1 10 90 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/2e3b7eae204c1118da7c05399f3cb79d.pdf 83193e2febc8060c58a9f35ea6c49e30 PDF Text Text SIR JAMES THE ROSE, AN OLD SCOTTISH Tragic Song. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, 11. �SIR JAMES THE ROSE. Of all the Scottish northern chiefs Of high and warlike name, The bravest was Sir James the Rose, A knight of meikle fame. His growth was like a youthful oak; That crowns the mountain's b r o w . And waving o'er his shoulders broad His locks of yellow flew. Wide were his fields, his herds were large And large his flocks of sheep, And numerous were his goats Upon the mountain steep. The chieftain of the good clan Rose, A firm and warlike band, Five hundred warriors drew the sword Beneath his high command. In bloody fight thrice had he stood, Against the English keen, Ere two and twenty opening springs The blooming youth had seen. The fair Matilda dear he lov'd, A maid of beauty rare ; Even Margaret, on the Scottish throne, Was never half so fair. �3 Long had he woo'd, long she refused, With seeming scorn and pride; Yet oft her eyes confess'd the love Her fearful words denied. At length she blessed his well-tried love, Allow'd his tender claim; She vow'd to him her tender heart, And own'd an equal flame. Her father, Buchan's cruel lord, Their passion disapprov'd; He bade her wed Sir John the Græme, And leave the youth she lov'd. One night they met as they were wont, Deep in a shady w o o d ; Where on the bank, beside the burn, A blooming saugh tree stood, Conceal'd among the underwood The crafty Donald lay, The brother of Sir John the Graeme, To watch what they might say: When thus the maid began, My sire Our passion disapproves; He bids me wed Sir John the Graeme, So here must end our loves. M y father's will must be obey'd, Nought boots me to withstand; Some fairer maid in beauty's bloom, Shall bless thee with her hand. Soon will Matilda be forgot, And from thy mind effac'd; �But may that happiness be thine Which I can never taste; What do I hear ? is this thy vow ? Sir James the Rose replied; And will Matilda wed the Graeme, Though sworn to be my bride ? His sword shall sooner pierce my heart Than 'reave me of thy charms ; And clasp'd her to his throbbing breast , Fast lock'd within his arms. I spoke to try thy love, she said, I'll ne'er wed man but thee; The grave shall be my bridal bed, If Græme my husband be. Take then, dear youth, this faithful kiss In witness of my troth; And every plague become my lot, That day I break my oath. They parted thus—the sun was set— Up hasty Donald flies; And turn thee, turn thee, beardless youth He loud insulting cries. Soon turned about the fearless Chief, And soon his sword he drew; For Donald's blade before his breast, Had pierced his tartans through. This for my brother's slighted love, His wrongs sit on my arm— Three paces back the youth retir'd, And sav'd himself from harm. �5 Returning swift, his sword he rear'd Fierce Donald's head above ; And through the brain, and crashing bone. The furious weapon drove. Life issued at the wound—he fell A lump of lifeless clay ; So fall my foes, quoth valiant Rose, And stately strode away. Through the green wood in haste he pass'd Unto Lord Buchan's hall— Beneath Matilda's window stood, And thus on her did call: Art thou asleep, Matilda dear, Awake, my love ! awake; Behold thy lover waits without, A long farewell to take. For I have slain fierce Donald Graeme, His blood is on my sword; And far, far distant are my men, Nor can defend their lord. T o Skye I will direct my flight, Where my brave brothers bide; And raise the mighty of the Isles, To combat on my side. O do not so, the maid replied, With me till morning stay ; For dark and dreary is the night, And dang'rous is the way. All night I'll watch you in the park, My faithful page I'll send, �6 In haste to raise the brave clan Rose, Their master to defend. He laid him down beneath a bush, And wrapp'd him in his plaid— While trembling for her lover's fate, A t distance stood the maid. Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale, Till, in a lonely glen, He met the furious Sir John Graeme, With twenty of his men. Where goest thou, little page, he said, So late ? who did thee send ?— I g o to raise the brave clan Rose, Their master to defend. For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme, His blood is on his sword; And far, far distant are his men, N o r can assist their lord. And has he slain my brother dear, The furious chief replies; Dishonour blast my name but he By me ere morning dies. Say, page, where is Sir James the Rose ? I will thee well reward— H e sleeps into Lord Buchan's park, Matilda is his guard. They spurred their steeds and furious flew, Like lightning o'er the lee; They reach'd Lord Buchan's lofty tow'rs, By dawning of the day. �7 Matilda stood without the gate, Upon a rising ground— And watch'd each object in the dawn, All ear to every sound. Where sleeps the Rose? began the Graeme, Or has the felon fled ? This hand shall lay the wretch on earth By whom my brother bled. And now the valiant knight awoke, The virgin shrieking heard ; Straight up he rose and drew his sword, When the fierce band appeared. Your sword last night my brother slew, His blood yet dims its shine; And e'er the sun shall gild the morn, Your blood shall reek on mine. Your words are brave the chief returned, But deeds approve the man ; Set by your men, and hand to hand, W e ' l l try what valour can. With dauntless step he forward strode, And dared him to the fight; The Graeme gave back : he feared his arm, For well he knew his might. Four of his men, the bravest four Sunk down beneath his sword; But still he scorned the poor revenge, And sought their haughty lord. Behind him basely came the Graeme, And pierced him in the side; �8 Out spouting came the purple stream, And all his tartans dyed. But yet his hand dropped not the sword. N o r sunk he to the ground— Till through his enemy's heart the steel Had forced a mortal wound. Græme, like a tree by wind o'erthrown, Fell breathless on the clay! And down beside him sank the And faint and dying lay. Rose Matilda saw and fast she ran— O spare his life, she cried— Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life, Let her not be denied. Her well-known voice the hero heard, He rais'd his death-clos'd eyes; H e fix d them on the weeping maid, And weakly thus replies : In vain Matilda begs a life, By death's arrest denied; My race is run—adieu my love, Then closed his eyes and died. The sword yet warm from his left side. With frantic hand she drew; I come, Sir James the Rose, she cried, I come to follow you. The hilt she lean'd against the ground. And bar'd her snowy breast; Then fell upon her lover's face, And sunk to endless rest. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/830e07d0f4ee1461e8bedf1c8a78c86c.jpg 04970585bef446d7a75a81df6ccf75ed Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3012 Width 1828 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 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". Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Sir James the rose, an old Scottish tragic song Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Highlands War Description An account of the resource '11' is printed at the bottom of the title-page Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks 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 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923416743505154">s0153b19</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Isle of Skye, Scotland Abstract A summary of the resource. A tragic love song about the romance between a highland chieftain, Sir James the Rose, and the fair Matilda, the daughter of the Lord Buchan. When Matilda’s father discovers her love for Sir James, he does not approve of the match and instead bids that she wed Sir John the Graeme. When she goes to tell her lover, they vow to wed anyway, which is overheard by Donald, Graeme’s brother, who then attacks James. In defending himself, James kills Donald. When he tries to flee to Skye to rouse the clan Rose, Matilda bids him to wait and sleep in the park instead where she can watch over him and sends a page instead to find his kin. The page is captured by the Graeme on his way where he discloses the plan and location of Sir James. Graeme attacks James with twenty men but James defends himself valiantly, slaying several of the knights as well as the Graeme himself, although he himself is mortally wounded in the process. As James dies, Matilda commits suicide by throwing herself on James’ sword as well. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="http://www.lib.uoguelph.ca/find/find-type-resource/archival-special-collections/scottish-studies">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm 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 biography Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Bruce, Michael, 1746-1767 # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 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 Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Weapons: gun(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f5eb91ffd7c91253585047a7d6b04c57.pdf c3d013735c972c66687142334b8b3854 PDF Text Text THE Wife of Beith; With a description of her JOURNEY TO HEAVEN. FALKIRK PRINTED F R THE BOOKSELLERS. O �THE W I F E OF B E I T H . In Beith once dwelt a worthy wife, Of whom brave Chaucer mention makes She lived a licentious life, And namely in venereal acts ; But death did come for all her cracks, When years were spent and days outdriven, Then suddenly she sickness takes, Deceast forthwith and went to heaven. But as she went upen the way. There followed her a certain guide ; And kindly to her did say, Where mean you dame for to abide ? I know you are the Wife of Beith, And would not then that you go wrong For I'm your friend, and will not loath That you go thro' this narrow throng, This way is broader, with me. And very pleasant is the way ; I'll bring thee where you would be, Go with me friend say me not nay. She looked on him. then did speer, I pray you sir, what is your name ? Show me the way how came you here? T o tell it to me is no shame. �3 Is that a favour 'bout your neck ? And what is that upon your side ? Is it a bag or silver sack ? What are you then where do you bide ? I was a servant unto Christ, And Judas likewise is my name. I knew you by your colours first. Forsooth indeed you are to blame; Your master did you not betray ? And hang yourself when ye had done ? Where'er you bide I will not stay ; Go then you knave let me alone. Whatever I be I'll be your guide, Becauseyoui know not well the way ; Will you at once in me confide, I'll do all friendship that I may. What would you me ? Where do you dwell, I have nought will go with t h e e ; I fear it is some lower cell, I pray thee therefore let me be. This is a stormy night and cold, I'll bring you to a warmer inn ; Will you g o forward and be bold, And mend your pace till ye win in. I fear your inn will be too warm, For too much hotness is not b e s t ; Such hotness there may do me harm, And keep me that I do not r e s t ; I know your way it is to hell. For you are not one of the eleven ; �4 Go haste you then unto your cell, My way is only unto heaven. That way is by the gates of hell, I f you intend there for to go, Go dame I will not you compel, Bnt I with you will go also. Then down they went a right steep hill, Where Smoke and darkness did abound And pitch and sulphur burned still, With yells and cries hills did resound, T h e fiend himself came to the gate, And asked him where he had been ; D o you not know and have forgot, Seeking this wife could not be seen. Good dame said he will you be here I pray you then tell me your name ; T h e wife of Beith since that you speer, But to come in I were to blame, I will not have you then good dame For you were mistress of the flyting, If once within this gate you come, I will be troubled with your biting. Cummer go back and let me be, H ere are too many of your rout For women lewd like unto thee, I cannot turn my foot about. Sir thief I say i shall bide out, But gossip thou wast ne'er to me For to come in, I'm not so stout, And of my biting thou'st be free ; ; ; �5 But Lucifer what's that on thee ? Hast thou no water in this place? Thou look'st so black it seems to me, Thou ne'er dost wash thy ugly face; If we had water here to drink, We would not care for washing then, Into these flames and filthy stink. We burn with fire in the doom: Upbraid me then good wife no more, For first when I heard of the name ; Iknewthou had such words in store, Would make the devil to think shame. Forsooth Sir thief thou art to blame, If I had time now to abide ; Once ye were well but may think shame That lost heaven for rebellious pride; Who traitor-like fell with the rest, Because ye would not be content, And now of bliss are dispossest, Without all grace for to repent, Thou made'st poor Eve long since consent, To eat of the forbidden tree ; (Which we her daughters may repent) And made us almost like to thee ; But God be blest who past thee by. And did a Saviour provide ; For Adam's whole posterity, All those who do in him confide, Adieu false fiend, I may not bide, With thee I may no longer stay ; �6; My God in death he was my Guide, O ' e r hell I'll get the victory. Then up the hill the poor wife went Opprest with stinking flames and fear. Weeping right sore with great relent. For to go else she wist not w h e r e ; a narrow way with thorns and briers, and full of mires was here b e f o r e ; She sighed oft with sobs and tears. T h e poor wife's heart was wond 4 rous sore; Tired and torn she went on still, Sometimes she sat and sometimes fell, aye till she came to a high hill, and then she looked back to hell. When that she had climb'd up the hill, Before her was a goodly plain ; Where she did rest and weep her fill, Then rose and to her feet again. H e r heart was glad the way was good Up to the hill she hied with haste, T h e flowers were fair where there she stood, The field were pleasant to her taste. Then she espied Jerusalem, O n Zion's mount where that it stood: Shining with gold light as the sun, H e r silly soul was then right glad ; T h e ports of pearls shining bright, Were very glorious to behold, With precious stones gave such a light �7 T h e walls were of transparent gold; high were the walls the gates were shut and long she thought for to be in But then for fear of biding out, She knocked hard and made some din. T o knock and cry she did not spare Till father Adam did her h e a r ; Who is't that raps so rudely there, Heaven cannot well be won by weir; T h e wife of Beith since that you spier, Hath stood these two hours at the gate. Go back quoth he, thou must forbear, Here may no sinners entrance get. Adam, quoth she, I shall be in, In spite of all such churls as thee T h o u ' r t the original of all sin. For which thou art not flyting free. But for thy soul offences fled. Adam went back and let her be, Looking as if his nose had bled. Then mother Eve did at him speer, Who was it there that made such din? He said, a woman would be here, For me I durst not let her in. I'll go, said she, and ask her will, Her company I would have fain ; But aye she cried and knocked still, And in no ways she would refrain. Daughter, said Eve, you will do well, T o come again another t i m e ; Heaven is not won by sword or steel, ; ; �8 Nor none that's guilty of a crime. Mother said she, the fault is thine, That knocking here so long I stand; Thy guilt is more than that of mine, If thou wilt rightly understand, Thou wast the cause of all our sin, Wherein we were born and conceived. Our misery thou did'st begin, By thee thy husband was deceiv'd. Eve went back where Noah was, and told him all how she was blam'd Of her great sin and first trespass, Whereof she was so much asham'd. Then Noah said i will go down, and will forbid her that she knock ; Go back, he said, ye drunken lawn, Your none of the celestial flock. Noah she said, now hold thy peace, Where I drank ale thou didst drink wine Discover'd was to thy disgrace, When thou wast full like to a swine, If I was drunk I learned at the For thou'rt the father and the first, T h a t others taught and likewise me, T o drink when as we had no thirst. Then Noah turned back with speed and told the patriarch Abra'am then, How that the carlin made him dread, And how she all his deeds did ken. Abra'am then said now get you gone Let us no more hear of your din ; �9 No lying wife as I suppose, May enter in these gates within. Abra'am, she said will you but spare I hope you are not flyting free ; You of yourself had such a care, Deny'd your wife and made a lie; Go then I pray you let me be For I repent of all my sin; Do thou but ope the gates to me, and let me quietly come in. Abra'am went back to Jacob then, and told his grandson how to speed, How that of her nothing he wan, an I that he thought the carlin mad, Then down came J a t o b thro' the close and said go backward clown to h e l l ; Jacob quoth she I know your voice, That gate pertaineth to thyself, Of thy old trumpheries I can tell, With two sisters thou led'st thy life, and the third part of these tribes twelve Thou got with maids besides thy wife ; and stole thy father's bennison, Only by fraud thy father frae ; Gave thou not him for venison, A kid instead of breaken rae ? Jacob himself was tickled so H e went to Lot where he was lying, and to the gate prayed him to go, T o staunch the carlin of her crying Lot says fair dame make less ado, �10 and come again another day. Old harlot carle and drunkard too, Thou with thine own two daughters lay Of thine untimely se d I say, Proceeded never good hut ill. Poor Lot for shame then stole away, And left the wife to knock her fill, Meek Moses then went down at last, T o pacify the carlin then ; Now dame said he, knock not so fast, Your knocking will not let you ben. Good sir, she said, I am aghast, Whene'er i look you in the f a c e ; If that your law till now had last, Then surely I had ne'er got g r a c e : But Moses, sir, now by your leave, although in heaven you be possesst, For all you saw did not believe. But you in Horeb once transgressed, Wherefore by all it is confest. You hut got up the land to see, and in the mount were put to rest, Yea buried there where you did die. Moses meekly turned back, and told his brother Aaron there, How the old carlin did so crack, and in no ways did him forbear. Then Aaron said, I will not swear. But I'll conjure her as I can ; and I will make her now forbear, So that she shall not rap again. �11 Then Aaron said, you whorish wife, Get you gone anil rap no more ; (With idols you have led your life,) Or then you will repent it sore, (rood Aaron priest I know you well, This golden calf you may remember. Who made the people plagues to see. T h e is of you recorded ever ; your priesthood now is nothing worth, Christ is my only priest, and he. My lord, who shall not keep me forth, So I'll get in in spite of thee. U p started Sampson at the length, Unto the gate apace came he, T o drive away the wife with strength, But all in vain it would not he. Sampson, quoth she, t h e world may Thou was a judge that proved unjust ; Those gracious girts which God gave thee, Thou lost by thy licentious lust, From Delila thy wicked wife, Thy secrets chief couldst not refrain, She daily sought to take thy life, Thou lost thy locks and then was slain. Though thou wast strong it was in vain Haunted with harlots here and there, Then Sampson turned back again, And with the wife would mell nae mair, T h e n said king David knock no more, �12 We are troubled with thy cry, David quoth she, how cam'st thou here ? Thou might'st bide out as well as I, Thy deeds no ways thou canst deny, Is not thy sin far worse than mine ? Who with Uriah's wife did lie, And caus'd him to be murder'd syne, Then Jedith said who's there that knocks, And to our neighbour gives these notes Madam said she let be your macks, I came not here for cutting throats: I am a sinner full of blots, Yet through Christ's blood I shall be clean. If you and I be judged by votes, T h e thing you did was worse than mine Then said the sapient Solomon, Thou art a sinner all men say, Therefore our Saviour, I suppose. Thee heavenly entrance will deny, Mind quoth she thy latter days, What idol gods thou did upset, And wast so lewd in Venus' plays, Thou didst thy maker quite forget. Then Jonas said fair dame content you, If you intend to come to grace. You must dree penance and repent you Ere you come within this place. �13 Jonas quoth she how stands the case ? How came you here to be with Christ? How dare you look me in the face ? Considering how you broke your tryst, To go God's errand thou withstood him And held this council in disdain ; The raven messenger thou play'd him, And brought no message back again With mercy thou wastnotcontent, When that the Lord he did them spare Although the city did repent, It grieved thee thy heart was sair : Let me alone and speak no more, Go back again into the whale, For now my heart isalsosore, But yet I hope I shall prevail. Good Jonas said crack on your fill, For here I may no longer tarry, Yet knock as long as e'er you will, And go into a firry farry. Jonas she says ye do miscarry, As I have done in former time, You're no Saint Peter nor Saint Mary, T h y blot's as black as ever mine, So Jonas then he was asham'd, Because he was not fly ting free, Of all his faults she had him blam'd He left the wife and let her be. Saint Thomas then I council thee, Go speak unto yon wicked wife, She shames u s all, and as for me, �14 Her like I never heard all my life. Thomas then said, you make such din, When you are out, and meikle din If you were here, I'll lay my life. No peace the saints would get within; I t is your trade for to be flyting, Still in a fever as one raves. N o marvel though you wives be biting, Your tongues are m a l e of aspen leaves Thomas quoth she, let be your taunts, You play the pick-thank I perceive, Though ye be brother to the saints, An unbelieving heart you have ; Thou brought the Lord unto the grave. But would no more with him remain, And wast the last of all the lave, T h a t did believe he rose again, There mi^ht no doctrine do thee good, Nor miracles make thee confide, Till thou beheld Christ's wounds and blood, And put'st thy hands unto his side ; Didst thou not daily with him bide, And see the wonders which he wrought But blest are they who do confide, And do believe yet saw him n o t ; Thomas, she says, will you speer, If that my sister Magdalene, Will come to me if she be here ; For comfort sure you give me nane. �15 H e was so blythe he turned back, and thanked God that he was gane, He had no will to hear her crack, But told it Mary Magdalene. When she did hear her sister's mocks, She went unto the gate with speed : and asked her who is't that knocks? 'Tis I, the wife of Btith indeed, She said good mistress you must stand Till ye be tried by tribulation. Sister, quoth she, give me your hand, are we not both of one vocation? It is not through your occupation, That you are placed so divine, My faith is fixed on Christ's passion. My soul shall be as safe as thine. Then Mary went away in haste, T h e carlin made her so asham'd, She had no will of such a guest, T o lose her pains and be so blamed. Now good St. Paul, said Magdalene, Because you are a learned man, Go and convince this woman then, For I have done all that I can : Sure if she were in hell I doubt, They would not keep her longer there Cut to the gate would turn her out ; and send her back to be elsewhere. Then went the good apostle Paul, T o put the wife in better tune. Wash off the filth that fyles thy soul, �16 Then shall heav'n's gates be open soon. Remember Paul what thou hast done, For the epistles thou didst compile, Though now thou sittest up above, Thou persecuted Christ awhile. Woman he said, thou art not right, That which I did, I did not know; But thou did sin with all thy might, Although the preachers did thee show, Saint Paul, she said, it is not So, I did not know as well as ye, But I will to my Saviour go; Who will his favour show to me ; You think you are of flyting free, Because you were wrapt up above. But yet it was Christ's grace to thee, and matchlessness of his dear love, Then, Paul she says let Peter come, If he be lying let him rise, To him I will confess my sin. and let him quickly bring the keys. Too long I stand, he'll let me in, For why I cannot longer tarry, Then shall ye all be quit of din, For I must speak with good saint Mary. The good apostle discontent, Right suddenly he turned back, For he did very much repent, T o hear the carlin proudly crack, Paul says good brother now arise, and make an end of all this din, �17 And if be so you have the keys, Open andletthecarlinin; T h e apostle Paul arose at last, and to the gate with speed he he hies, Carlin quoth he knock not so fast, You cumber Mary with your cries. Peter she said let Christ arise, and grant me mercy in my need ; For why, I ne'er denied him thrice, as though thyself hast done indeed. Thou calling bold what's that to thee ? I got remission for my sin ; It cost many sad tears to me, Before I entered here within. I will not be thy muckle din, Will cause heaven gates opened be, Thou must be purified of sin ; and of all sins must be made free. Saint Peter then its nought to you That you were rid of your fears, It was Christ's gracious look I trow That made ye wipe those bitter tears, T h e door of mercy is not closed, I may get grace as well as ye, It is not so as ye supposed I will be in, in spiteofthee. But wicked wife it is too late, Thou shouldest have mourn'd upon earth, Repentance now is out of date : I should have been before thy death ; �18 Thou mightest then have turned wrath T o mercy then and mercy great, But now the Lord is very loth, and all thy crys not worth a jot. Ah ! Peter then what shall I do? H e will not hear me as i hear, Shall I despair of mercy too! No, no, I,ll trust in mercy d e a r : and if I perish here I'll stay, and never go from heaven bright; I'll ever hope and always pray, TntilIget my Saviour's sight. I think indeed you now are right, if you had faith you would win in ; Importune then with all your might, Faith is the feet wherewith you come. It is the hands will hold him fast But weak faith never may presume ; 'Twill let you sink and be aghast. Stongly believe, or your undone. But good Saint Peter, let me be, Had you such faith did it abound ? When you did walk upon the sea, Were ye not likely to he drown'd ? Had not our Saviour helped thee, Who came and took thee by the hand ; So can my Lord dountoto me, and bring me to the promised land, Is my faith weak ? Yea he is still T h e same and ever shall remain ; His mercies last and his good will, �19 T o bring me to his flock a g a i n ; H e will me help and me relieve, and will increase my faith also, If weakly I can but believe, For from this place I'll never go. But Peter said how can that be? How dar'st thou look him in the face ? Such horrid sinners like to thee, Can have no courage to have grace ; Here none comes in but they that's stout, and suffer'd have for the good cause? Like unto thee are keeped cut. For thou hast kroken all Moses' laws. Peter she said, I do appeal, From Moses and from thee also, With him and you I'll not prevail, But to my Saviour I will go; Indeed of old you were right stout, When ysu did cut off Malchus' ear ; But after that you went about. And a poor maid then did you fear. Wherefore Saint Peter do forbear, A comforter indeed your n o t ; Let me alone, I do not fear, Take home the wissel of your g r o a t ; Was it your own or Paul's good sword When that your courage was so keen, You were right stout upon my word, Then you would fain at fishing been For ere the crowing of the cock, ; �20 You did deny your master thrice. For all your stoutness turned: a block, Now flyte no more if ye be wise. Yet at the last the Lord arose, Environed with angels bright. And to the wife in haste he goes, Desir'd her to pass out of sight, O Lord quoth she, cause me do right But not according to my sin, have you not promised day and night, When sinners knocks to let them in ? He said thou wrests the scriptures wrong. The night is come thou spent the day In whoredom thou hast lived long, And do repent thou didst d e l a y ; Still my commandments thou abus'd And vice committed busily, Since now my mercy thou refused, Go down to hell eternally, O Lord, my sou! doth testify, That I have spent my life in vain ; Ah ! make a wandering sheep of me, And bring me to thy flock again. Think'st thou there is no count to crave, Of all these gifts in thee was planted, I gave thee beauty 'bove the lave, A pregnant wit thou never wanted. Master, quoth she it must be granted, My sins are great give me contrition ; �21 The forlorn son when he repented. Obtain'd his father's full remission. I spar'd my judgment many times, And sp'ritual pastors did thee send ; But thou renew'd'st thy former crimes, Aye more and more me to offend. My Lord, quoth she, I do amend, Lamenting for my former vice, The poor thief at the latter end, For one word went to paradise. T h e thief heard never of my teachings, My heavenly precepts and my laws, But thou wast daily at my preachings, Both heard and saw and yet misknows, Master quoth she the scriptures shows, T h e Jewish womanwhoplay'dthelown, Conform unto the Hebrew laws, Was brought to thee to he put down ; But nevertheless thou let'st her go, And made the Pharisee's afraid. Indeed, says Christ, it was right so, And that my bidding was obey'd, Woman, he said, I may not cast, The children's bread to dog's like thee, Although my mercies yet do last, There's mercy here but none for thee, But, loving Lord, may I presume, Poor worm, that I may speak again, The dogs for hunger were undone, And for the crumbs they were right fain ; �22 Grant me one crumb that then doth fall From thy blest children's table Lord, That I may be refresh'd withal, It will me help enough afford. The gates of mercy now are clos'd, And thou canst hardly enter in ; It is not so as thou supposed. For thou art deadly sick in sin. 'Tis true indeed my lord most meek, My sore and sickness I do f e e l ; Yet thou the lamb dost truly seek, Who lay long at Bethseda's pool, Of that thee never sought, Like to the poor Samaritan; Whom thou into thy fold has brought, Even as thou didst the widow of Nain : Most gracious God, didst thou not bid All that were weary come to thee ? Behold I come! even o'erload With sin, have mercy upon me. The issues of thy soul are great, Thou art both leprous and unclean, To be with me thou art not fit, Go from me then, let me alone. Let me thy garments once but touch, My bloody issue will be whole, It will not cost thee very much, To save a poor distressed soul. Speak thou the word I shall be whole, One look of thee shall do me good, Save now good lord my silly soul, �23 Bought with thine own most precious blood. Let me alone, none of my blood, Was ever shed for such as thee, It was my mercy patience good. Which from damnation set them free. I t is confest thou hast been just, Altho' thou had condemned m e ; But O ! thy mercies still do last, T o save the soul that trust in thee : Let me not then condemned be. Most humbly Lord, I thee request, Of sinners all none, like me, So much the more thy praise shall last, Thy praising me is profite, My saints shall praise me evermore: In sinners I have no delight, Such sacrifice I do abhor. Then she unto the Lord did say, At footstool of thy grace I'll lie ; Sweet Lord my God say me not nay, For if I perish here I'll die. Poor silly wretch then speak no more, Thy faith poor soul hath saved thee ; Enter thou into my glory, And rest through all eternity. How soon our Saviour these words said, A long white robe to her was given ; And then the angels did her lead Forthwith within the gates of heaven ; �24 A laurel crown set on her Head. Spangled with rubies and with gold ; A bright white palm she always had, Glorious itWas for to behold ; Her face did shine like to the sun, like threads of gold her hair hung down Her eyes like lamps unto the moon : Of precious stones rich Was her crown, Angels and saints did welcome her, T h e heavenly choir did sing rejoice ; King David with his harp was t h e r e ; The silver bells gave a great noise. Such music and such melody, Was neither ever heard or seen, When this poor saint was plac'd t o high And of her sins made freely clean ; But then when thus she Was possest, And looked back on all her fears, And that she was come to her rest, Free'd from her sins, and all her tears, She from her head did take the crown, Giving all praise to Christ on high, And at his feet she laid it down, For that the Lamb hath m a d e her free, Now doth she sing triumphantly, And shall rejoice for evermore O'er death and hell victoriously, With lasting spirits laid in store. FINIS. . � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e69f4df5c03a86a43bceebea3c193432.jpg 0d572f7c109863b52c0815cdd8f4c719 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Height 547 Width 354 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 the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. 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 075:Title-page illustration in single ruled border of the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Wife of Beith: With a Description of Her Journey to Heaven Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923445103505154">s0074b23</a> Abstract A summary of the resource. Inspired by Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, this tale describes the Wife’s journey after death. As the Wife travels first to hell and then to heaven, she is rejected by the Devil – who does not wish to be harried by her scornful tongue – and then a long number of biblical characters in heaven due to her many earthly transgressions. The Wife’s flyting appalls and shames all of these characters until she ultimately comes before Christ who at first rejects her as well, but then ultimately accepts her when she submits faithfully to him. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada 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. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource ca.1840-1850 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Falkirk: Printed for the Booksellers Subject The topic of the resource Religion and Morals Chapbooks - Scotland - Falkirk 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 Chaucer, Geoffrey, -1400 Description An account of the resource Woodcut #75: Illustration on title-page of the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. Type The nature or genre of the resource poetry # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: religion & morals Chapbook Publisher - Falkirk: Printed for the Bookseller Gender: man/men Nature: cloud(s) Nature: tree(s) Occupation: soldier Religious Figures: Jesus Christ https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/6beedec18e2a31cdb1483ec32c147fc4.pdf 6dbde01f3accedc1419588129af841fd PDF Text Text THE Wife of Beitk With a description of her JOURNEY TO HEAVEN. FALKIRK PRINTED F R THE BOOKSELLERS. O �THE i W I F E OF B E I T H t In Beith once dwelt a worthy wife, Of whom brave Chaucer mention makes She lived alicentiot s life, And namely in venereal acts ; Bnt death did come for all her cracks, When years were spent and days outdriven, Then suddenly she sickness takes, Deceast forthwith and went to heaven. But as she went upen the way. There followed 1 er a certain guide ; And kindly to her did say, Where mean you dame for to abide ? I know you are the Wife of Beith, And would not then that you go wrong For I'm your friend, and will not loath That you i»o thro 4 this narrow throng, This way is broader, with me. And very pleasant is the way ; I'll bring thee where you would be, Go with me friend say me not nay. She looked on him. then did speer, I pray you sir, what is your name ? Show me the way how came you here? T o tell it to me is no shame. �s Is that a favour 'bout your neck ? And what is that upon your side ? Is it a bag or silvei sack ? What are you then where do you bide ? I was a servant unto Christ, And Judas likewise is my name. I knew you by your colours first. Forsooth indeed you are to blame; Your master did you not betray ? And hang yourself when ye had done ? Where'er you bide I will not stay ; Go then yo'i knave let me alone. Whatever I be I'll be your gtiidf*, Because yo i know not well the way j Will you at once in me confide, I'll do rill friendship that 1 may. What would you me ? Where do you dwell, I have nought will go with t h e e ; I fear it is some lower cell, I pray thee therefore let me be. This is a stormy night and cold, III bring you to a warmer inn ; Will you g o forward and be bold, And mend your pace till ye win in. I fear your inn will be too warm, For too much hotness is not b e s t ; Such hotness there may do me harm, And keep me that I do not r e s t ; I know your way it is to hell. For you are not one of the eleven ; �4 Go haste you then unto your cell, My way is only unto heaven. That way is by the gates of hell, I f you intend there for to go, Go dame I will not you compel, Bnt I with you will go also. Then down they went a right steep hill, Where Smbke and darkness did abound And pitch and sulphur burned still, With yells and cries hills did resound, T h e fiend himself cime to the gate, And asked him where he had been ; D o you not know and have forgot, Seeking this wife could not be »een. Good dame said he will you be here I pray you then tell me your name ; T h e wife of Beith since lltat you speer, But to come in 1 were to blame, I will not have you then good dame For you were mistress of the fly ting, If once within this gaite you come, I will be troubled with your biting. Cummer go back and let me be, II ere are too many of youi rout j For women lewd like unto thee, I cannot turn my foot about. Sir t! let I say i shall bide out, But gossip thou wast ne'er to me y For to come in, I'm not so stout, And of my biting thoil'st be free j �5 Bill Lucifer what that on thee ? Hast thou n?o'water in this place P Thou look'st so black it seems to mei Thou nener drost wash thy ugly face; If we had water here to drink, We would not care for washing then, Into these flames and filthy stink. We burn with fire in the doom: Upbraid me then good wife no more, For first when I heard of the name ; 1 knevr thou had such words in store, Would make the devil to think shame. Forsooth Sir thief thou art to blame, If I had time now to abide ; Once ye were well but may think shame That lost heaven for rebellious pride; Who traitor-like -fell with the rest, Because ye would not be content, And now of bliss are dispossest, Without all grace for to repent, Thou made'st poor Eve long since consent, To eat of the forbidden tree ; (Which we her daughters may repent) And made us almost like to thee j But God be blest who past thee by. And did a Saviour provide ; For /fdam's w hole posterity, All those who do in him confide, Adieu false fiend, I may not bide, With thee I may no longer stay ; �6; My God in death he was my Guide* O ' e r hell I'll pet the victory. Then up the hill the poor wife went Opprest with stinking flames and fear. Weeping right sore with gieat relent. For to go else she wist not w h e r e ; a narrow way with thorns and briers, and full of mires was here b e f o r e ; She sighed oft with sobs and tears. T h e poor wife's heart was wond 4 rous sore; Tired and torn she went on still, Sometimes she sat anil sometimes fell, aye till she came to a high hill, and then <?ne looked back to hell. When that she hatl climbM up the hill, Before her was a goodly plain ; Where she did rest and weep her fill, Then rose and to her feet again. H e r heart was glad the way was good Up to the hill she hied with haste, T h e f l o u e r s were fair where there she stood, The field were pleasant to her taste. Then she espied Jerusalem, O n Zion's mount where that it stood: Shining with gx>ld light as the sun, H e r silly soul was then right glad ; T h e ports of pearls shining bright, Were very glorious to behold, With precious stones g a \ e such a light �7 T h e walls were of transparent gold; high were tWe walls thegates were shut and long she thought for to be in $ But then for fear of biding out, She knocked hard and made some dinT o knock and cry she did not spare Till father Adam did her h e a r ; Who is't that raps so rudely there, Heaven cannot well be vvcn by weir; T h e wife of Beith since that you spier, Hath stood these two hours at the gate* Go back quoth he, thou must forbear, Here may rio sinners entrance get. Adam, quoth she, 1 shall be in, In spite of all such churls as thee j T h o u ' r t the original of all sin. For which thou art not flvting free. But for thy soul offences fled. Adam went back and let her be, Looking as if his nose had bled. Then mother Eve did at him speer, Who was it there that made such din? He said, a woman would be here, For me I durst not let her in. I'll go, said she, and ask her will, Her company I would have fain ; But aye she cried anil knocked still, And in no ways she would refrain. Daughter, said Eve, you will do well, T o come a^ain another t i u i e ; Heaven is not won by sword or steel, �8 Nor none that's guilty of a crime. Mother said she, the fault is thine, That knocking here so long I stand; Thy guilt is more than that of mine, If thou wilt rightly understand, Thou wast the cause of all our sin, Wherein we were bom and conceived. Our misery thou did'st begin, By thee thy husband was deceived. Eve went back where Noah was, and told him all how she was blam'd Of her great sin and first trespass, Whereof she was so much asham'd. Then Noah said i will go down, and will forbid her that she knock ; Go back, he said, ye drunken lawn, Your none of the celestial flock. Noah she said, now hold thy peace, Where I drank ale thou didst drink wine Discover'd was to thy disgrace, When thou wast full like to a swine, If I was drunk 1 learned at the For thou'rt the father and the first, T h a t others taught and likewise me, T o drink when as vve had 110 thirst. Then Noah turned back with speed and told the patriarch Abra'am then, How that the carlin made him dread, And how she all his deeds did ken. Abra'am then said now get you gone Let us no more hear of your din ; �9 No lying wife as I suppose, May enter in these gates within. Abra'am, she said will you but spare I hope you are not 'flyting fre^ ; You of yourself had such a care, Deny'd your wife and made a lie; Go then I pray you let me be For 1 repent of all my sin; Do thou but ope the gates to me, and let me quietly come in. Abra'am went back to Jacob then, and told his grandson how to speed, How that of her nothing he wan, an 1 that he thought the cariin mad, Then down came J a t o b thro* 1 he close and said go backward clown to h e l l ; Jacob quoth she I know your voice, That gate pertaineth to thyself, Of thy old trumpheiies I can tell, With two sisters thou led*st thy life, and the third part of these tribes twelve Thou got with maids besides thy wife ; and stole thy father's bennison, Only by fi aud t ly father frae ; Gave thou not him for venison, A kid instead of breaken rae ? Jacob himself was tickled so H e went to Lot where he was lying, and to the gate prayed him to go, T o staunch the carlin of her crying Lot says fair dame make less ado, �10 and come again another day. Old harlot carle and drunkard too, T h o u with thine own two daughters lay Of thine untimely se d I say, Proceeded nevei good hut ill. Poor Lot for shame then stole away, And left the wife to knock her fill, M e e k Moses then went down at last, T o pacify the carlin then ; Now dame said he, knock not so fast, Your knocking will not let you ben. Good sir, she said, 1 am aghast, Whene'er i look you in the f a c e ; If that your law till now had last, T h e n surely I had ne'er got g r a c e : But Moses, sir, now by your leave, although in heaven you be possesst, For all you saw did not believe. But you in Horeb once transgressed, Wherefore by all it is confest. You hut got up the land to see, and in the mount were put to rest, Yea buried there where you did die. Moses meekly turned back, and told his brother Aaron there, H o w the old carlin did so crack, and in no ways did him forbear. Tl en Aaron sail), I will not swear. But Ml conjure her as I can ; and I will make her now forbear, So that she shall not rap again. �11 Then Aaron said, you whorish wife, Get you g*one anil rap no more ; (With idols you have led your life,) Or then you will repent it sore, (rood Aaron priest 1 know you well, This golden calf you may remember. Who made the people plagues to see* T h e is of you recorded ever ; your priesthood now is nothing worth, Christ is my only priest, and he. My lord, who shall not keep rive forth, So I'll get in in spite of t hee. U p started Sampson at the length, Unto the gate apace came he, T o drive away the wife with strength, But all in vain it would not l>e. Sampson, quoth she, t h e world may Thou was a j u d p e that proved unjust ; Those gracious girts which God gave thee, Thou I >st by thy licentious lust, From Delila thy wicked wife, Thy secrets chief couldst not refrain, She daily sought to take thy life, Thou lost thy locks and then was slain. Though thou wast strong it was in vain Haunted with harlots heie and there, Then Sampson turned back again, And with the wife would mell nae tnair, T h e n said king David knock no more, �12 We ara troubled with thy cry, David quoth she, how cam'st thou here ? Thou migju^st bide out as well as I, Thy dee,is no ways thou canst deny, Is not thy sin far worse than mine ? Who with Uriah's wife did lie, And caus'cj him to be murder'd synt?, Then Jeditii said who's there that knocks, ? , ? And to our n e i g h b o u r t h e s e notes Madam said she k t he your macks, I came not here for qntting throats: I am a sinner full of blots, Yet through Chiist's blood I shall be clean. If you and I be judged by votes, T h e thing you did was worse than mine Then said the sapient Solomon, Thou art a sinner all men say, Therefore our Saviour, I suppose. Thee heavenly entrance will deny, Mind quoth she thy latter days, What idol gods thou did upset, And wast so lewd in Venus' plays, Thou didst thy maker quite forget. Then Jonas said fair dame content you, If you intend to come to grace. You must dree penance and repent you Ere you conae within tins place. �13 Jonas quoth she how stands the case ? How came you here to be with Christ? How dare you look me in the face ? Considering how you broke your tryst, To go God's ei rand thou withstood him And heldfhis council in disdain ; The raven messenger thou play'd him, And brought noitBtssage back again With meray'thou wast Bot; darken t*. When that the Lord i t e did them spare Although the city did repent, It grieved tbieAhy he!ai?t was sair : Let me alone and speakt no more, Go back again in:© the whale, For now my heart is^ako gorej ]>ut yet I hope 1 shall prevail. Good Jonas said crack on your fill, For here I may no longer tarry, Y£t knock as long as e'er you will, And go into a firry farry. Jonas she says ye do miscarry, As I have done in former time, You're no Saint Peter nor Saint Mary, T h y blot's as black as ever mine, So Jonas then he was asham'd, Because he was not fly ting free, Oi all his faults she had him blam'd He left the wife and let her be. Saint Thomas then / council thee, Go speak unto yon wicked wife, She shames u s all, aad as for me, to* �14 Her like I never heard all my life. Thomas then said, you make such din, When you are out, and meikle din If you were here, P11 lay my life. No peace the saints would get within} I t is your trade for to be fly ting, Still in a fever as one raves. N o marvel though you wives be biting, Your tongues are ma le of a*pen leaves Thomas quoth she, let be your taunts, You play the pick-thank I perceive, Though ye be brother to the saints, An unbelieving heart you have ; Thou brought the Lord unto the grave. But wouht no more with him remain, And wast the last of all the lave, T h a t did believe he rose again, There mi^ht no doctrine do thee good, Nor miracles make thee confide, Till thou beheld Christ's wounds and blood, And put'st thy hands unto his side ; Didst thou not daily with him bide, And see the wonders which he wrought But blest are they who do confide, And do believe yet saw him n o t ; Thoma.«, she says, will you speei, If that my sister Magdalene, Will come to me if she be here ; For comfort sure you give me nane. �15 H e was so blythe he turned back f and thanked God that he was gane, He had no will to hear her crack t But told it Mary Magdalene. When she did hear her sister's mocks, She went unto the gate with speed : and asked her who is't that knocks? *Tis I, the wife of Btith indeed, She said g ood mistress you must stand Till ye be tried by tiibuhtioiV. Sister, quoth she, g w e me your hand, are we not both of one vocation? It is not through your occupation, That you are placet! so divine, My faith is fixed on Christ's passion. My soul shail be as safe as thine. Then Mary went away in haste, T h e carlin made her so aslram'd, She had no will of such a guest, T o lose her pains and be so blamed. Now good St. Paul, said Magdalenet -Because you are a learned man, Go and convince this woman then, For I have done all that I can : Sure if she were in hell I doubt, They would not keep her longer there Cut to the gate would turn hei out ; and send her back to be elsewhere. Then went the good apostle Paul, T o put the wife in better tune. Wash off the filth that fylea thy soul, �, 16 Then shall heav'n's gates be open soon. Remember Paul what thou hast idone, For the epistles thou didst compile, Though now thou sittest up above, Thou persecuted Christ awhile. Woman he said, thou art not r%ht f That which I did, I did not know; But thou did sin with all thy might , Although th^ preachers did thee show, Saint Paul, rhe said, it is not So, I did not know as well asye, But I will to my Saviour go; Who will his favour show to mfe ; You think you are of flvting free, Because you were wrapt up above. But yet it was Christ's grace to thee, and matchlessness of his dear love, Then, Paul she says let Peter come, If he be lying let him rise, To him I will confess my sin. and let him quickly bring the keys. Too long I stand, he'll let me in, Fcr why I cannot longer tarry, Then shall ye ail be quit of din, For I must speak with good saint Mary. The good apostle discontent, Right suddenly he turned back, For he did very much repent, T o hear the carhn proudly crack, Paul says good brother now arise, and make an end of all this din, �17 And if be so you have the keys, Open and l ?l the p ^ i g ^ g iprdm oT T h e apostle Paul arose at last, and to the gate with speed he he hies*: Carlin quoth he knock not so fast, You cumber Mary with your cries. Peter she said let Christ arise, and grant me mercy in my need ; For why, 1 ne'er denied him thrice, as though thyself hast don?e indeed.. Thou calling bold what's that to thee ? 1 got remission for my sin ; It cost many sad tears to me, Before I entered here within. / 1 will not be thy m uckle din, W ill cause heaven ^ates opened be, Thou must be purified of sin ; and of all sins must be made free. Saint Peter then its nought to you That you were rid of your fears, It was Christ's gracious look I trow That made ye wipe those bitter tears, T h e door of mercy is not closed, I may get grace as well as ye, It is not so as ye supposed / will be in, in jspiite } Jsh&f&o odW But wicked wife it is too late, Thou shouldest have mourn'd upon earth, Repentance now is out of date : / 1 should have been before thy death ; �18 Thau mightest then have turned wrath T o mercy then and mercy £feat, But now the Lord is very loth, and all thy crys not worth a jot. Ah ! Peter then what shall I do? H e will not hear me as i hear, Shall I despair of mercy too! No, no, 1,11 trust in mercy d e a r : and if I perish here I'll stay, and never go from heaven bright; I'll ever hope and always pray, Tntil 1 get my Saviour's sight. I think indeed you now are right, if you had faith you would win in ; Importune then with all your mi^ht, Faith is the feet wherewith you come. It is che hands will hoi i him fast But weak faith never may presume ; 'Twill let you sink and be aghast. Stongly believe, < r your undone. But good Saint Peter, let me be, Had you &m:h faith did it abound ? When you did walk upon the sea, Were ye not lik iiy to he drown'd ? Had not our Saviour helped thee, Who came and took thee by the hand ; So c*n my Lord do ui to me, and bring- me to the promised land, Is my faith weak ? Yea he is still T h e same and ever shall remain ; His mercies last and his good will, �w T o bring me to his flock again; He will me help and me relieve, and will increase my faith also, If weakly J can but believe, For from this place Til never go. But Peter said how can that be* How dar'st thou look him in the face ? Such horrid sinners like to thee, Can have no courage to have grace ; Here none comes in but they that's stout, and suffer'd have for the good cause? Like unto thee are keeped cut. For thou hast kroken all Moses* laws. Peter she said, 1 do appeal, From Moses and from thee also, With him and you Ml not prevail, But to my Saviour 1 will go; Indeed of old you were right stout, When ysu did cut off Malchtis' ear ; But after that you went about. And a poor maid then did you fear. Wherefore Saint Peter do forbear, A comforter indee 1 your n o t ; Let me alone, 1 do not fear, Take home the wissd of your g r o a t ; Was it your o\rn or Paul's good sword When that your courage was so keen, You were ri^ht stout upon my word, Then you would fain at fishing been j For ere the crowing of the cock, �20 You 4id deny your master thrice. For all your stoutness turned: a block, Now flyte no more if ye be wise. Yet at the last the Lord arose, Environ§d with angels bright. And to the wife in haste he goes, l i e f i ^ d her to pass out of sight, () Lord quoth she, cause me do right But not according to my sin, tlave yoi) not promised day and night, When sinners knocks t j let them in ? v He said thou wrests the scriptures wrong. The night is come thou spent the day In whoredom thou hast lived lon£, And do repent thou didst d e l a y ; Still my commandments thou abus'd And vice committed busily, Since now,my mercy thou refused, Go down to hell eternally, O Lord, my sou! doth testify, That I have spent my life in vain ; Ah ! mak^ a wandering sheep of me, And bring me to thy flock again. I'nink'st thou tbore is no count to crave, Of all th;e#e gifts in thee was planted, I gave thee beauty 'hove*the lave, A pregnant wit thou ntver ro anted. Master, quoth she it must be granted, My sins are great give me contrition ; �M The forlorn son when he repented. Obtain'd his father's full remission. I spar'd my judgment many times, And sp'ritual pastors did thee send ; Hut thou renew'd'st thy former crimes, Aye more and more me to offend. My Lord, quoth she, I do amend, Lamenting for my former vice, The poor thief at the latter end, For one word went to paradise. T h e t hief heard never of my teachings, My heavenly precepts and my laws, But thou wast daily at my preachings, Both heard and saw and yet misknowl, Master quoth she the scriptures shows, T h ie J e w i sh w o m a n w h 0 p I ay' d t h e 1 o w ii Conform unto the Hebrew laws, Was brought to thee to he put down ; Y ut nevertheless thou let 4 st her go, And made the P h a r k e e ^ afraid. Indeed, says Christ, it was right so, And that my bidding was obey'd, Woman, he sail), I may not cast, The chi 1 dren's bread to dog's like thee, Although my mercics yet do last, There's mercy here but none for thee, But, loving Lord, may I presume, Poor worm, that I may speak again, The dogs for hunger were undone, Arid for the crumbs they were right fain ; �22 Grant me one crumb that then doth fall From thy blest children's table Lord, That I may be lefresh'd withal, It will me help enough afford. The gates of mercy now are clos'd, And thou canst hardly enter in ; It is not so as thou supposed. For thou art deadly sick in sin. *Tis true indeed my lord most meek, My sore and sickness 1 do f e e l ; Yet thou the lamb dost truly seek, Who lay long* at Bethseda's pool, Of that thee never sought, Like to the poor Samaritan; Whom thou into thy fold has brought, Even as thou didst the widow of Nain : Most giacious God, didst thou not bid All that were weary eorre to thee ? Behold I come! even oVrload With sin, have mercy upon me. The issues of tiw soul are great, Thou art both leprous and unclean, To be with me thou art not fit, Go from me then, let me alone. Let me thy garments once but touch, My bloody issue will be whole, It will not cost thee very much, To Fave a poor distressed soul. Speak thou the word I shall be vhole, One look of thee shall do me good, Save now good lord my silly soul, �23 Bought with thine own most precious blood. L e t me alone, none of my blood, Was ever shed for such as thee, I t was my mercy patience good. Which from damnation sec them free. I t is confest thou hast been just, Altho 4 thou had condemned m e ; But O ! thy mercies still do last, T o save the soul that tiust in thee : Let me not then condemned be. Most humbly Lord, I thee request, O f sinners all none, like me, So much the more thy praise shall last, Thy praising me is profite, My saints shall praise me e v e r m o r e : In sinners I have no delight, Such sacrifice 1 do abhor. T h e n she unto the Lord did say, At footstool of thy grace Ml lie ; Sweet Lord my God sav me not nay, For if I perish here I'll die. Poor silly wretch then speak no mor* Thy faith poor soul hath saved thee ; Enter thou into my glory, And rest through all eternity. How soon our Saviour these words said, A lon«r white robe to her was given And then the angels did her lead Forthwith within the gates of heaven �24 A laurel crown set on her Head. Spangled with rubies and with gold ; A bright white palm she always had, Glorious itWas for to behold ; Her face did shine like to the sun, like threads of gold her hair hung dpwn Her eyes like lamps unto the moon : Of precious stones ri Jh Was her croVHi, Angels and saints did welcome her, :The heavenly choir did sing rejoice ; King David w ith his harp was t h e r e ; The silver bells gave a great noise. Such music and such melody, Was neither ever heard or seen, When this poor saint was plac'd t o high :And of her sins made freely clean ; But then when thus she Was p<issest, And looked back on all 11er fears, And that she was come to her rest, KreeM from her sins, and all her tears, She from her head did take the crown, Giving all praise to Christ on high, Amd a t I vis feet-she laid it down, For that the Lamb hath made her free, Now doth she sing triumphantly, And shall rejoice for eventiore O'er death and hell victoriously, With lasting spirits laid in store. * . FINIS. . � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c3cde554a7022db4ff171917f9f8380f.jpg 1ef8316199229655d5e0eb7b7a723547 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 the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. 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 075:Title-page illustration in single ruled border of the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Wife of Beith; With a description of her Journey to Heaven. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1840-1850?] per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. a bound collection of 54 chapbooks Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks</a> 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 Abstract A summary of the resource. "The Wife of Bath's Tale (Middle English: the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe) is among the best-known of Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. " <a title="Wikipedia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wife_of_Bath%27s_Tale">Wikipedia</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Bath, England 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 Edinburgh: Printed for the Bookseller 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 Chaucer, Geoffrey, -1400 Type The nature or genre of the resource poetry Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Description An account of the resource Woodcut #75: Illustration on title-page of the Resurrection showing Jesus Christ rising from the tomb in a burst of light with 4 soldiers displayed in pairs of two on the ground. # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: religion & morals Chapbook Publisher - Edinburgh: Printed for the Booksellers Nature: cloud(s) Nature: tree(s) Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Religious Figures: Jesus Christ https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/bd3b3c6db8c4fd85e918eff53df46caf.jpg de342b26b8bc86c0452a2b1babff372b 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 Beehive with motto: Industry, Honesty, and Integrity https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f24f19d8ccfc0944f4cb9f032d8d0fa8.pdf ce5a8e41d30f0bb9c31e4efabf58c8f1 PDF Text Text FUN UPON FUN; OK, LEPER, THE IN TAILOR. TWO WITH PARTS: A SELECTION OF ENTERTAINING ANECDOTES. GLASGOW: PKINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS �THE MERRY TRICKS OF LEPER, THE TAILOR. LEPEK'S father lived in a village about six miles from Glasgow, and died when he was but very young; he left a widow and three children, two daughters and a son ; Leper being the youngest, was greatly idolized by his mother, who was a good soft-natured woman, very industrious, and followed -th|e bleaching of cloth;. As Leper grew up he grew a very mischievous boy, playing many tricks in the neighbourhood, such as tying cats to dogs tails, breaking hens' legs, stopping people's lums, or chimney-tops.; >so that his poor Another was sadly vexed with complaints against him. • \ To get him kept from mischief, she prevailed with;a tailor to take him as an apprentice; he settled and was very peaceable for some time, untillie got as much of his trade on his finger ends as he might pass for a journeyman, aild then he was indifferent whether he stayed with his master or Hot; his mistress gave him but very little meat when he wrought at home, so he liked �3 best to be in other houses, where he got meat and diversion. Leper being resolved on revenge against his mistress for her thin kail, no kitchen, and little bread; for though flesh was boiled in the pot, none was for poor Leper and his master* but a little bit on Sundays, and all the bones were kept and put in the pot, to make the broth through the week. Leper perceived* always when she took off the pot, she turned her back and took out the flesh, and set it on a shelf in her own bed-room ; one niglit, after work, he steals out a pan, cuts a piece of flesh out of a dead horse, and then goes to a lime kiln, and boils it; next day, his master being from home, his landlady and lie being in the house, after she had/ set the pot as usual, and taken out her bit of-good beef, he goes* out for some time and then comes in, saying, c the ministers lass is wishing to see you, to go directly and speak to her mistress/ Off she goes in all haste; Leper runs and takes away her bit of good meat, and lays down his horse flesh ; and knowing she would return in a passion, and sit down with a soss in her cushioned chair, as slie used, he takes a large pin and staps it straight through the,cushion, with its head on the chair?fand the point to Her b^clfside. So in she chines in a rage, and down she w- �4 sits with all her weight on the pin point ; and she roars out murder! murder! for she was sticket in the a—e ; the neighbours came running in. and Leper went out with his bit of good beef, leaving the wives to doctor his landlady's do up, as they pleased; hestill denied the doing of it, and his master believed it might happen accidentally, but the houdie was very oft to be had before it was got hale again ; and his landlady by eating of the horse beef took such a loathing at flesh, that Leper and his master got all the beef ever after, and his landlady turned one of the kindest mistresses a prentice could Wish for. There was a neighbour wTife on whom Leper used to play tricks sometimes, for which she came and complained to his master and had him severely beaten several times. Leper resolved to be revenged on her, so one night he came to the backside of the house (110 one being in but herself), and took up a big stone and runs along the rough wall with all his strength, which roared like thunder in the inside of the house, ami frighted the wife so that she thought the house was tumbling down about her ears, and she ran out and sat down at a distance, looking every minute when the house would fall down, till her husband came home and persuaded her to go in, to whom she told �the above story ; ' lio'ut tout, daft tapie/ said he, 4 the house will staftd these hundred years/ Leper knowing they were both in, comes and plays the same trick over again, which also frightened the good man so much that he cried out, ' run, Maggy, run, for my heart plays pitty patty/ And they would not lodge in the house any more, till the masons convinced them of its sufficiency. There was another neighbour who had a * snarling cur dog, which bit Leper's leg.. Leper resolved to be revenged on the clog, and so one night he catches the dog, and carries him to the kirk, where the rope of the bell hung on the outside, so with his garter lie tied the dog's fore foot to the rope, and left him hanging; the dog struggling to get free set the bell a ringing, which alarmed the whole village, every one cried out 'wonderful fire! wonderful fire! the devil is ringing the bell/ When they saw the black colley hanging at the rope, I trow it set the minister and all the people to their prayers: but Leper fearing he would be detected by his garter, came to the minister's side, and asked the reverend gentleman what was the matter; indeed, my bairn,' said he,' 'tis the deil ringing the kirk bell;' says Leper ' I'll go and see him, for I never saw the devil;' the minister cried stop the mad laddie, but Leper ran and losed the dog, crying 1 its �6 such a man's dog, which had the rope in its teeth i they all cried out, 'the deils i' the cur, the deil's i' the dog/ then took up stones and felled poor colley, and the devil got the blame of making the dog ring the bell This spread Leper's fame, for being one of the wisest and most courageous tailors that was in all the kingdom; and many shaking their heads, said, 'it was a pity he was a tailor, but a captain or a general of an army, as the devil could not fear him.'After this, a farmer in the neighbourhood hearing the fame of Leper, how he had frighted the deil frae being a bellman, sent for him to an alehouse, and drank with him very heartily, and told him he was sadly borne down by a spirit of jealousy against his wife; and a suspicion of her being too free with a servant lad he had before; and if he w^ould keep it a secret and learn him to find it out, he would give his mother a load of meal, to which Leper agreed; so he gave the poor supposed cuckold instructions how to behave.. So home he goes and feigns himself very sick, and every day worse and worse, taking death to him ; blesses his three small children, and charges his wife not to marry until his children could do something for themselves; this hypocritical woman takes a crying, ' Aha! marry,'she would never marry! ' no, no, there should never a man lie by �7 my side, or kiss my Hps after thee r my am dear lamb Johnny.' Then he acts .the. dead man as well as he possibly could? [pta neighbours were called in, and he'sjfajrly o'erseen, as the old saying is, befp^e^^^n^ig^if bours. The sorrowful widow.. am^e ^fidlament, wrung her hands and'tpfQ her Imir. The reverend women about began to dross the corpse, askcc|>her for a shirt. • ^ y , ay,' said she, ' he has twa new linen ^arks, and there is an auld ane in the bottom o' the. kist, that naebody can wear ; ony thing7a good enough for the grave;' ' well/ said they, ' we must have some linen for,a winding sheet; 'aweel,' quo' she, ' I ha'e twa cut o' linen i' the Ifist neuk> but there's a pair o' auld linen sheets, hol'd i' the middle, may do well enough, I had need to be qarefu', I'm a poor widow the day, wi' three sma' bairns.' Well, the corpse is dressed and laid on the tap of the big chest, while neighbours sat by her condoling her paisfortune, and how the funeral raisins were t;o be provided. Said one, 'the coffin must need be se$n abput first.' 'Ay, ay, he has some new fljeals in the barn ; he bought them to make a bed o ; but we'll no break them, there's thq auld barn door, and the caff kist will do well enough, ony thing's gude enough, to gang to the grave wi'; but 0,' quo' she, 'send for �8 Sandy, my honest auld servant, and hell see every thing right done ; 111 tell him where hell get siller to do anything wi'; he's the lad that will not see me wrang'd.' Then Sandy comes wrying his face, and rubbing his eyes. ' 0 , Sandy, there's a sad alteration here,' and ba-a, she cries like a bitten calf, ' 0 sirs, will ye gang a' butt the house till I tell ye what to do.' Butt they went, and there she fell a kissing of Sandy, and said, ' now, my dear, the auld chattering ghaist is awa and we'll get our will o' ither; be as haining of everything as ye can, for thou kens it's a' thy ain ;' but the corpse' sister and some other people coming in, ben they came to see the corpse, lifts up the cloth off his face, and seeing him all in a pour of sweat, said, ' heigh, he's a bonny corp, and a lively like colour.' When he could no longer contain himself to carry on the joke, up he got among them. A deal of people ran for it, and his wife cried out " 0 , my dear, do you ken me?' ' Ay, you base jade and whore, better than ever I did.' Jumps on the floor, gets his staff and runs after Sandy, and catches him in the fields, a little from the house ; and ate and drank with his sister and neighbours who came to see his corpse. Poor Sandy w^ent home with a skin full of terror, and a sorting of sore bones, took a sore fever, and died a few �9 days after ; so he got quit of his cockolder, and Leper's mother got her load of meal. Leper's mother was a careful industrious wife, but as the bye-word is, ' a working mother makes a dally daughter,' and so it happened here, for she had two glaikit sluts of daughters that would do nothing but lie in their bed in the morning, till, as the saying is, ' the sun was like to burn a hole in their backsides.' The old woman, who was bleaching some cloth, was very early at work in the mornings, and Leper s patience being worn out with the laziness of his two sisters, he resolved to play a trick 011 them, for their reformation, so he goes and gets a mortcloth, and spread it on the bed above them, and sends the dead bell through the town, inviting the people next day, at four o'clock afternoon, to the burial of his two sisters, for they had died suddenly. This brought all the neighbouring wives in, who O © O R one after another lifted up the mortcloth, and said, with a sigh, f they've gone to their rest; a sudden call indeed!' Their aunt" hearing of this sudden news, came running in all haste, and coming where the jades' mither was at work, and was ignorant of the story, she cries out, ( Fye upon ye, woman, fye upon ye!' ' What's the matter, sister,' says she, ' what's the matter ?' ' I think you might let your wark stand for a'e day, when �10 your daughters are baith lying corpse/ 'My bairns corpse! I am certain they went to bed hale and fair last night/ 4 But, I tell you/ said the other, 'the dead bell has been thro' warning tho folks to the burial/ then the mother cries out, ' 0 the villain! 0 the villain, that he did not send me word/ So they both ran, and the mother as soon as she entered the house, flies, to the bed, crying, ' 0 , my bairn0, my dear bairns / on which the sluts rose'up in a consternation, to the great surprise, of the beholders, and the great mortification of the girls, who thought shame to set their noses out of doors, and to the great diversion of the whole town. Leper and his'master went to a gentleman's. house to work, where there was a saucy houserkeeper, who had more ignorance and pride than good sense and manners; she domineered over her fellow servants in a tyrannical manner. Leper resolved to mortify her pride; so. he finds an ant's nest, and takes their white eggs, grinds them to a powder, ancl puts them into the dish her supper so wen s was to be put in. After she had taken her supper, as she was covering the table, the imno6k powder began to operate, and she let a great f—. ' Well done, Margaret, said the Laird, your a— would take a cautioner/ Before she got out of the �11 eh amber door slie let fly another crack; then she goes to order her fellow servant to give the: Laird hi& stippieiy but before she could give t.he necessary directions, she gave fire again, which ;set them all a laughing; she runs into a room herself, and there she played away her one gun battery so fast that you wotildhave thought she had been beseigittg the Savannah. The Laird and Lady came to hear the fun, they were like to split their sides at proud Maggy. So next morniiVg she left her place, to the great satisfaction of all her fellow servants. PART II. L E P E R ' S landlady became very harsh to his master, and very often abused him exceedingly sore with. her tongue and hands, and always called upon him for more money, and to have all the money in her keeping, which Leper was sorry for. It so happened on a day that the tailor had got a hearty drubbing, both with tongue and tongs, that he pouched his thimble and was going to make a queen of her. When she saw that, she cried out, 'Of will you leave'a poor tender dying woman/ But Leper knowing the cause of her ill nature better than his �12 master did, advised him to take her on a fine day, like a mile out of town and give her a walk, and he would stay at home and study a remedy for her disorder. Away they both go ; but as she was also complaining for want of health, and that she was very weak, she cried out frequently, ' 0 ! 'tis a crying sin to take a woman in my condition out o'er a door.' During their absence, Leper goes and searches the bed, and below the bolster gets a bottle of rare whisky, of which he takes a hearty pull, and then pisses in it to make it up ; gets a halfpenny worth of snuff, and puts it in also, shakes all together, and so sets it in its place again. Home they came, and she was exceedingly distressed as a woman could be, and cried out, it was a horrid thing to take her out of the house. The tailor seeing her so bad, thought she would have died, ran as fast as he could for a dram, but she in her hypocrisy pretended she could not take it, and called on him to help her to bed, into which he lays her. She was not well gone when she fell to her bottle, taking two or three hearty gluts ; then she roars out, 1 Murder, I'm poisoned, I'm poisoned.' Bocking and purging began, and the neighbours were called in ; she lays her blood upon poor Leper, and tells how snich an honest woman brought her a'e bottle as another was done, �and the murdering loon had stolen it and put in a bottle of poison instead of it. Leper took to his heels, but was pursued and carried before a Justice of the Peace, where he told all he had done, which made the J ustice laugh heartily at the joke; and the tailors wife was well purged from her feigned sickness, laziness, and cursed ill nature; for always when she began to curl her nose for the future, the tailor had no more to say, but ' Maggy mind the bottle/ Leper was working with a master-tailor in Glasgow, who hungered his men ; and one morning, just when breakfast was set on the table, in comes a gentleman to try on a suit of clothes. The master being obliged to rise, desired the lads to say the grace themselves. Every one refused it, and put it to his neighbour, till Leper undertook it, and said with an audible voice, that the stranger gentleman might overhear him, as follows:— 'Ocli, hoch! we are a parcel of poor beastly bodies, and we are as beastly minded; if we do not work we get nothing to eat; yet we are always eating and always fretting; singing and half starving is like to be our fortune ; scartings and scrapings are the most of our mouthfuls. We would fain thank Thee, for our benefactors are not worthy the acknowledging ;—hey. Amen/ The gentleman �14 laughed till his sides were like to bursty and gave Leper half-a-crown to drink. Leper was not long done with his apprenticeship till he set up for himself, and got a journeyman and an apprentice, was coming into very good business, and had he restrained his roguish tricks, he might have done very well. He and his lads being employed to work in a farmer's house, where the housewife was a great miser, and not very cle&hly in making meat, and snivelled through her nose greatly when she spoke. In the morning, when she went to make the potage, she made a fashion of washing the pot, which to appearance seemed to him to have been among the first that had been made; then sets it before the fire till she went to the well, in which time Leper looking into it, sees two great-holes etapped with clouts, he takes up his goose* and holds it as high as his head, then lets it drop into the pot, which knocked oiit the bottom of it. Presently in comes the wife with the water, and pours it into the pot, which set the fireside all in a dam. for still as she poured in, it ran out: the wife being short-sighted, or what they call sand blind, looks into the pot, holds up both her hands and cries, ' Losh, preserve me, sirs, for the grip atween the twa holes is broken.* Says Leper, * the pot was old enough; but do you �15 not ken that tailof's potage is heavier than other men's.' ' Indeed, lad, I believe it, but they say ye're a warlock ; it's Wednesday to me indeed, my pot might ha'e served me this fifty year, a sae wad it e'en.' This sport diverted Leper and his lads through the day, and after supper, knowing he was to get some dirty bed, as the cows and the people lived all in one apartment, he chose rather to go home; and knowing the moon was to rise a little after midnight, he sat by the fire, told them many a fine story to drive away the time, and bade the wife make the bed to see how it might be. To save candle she made it in the dark, just on the floor behind where they sat, shaking down two bottles of straw. A calf which chanced to be lying on that place, and which the wife did not notice, was covered with the straw, and the bed clothes spread over it. The most of the family being in bed, the wife told them to go to bed also, but Leper knowing of the calf, said, ' I'll make my bed come to me,' on which the wife began to pray for herself and all that was in the house ; so up he gets his ellwand, and gives a stroke on the bed which caused the brute to rise, and not seeing where to go, it fell a crying and turned round, which set the whole house a roaring out murder in their own tongue. �16 The gooclwife ran to bed above the goodman, and the whole family cried out, not knowing what it was; but Leper and his two lads whipt off the blankets, and the brute ran in among the rest unperceived; then Leper lighted a candle, and all of them got out of bed, paid Leper for his work, and more if he pleased, and begged him to go away, and take the devil with him. So home he went, but never was employed by that wife any more. Leper had a peal of the best customers both in town and country; so one time he had occasion to go to the parish of Inchinan, to make a wedding suit for a gentleman. After they were finished, he desired drink money for his lads, which the gentleman refused. Leper resolved to be even with him, so he goes to the hay loft where the groom slept, and takes his stockings, breeches, and jacket, sewed them together, and stuffs them full of hay; makes a head, puts a rope about the neck, and hangs it on a tree, opposite to the laird's window ; then goes to the laird and tells him that his groom had hanged himself, and that if he would open his window he would see him hanging; the laird was struck with astonishment, and knew not what to do; Leper advises him to bury him privately. The laird said he had not a servant he �17 could trust, so begged Leper to do it. Leper refuses, till the laird promises him a load of meal; then Leper pulls out all the hay out of the groom's clothes ; goes and gets his load of meal, and sendirit to Glasgow; then goes to the groom, and says, 4 Thy master is wanting thee/ So the lad in all haste runs to see what his master wanted. The laird no sooner saw him open the door than he cried out, 'Avoid thee, Satan; avoid thee, Satan!' The lad says, ' What's the matter?' 'Did you not hang yourself this morning?' ' Lord forbid!' said the lad. The laird says, ' If thou be an earthly creature, take that tankard and drink;' which he did. Then says he to his master, ' Leper called me up, and said you wanted me in all haste/ ' Ho, ho/ said the laird, ' I find out the story now; if I had Leper, I would run my sword through him/ But Leper before that was gone to Glasgow with his meal. Leper was in use to give his lads their Sunday's supper, which obliged him to stay from the kirk in the afternoon, he having neither wife nor servant maid; so one Sunday afternoon, as he was cooking his pot, John Mueklecheek, and James Puff-andblaw, two civileers, having more zeal than knowledge, came upon him, and said, ' What's the matter5 sir, you go not to the �-—A^HFEI 18 kirk? Leper replied, ' I ' m reading my book and cooking my pot, which I think is a work of necessity/ Then says the one to the other, ' Don't answer that graceless fellow; well make him appear before his betters/ So they took the kail pot, and puts a staff through the bools, and bears it to the Clerk's chamber. Leper, who was never at a loss for invention, goes to the Principal of the College's house, no body being at home but a lass roasting a leg of mutton. Leper says, ' My dear, will you go and bring me a drink of ale, and I'll turn the spit till you come back/ The lass was no sooner gone than he runs away with the. leg of mutton, wdiich served his lads and him for their supper. When the Principal came home, he was neither to hand nor to bind, he viras so angry ; so on Monday he goes and makes a complaint to the Lord Provost, who sends two officers for Leper, who came immediately. My Lord asked hitn how lie dared to take away the Principal's mutton. Leper replied, ' How dared your civileers to take away my kail: pot ?. I'm sure there is less sin in making a pot full of kail, , than roasting a leg of mutton; law makers should not be law breakers, so I demand justice on the civileers.' The Provost askbdr him what justice he would have. Says he, �19 * make them cai;ry the pot back again; and to the Principal, a leg of mutton will not make him and me fall out.' So they were forced to carry the pot back again ; and Leper caused the boys to huzza after them to their disgrace. ? There was a barber who always plagued Leper, and called him ' Prick-the-louse/ Leper resolved to be even writh him, so he goes and buys three sheep heads, £ind sends for the barber, and told him that there were three fine Southland gentlemen just come to his house, which much wanted to be shaved ; and he assured him he would receive sixpence for each of them. This good news made the shaver send for a dram. Leper was still praising them for quiet good natured gentlemen. So Leper takes him to the bed where the sheep heads lay covered, and desired him to awaken them for they would not be angry; or say an ill word to him. The barber lifts the covering and sees the sheep heads, runs out cursing and swearing, and Leper crying after him, ' Sheep head barber/ The barber resolved to be revenged on Leper, so when he -was shaving Mess John, he tells him "that Leper was the drunkeftest fellow in the parish. So Mess John w:arns him to the session. Leper comes and says, ' What do you want with me, Sir ? 6 Come �- NTH X NQ F . So away, Leper/ says Mess John, 6 1 hear a bad report of yon/ * Me Sir, I am sure they were not my'frieiids that told you that/ 'Indeed, I am informed you are a drunkard/ 4 1 a drunkard ; you have not a soberer man in your parish. Stop, Sir, I will tell you how I lead my life:—In the morning, I take a choppin of ale and a bit of bread, that I call my morning ; for breakfast, I generally take a herring and a choppin of ale, for I cannot sup brose like my lads ; the herring makes me dry, so at eleven hours I take a pint, and sometimes three choppins; at supper, I take a bit of bread and cheese and a pint, and so go to bed/ Mess John says, ' It's excessive drinking ; I allow you one half of it for a quarter of a year/ Says Leper, ' 111 try it, Sir, and come back and tell you/ At the end of the quarter he draws out his account, and goes to Mess John, who was sitting with his elders in the Session-house, and says, ' Sir, I have a demand on you/ 1 On me, Sir/ 4 Yes, on you, Sir ; don't you remember you allowed me so much drink for a quarter of a year, and I want the money/ 4 Am I to pay your reckoning, Sir/ ' You allowed it, and if you wont pay it, 111 take you before the Provost/ The elders advised him to pay it or he would be affronted; so Leper got the �21 money. When he was at the door, he says, 4 Sir, will you stand another quarter.' 4 Get away, says Mess John, and don't trouble me.' Leper says, ' I am sure you may, for I am always twopence to your penny.' THE END. A N E C D O T E S . INCONVENIENCE OF A PETITION. A reverend Gentleman, when visiting his parishioners, was in one house first saluted with the growling of a dog, and afterwards by the cheering voice of a female. D—ning the dog for his ill-bi*eeding, he advanced and enquired for the master of the house. c What do ye want wi' that?' said the female. 4 W e are wishing to see him,' said the Reverend Gentleman, 'will ye be so good as bring him to us ?' • I'll gang nae sic an errand,' said she; ' ye may gang doon to the market yersel', an' ye'll see him there; they're thrang killin' the day. But what are ye wantin' wi' Pate, if a body micht speir.' ' This is the minister,' said the elder who accompanied him, 4 he is wishing to have some conversation with Peter, and to put up a petition.' 4 A petition! a petition!' exclaimed the matron, 4 ye'll put up nae patition here; the house �22 is wee eneugh already, an' wha do ye think's gaunjto be fashed wi' masons an* wrightS, an' a' thae elanjamfray about their house? Faith no—the devil a petition will be putten up in this house as lang's am in't; we're gaun to flit at Whitsunday, so ye may come then an' put up as mony petitions as ye like/ DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH. Henry, Duke of Buccleueh was greatly beloved by his numerous tenantry. One of his small tenants, Jamie Howie by name, had a son about four years of age, who, having heard much of the great Duke of Buccleuch, was very anxious to see him. Honest Jamie, in a few days, was honoured with a visit from the Duke; when Jamie doffing his bonnet, and making a reverential bow, says, 4 0 , my lord! ye maunna be angry wi' me, but it's God's truth, my lord, there's a daft wee callant o' mine that canna rest, nor let others rest, nicht nor d a y ; he has ta'en in his head sic a notion o' seeing what like ye are ; gudesakc; my lord, I dinna think he has ony y edea ye are a man at a', but some far awa, outlandish, ower sea creature.' The Duke, mightily tickled with this fancy, desired Jamie to bring the youngster into his presence forthwith. Out comes the juvenile �23 inquisitor with his finger in f his mouth, and cautiously recqnnoitres the personage before . Mmi ; A t last quoth the urchin, ' G m y& soorn,?' ' N o , my little fellow/' replied his grace, ' I canna sootn/ ' Can ye flee?' ' No, I canna flee/ 1 Weel, man, for as muckle's ye're, I wadna gie ane o' my father's dukes for ye, for they can baith soom an flee/ A BAMS' TO PIKE. Some boys diverting themselves in one of the streets of Edinburgh, observed on a door, a brass plate with A1—-x>—rid—r Guthrie, W.S., engraved on it. In their diversion, they broke a pane of glass in one of the windows, upon which Mrs. Guthrie and the maid sallied forth and seized one of the delinquents. ' Y e young rascal, what's yer name?'-says the lady. ' Saundy/ replied the boy. ' What's yer ither name? ; J Guthrie/ < Wha's yer mither?' < My mither sells bird's cages/ ' Whaur does she live? '' I' the Patter R a w / 4 Wha's yer father?' ' I dinna ken/' c D o ye no ken yer faither?' 4 Na! he.ne'er comes but whan it's dark, an' naebody kens bit my mither.' Upon hearing this, the lady in a passion let gb 'her victim, and running into the room where her husband was sitsing, fell a-scolding him like a fury about �24 his infidelity rogue laughed his fraud, and said to them, bane to pike!' towards her. The young heartily at the success of turning to his companions, ' I think I've gi'en her a SEEING- ONE DRUNK. The late Rev. Mr. C of D , Aberdeenshire, was fond of his friend and a bottle; he sacrificed so often and so freely to the jolly god, that the presbytery could 110 longer overlook such proceedings, and summoned him before them to answer for his conduct. One of the elders, and constant companion in his social hours, was cited as a witness against him. ' Well, John (says one of the presbytery to the elder), did you ever see the Eev. Mr. C the worse of drink ?' ' Weel a wy te, n o ; I've mony a time seen him the better o ; t, but I ne'er saw him the waur o't.' ' But, did you never see him drunk?' ' That's what I'll ne'er see, for before he be half slockened, I'm aye blind fu'/ § 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 Full .pdf reproduction of chapbook. 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 002: Title-page illustration of a beehive with swarming bees. A motto, "Industry, Honesty, and Integrity" is displayed on a ribbon at the bottom. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Fun Upon Fun; or, Leper, the Tailor. In Two Parts: With a Selection of Entertaining Anecdotes Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Dougal, Graham, 1724-1779 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9935661183505154">s0587b43</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <p><span>University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</span><a href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a></p> <div>&nbsp;</div> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Leper the Tailor 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 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 wit & humor Description An account of the resource Woodcut #02: Illustration on title-page of a beehive with swarming bees. A motto, "Industry, Honesty, and Integrity" is displayed on a ribbon at the bottom. Animal: bee(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: wit & humor Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Nature: flower(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. 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For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 077: Title-page illustration of a large two-story house with a horse drawn carriage in front and a man standing before a woman seated in the carriage . Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Way to Wealth, with maxims for married ladies and gentlemen, &amp;c. Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Maxims for married ladies and gentlemen, &amp;c. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #31 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks Description An account of the resource "Price One Penny" at bottom of title page Woodcut # Illustration on title page of a large house with a horse drawn carriage at front door and a man standing before a woman seated in the carriage . 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 Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Religion and Morals 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 Franklin, Benjamin, 1706-1790 Type The nature or genre of the resource wit & humor # of Woodcuts: 1 Animal: horse(s) Architecture: chimney(s) Architecture: house Architecture: window(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: religion & morals Chapbook Genre: wit & humor Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Gender: man/men Gender: woman/women Outdoor Scene Transportation: carriage https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/fb78814b68d051bfe37e2611d0bc11f7.pdf 7acde4df02b572a80e73dfb6850d5fb7 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/fafb6ff3ebed9907143d0cdd4216d75e.jpg 5efb377b02f8e945f5194d8542e04639 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. 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For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 068: Title page illustration of a well-dressed man wearing a hat, coat, vest and striped pants and holding a walking stick. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 of Mansie Wauch, tailor in Dalkeith Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Wit and Humor Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923355533505154">s0070b22</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Dalkeith, Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Abstract A summary of the resource. Written in the first person, this chapbook briefly tells the story of Mansie Waunch’s life in Dalkeith. Brief vignettes offer amusing anecdotes from Mansie’s life, including his first festival, his first love, meeting and marrying his wife, attending a play, and other day-to-day adventures. Descriptions of daily life and Scottish working-class society abound, including images of fashion, food, festivities, and family. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada 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. 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 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 Moir, D. M. (David Macbeth), 1798-1851 Type The nature or genre of the resource biography # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: biography Gender: man/men Object: walking stick/ staff https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1e29b30fb0afc4e2cf880916953b69a9.pdf efd0dbe8b1efdc1ef90a1dddf23ff114 PDF Text Text ROB ROY, THE Celebrated Highland Freebooter; or, MEMOIRS OF THE OSBALDISTONE FAMILY GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 2. ��ROB ROY. Frank OSBALDISTONE, a young man of a respectable family, had been several years at Bourdeaux, for the purpose of being instructed in the mercantile profession, when he was suddenly recalled by his father. During his residence abroad, Frank had devoted more time to the pursuits of literature than the ledger, and, therefore, when interrogated by his father with regard to the state of commerce in France, he discovered so much ignorance, that the old gentleman was highly displeased, and blamed Mr. Dubourg, to whose charge he had been committed. Frank exculpated that gentleman from all blame, and said that it was his own fault, as he felt no inclination for business. However, as he intended Frank to take a management hi his own extensive concerns, M r . Osbaldistone wished to put him under the charge of M r . Owen, who had been long his own principal clerk, and had now a small share in the banking business ; but Frank professed his dislike to the profession, and refused to comply with his father's wishes. M r . Osbaldistone then asked his son what his own grave projects were ; and on Frank saying he should like, either to travel for a few years, or attend the university, or obtain a commission in the army, he told him, in a rage, that unless he consented to his wishes, his nephew should inherit all his property, and gave him a month to consider of the proposal. During this interval, M r . Owen tried to prevail with Frank, by every argument he could adduce, to come into his father's terms ; but it was to no purpose ; for, on the day appointed, he repeated to his father the aversion he had to the mercantile profession, hoping, at the same time, that by his refusal he would not forfeit the affection of a parent. M r . Osbaldistone, on hearing Frank's ultimatum, told him, that since he refused to remain at home, he should immediately go to his uncle's, at Osbaldistone Hall, in Yorkshire, until some other arrangements were made. Accordingly, next day, Frank set off on horseback for Yorkshire, with fifty guineas in his pocket. During the journey, he began to reflect that he had probably made himself an outcast from his family, and lost the affection of his father by his stubbornness ; but, although he regretted what he had done, yet his pride would not allow him to return, and he continued his journey in very depressed spirits. In the country through which he passed there were few objects to amuse a young traveller, except the conversation of a few strangers, such as country parsons, farmers, graziers, merchants, travellers, and now and then a recruiting officer; from whom Frank received information about creeds and tithes, cattle and �4 corn, price of commodities, and a discription of battles. A leading topic with all of them was robberies ; and such details were given, as to raise serious apprehensions of being attacked. There was one man in particular, with whom Frank travelled a day and a half, who was very much afraid of highwaymen ; and this man had a large portmanteau, which he always carried into the inns himself, suffering no one to touch it. Frank, in order to amuse himself, inquired the weight and contents of his portmanteau; which alarmed the man so much, that he grew pale, his teeth chattered, and his hair stood e r e c t ; but on approaching to Darlington his fears subsided, and they soon arrived in safety at the sign of the Black Bear. Formerly, it was the custom o f travellers to rest on the Sunday, and f o r the landlords of inns, on that day, to invite all their guests to a family dinner. Frank and his companion having taken up their quarters for the Sunday at the above inn, sat down to a public dinner with the other guests, among whom there was a Scotchman of hardy features and athletic figure. Frank had been early prejudiced against Scotsmen by the stories of his nurse, and he regarded him with a settled dislike ; but the shrewd remarks, ready answers, and confidently-delivered opinions of the Scotsman, M r . Campbell, gave him no small importance on the present occasion. A quarrel having taken place about politics, the dispute was referred to and settled b y M r . Campbell over another bottle, and then the company separated. Next day Frank pursued his journey, and was delighted with the fine diversified scenes that everywhere met his view till he came in sight of Osbaldistone Hall, a huge antique castle, surrounded by stately oaks. H e was only at a short distance from the mansion, when the blast of a French horn was heard, and a pack of fox-hounds crossed the road, followed b y the hunters. Frank drew up his horse to let them pass without interruption, and had an opportunity of examining the whole group, which consisted of five young men and a very handsome female, all well mounted and well dressed. In passing, the lady's horse started out of the course, and Frank hastened to offer his services ; but there was no occasion, for she easily brought the animal to order, and gallopped off. Frank followed her, and soon heard the signal of the fox's death ; but the young lady, on reaching her companions, drew their attention towards Frank, and requested one of her cousins to speak to him. However, as the young man declined it, she rode up to Frank, and inquired, if, in the course of his travels, he had met with a M r . Francis Osbaldistone, whom they expected at the Hall. On Frank acknowledging himself to be the person, the lady informed him that her name was Diana Vernon, a relation of his uncle's, and then introduced him to Squire Thorncliffe �5 Osbaldistone, his cousin. As Miss Vernon accompanied Frank to the castle, she interrogated him by the way without any ceremony, and on their reaching the gate, put the bridle of her horse into his hand. After waiting a considerable time, he was at last relieved by one of the huntsmen, who took the horses, and a servant conducted him into a hall, where he met with his uncle Sir Hildebrand, and was introduced to the rest of the family. After dinner, the bottle was circulated so freely, that the company soon exhibited a scene of boisterous mirth and intoxication; but Frank, being temperate in his habits, made his escape into the garden. W h e n Frank returned to the castle, and had retired to his apartment for the night he began to reflect seriously on his situation. The society of his cousins would furnish him with little or no entertainment, as they delighted only in horses, hounds, and drinking; but he anticipated much pleasure from the company of the lively Miss Vernon, who had made a deep impression on his heart. Next morning Frank accompanied his cousins and Miss Vernon on a hunting expedition, and when the party were engaged in pursuing the fox, Miss Vernon told Frank she had something particular to communicate, and taking him to the summit of an adjoining hill, she pointed out Scotland, which she said he might reach in two hours. Frank asked, why she wished him to go there? " To provide for your safety," answered Miss Vernon ; " you are accused of having robbed one Morris, whom you travelled with to Darlington." Frank was startled at so unfounded a charge, and begged to know before whom this extraordinary accusation was laid, that he might instantly refute it. Miss Vernon told him, that the information had been lodged with 'Squire Inglewood, whose house was only a few miles distant, whither she would accompany him. Frank remonstrated with her on the impropriety of the proposal; but the young lady would have her own way, and accordingly they proceeded towards the residence of the justice. On arriving at Inglewood Place, they found Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone and Rashleigh in the court-yard. Miss Vernon accosted the latter, and asked whether he had been talking to the Justice about Frank's affair ? Rashleigh replied that he had been exerting all his influence to serve his cousin ; and then turning to Frank, said that it would be more advisable for him to retreat into Scotland till the business could be "smoothed over," than appear before the Justice when presumptions were so strong against him. Frank, indignant at Rashleigh for recommending such a subterfuge, and entertaining suspicions of his criminality, replied, that he would have the matter investigated, and his character cleared from such a vile calumny. Rashleigh insisted that Miss Vernon at least should not interfere in the �6 business; but when he found her determined to remain till it was fully settled, he left them ; and the young lady conducted Frank into the house. Frank had followed Miss Vernon up stairs to the door of the dinning-room, where she left him to find a servant to introduce h e r ; but, being tired with waiting, Frank opened the door, and told the justice that his name was Osbaldistone, and that he had come to inquire into a charge, which some scoundrel had laid against him for alledged robbery. It so happened that Morris was present at dinner, and the Justice inquired of him, whether this was the gentleman he implicated ? Morris, alarmed at Frank's resolute appearance, replied, that " he charged nothing against the gentleman," at the same time whispered, that he withdrew his accusation against Frank, as he did not know " how many rogues might be in the house to back him." Miss Vernon now entered the room, where she was kindly received by the old Justice, and telling him her errand, requested to hear the charge against Frank. It stated, that the declarant, Mr. Morris, had been attacked by two highwaymen in masks, who took his portmanteau from him, and that he heard one of them call the other Osbaldistone, whom he suspected to be the same person who accompanied him to Darlington. Frank protested against the evidence, as incompetent to prove that he was the robber, and was offering to produce arguments to shew his innocence of the charge, when a servant entered and told the Justice that a strange gentleman wished to see him. This stranger was Mr. Campbell, the cattle-dealer, whom Morris and Frank had met at Darlington, who, having heard that Frank was unjustly accused, had come to relieve him from the prosecution. He stated, that Morris accompanied him several miles on the road towards Scotland, where he was attacked by two highwaymen, who carried of his portmanteau ; but that one of them, whom his companion addressed by the name of Osbadistone, was a much shorter and thicker man, and had a different complexion and visage from the young gentleman present. After delivering this deposition, he asked Morris if he would not forego his prosecution of Mr. Osbaldistone ; to which Morris consented, and Campbell offering to conduct him safely home, they departed together. Matters being thus settled, Miss Vernon and Frank also took leave of 'Squire Inglewood, who was happy in having got rid of this troublesome business. Next day, at breakfast, Sir Hildebrand congratulated Frank on his escape, and advised him to be more cautious of his future conduct. Frank could not help expressing indignation at the suspicions which his uncle entertained, and Rashleigh was apparently displeased at his father also; but the old gentleman looking stedfastly at Rashleigh, told him " he was a sly loon," but that " two faces under one head was not true heraldry," and �Instantly left the room. Frank, being left alone with Rashleigh, signified to him the unpleasant nature of his situation, in living with an uncle who believed him guilty of so disgraceful a crime, and said that he was determined to leave Osbaldistone Hall immediately. Rashleigh approved of his resolution, and said, that from Frank's attainments in literature, he might soon make a figure in the world ; but his own case was still more deplorable, for his father had resolved that he should follow the mercantile profession. After some conversation on these subjects, Frank requested Rashleigh to give him some information; but it was with evident reluctance that he complied. H e told Frank, that he had been formerly more intimate With Miss Vernon ; but had thought it prudent to withdraw as much as possible from the company of a susceptible girl, whose heart must be either given to the cloister, or to a betrothed husband ; that, by a family contract, she was destined to marry one of Sir Hildebrand's sons, and that Thorncliffe had been pitched upon by his father as her partner ; but that, if he, Rashleigh, acquired wealth in the mercantile profession, he would marry her himself. Frank, being strongly attached to Miss Vernon, was much mortified to find that she was the destined wife of another, and, after reproaching himself for becoming the dupe of her artifices, and blaming her for not informing him of the situation in which she stood with the Osbaldistone family, came down to dinner in a very bad humour. A t table, Miss Vernon, as usual, began to play of her raillery upon Frank ; but he returned it with such acrimony, that she was offended, and, accusing him of impoliteness to a female who wished to be on good terms with him, she soon after left the room. Frank began to regret the shameful manner in which he had behaved to Miss Vernon, and, in order to stifle his reflections, drank till he became so intoxicated, that he quarrelled with his cousins, and struck Rashleigh, who, however, did not think it worth while to resent the outrage. Thorncliffe challenged Frank to decide their quarrel with the sword ; but, after exchanging one or two thrusts, the combatants were separated, and Frank was carried off and locked in his apartment, from which he in vain attempted to break out. In the morning his passion had abated, and, sensible of the impropriety of his conduct, he made an apology to Rashleigh, which was accepted in a very gracious manner. This disagreeable business being settled amicably, Frank next thought of procuring an explanation with Miss Vernon, who anticipated his wish, by requesting his attendance in the library to expound an obscure passage in Dante which she had met with. On reaching the library, Miss Vernon began to rally Frank most unmercifully upon the exhibition he had made at table the night before, and, in a strain of irony, complimented him proofs, of courage he had dis- �8 displayed in his attack on Rashleigh, and in his combat with Thorncliffe, at the same time expressing her extreme sorrow that such an unpleasant affair had happened. Frank apologized for his behaviour, by alleging, that the provocation he received had urged him to resent it in an unguarded moment, when his passions were roused by the influence of liquor. Miss Vernon then spoke of the indiscretion with which he had treated her during dinner, and inquired if he had heard anything to lessen her in his estimation. Frank, confounded at this question, at first declined giving any reply ; but she persisted in demanding an explanation, and particularly, whether Rashleigh had said any thing prejudicial to her character. However, he evaded her request, on the pretext that it was improper to disclose the subject of a private conversation, which was delivered in confidence ; but she grew so importunate, that Frank at last related all that he had heard from Rashleigh. Miss Vernon, shuddering with indignation, said, that she would rather die than marry such a villain as Rashleigh ; and disclosed the methods which he had employed to corrupt her moral principles in the course of her juvenile education, and the artifices he afterwards employed to seduce her. On discovering Rashleigh's intentions, she withdrew from his society, and had ever after regarded him with detestation. Frank, astonished at this disclosure, drew his sword, and was preparing to leave the room in order to take vengeance on Rashleigh, but was prevented by Miss Vernon. In a few days after this, Rashleigh set out for London, and Frank then enjoyed the company of Diana Vernon without reserve; and being intrusted to superintend the finishing of her education, he found her one of the most intelligent and accomplished of her sex. Frank now endeavoured to render himself as agreeable as possible to the family at Osbaldistone Hall, and succeeded in gaining the good graces of his uncle, by assisting in settling his accounts ; and he became a still greater favourite with his cousins, by joining in their amusements. As Frank was often strolling about, he occasionally took a walk into the garden, where he was much diverted with the remarks of Andrew Fairservice. One day Andrew informed him, that he had met with one Pate Macready, a pedlar, who told him that the affair of Morris and his portmanteau had been brought before the Parliament at Lunnan and also, that 'Squire Inglewood, Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone, and some other folks besides, had been mentioned ; and that, after much altercation, the business had been dismissed as a false and calumnious libel. Frank expressed a wish to see Macready; which Andrew immediately gratified, by bringing him to the garden. Macready related to Frank the particulars of the trial, from which it appeared, that the depositions of Morris were so �9 contradictary, that they could not be received as competent evidence. Frank was both vexed and perplexed that this affair should, have become so notorious ; and after ordering the pedlar so send him some articles, and giving a small present to Andrew Fairservice for his trouble, he returned home, deliberating how he should vindicate his character. As Frank's mind could not be at ease while the robbery of Morris was laid to his charge, he determined on setting out for London to explain the whole affair to his father, and take his advice respecting the most effectual means o f disproving the calumny. Before departing, however, he wrote to his father the object of his visit; and, while delivering his letter at the postoffice, he received one from Owen, endorsing a draft for £100, to supply his present necessities. On returning to Osbaldistone Hall, Frank found that the family had gone to Trinlay-knowe, and he sauntered into the garden to hear if Fairservice had picked up any fresh news. While engaged in conversation, they observed the door of a small room in the corner of the garden half open, and were at a loss to conjecture who could be there, as it was never freqented by any of the family but Rashleigh. Andrew supposed that it was then occupied by Father Vaughan, a grave old Catholic priest, a particular acquaintance of Rashleigh's, and a confidant of Miss Vernon, with whom he had frequent interviews. Frank could not comprehend this mysterious intercourse, and suspected that the priest was either giving her religious instruction, or preparing her for the cloister ; and these conjectures made him very unhappy, from the attachment he entertained for that lady. Frank now began to watch every motion of Miss Vernon with minute attention, which gave her great offence ; yet they never came to an explanation. One day, as they were sitting in the library, she inquired if he had lately heard from his father. On Frank replying in the negative, she observed that it was very strange, for his father had gone to Holland on some urgent business, leaving Rashleigh with the sole management of his affairs till he returned, and she urged him to set of immediately for London, lest his cousin should involve his father's business in irretrievable ruin. Frank expressed his concern at this intelligence, and great reluctance to leave her, whom he loved above all the world ; but Miss Vernon told him, that his affections were misplaced, as she had resolved to spend the remainder of her days in a convent. After quitting the apartment, Frank retired to his own, where the thoughts of his father's affairs, and the resolution of Miss Vernon, prevented him from enjoying any rest the ensuing night; but he determined, before leaving Osbaldistone Hall, to find out the reason, if possible, or her mysterious conduct, and ascertain her real character. Accordingly, one Sunday evening, he took his station in the �10 garden. After waiting impatiently for some time, he saw the glimmering of a candle, and he entered the library, where he found Diana alone and much flnrried. On her inquiring the cause o f his visit at so unseasonable an hour, he pretended to have come for Orlando Furioso, and turning over some books, he descried a man's glove lying on the table. Diana, blushing deeply, said it was her grandfather's, which she kept as a relic ; but as this explanation did not satisfy Frank, she told him that it belonged to a friend whom she honoured, esteemed, and loved. Frank made some sarcastic observations, and Miss Vernon told him that she would discover no more than she had already done ; but that, as they were soon to part for ever, she begged that they might still be friends, and gave him a letter she had received from London, containing the intelligence of Rashleigh having carried off bills to a very large amount belonging to his father, with which he had departed for Scotland, and that Frank's relatives wished him to repair to Glasgow in search of the fugitive. Next morning Frank prepared to leave, Osbaldistone H a l l ; but his feelings were much agitated, both by the state of his father's affairs, and on account of his separation from Miss Vernon. A t Glasgow, he was to meet with Owen, who had already gone their in pursuit of Rashleigh ; but, being unacquainted with the road to Scotland, he repaired to Andrew Fairservice for instruction respecting the route he should pursue, and found him reading a volume of Dr. Lightfoot aloud, to frighten away the ghaists, as he said, by godly exercise. Andrew offered to accomany him, as he had been long thinking of flitting from Osbaldistone Hall ; and, accordingly, it was agreed that they should set off together next morning by five o'clock. Frank was up by two o'clock, and, after leaving a letter on the table for his uncle, he saddled his horse, and arrived at the cottage ofAndrewFairservice, who was already mounted on a naig and waiting to attend him. Frank ordered him to ride as quickly. as possible, and Andrew pushed on his naig at the rate o f eight or ten miles an hour, by unfrequented paths, through moors and bogs, and over hill and dale, without diminishing his speed, Frank, unable to keep up with him, hallooed in vain to him to stop ; but on threatening to blow out his brains, A n d r e w drew up his naig, and apologized for riding so fast, by saying, that " he had taken a stirrup-cup of brandy at parting with his old cronies, which made him a little flighty that morning." Having arrived at Glasgow on a Sunday, when the people were all in church, they alighted at an inn, and Frank inquired at the landlady for Messrs Macvittie, Macfin, and Company, from whom he expected to hear of M r . Owen ; but he was told that these good people would be attending public worship at the Barony Laigh Kirk. Frank proceeded thither, accompanied by Andrew Fairservice, and was �11 struck with admiration at the magnificent appearance of that ancient edifice, which Andrew informed him had been saved from destruction at the Reformation, by the townsmen agreeing to deliver up the idolatrous statues of the sants. Frank looked round the congregation, to see if he could discover Owen among them, but in vain ; and was just about to leave the church to go in quest of him, when he heard a voice from behind a pillar whisper distinctly in his ear, " You are in danger in this city." He startled at this mysterious caution, especially as he could not perceive from whence it proceeded, and resolved to remain, to afford the unknown monitor an opportunity of renewing his warning. In a few minutes the voice repeated, " You are in danger in this place—so am I ; — m e e t me on the brig at twelve precisely ;—keep at home till the gloaming, and avoid observation." Frank saw and attempted to follow the stranger down stairs ; but as he could not overtake him, he waited till the congregation was dismissed. When Frank reached the inn, he reflected seriously on the admonition given him, and whether he ought to keep the appointment with the stranger ; but, after some consideration, he determined to meet his mysterious counsellor. Having walked about till twelve o'clock, Frank entered upon the bridge, and saw a person wrapped up in a cloak, who told him that he was the person whom he came to meet; and desired him to follow, that he might see with his own eyes what was of importance for him to know. Frank was rather unwilling to accompany the stranger ; but, lest he should be thought a coward, he followed his conductor. As they passed along the streets, the stranger gave such a suspicious account of himself, that Frank would hardly consent to go farther, till he urged the necessity of his proceeding in order to learn from a person in prison the danger of his own situation. On arriving at the prison gate the stranger knocked ; and, after saying something to the turnkey, which Frank did not understand, they both entered the jail, where a friendly conversation took place betwixt his guide and the turnkey, who seemed to be old acquaintances. The turnkey then gave a sign to Frank to follow him, and led him up several stairs, till they came to a small apartment, where he observed a person asleep. This was, poor Mr. Owen, who, on recognising Frank, conjectured was also brought to jail, and he began to lament the misfortunes which had befallen his father ; but Frank interrupted him, by inquiring the cause of his imprisonment. Owen told him, that immediately on his arrival at Glasgow, he had called on Messrs Macvittie, Macfin, and Company, with whom Mr. Osbaldistone, his father, did most of his business, to consult them about the state of his affairs ; but, on finding that the house of Osbaldistone and Tresham was considerably indebted to them, they behaved very �12 ill and had thrown him into jail, on account of his being a partner of the London firm: that, in these deplorable circumstances, he had sent an account of his situation to Bailie Nicol Jarvie, a Glasgow merchant, with whom Mr. Osbaldistone sometimes did business; but that he had no sanguine expectations from that quarter. However, in this Owen was agreeably disappointed ; for all though the Bailie was going to bed when the letter came, he immediately dressed himself, and set out for the prison, where he arrived shortly after Frank's introduction to Owen. The noise which the Bailie made at the door alarmed Frank's guide, who attempted to make his escape ; but the worthy magistrate prevented him, by giving orders to the captain of the jail, when hecame in, to lock the door and allow no one to pass upon his peril. The stranger entered their apartment before the Bailie ; and the latter, after some conversation with Owen on the affairs of Mr. Osbaldistone, and blaming him for extending his speculations so far, produced his own ledger, from which it appeared that the London house owed him also a large balance. Nevertheless, the Bailie told Owen, that, as it was impossible for him to redd up the business in prison, he should find caution for his appearance, and then he would be set at liberty ; but, as Owen said he knew of no one to whom he could apply, the Bailie generously offered to become bail himself. W h i l e conversing with Owen, the Bailie had taken no notice of Frank and his conductor ; but, when about to leave the apartment, he examined, the stranger, and then exclaimed, " Y e robber, ye cateran, ye born deevil, that ye are, can this be you ? " " E ' e n as you say," replied he. The Bailie continued his abuse, and even added threats of punishment; but the stranger told him, calmly, that he would never put them in execution, for the sake of auld langsyne, for their relationship, and for fear of the consequences. The honest Bailie was reproaching him for his acts of theft-boot, black-mail, spreaghs, and gill-ravaging, when the stranger requested he would not speak more on these subjects, and his " counting-room should not be cleaned out when the Gillan-a-naillie came to redd up the Glasgow buiths" The Bailie consented not to inform against him, and then pointing to Frank, inquired if that was not some gill-ravager he had listed into his service ? Owen said it was Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, the only son of his worthy master. The Bailie observed, that he had heard of the hopeful youth before; and then reproached Frank for renouncing the mercantile profession to become a poet and a gentleman, and asked if his poetry would " procure him five thousand pounds to answer his father's bills, which would be due in ten days ? " Frank was displeased at the Bailie's taunt; but, while musing on what he heard, he hastily drew out a letter �13 given him by Diana Vernon, which was not to be opened till within ten days of any emergency. Another letter was enclosed, which fell at the feet of the Bailie, who took it up, and, seeing it was addressed to Robert Campbell (the unknown stranger), he delivered it into his hands. Frank was confounded to recognise in his guide his old acquaintance the drover, and wondered what could be the purport of Miss Vernon's letter to him ; but conjecturing that it might be sent to entreat Campbell to discover the retreat of Rashleigh, he was led to enquire where his kinsman was. Campbell gave an indirect answer, but requested Frank and the Bailie to meet him at the clachan of Aberfoyle, where he would disclose something that might be of service to them both, and he would pay Bailie Jarvie a thousand pounds Scots which he then owed him. After giving their consent to pay Rob a visit, they all left the prison, and Frank accompanied the Bailie to his house, where, being warned by him not to keep company wi' Hielandmen and thae wild cattle, he received an invitation to breakfast next morning, and then took his leave. Next morning, Owen and Frank breakfasted with the Bailie, and in the course of conversation, Frank made some inquiries about Mr. Campbell. The Bailie said, that Rob, as he called him, had once been a Highland drover, but was now a gentleman, and commanded " thirty waur cattle ; " and he declined entering farther into his history, saying, it was more necessary to examine his father's accounts. After putting on his spectacles, he looked into the ledger, and found that the sum which Osbaldistone and Company owed him was considerable; but, with great generosity, he said, that if he should lose by them, he had also gained, and therefore he would just " l a y the head of the sow to the tail of the grice." Meditating on his present prospects, and projecting schemes for his future conduct, Frank strolled first into the College, and then into a solitary adjoining walk, at the end of which he observed three men in earnest conversation. To his surprise, he found them to be Rashleigh, Macvittie, and Morris, the two last of whom went away, and afforded him an opportunity of accosting Rashleigh, who was much confused at the rencounter. Frank demanded an account of the property with which he had absconded, or to go before a magistrate ; but as Rashleigh declined doing either, he insisted on satisfaction, and they retired to a more remote place to settle the quarrel with their swords. They fought with equal skill and courage for some time, until Frank's foot slipped, and then Rashleigh made a home-thrust at him, which grazed his ribs. The pain it occasioned made Frank furious, and grappling with his adversary, he was attempting to run him through the body, when they were stopt by the powerful arm of Campbell, who swore he would "cleave to the brisket �14 the first that minted another stroke." After trying in vain to bring about a reconciliation between them, Campbell forcibly disengaged Frank's hand from his antagonist's collar, and desired Rashleigh to leave them. At departing, Rashleigh said, that as the quarrel had not been settled, they would meet again at some future opportunity ; and Frank was for following him but Campbell mentioned that Rashleigh had engaged Morris to renew his accusation against him for the robbery, therefore Frank thought it prudent to delist. Campbell warned him to keep out of the sight of Rashleigh, Morris, and Macvittie, and then, after renewing his invitation to visit him at the clachan of Aberfoyle, he went away. Frank called at an apothecary's to get his wound dressed, and then went to dine with the Bailie. Frank related his meeting with Rashleigh, and mentioned what he had learned from Campbell ; to which the Bailie and Owen listened with amazement. He then asked the worthy magistrate's advice regarding the propriety and safety of visiting Campbell. The Bailie, highly pleased at being consulted, thought that it would be advisable, that Frank should leave Glasgow for a while ; and described the Highlanders as an uncivilized and lawless set: That Robert Campbell alias Rob Roy Macgregor, was once a great drover, or grazer and dealer in cattle, a business followed by gentlemen of property in the Highlands, and had by his bold speculations suffered some severe losses, which so reduced him that he became a levier of the black-mail, a customary tributary tax, imposed by those lawless depredators, of four pounds Scots on one hundred pounds of vauled rent, to secure property from Skaith, or to recover any cattle that were stolen: That any one refusing to pay this tribute was certain of being plundered by Rob, who could raise five hundred men, all devoted to his service ; and that, although Morris suspected him of the robbery, he was afraid to accuse him. The Bailie added, That as Frank's father, had granted bills for a great quantity of wood bought in the Highlands, which he had no means of retiring, unless the assets and money carried off by Rashleigh to some of the Highland haulds could be recovered, and that it was in Rob Roy's power to de this if he liked ; but as this could not be done in time to save his father's credit, that he had got three individuals in Glasgow to advance a sum sufficient for the purpose. The Bailie undertook to accompany Frank to Aberfoyle, where, by representing the matter to Rob, who had a good heart, he hoped, through his means, to gain possession of it. Accordingly, next morning, at five o'clock, he was equipped in his trot-cosey, jack-boots, and other riding-gear, ready to mount, when Frank arrived at his door. After some delay, occasioned by the knavery of Andrew Fairservice, and by the �15 Bailie's housekeeper. Mattie, tying a silk handkerchief round her master's neck, they out for the Highlands, and the party in due time arrived at the clachan of Aberfoyle. Having drawn up their horses at the inn, the sound of several voices made them hesitate to alight; at last they rapped, but the landlady refused to admit them, saying, " h e r house was ta'en up wi' them that wadna like to be intruded on wi' strangers." The Bailie was unwilling to enter; but Frank insisted, that he must have some refreshment, and therefore ordered the horses to be put into the stable. On entering the principal room of this paltry inn, they saw a blazing fire of turf, near which sat three men, drinking and engaged in conversation ; two of them dressed in the Highland costume, and the other in the Lowland, all boldlooking, stout,men, equipped with swords and pistols, and their naked dirks were stuck upright on the table, while another Highlander lay slumbering on the floor. Frank and his two comrades having seated themselves near the fire, desired the landlady to give them something for supper. The three men turned round, and after staring at them for a few minutes, one of them asked how they could have the assurance to break in upon "gentlemens that had taken up the public-house on their ain business." Frank and the Bailie apologized, by saying that they meant no offence, and had come to the inn to get some refreshment, but this explanation not satisfying them, the Highlander, unsheathing his broad-sword, desired them to draw ; and as they were three to three, he advanced to Frank, who put himself in a posture of defence. The other Highlander, with his sword drawn, confronted the Bailie, who in vain tried to pull out his sword, which was so rusted in the sheath from long disuse, that he was forced to look about for some other weapon of defence. However, as a substitue, he drew a red-hot poker from the fire, and brought it against his antagonist with such effect, that he set his plaid in a blaze. Andrew immediately took to his heels, and his antagonist, the Lowlander, crying out, " f a i r play," would take, no part in the fray, but remained neuter. Frank and the Bailie were still maintaining the contest, when the peeping Highlander, who was no other than Dougal, the, turnkey, started up to their assistance, and said he would " fight for Bailie Jarvie," at the same time he attacked his countryman. This auxiliary, with the assistance of the Lowlander, soon succeeded in separating the combatants, and in effecting a reconciliation between the parties, the Bailie promising to send the Highlander a new plaid to replace the one he had burnt. When supper was nearly ready, Frank missed Andrew Fairservice, who had not been seen since the beginning of the fray, and he was going out to seek him in the stable, when the landlady took him aside, and put into his hand a written communication from �16 Rob Roy to this effect : That he durst not meet the Bailie and him at the clachan of Aberfoyle, as the night-hawks were abroad ; but that the bearer of the letter was trusty, and would guide them to a place where he could meet them with safety. —In the stable he found Andrew, who was in great dismay, as he had seen one of Rob's gillies give the letter to the landlady for his master. During supper, Frank overheard them concerting the best means of catching Rob Roy, and expressing their impatienc, for the arrival of some red-coats, who were to assist them. Their discourse was interrupted by the entrance of an officer, who inquired if they were the gentlemen he was appointed to meet with there; and, on their answering in the affirmative, he shewed them a warrant which he had received, " to search for and arrest two persons accused of treasonable practices." On looking at the Bailie and Frank, he observed, that they answered the description exactly; and, notwithstanding their protestations to the contrary, he caused them to be searched. The only paper found on Frank was Rob Roy's letter, which made the officer suspect that they were his confederates, and therefore he ordered them into custody till further inquiry. Frank and his companion having retired to rest, they were roused from their slumber in the middle of the night, by the noise of soldiers dragging in a culprit. This prisoner was poor Dougal, the ex-turnkey, whom they found, on examination, to be one of Rob Roy's accomplices, and by his own confession to have parted with him about an hour before. The officer threatened to hang Dougal on the next tree unless he discovered Rob Roy's retreat, and a piece of cord being actually prepared before his eyes, the poor creature was obliged to consent to conduct them. Having drawn up his men, the officer forced Frank and the Bailie to join them, and then the whole set out under the guidance of Dougal. The road was at first open, but it afterwards took a winding direction among the hills, and led to a narrow pass, scarcely sufficient to admit the troops. Here they made a halt, as they found a commanding position of the path before them occupied by Highlanders, and heard the sound of bagpipes in their rear ; but Captain Thornton, the officer, having resolved to force the pass, seized his pike from one of the soldiers, and putting himself at their head, gave the word to march forward. The party had advanced within twenty yards of the spot which was occupied by the enemy, when they observed the Highlanders, with their bonnets and long guns, crouching among the brushwood on the eminence, and were stopped by the sudden appearance of a female on the summit of a rock, who ordered them to stand, and demanded what they sought in the country of the Macgregor. Captain Thornton replied, that he came in search of Rob Roy Macgregor Campbell, and if any resistance �17 was made to prevent him, he was determined to force his way. The strange female, who was no other than Rob's wife, told him, that, not content with depriving her and her family of every comfort, they were now come to seek their lives; but notwithstanding her remonstrances, the Captain ordered his men to march forward, and the soldiers were attempting to gain the ascent, when a volley of musketry from the heights killed three of the soldiers. The king's troops returned the fire of their concealed enemies, but with little effect; yet, being overpowered by numbers, they at last laid down their arms, and submitted at discretion. During the conflict, Dougal and Frank had escaped from danger, by creeping into a thicket which overhung the road, and then ascended the rocks ; but the Bailie, in clambering up after them, had fallen down, and would have perished, had not the branch of a tree caught hold of his coat, and supported him in a hanging posture. Here the worthy magistrate dangled like the pendulum of a clock, till he was observed by Dougal, who, by cutting the tails from his coat, extricated him from this perilous situation. When the battle was over, Frank sallied out to see what was become of his companions, and, having descried the Bailie sitting under the covert of a rock on the bank, ascended up the height till he reached his friend. On looking around, they saw Andrew Fairservice surrounded by some Highlanders, who stripped him of all his wearing apparel, and gave him some old clothes in return. Frank and the Bailie were dragged from their retreat, and would likely have shared the fate of Andrew, had not Dougal prevented it. They were carried before Helen Campbell, whom the Bailie accosted as his cousin, and endeavoured to prove himself her kinsman, by mentioning a long list of ancestors ; at the same time expressing his regret, that any of his relations should have disgraced themselves by becoming freebooters. Helen disdained to acknowledge him as her kinsman, and, being piqued at the reproaches he had uttered, gave orders to throw Frank and the Bailie into the adjoining loch ; but at this crisis Dougal interposed to save their lives. He had scarcely finished his supplications intheirfavour, when the sound of a pibroch was heard at a distance, and instantly a troop of thirty Highlanders came towards them. They brought the melancholy news, that her husband was taken prisoner by Galbraith's militia ; but that his men had carried off a captive, whom they intended to keep as an hostage for Macgregor's safety. This hostage was Frank's accuser, Morris, whom Helen commanded to be dragged before her; and he, anticipating the fate which awaited him, pleaded hard for his life, and protested that he was only the agent of Rashleigh. However, the vindictive Helen would not listen to his entreaties ; but commanded him to be rolled in a plaid, with a stone round his neck and thrown into the adjoining lake. Her �18 orders were instantly executed, and the poor wretch sunk to rise no more. Helen Macgregor now ordered Frank before her, and interrogated him. On his giving satisfactory answers to her inquiries, Helen said, that being a neutral person, he was not liable to be detained a prisoner, and therefore she would send him with a message to the commander of the party who had taken her husband. The purport of this communication was, that if her enemies put to death, or even maltreated, Rob Roy Macgregor Campbell, she would not only take vengeance on the whole country, but slay all the prisoners in her possession. After some explanation on the subject, Frank, attended by Andrew Fairservice, having Rob's youngest son for a guide, travelled a considerable distance, before he arrived at the station of the king's troops, where he found the Duke of Montrose, and delivered the message. He immediately ordered the prisoner to be brought before him, and Rob made his appearance, with his arms buckled tight down to his body with a horse-girth, and on each side a non-commissioned officer had a hold of him, besides a file of men before and another behind, with their bayonets fixed, to prevent the possibility of his escape. On entering, he bowed to the Duke, who observed, that it was long since they had met, and accused him of being the oppressor and terror of the country by his depredations ; but that he was now drawing near the end of his career. Rob, in turn, accused the Duke of being the author of his misfortunes, by driving him to that kind of life which he now led, and said, that if he suffered death, many would lose their lives in return. In order to secure the prisoner, the Duke had caused him to be placed on horseback behind one of the strongest men in the troop, whose name was Ewan of Brigglands, and both were buckled on so tightly, that it was impossible for Rob to escape. The cavalcade pursued their journey, till they came to a ravine, down which one horseman only could descend after another in succession ; and while apart from the rest, Rob whispered to his companion, that it was barbarous " t o carry an auld friend to death like a calf to the shambles begging him to cut the thong which bound him. After much solicitation, Ewan cut the leather while they were crossing the Forth, and his prisoner slipped from the horse and plunged into the river. The Duke had reached the opposite side, and, by the waning light, was engaged in putting his troops in order as they landed, and directing the prisoners to be brought over when he heard the plunge. He immediately suspected the cause, and finding on Ewan's landing, that hit suspicions were verified, he cried out, " Rascal, where's the prisoner ? " and then fired a pistol at him, vociferating, " Gentlemen, disperse and follow him; a hundred guineas to him that �19 secures Rob Roy," All was confusion; some of the troopers fearlessly rushed into the water, while others rode up and down the banks to discover where he would land, and firing at every object which attracted their notice ; but, as a great part of them wished to favour his escape, the search was not made with sufficient eagerness. A t one time, being closely pursued, he disengaged himself from his plaid, which he allowed to float down the stream and deceived his pursuers. However, the evening began to grow darker, and the banks so precipitous, that it was found impossible to continue the pursuit. The commanding officer therefore, ordered a retreat to be sounded. Frank now heard some one inquiring where the English stranger was, and then exclaiming that he had given R o b Roy the knife to cut the belt. This exclamation was followed by threatenings of vengeance On him, and finding there was some risk of his being shot on the spot, he leapt off his horse, and hid himself in some bushes. When the noise of the troopers had subsided, and all was quiet, Frank left his hiding-place, with the determination of making the best of his way to Aberfoyle. On his way thither he was overtaken by two strangers on horseback, one of whom accosted him, and inquired, in the English tongue, where he was bound for, and if the passes were open. Frank, who had been whistling, told where he was going, but could not say whether the passes were open or not, and advised them to turn back, as there had been some disturbance in that quarter. After somefurtherconversation, the other rider said, in a voice, which vibrated through all his nerves, " W h e n M r Francis Osbaldistone does not wish to be discovered, he ought to refrain from whistling his favourite airs." Frank discovered the last speaker to be Dianna Vernon, who was disguised in a horseman's cloak. Some conversation ensued, in which Frank discovered his jealousy of her companion. Miss Vernon took out a small case, which she gave to Frank, telling him it was the property that Rashleigh had carried off from his father, and which he had been forced to give up. She then, after many expressions of endearment and sorrow, with tears in her eyes, bade him farewell for ever, and rode off with her companion, leaving poor Frank in a state of stupefaction. On recovering from his stupor, Frank, feeling a strong desire to see her again, quickened his pace to reach Aberfoyle, where he supposed they must stop for the night. While hurrying forward, he was accosted, in a deep voice, by a Highlander, with, " There's a braw night, Maister Osbaldistone;" and in the speaker he immediately recognised Rob Roy, who had got clear off from his pursuers. Frank congratulated him on escaping from his enemies. Rob inquired the particulars of all that had happened to him since he left Glasgow, and Frank recounted the affray at the clachan of Aberfoyle the arrest of the Bailie and himself by �20 Captain Thornton, the skirmish at the pass, and, lastly, the recovery of his father's property from Rashleigh. Rob was highly diverted on hearing the Bailie's exploits with the red-hot poker at Aberfoyle, and observed, that his cousin, Nicol Jarvie, had got some good blood in his veins, although bred to a mechanical business. He told Frank, that his enemies were laying snares to catch him (Rob Roy) on his return from Glasgow, of which he had been apprized ; therefore he found it impossible to meet the Bailie and him at the clachan of Aberfoyle. They had nearly reached the village, when three armed Highlanders sprung upon them ; but Rob uttering the word Gregarach they recognised him, and burst into joyful acclamations. After an extravagant but kindly embrace, two of them ran off to communicate the pleasing intelligence ; and so speedily did the information spread, that, before Frank and he could reach the inn at Aberfoyle, they were surrounded by a multitude. When Rob had satisfied the curiosity of his friends, by relating the story above a dozen times, they were suffered to enter the house, where they found the Bailie seated at the fireside. The welcomes, apologies, and congratulations, being over, the Bailie, after filling up a stoup of brandy, which held above three ordinary glasses, drank it off to the health of Rob and his family, and then began to descant on the impropriety of Rob's bringing up his sons in the same wicked ways with himself; and he proposed to take them, without any apprentice-fee, and to discharge the debt of 1000 pounds Scots which he owed him. Rob, in high indignation, rejected the proposal; and ordering one of his retainers to bring in his sporran, he took out 1000 pounds Scots, which he gave to the Bailie. With great formality the Bailie produced the bond for the debt, regularly discharged, which he wished to get attested by witnesses; but Rob laid hold of the paper, and threw it into the fire, saying, it was the way he settled accounts in the Highlands. Next morning, the Bailie was observing, that they should immediately set out for Glasgow, when Rob entered, and persuaded them to visit his abode. Frank learned from Rob, that Rashleigh, finding he could not get Diana, and then being obliged to give up Mr Osbaldistone's papers, was so irritated, that he posted to Stirling, and betrayed all the plans of KingJames'adherents to the commander, who was induced to send the detachment by whom Rob was taken prisoner. Rob concluded his information with the most deadly threats of vengeance on Rashleigh, and at the time, frowning darkly, he grasped the handle of his dirk. They had now proceeded along the sides of the Lake about six miles, when they came to a number of Highland huts, and found a numerous party of the Macgregors assembled to receive them, with Rob's wife and two sons at their head. Helen gave them a kindly but dignified welcome, and apologizing for �21 the rough manner in which they had been formerly treated, invited them to partake of a plentiful repast on the Green. On rising to take their leave, Helen bade the Bailie farewell, and then turning to Frank, put into his hand a ring, which, she said, had been given to her by Miss Vernon, accompanied with these words, " Let him forget me for ever." At a late hour they arrived in Glasgow; and Frank, after consigning the Bailie to the care of Mattie, proceeded to his former residence, where he found there was still a light in the window. On knocking, the door was opened by Andrew Fairservice, who, giving a loud cry of joy, ran up stairs, and Frank followed him into a parlour, where, to his great surprise, he found his father and Owen, both of whom embraced him tenderly. Mr Osbaldistone, who had arrived in London shortly after Owen left it, only waited there till he collected sufficient funds to pay every demand on the house, which, from his extensive resources, he easily accomplished, and then had posted to Scotland for the purpose of bringing Rashleigh to justice, and putting his affairs in order in that quarter. His arrival with sufficient funds to fulfil all his engagements was a dreadful blow to Macvittie and Company, who tried, by the most servile apologies, to gain his favour; but he paid the balance owing them, and closed their account. Andrew Fairservice, who, after undergoing an examination, had been sent back to Glasgow by the Duke, only reached the inn a few hours before Frank, gave such an account of the dangerous situation of his master to Mr Osbaldistone, that he resolved to set out for the Highlands in the morning, and endeavour to get his son liberated. Next day Mr Osbaldistone waited on Bailie Jarvie to thank him for his kindness, and for the trouble he had taken to recover the papers, and then offered him that part of his business which Macvittie and Company formerly transacted. The Bailie accepted the offer with gratitude; and, after conversing a while with Mr Osbaldistone, took Frank aside to request of him not to speak a word about the queer adventures they met with in the Highlands; for if Bailie Graham heard of him fighting with Highlandmen, and singeing their plaids, and the suspension by the coat-tails, " it wad be a sair hair in his neck as lang as he lived." As the object of their journey was accomplished, Frank and his father, after spending a comfortable day with Bailie Jarvie, took their leave, and began to prepare for leaving Glasgow. The Bailie continued to thrive in business, adding to his wealth and credit, and, in due time, attained the office of chief magistrate, but, growing tired of the life of a bachelor, hemarriedhishousekeeper, Mattie, whom he considered to be a proper wifeforhim, because " s h e was akin to the Laird of Limmerfield." �22 One morning, before M r Osbaldistone and Frank had left Glasgow, they were alarmed by Andrew Fairservice bursting into the parlour, to communicate the intelligence of a rebellion having broken out in the West Highlands to restore King James ; that the clans had all risen to a man, and that Rob Roy and all his petticoat bands would be there in twenty-four hours. Andrew's news was not without foundation, for it proved to be the beginning of the great Rebellion of 1715, which was headed by the Earl of Mar, and involved in ruin so many noblemen and gentlemen, both in Scotland and England. The rebellion having extended to England, Frank's uncle, Sir Hildebrand, joined the insurgents; but, lest his estates should be confiscated, he left it to all his sons in succession, except Rashleigh, whom he cut off with a shilling; and, in the event of their death, it was to descend to Frank. It is somewhat strange, that all Sir Hildebrand's sons died, or were killed, a short time afterwards. B y his uncle's will Frank succeeded to Osbaldistone Hall, and he set off, attended by Andrew Fairservice ; but, as his right to the property was disputed by Rashleigh, before going there, he called on his old friend Justice Inglewood, the holder of his uncle's original will, from whom he met with a kind reception. The will being produced after dinner, rank found that every thing was correct; and when they had nk a few glasses, the Justice insisted on a bumper to Miss Vernon's health, which led to some conversation about that lady. From him Frank learned, that it was Diana's father, Sir Frederick Vernon, who accompanied her to the Highlands, and who had assumed the disguise of Father Vaughan at Osbaldistone H a l l : that he was a rigid Roman Catholic, and had formerly been tried and condemned for high treason ; but he made his escape to France, and a report of his death was circulated, which every one believed, until he returned to Britain as the agent of King James: that Rashleigh, being privy to Sir Frederick's concealment, kept poor Diana in awe lest he should betray him to government: that her father had solemnly engaged to Sir Hildebrand that she should either marry one of his sons or take the veil, and she had positively refused to marry any one of her cousins. The loss of Diana, together with the wresting of the property of Osbaldistone and Company from him, had so irritated Rashleigh, that he deserted the cause of the rebels, and turned informer. Frank having heard that Rashleigh was at M r Jobson's house, in the neighbourhood, he, next morning, accompanied by Andrew Fairservice, directed his course to Osbaldistone Hall; and on drawing near it, the recollection that all its late inhabitants were buried in the grave, excited in his mind those melancholy feelings which local associations leave of those who are no more. When they reached the Hall, Andrew knocked loudly at the door, at which the aged butler, appeared, and inquired their business. �23 Frank having explained to him the purport of Sir Hildebrand's will, and his own right to inherit the property and mansion-house of Osbaldistone Hall, the old man admitted them, though with apparent reluctance. The butler asked where his honour would please to have a fire lighted and Frank requested it might be put on in the library; but he made many excuses, that the room smoked, and that the daws had built up the chimney, in order to deter him from going. However, Frank insisted on being instantly shewn there, and the butler was forced to comply with his orders. On entering the library, Frank was not a little astonished at finding a good fire, and every thing having the appearance of being lately occupied ; but, anxious to enjoy his own reflections, he desired the land-steward to be called, and the butler, with evident reluctance, withdrew to execute his orders. As Frank knew of Rashleigh being in the neighbourhood, and that he was capable of any desperate action, he made Andrew Fairservice bring two stout fellows to guard the premises. After convincing the steward, who had come immediately on receiving the summons, of the validity of his titles to the property, Frank, being left alone, sat down by the fire, and, in a reverie, uttered these words: " Is this, then, the progress and issue of human wishes ? " H e had scarcely finished these words, when a issued from the other side of the room, and Diana Vernon presented herself, leaning on her father's arm. Frank was almost petrified with terror, as he believed them to be phantoms of his own imagination, till Sir Frederick Vernon accosted him, and begged he might protect them from the imminent danger that threatened them. Frank replied, with great emotion, that he could never forget their kindness in recovering his father's property, and that no exertions would be wanting on his part to provide for their safety. Sir Frederick now explained the causes of his present situation ; that he had joined the Earl of Mar in Scotland to support King James ; that he had afterwards followed Lord Derwentwater into England; that, after the defeat at Preston, he had retired northward, and taken refuge at Osbaldistone Hall, till a trusty friend should find a vessel to convey them to France. Sir Frederick then expatiated on his daughter's virtues ; and having declared his intention to devote her to the service of her Maker, he withdrew along with her behind the tapestry. After their departure, Frank fell into a long train of painful reflections; at one time accusing Sir Frederick for his bigotry, at another time Diana for yielding to his wishes; and, last of all, himself for loving one who seemed determined not to become his wife. In such a state of mind he could not sleep; and in the middle of the night was alarmed by a loud knocking at the door. This was occasioned by Justice Standish, who came with a warrant �24 to apprehend Sir Frederick Vernon, Diana, and Frank himself, for high treason. Frank having learned this intelligence, informed Sir Frederick and his daughter, for whom he procured the key of the garden, where they might hide themselves. "But Rashleigh had observed their movements, and soon brought them back into the house, where he also found Frank, who, he said, must instantly quit Osbaldistone Hall, as he had come to take possession of it. Rashleigh also told them, that he would convey them away in his carriage to a place of safety; and, in the meantime, dismissed Andrew Fairservice, to get rid of his blustering noise. Andrew strolled up the avenue in search of a night's quarters from an old acquaintance, when he fell in with a number of Highlanders, who obliged him to tell them the late transactions at Osbaldistone Hall. W h e n they heard that a carriage was to carry away Diana, Sir Frederick, and Frank, they cut down trees, and laid across the road, to intercept its passage. W h e n the carriage, escorted by Rashleigh, had arrived at the place were the Highlanders were, some of his attendants dismounted to remove the trees, when a scuffle ensued betwixt the two parties. Rashleigh attacked the leader of the band, who wounded him severely; and, taking hold of him, asked if he would beg forgiveness. " N o , n e v e r ; " said Rashleigh; upon which his antagonist (who was Rob Roy) plunged his sword into his bowels. Rob then handed out Miss Vernon fromthecarriage, and conducted her and Sir Frederick into the forest, accompanied by his troop of Highlanders. Frank then directed his whole attention to Rashleigh, who was instantly conveyed by the carriage to Osbaldistone Hall, and placed in an easy chair till a surgeon should be sent for to dress his wounds. Rashleigh begged that they would save themselves the trouble, as he was a dying man; and, addressing Frank, declared, that he hated him, for having thwarted him in all his projects of love, ambition, and interest; and now that the estate would become his, " Take it," he said, " and may the curse of a dying man cleave to i t . " Shortly after, Rashleigh breathed his last. After the funeral obsequies were performed, Frank repaired to London, where he received a letter from Miss Vernon, informing him of their escape under the guidance of Macgregor, towards the west of Scotland, and their safe conveyance by a vessel to France, where she was placed in a convent. Frank now determined, if possible, to marry Miss Vernon; and having procured his father's consent to the match, he succeeded in gaining her affections, and making her his wife. They long lived happily together, a blessing to all the country round. FINIS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/45159b4fda8d2fac0038e4ef5bd78aca.jpg 73f26ccc8d3ac5212c43b36aa5c4c278 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3357 Width 1997 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 in Highland dress in an outdoor scene. 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 076:Title-page illustration of a soldier in Highland dress holding a sword. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Rob Roy, the Celebrated Highland Freebooter; or, Memoirs of the Osbaldistone Family. Subject The topic of the resource Crime Highlands Jacobites Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Description An account of the resource Variant exists without '2' printed at foot of title page and type set slightly differently per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks '2' is printed at the bottom of the title page Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923405603505154">s0181b20</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Memoirs of the Osbaldistone Family. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Abstract A summary of the resource. This is a&nbsp; condensed version of Sir Walter Scott's historical novel (part of the Waverly novel series) <em>Rob Roy, </em>which was originally published in 1817. It appears to have been set in 1715, the year of the first Jacobite Rising.&nbsp; Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada 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. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 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 Scott, Walter, 1771-1832 Type The nature or genre of the resource fiction # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: fiction 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 Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Weapons: sword https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/250c0b69c09901314bc8f3f0be8f0760.pdf d04577bf8f71ad696190983edc3096a8 PDF Text Text A WEDDING-RING, FIT FOR THE FINGER: LAID OPEN IN A SERMON, PREACHED AT A WEDDING IN ST. EDMOND'S, By W I L L I A M SECKER, LATE PREACHER OF THE GOSPEL. GENESIS ii. 1 8 . And the LORD GOD said. It is not good that the man should be alone ; I will make him an help meetforhim. GLASGOW PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, 63 ��k WEDDING-RING, FIT FOR THE FINGER. A SERMON ON GENESIS i i . 1 8 . And the Lord God said, it is not good that the man should be alone : I will make him a help-meet for him. HUMAN misery is to divine mercy, as a black soil to a sparkling diamond ; or as a sable cloud to the sun-beams, Psalm viii. 4.—Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him ? Man is, in his creation, angelical; in hiscorruption,diabolical; in his translation, majestical. There were four silver channels in which the chrystal streams of God's affection ran to man in hs creation. 1- In his preparation. 2. In his Assimilation, 3 - In his coronation. 4. In his Association. 1- In his preparation. Other creatures received tne character of their beings by a simple fiat; but There was a consultation at his forming ; not for the difficulty, but for the dignity of the work. �4 The painter is most studious about that which he intends to make his master-piece. The four the perfection of man's complexion : the fire was purified, the earth was refined. When man was moulded, heaven and earth was married ; a body from the one was espoused to a soul from the other. 2. In his assimilation. Other creatures were made like themselves, but man was made like God, as the wax hath the impression of the seal upon it. It is admirable to behold so fair a picture in such coarse canvas, and so bright a character in so brown paper. 3. In his coronation. He that made man, and all the rest, made man over all the rest; lie was a little lord of a great lordship : this king was crowned in his craddle. 4. In his association. Society is the solace of humanity ; the world would be a desert, without a comfort. Most of man's parts are made in pairs; now lie that was double in his perfection, must not be single in his condition. And the Lord said, These words are like the iron gate that opened to Peter of its own accord, dividing themselves into three parts : — 1. A n Introduction : And the Lord God said2. A n Assertion : It is not good that man should he alone. 3. A Determination: I will make an J« help-meet for him. ' In the first there is a majesty proposed. In the second there is a malady presented. In the third there is a remedy provided. Once more let me put these grapes into the press. 1. The sovereignness of the expression: And the Lord God said. 2. The solitariness of trie elements �condition: It is not good, 3. The suitableness of the provision ; I will make, &c In the first there is the worth of veracity. In the second, there is the want of society. In the third, there is the work of divinity. Of these in their order. And first of the first. 1. The sovereignness of the expression: And the Lord God said, Luke i. 70* " A s he spoke by the mouths of his prophets." In other scriptures he used their mouths, but in this instance he makes use of his own ; they were the organs, and he the breath ; they the streams, and he the fountain. How he spake, it is hard to determine: whether eternally, internally, or externally. We are not to inquire into the manner of speaking, but into the matter that is spoken; which leads me, like a directing star, from the suburbs to the city, from the porch to the palace, from the founder of the mine, to the treasure that is in it: It is not good, <fac. In which we have two things:— 1. The Subject. 2. The Predicate. The subject, Man alone. The predicate, It is not good, &c. 1. The subject, Man alone. Take this in two branches. 1. As it is limited to one man. 2. As it is lengthened to all men. FIRST, A s i t is l i m i t e d t o o n e m a n : A n d so it is taken particularly: Man, for the first man. When all other creatures had their mates, Adam wanted his ; though he was the emperor of the earth, and the admiral of the seas, yet in Paradise without a companion; though he was truly happy, yet he was not fully happy; though he had enough for his board, yet he had not enough for his bed ; though he had many creatures to serve him, yet �6 he wanted a creature to solace him ; when he was compounded in creation, he must be completed by conjunction ; when he had no sin to hurt him, then he must have a wife to help h i m : It is not good that man should be alone. SECONDLY, A S it is lengthened to all men: And so it is taken universally, Heb. xiii. 4. Marriage is honourable unto all. It is not only warrantable, but honourable. The whole trinity hath conspired together to set a crown of glory upon the head of matrimony. 1. God the Father. Marriage was a tree planted within the walls of Paradise ; the flower first grew in God's garden. 2. The Son. Marriage is a crystal glass, wherein Christ and the saints do see each other's faces. 3. The Holy Ghost, by his overshadowing of the blessed virgin. Well might the world when it saw her pregnancy, suspect her virginity ; but hermatrem without this, her innocency had not prevented her infamy; she needed a shield to defend that chastity abroad which was kept inviolable at home. Too many that have not worth enough to their unchastity; turning the medicine of frailty into the mantle of filthiness. Certainly she is mad that cuts off her leg to get her a crutch; or that venoms her face to wear a mask. Paul makes it one of the characters of those that should cherish the faith, 1 Tim. iv. 3. not to forbear marriage; which is not only lawful but also honourable ; to forbid which, is damnally sinful, and only taught by the influence of devils. One of the Popes of Rome sprinkles this unholy and impure drop upon it, Carnis pollutionem et immundiliem. preserve �7 * ft It is strange that should be a pollution which was instituted before corruption ; or that impurity which was ordained in the state of innocency; or that they should make that to be a sin, which they make to be a sacrament; strange stupidity ! — But a bastard may be laid at the door of chastity, and a leaden crown set upon a golden head. Bellararine (that mighty atlas of the Papal p blows his stinking breath upon i t : "Better were it for a priest to defile himself with many harlots, than to be married to one wife/'—These children of the purple whore prefer monasteries before marriages, a concubine before a compa too many women for their lusts, to choose any for their love.—Their tables are so largely spread that they cannot feed upon one dish. As for their exalting of a virgin-state, it is knows not, that virginity is a pearl of a sparkling lustre ? but the one cannot be set up, without the other be thrown down : No oblation will pacify the former, but the demolishing of the latter. Though find many enemies to the choice of marriage, it it is rare to find any enemies to the use of marriage. They would pick the lock that wants the key, and pluck the fruit that do not plant the tree. The Hebrews have a saying, " that he is not a man that hath not a wife." Though they too high a bough, yet it is to be feared that suchfleshis full of imperfection, that is, not tending to propogation : though man alone m a y b e good, yet, It is not good that man should be alone. Which leads me from the subject to the predicate, It is not good. J Now, it is not good that man should be in a single condition on a threefold consideration. �1 In prevented: Marriage is like water, to quench the sparks of lust's fire, 1 Cor. vii. 2. Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, Man needed no such physic when he was in perfect health. Temptations may break nature's best sense, and lay its Paradise waste ; but a single life is a prison of unruly desires, which is daily attempted to be broken open. Some, indeed force themselves to a single life, merely to avoid the charges of a married state ; they choose rather to live in their own sensuality, than to extinguish those flames with an allowed remedy : It is better to marry than to burn :—to be lawfully coupled, than to be lustfully scorched. It is best to feed these flames with ordinate fuel, 2 It is not good in respect of mankind, which then would not be propagated. The Roman historian, relat excused them thus, 4 Without them mankind would fall from the earth, and perish.' Marriages do turn mutability into the image of eternity: springs up new buds when the old are withered. It is a great honour for a man to be the father of one son, than to be the master of many servants. Without a wife, children cannot be had lawfully-' without a good wife, children cannot be had comfortably. being grafted in marriage, are trees bearing fruit to the world. Augustine says, 4 They are the first link* of human society, to which all the rest are joined. Mankind had long ago decayed, and been like a taper fallen into the socket, if those breaches which f are made by mortality were not repaired by matrimony. 3. I t is not good in regard of the church, which �could not then have been expatiated. Where there is no generation, there can be no regeneration. Nature makes us creatures before grace makes us christians. If the loins of men had been less fruitful, the death of Christ would have been less successful. It was a witty question that one put to him that said,« 4 Marriage fills the earth, but virginity fills the h e a v e n s H o w can the h if the earth be empty ? Had Adam lived in innocency without matrimony, there would no servants of God in the church militant, nor no saints with God in the church triumphant. But I will not sink this vessel by the over-burthen of it, nor press this truth to death by laying too great a load upon its shoulders. There is one knot which I must untie, before I make a farther progress, viz. 1 Cor. vii. 1. It is good for a man not to touch a woman. Do all the scriptures proceed out of the same mouth ; and do they not all speak the same truth ? The God of unity will not indite discord ; and the God of verity cannot assert falsehood. If good and evil be contraries, how contrary then are these two scriptures ? Either Moses mistakes God, orpaulmistakes Moses, about the point of marriage. There is a public and a private good. In Aspect of one man, it may be good not to touch a woman ; but in respect of all men, It is not good thatmanshould be alone. 2 Moses speaks of the state of man created ; Paul of the state of man corrupted : Now, that wich by institution was a mercy, by corruption may become a misery ; as pure water is tainted by running through a miry channel, or as the sunbeams coloured glass. There is no print of evil in the To receive a tincture by shining �10 world, but sin was the stamp that made it, They that seek nothing but weal in its commission, will find nothing but woe in the conclusion. Which leads me from the solitariness of the condition, Man alone, to the suitableness of the provision, I will make an help-meet for him. In which we have two parts, 1. The Agent, I will make. 2. The Object, An help. 1. The Agent, I will make. W e cannot build a house without tools, but the Trinity is at liberty. T o God's omniscience there is nothing impossible. W e work by hands, without; but he works without makes a meet-help for man. Marriages are consented Though man wants supply, yet man cannot supply his wants, James i. 17. Every good and perfect gift comes from above, A wife, though she be not a perfect gift, yet she is a good gift. These beams are darted from the Son of Righteousness. Hast thou a soft heart ? It is of God's breaking. Hast thou a sweet wife ? She is of God's making. Let me draw up this with double application. 1. When thou layest out for such a good on earth, look up to the God of heaven ; let him make thy choice for thee, who made his choice of thee. Look above you, before you, about you ; nothing makes up the happiness of a married condition, like the holiness of a mortified disposition : account not those the most worthy, that are the most wealthy. Art thou matched to the Lord ? Match in the Lord. How happy are such marriages where Christ is at the wedding! Let none but those who have found favour in God's eyes, find favour in yours. .11 2. Give God the tribute of your gratulation for �11 your good companions. Take head of paying you* rent to a wrong landlord: when you taste of the stream, reflect upon the spring that feeds it. NOT* thou hast four eyes for thy speculation, four hands for thy operation, four feet for thy abulation, and four shoulders for thy sustentation. What the sin against the Holy Ghost is, in point of divinity, that is unthankfulness, in point of morality, an offence unpardonable. Pity it is, but that moon should be ever in an eclipse, that will not acknowledge that praises not the giver, prizes not the gift. And so I pass from the Agent to the Object, A help. She must be so much, and no less ; and so much, and no more. Our ribs were not ordained to be our rulers. They are not made of the head, to claim superiority; but out of the side, to be content nature, who invert the order of nature. The woman was made for the man's comfort, but the man was not made for the woman's command. Those Shoulders aspire too high, that content not themselves with a room below their heads. It is between a man and his wife in the house, as it is between the sun and the moon in the heavens, when the greater light goes down the lesser light gets up ; when the one ends in setting, the other begins in shining. The wife may be a sovereign in her husband's absence, but she must be subject in her husband's presence. As Pharaoh said to Joseph, so should the husband say to his wife, u thou shalt be over my house, and according t 0 thy word shall all my people be ruled, only on the throne will I be greater than thou," Gen. xli, 40. The body of that household can never make any good motion, whose bones are out of place her beams to be borrowed fro with equality. The �12 The woman must he a help to the man in these four things :—1. To his piety. 2. To his society. 3. To his progeny. 4. To his prosperity. To his piety, by the ferventness of her excitation. To his society, by the fragrantness of her conversation. To his progeny, by the fruitfulness of her education, To his prosperity, by her faithful preservation. 1. To his piety, by the ferventness of her excitatio as the two milch-kine, which were coupled together to carry the ark of God ; or as the two cherubims, that looked one upon another, and both upon the mercy-seat; or as the two tables of stone, on each of which were engraven the laws of God. In some families married persons are like Jeremiah's two basket of figs, the one very good, the other very evil; or like fire and water, whilst the one is flaming in devotion, the other is freezing in corruption. 1. On the right side. 2. On the left. On the right side ; when the wife would run in God's way, the husband will not let her go ; when the forehorse in a team will not draw, he wrongs all the rest; when the general of an army forbids a march, all the soldiers stand still. Sometimes on the left: How did Solomon's idolatrous wife draw away his heart from heaven ? A sinning wife was Satan's first ladder, by which he scaled the wall of Paradise, from him. Thus she, that should have been the help of his flesh, was the hurt of his faith ; his nature's under-proper, became his grace's underminer head, is a cross on the shoulders. The wife is often to the husband as the ivy is to the oak, which draws away his sop from him. �13 2. A help to his society, by the fragrantness of her conversation. Man is an affectionate creature ; now the woman's behaviour should be such towards the man, as to requite his affection by increasing his delectation; that the new-born love may not be ruined before it be rooted. A spouse should carry herself so to her husband, as not to disturb his love by her contention, nor to destroy his love by her alineation. Husband and wife should be like two candles burning together, which makes the house more lightsome ; or like two fragrant flowers bound up in one nosegay, that augments its sweetness : or like two well-tuned instruments, which sounding together, make the more melodious music. Husband and wife, what are they but as two springs meeting, and so joining their streams, that they make but one current? It is an unpleasing conjunction. 3. To his progeny, by the fruitfulness of her education ; that so her children in the flesh may be God's children in the spirit, 1 Sam. i. 11. Hannah she vows, if the Lord will give her a son, she would give him to the Lord, to serve him. A spouse should be more careful of her children's breeding, than she should be fearful of her children's in the devil's garden.—Though you bring them out in corruption, yet do not bring them up to damnation whilst they should be teaching their children the way to heaven with their lips, are leading them the way to hell with their lives. Good education is the best livery you can give them living; and it is the best legacy you can leave them dying. You let out your cares to make them great, 0 lift up spectacle to view any contentio bearing. Take heed, lest these !—Those are not mothers but m �14 your prayers to make them good, that before you die from them, you may see Christ live in them. Whilst these twigs are green and tender, they should be bowed towards God. Children and servants are in a family, as passengers in a boat; husband and wife, they are as a pair of oars, to row them to their desired haven. Let these small pieces of timber be hewed and squared for the celestial building. By putting a sceptre of grace into their hands, you will set a crown of glory upon their heads. 4. A help to his prosperity, by her faithfulpreserv at home. One of the ancients speaks excellently : She must not be a field-wife, like Dinah ; nor a street wife, like Tbamar ; nor a window-wife, like Jezabel. Phildeas, when he drew a woman, painted her under a snail-shell; that she might imitate that little creature, that goes no further than it can carry its house upon its head. How many women are there, that are not labouring bees, but idle drones ; that take up a room in the hive, but bring no honey to i t ; that are moths to their husbands' estates, spending when they should be 'sparing. As the man's part is, to provide industriously, so the woman's is, to preserve discreetly ; the one must not be carelessly wanting, the other must not be causelessly wanting ; the man must be seeking with diligence, the woman must be saving with prudence. The cock and hen both scrape together in the dust-heap, to pick up something for the little chickens. To wind up this on a short bottom, 1. If the woman be a not the man cast dirt on Secundus being asked said, Viri naufraghm, help to the man, then let the woman. his opinion of a woman, domus tempestas, quietus �15 impedirhentum„ &c. But surely he was a monster and not a man ; fitter for a tomb to bury him, than a womb to bear him. Some have styled them to be like clouds in the sky ; like motes in the sun ; like snuffs in the candle; like weeds in the garden. But it is not good to play the butcher with that naked sex, that hath no arms but for embraces, A preacher should not be silent for those who are silent from preaching : because they are the weaker vessels, shall they be broken all to pieces ? Thou that sayest women are evil, it may be thy expression flows from thy experience ; but I shall never take that mariner for my pilot, that hath no better knowledge than the splitting of his own ship. Wilt thou condemn the frame of all, for the fault of one ? As if it were true logic, hath ill eyes that disdains all objects. To blast thy helper is to blame thy Maker. In a word, we took our rise from their bowels, and may take our rest in their bosoms. because some are evil therefo 2. Is the woman to be a help to the man ? Then let the man be a help to the woman. What makes some debtors to be such ill pay-masters, but because they look at what is owing to them, but not at what is owing by them. If thou wouldst have thy wife's reverence, let her have thy respect. To force a tear from this relation, is that which neither benefits the husband's authority to enjoin, nor the wif not be sharply driven, but sweetly drawn. Compassion may bend her, but compulsion her. Husband and wife should act towards each other with consent, not by constraint. There are four things wherein the husband is a meet-help to the wife. �16 1. In his protection of her from injuries. It is well observed by one, that the rib of which woman was made, was taken from under his arm : As the use of the arm is to keep off blows from the body, so the office of the husband is to ward off blows from the wife. The wife is the husband's treasury, and the husband the wife's armoury. In darkness he should be her sun, for direction ; in danger he should be her shield for protection. 2. In his providing for her necessities. The husband must communicate maintenance to the wife, as the head conveys influence to the members; thou must not be a drone, and she a drudge. A man in a married estate, is like a chamberlain in an inn, there is knocking for him in every room. Many persons in that condition, waste that estate in luxury, which should supply their wife's necessity; They have neither the faith of a Christian, nor the love of a husband! It is a sad spectacle to see a virgin sold with her own money unto slavery, when services are better than marriages ; the one 3. In his covering of her infirmities. Who would trample upon a jewel, because it is fallen in the dirt, or throw away a heap of wheat for a little chaff, or despise a golden wedge, because it retains some dross ? These roses have some prickles. Now husbands should spread a mantle of charity over their wives' infirmities. They be ill birds that defile their own nests. It is a great deal better you should fast than feast yourselves upon their failings. Some husbands are never well longer than they are holding their fingers in their wife's sores. Such are like crows, that fasten only upon carrion. Do not put out the candle because of the snuff. Husbands and wives should provoke one receives �17 another to love ; and they should love one-another notwithstanding of provocation. Take heed of poisoning those springs from whence the streams of your pleasure flow. 4. By his delighting in her society : a wife takes sanctuary not only in her husband's house, but in his heart. The tree of love should grow up in the family, as the tree of life grew up in the garden of Eden. They that choose their love, should love their choice. They that marry where they affect not, will affect where they marry not. Two joined together without love, are but tied together to make one another miserable. And so I pass to the last stage of the text, A help-meet. 'A help,' there is her fallness ; 4 A meet-help/ there is her fitness. The angels were too much above him ; the inferior creatures too much below him ; he could not step up to the former, nor could he stoop down to the latter; the one was out of his reach, the other was out of his race ; but the woman is a parallel line drawn equal with him. Meet she must be in three things. 1. In the harmony of her disposition. Husband and wife should be like the image in a looking, glass, that answers in all properties to the face that stands before i t ; or like an echo, that returneth the voice it receiveth. Many marriages are like putting new wine into old bottles. An old man is not a meet-help for a young woman : He that sets a grey head upon green shoulders, hath one foot in the grave and another in the cradle : Yet, how many times do you see the spring of youth wedded to the winter of old age ?—A young man is not a meet-help for an old woman ; raw flesh is but an ill plaister for rotten bones. He that in his non-age marries another in her dotage, his lust hath one wife �18 in possession, but his love another in reversion. 2. In heraldry of her condition. Some of our European nations are so strict in their junctions, that it is against their laws for the commonality to couple with the gentry. It was well said by one, <4 If the wife be too much above her husband, she j either ruins him by her vast expenses, or reviles him with her base reproaches; if she be too much below her husband, either her former condition makes her too generous, or her present mutation makes her too imperious.''—Marriages are styled matches, yet amongst those many that are married, how few are there that are matched ! Husbands and wives are like locks and keys, that rather break than open, except the wards be answerable. 3. In the holiness of her religion. If adultery may seperate a marriage contracted, idolatry may hinder a marriage not perfected. Cattle of divers kinds were not to ingender, 2 Cor. vi. 14. Be not unequally yoked, <&c. It is dangerous taking her for a wife, who will not take God for a husband. It is not meet that one flesh should be of two spirits. Is there never a tree thou likest in the garden but that which bears forbidden fruit ? There are but two channels in which the remaining streams shall run :—1. To those men that want wives, how to choose them. 2. To those women who have husbands, how to use them. Marriage is the tying of such a knot, that nothing but death can unloose. Common reason suggests so much, that we should be long a-doing that which can but once be done. Where one design hath been graveled in the sands of delay, thous precipitance. Rash adventures yield gain. Opportunities are not li �19 another returns; but yet take heed of flying without your wings ; you may breed such agues in your bones, that may shake you to your graves. 1. Let me preserve you from a bad choice. 2. Present you with a good one. To preserve you from a bad choice, take that in three things: Choose not for beauty. 2. Choose not for dowry. 3. Choose not for dignity. He that loves to beauty, buys a picture ; he that loves for dowry, makes a purchase ; he that leaps for dignity, matches with a multitude at once. The first of these is too blind to be directed ; the second too base to be accepted ; the third too bold to be respected. 1. Choose not by your eyes. 2. Choose not by your hands. 3. Choose not by your ears. 1. Choose not by your eyes, looking at the beauty of the person. Not but this is lovely in a woman ; but that this is not all for which a woman should be beloved. He that had the choice of many faces stamps this character upon them all, favour is deceitful arid beauty is vain. The sun is more bright in a clear sky, than when the horizon is clouded; but if a woman's flesh hath more of beauty than her spirit hath of Christianity, it is like poison in sweet-meats, most dangerous : 4 4 The sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were fair," Gen. vi. 2. One would have thought that they should rather have looked for grace in the heart, than for beauty in the face : take care of running at the fairest signs ; the swan hath black flesh under her white feathers. 2. Choose not by your hands, for the bounty of the portion. When Cato's daughter was asked why she did not marry ? she thus replied, she could not find the man that loved her person above her portion. Men love curious pictures, but they �20 would have them set in golden frames. Some are so degenerate as to think any good enough, who have but goods enough. Take heed, for sometimes the bag and baggage go together. The person should be a figure, and the portion a cypher, which added to her, advances the sum, but alone signifies nothing. When Themistocles was to marry his daughter, two suitors courted her together, the one rich and a fool, the other wise but poor ; and being asked which of the two he had rather his daughter should have ? he answered Mallem virum fine vecuni : ' I had rather she should have a man without money, than money without a m a n / 2. Choose not by your ears, for the dignity of her parentage. A good old stock may nourish a fruitless branch. There are many children who are not the blessings, but the blemishes of their parents ; they are nobly descended, but ignobly minded : Such was Aurelius Antonious, of whom it was said, that he injured his country of nothing, but being the father of such a child. There are many low in their descents, that are high in their deserts ; such as the cobler's son, who became a famous captain ; when a great person upbraided the meanness of his original, " My nobility, said he, began with me, but thy nobility ends with thee." Piety is a greater honour than parentage. She is the best gentlewoman that is heir of her own deserts, and not the degenerate offspring of another's virtue. To present you with a good choice in three things. 1. Choose such a one as will be a subject to your dominion. Take heed of yoking yourselves with untamed heifers. 2. Choose such a one as may sympathize with you in your affliction. Marriage is just like a sea �21 voyage, he that enters into this ship, must look to meet with storms and tempests, 1 Cor. vii. 20. They that marry shall have trouble in the flesh flesh and trouble are married together, whether we marry or no ; now a bitter cup is too much to be drunk by one mouth. A heavy burthen is easily carried by assistance of other shoulders. Husband and wife should neither be proud flesh, nor dead flesh. You are fellow-members, therefore you should have a fellow-feeling. While one stands safe on the shore, pity should be shown to him that is toast on the sea. Sympathy in suffering is like a dry house in a wet day. 3. Choose such a one as may be serviceable to your salvation. A man may think he hath a saint, when he hath a devil; but take heed of a harlot, that is false to thy bed ; and of a hypocrite, that is false to thy God. 2. To those women who have husbands, how to use them. In two things. 1. Carry yourselves towards them with obedience. Let their power command you, that their praise may commend you. Though you may have your husband's heart, yet you should love his will Till the husband leaves commanding, the wife must never leave obeying. As his injunctions must be lawful, so her subjection must be loyal. 2. With faithfulness. In creation, God made not woman for many men, or many women for one man. Every wife should be to her husband as Eve was to Adam, a whole world of women ; and every husband should be to his wife as Adam was to Eve, a whole world of men. When a river is To conclude, Good servants are a great blessing ; good children a greater blessing ; but a good wife divided into many ch �22 is the greatest blessing : And such a help let him seek for her that wants one, let him sigh for her that hath lost one, let him take pleasure in her that enjoys one. Where there is nothing but a picture of virtue, or a few shadowy qualities that may subsist without any real excellency, death will hide them for ever in the night of despair. The blackness of darkness will close upon the naked and wandering ghost; whilst its loathsome remains are consigned to oblivion and putrefaction in the prison of the grave, with the prospect of a worse doom hereafter. But where there is a living image of true goodness begun in this state, death will deliver it with safety into the finishing hand of eternity, to be produced with every mark of honour in the open view of heaven ; where its now mortal partner, rescued from the dishonours of the dust, and brightened into the graces of eternal youth, shall rejoin it in triumph, to suffer the pangs of separation no more. EVERLASTING JEHOVAH ! what a crown of joy will it confer on the preacher in that day, if this little service shall be rewarded with the reflection of having contributed to the salvation or improvement addresses ! If ever thine ear was open to my cry, hear me* O Lord! hear me in their behalf. What cannot thy spirit perform, perform by the weakest hand ? May that spirit seal them to the day of redemption. At that glorious period, may I meet you all amongst the redeemed of the Lord, happy to see you shining with immortal splendour in the general assembly and church of the first born, transported to think that I shall live with you for ever, and joining in the granulations of your fellow �23 in the sight of all, clothe you with the garment of salvation, and cover you with the robe of righteousness, and as a bride is adorned with her Jewels. Amen LADY as a bridegroom is decked FRETFUL, A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE. HER general style of conversation runs on the inconveniences to be expected from this or that circumstance, and no one is so ingenious in extracting unsuspected evil from plans of the fai promise. Is the weather fine, and a walk mentioned—It is hot—it is dusty—the wind east—there was rain in the morning—it will be dirty—or it will rain before we reach home. Is she to go out in the carriage ; one road is too long the horses—another is unpleasant—another unsafe—and, in short, none are exactly right. yet she goes on these proposed expeditions, after all possibility of pleasure has been reasoned and anticipated away. If she is going out to dinner, is sure the company will be unpleasant—the servants will get drunk—she shall be robbed, or overturned in coming home. If she is to have a at home, she knows every thing will go nobody will be amusing—the time will heavy—the people will go away, execrating t employed he stupidity of the visit. If she sees any lady about a piece of work, she prognosticates �24 it will be unfashionable before it is finished. I she sees any one reading, she never new any good come of reading, but to make young people unfit for conversation. If her husband is going a goes for a ride, she is surprised he can take pleasure in sitting on his horse for hours together. If he is in his library, she never saw such a book-worm. If he sits in the parlour, she hates men always at their wive's apron strings. Thus does she sour every common occurance of life by the most in genious optical delusion, looking at every thing in the worst point of view. hun What absurdity to imbitter one's alloted portion of happiness by so obstinately persisting toanti think fair appearances promise fair conclusions ? Why, if the sun shines in the morning, be unwilling to enjoy it then ? And, if it rains, why not be always inclined to hope the weather will brighten ? � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5a5e05ef37ff972c650d66538ff44477.jpg 9cf91e947214d011b0436cc9970a7137 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3492 Width 2008 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 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. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. 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 Wedding-Ring, fit for the finger: Laid open in a sermon, Preached at a Wedding in St. Edmond's. By William Secker, Late preacher of the gospel. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #25 and #28 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks Description An account of the resource 63 printed at bottom of title-page Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Religion and Morals Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Abstract A summary of the resource. A sermon on Genesis ii. 18: And the Lord God said, it is not good that the man should be alone: I will make him a help-meet for him. The preacher breaks up the passage into smaller phrases and deals with them individually, extolling the many virtues of marriage and its rightness in the eyes of God. The proper roles and behaviors for both husband and wife are discussed at length, as well as the dangers of improper behavior, such as adultery. The sermon also includes some invectives against the Roman Catholic Church and their policy on clerical marriage. The sermon is followed by a short passage entitled, “Lady Fretful: A Sketch from Real Life,” which describes a pessimistic woman who complains and sees the worst in everything. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource n.d. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada 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. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 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 Secker, William -1681? 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: William Secker