad his scent, and it is by
this we win souls ; and they that cast out and drop
the Plant of Renown out of their sermons, no
wonder their sermons stink, and they shall stink
to eternity, that throw Christ out of their
sermons. The great business of ministers is
to cast forth the scent of Christ to the people.
I shall read you a word to this purpose, in 2
Cor. ii. 14,—16, " Now, thanks be unto God,
which always causeth us to triumph in Christ."
The apostle triumphs in him, and all other honest
ministers will triumph in him too; and all christians
that know him, triumph in him. And maketh
manifest the savour of his knowledge by us in
every place. For we are unto God a sweet savour
in Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that
perish. To the one we are the savour of death
unto death ; and to the other, the savour of life unto
life ; and who is sufficient for these things ?" Who is
able to tell the sweet savour that is in him ? Again,
7. This blessed plant in my text, is not only renowned for his savour, but likewise for his shadow.
Song, i. 3. " I sat down under his shadow with great
44
�17
delightthe shadow of the Plant of Renown, You
are all sitting there or standing, but are you sitting
under the Plant of Renown ? Jonah s gourd did him
service against the scorching heat of the sun, that
was like to take away his life ; but alas! that soon
failed him, for God sent a worm and smote it that
it withered ; and the worm of death will soon
smite and wither you and me : 0 get in under the
shadow of this Plant of Renown, and ye are secured
against death and vindictive wrath for ever. Get
in under his shadow ; the shadow of his intercession,—the shadow of his power,—the shadow of
his providence,—the shadow of his faithfulness:
0 sit under his shadow, and you will find shelter
there against all deadly ; whatever blasts come,
you will find safety there. Would you be shadowed
from the king of terrors ? Death is a terror to many,
0 if you be shadowed against the awful terrors of
death and God's vengeance, get in under this
shadow, and you are safe.
8. This Plant is renowned for his stature. He
is a high Plant, he is a tall Plant: you see the
heavens above you, but they are but creeping things
in comparison of him ; for this glorious Plant is,
The high and lofty One that inhabits eternity., You
can never see his height; your eye will look high,
and your thought will reach higher, but neither
your eye nor thought will reach unto him; he is
taller than all the cedars in the Lebanon of God:
" Eye hath not seen, nor hath ear heard, neither
hath it entered into the heart of man," to think ol
the height and glory of this Plant of Renown!
And
Lastly, This Plant is renowned not only for his
stature, but for his extent also : he is a broad
Plant, he was planted in the first promise in Par-
�18
adise; he spread through the old testament church j
he came the length of filling the land of Judea ;
and, at length, this Plant has spread itself among
us: And 0 that I could open the leaves of this
f*lant to take you in ; he is a broad Plant, he will
serve you all. We read of the Tree of Life being
on every side of the river : there is a great river
betwixt us and heaven, and that is death ; and we
are all running into this river of death. As one
well observes on the place, this Tree is in the
middle of the river ; he is on this side of time, and
he is on that side of time. Now, this Plant is on
both sides of the river ; though you were going to
the wastes of America, you will find him there as
well as here, if you have but the art of improving
him. And this Plant will spread himself through
all kingdoms, " The earth shall be filled with the
knowledge of the Lord, just as the witters cover
the sea." He will not only fill the earth, but the
whole heavens throughout eternity ! 0 but he is
a. broad Plant, that will extend himself both to
heaven and earth! And this shall serve for the
second thing proposed, namely, To show that this
Plant is indeed a most Renowned Plant.
The third thing I proposed in the prosecution of
this doctrine, was, concerning the raising or upbringing of this Plant. You see it is no other
than the Great G D that raised up this Plant.
O,
find the Great
glorying in his skill
and wisdom in the raising up of this Plant for the
use of the church. In Psalm lxxxix. 19. says the
Lord, I have laid help upon one that is mighty ;
I have exalted one chosen out of the people ; I
have raised up David my servant; with my holy
oil have I anointed him." Here he glories in it,
that he had raised up this glorious Plant of Renown.
I
JEHOVAH
44
�19
I will tell you a few tilings with reference to the
raising up of this blessed Plant.
1. He was raised up in the counsel of God's
peace from eternity. The Ti'inity sat in council
anent the upbringing of him; " The counsel of
peace was between them both/' Zech. vi. 13. The
Father and the Son agreed upon it, that in the
fulness of time the Son should come into the world,
2. He was raised up in the first promise to Adam
and Eve. Till this Plant was discovered to them,
they were like to run distracted: Aftd indeed, sirs,
if Christless sinners saw where they were, and the
wrath of God that is hanging over their heads,
they would be ready to run distracted, till a revelation of Christ was made to them,' All the promises, all the prophecies, all the types, and all the
doctrines of the old testament, they were the
gradual springings of this Plant: but it was under
ground until,
3. His actual manifestation in the flesh, when,
in the fulness of time he appeared: " In the fulness of time, God sent forth his Son, made of a
woman, &c."
4. This Plant was raised up even in his death
and resurrection, by which he was declared to be
the Son of God with power, by the spirit of holiness. And,
Lastly, This Plant of Renown will be raised up
in the songs of the redeemed thro ugh endless eternity. Thus you see, Christ is a Plant of Renown,
and what way ho is raised up.
The next thing I proposed was, for whom is it
that this Plant is raised up ? 01 may some poor
thing say, Was he ever raised up for me? I tell
you, sirs, he was never raised up for the fallen
angels; " For he took not on him the nature of
�20
angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham."
Our nature was highly honoured at first, but it soon
sunk below the beast that perisheth ; but the
second Adam took our nature upon him, and raised
it to a higher dignity than the very angels ; for to
which of the angels did this honour appertain, to be
united to the eternal Son of God ? So that, I say,
this Plant of Renown is raised up for mankindsinners, not for angel-kind sinners ; and every
mankind-sinner that hears tell of him, they should
lay claim to him, as in Isaiah, ix. 6., "To us a
Son is given, to us this Child is born ; and the
government shall be upon his shoulder : And his
name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the
Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince
of Peace." To us he is given, unto us he is born.
I thought to have gone through what I designed
on this subject, but time will not allow. The
Lord bless his word.
A DYING CHRISTIAN'S PRAYER.
" Receive my spirit," was tne prayer of Stephen
to Jesus Christ, to receive his departing soul; and,
brethren, I think you will feel in a dying hour,
that your departing soul needs a Divine Saviour.
You have one in Jesus Christ. You may call upon
liim then, even as now. Ilis ear will not be heavy,
though yours may, when death is sealing up your
faculties. Ilis eye will not have lost its power of
gazing affectionately on you, when yours is becoming dim and closed. His hand will not be shortened, in the hour when yours will have become
�21
tremulous and feeble. But lift up the hand, tho
heart, the eye, the soul, in prayer to him then,
and you will find him a very near and present help
in that your time of trouble.
Brethren, a Christian should die praying. Other
men die in different ways, according to their character and temper. Julius Cesar died adjusting
his robes, that he might fall gracefully. Voltaire,
with mingled imprecations and supplications;
Paine, with shrieks of agonizing remorse. Multitudes die with sullenness, some with blasphemies
faltering on their tongue. But, brethren, the
humble Christian would die praying. Well says
the poet:
" Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air;
His watch-word at the gates of death,
He enters heaven with prayer I"
But, observe for what Stepnen prayed. Lord
Jesus receive my spirit!" This is the prayer of
faith, commending the immortal spirit to the
covenant care of Jesus. The spirit does not die
with the body. None but God, who gave, can
take away the soul's existence, and he has declared
that he never will. Would that bad men would
think on that! You cannot get rid of your soul's
existence : you cannot cease to be : you may wish
it; though the wish is monstrous and unnatural.
But there is no annihilation for any soul of man.
Oh, come to our Saviour! give him your guilty
soul, to be justified through his atonement, washed
in his blood, regenerated by his Spirit. Make to
him now that surrender of your soul, for which he
calls. Renew this happy self-dedication every
day, very especially every Sabbath, and most
solemnly, from time to time at the Lord's Supper.
And then, when you come to die, it will only be,
44
�22
to do once more, wliat you have so often done in
former days,—again to commend your soul very
humbly, believingly, and affectionately, under the
faithful care of Jesus Christ.
THE HOUSE OF GOD,
T E church was pleasantly situated 01 a rising
H
1
bank, at the foot of a considerable hill. It was
surrounded by trees, and had a rural retired appearance. In every direction the roads that led to
this house of God, possessed distinct but interesting
features. One of them ascended between several
rural cottages from the sea-shore, which adjoined
the lower part of the village-street. Another
winded round the curved sides of the adjacent hill,
and was adorned, both above and below, with
numerous sheep feeding on the herbage of the
down. A third road led to the church by a gently
rising approach, between high banks, covered with
young trees, bushes, ivy, hedge-plants, and wild
flowers*—From a point of land, which commanded
a view of all these several avenues, I used sometimes, for a while, to watch my congregation gradually assembling together at the hour of Sabbath
worship. They were in some directions visible for
a considerable distance. Gratifying associations
of thought would form in my mind, as I contemplated their approach and successive arrival within
the precincts of the house of prayer.—One day as
I was thus occupied, during a short interval
previous to the hour of divine service, I reflected
on the joy, which David experienced at the time
he exclaimed, " I was glad when they said unto
�23
me, Let us go into the house of the
Our
feet shall stand within thy gates, 0 Jerusalem.
Jerusalem is built as a city that is compact together ; whither the tribes go up, the tribes of the
Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks
unto the name of the Lord." I was led to reflect
upon the various blessings, connected with the
establishment of public worship. " How many
immortal souls are now gathering together to perform the all-important work of prayer and praiseto hear the word of God—to feed upon the bread
of life ! They are leaving their respective dwellings, and will soon be united together in the house
of prayer," How beautifully does this represent
the effect produced by the voice of the " Good
Shepherd," calling his sheep from every part of
the wilderness into his fold! As those fields, hills,
and lanes, are now covered with men, women, and
children, in various directions, drawing nearer to
each other, and to the object of their journey's end ;
even so, «many shall come from the east, and
from the west, and from the north, and from the
south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God.'
Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours
as these ?—hours spent in learning the way of holy
pleasantness, and the paths of heavenly peacehours devoted to the service of God, and of souls ;
in warning the sinner to flee from wrath to come ;
in teaching the ignorant how to live and die; in
preaching the gospel to the poor; in healing the
broken-hearted ; in declaring " deliverance to the
captives, and recovering of sight to the blind."
" Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound;
they shall walk, 0 Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the
day, and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.'
?
�2i
This train of reflection, at intervals, occurred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that very congre
gation assembled together in the house of God,
whose steps, in their approach to it, I had watchei
with prayerful emotions.— Here the rich and
poor met together," in mutual acknowledgement
that the Lord is the maker of them all," and
that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up
to one common Father to supply their wants, both
temporal and spiritual.—Again, likewise, shall
they meet together in the grave, that undistinguishing receptacle of the opulent and the needy,—And
once more, at the judgment-seat of Christ, shall
the rich and poor meet together, that every one
may receive the things done in his body, according
to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad."
How closely connected in the history of man, ait
these three periods of a general meeting together
The house of prayer—the house appointed for all
living—and the house not made with hands eternal
in the heavens.—May we never separate these
ideas from each other, but retain them in a sacred
and profitable union! So shall our worshipping
assemblies on earth be representative of the general
assembly and chuicb of the first-born, which are
written in heaven.
44
44
44
v
FINIS,
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woodcut 023: Title-page illustration in triple ruled border of a portrait of a man in a wig and dressed in a coat with a lace collar.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The plant of renown: being two sermons, preached by the Rev. Ebenezer Erskine, late minister of the gospel in Stirling.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
24 pages
16 cm
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228253505154">s0585b28</a>
Description
An account of the resource
135 printed at the foot of title page
Woodcut #23: Portrait on title-page of a man wearing a wig and dressed in a coat and lace collar.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Religion and Morals
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Erskine, Ebenezer, 1680-1754
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
sermon
religion
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Genre: sermon
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): religious
Gender: man/men
occupation: clergy
Portrait: Ebenezer Erskine