of your fulness to the poor; and was so cruel to the two starving lasses, that you took them prisoners for four stocks of kail to save their lives? Ye may read your sin upon your judgment, if ye be not blind in the eyes of your soul, as ye are of one in your body, and may be a warning to all that come after you.”’[226] These striking and well-told anecdotes of the dearth are from the simple pages of Patrick Walker. The account he gives of the religious apathy manifested under the calamity is corroborated by a rhymster named James Porterfield, who was pleased to write a series of poems on three remarkable fires in Edinburgh, which he viewed entirely in the light of ‘God’s Judgments against Sin’—such being indeed the title of his book,[227] which he dedicated to the magistrates of the city. He says: To awake us from our sin, Horses and cattle have consumed been; And straits and dearth our land have overswayed, And thousand lives therewith have been dismayed; Many through want of bread dropped at our feet, And lifeless lay upon the common street: _These plagues made no impression on the flock, And ministers seemed ploughing on a rock._ In the five or six years of this dearth, ‘the farmer was ruined, and troops of poor perished for want of bread. Multitudes [Sidenote: 1698.] deserted their native country, and thousands and tens of thousands went to Ireland, &c. During the calamity, Sir Thomas Stewart laid out himself, almost beyond his ability, in distributing to the poor. He procured sums from his brother, the Lord Advocate, and other worthy friends, to distribute, and he added of his own abundantly. His house and outer courts were the common resort of the poor, and the blessing of many ready to perish came upon him; and a blessing seemed diffused on his little farm that was managed for family use, for, when all around was almost blasted by inclement seasons and frosts in the years 1695–6–7, it was remarked here were full and ripened crops. The good man said the prayers of the poor were in it, and it went far.’[229]