"Yes!" screamed forth the distracted parent, "the spirit of my murdered boy drove me forth to meet his mangled body. I sat in my house, bewailing my solitary widowhood—alone with my foreboding fears concerning my son, and brooding with tortured soul over the fearful calamities that has befallen the faithful of the land. Suddenly I was seized with a trembling and sinking of the heart—an indescribable feeling of awe, as if some mysterious being invisible, yet distinctly felt, hovered around, overcame me, and I bowed my head in acknowledgment of its presence. Then a voice, which I instantly knew to be that of my son, although sweet and low, whispered the name of—mother! Distracted with fear, I fled from the cottage; and led by my mysterious guide, my footsteps turned in this direction. Maddened by cruel uncertainty, I ran swiftly onwards until I encountered the bier which bore all that remained of my murdered son." Here the mother ended her sad recital, and weeping afresh, resumed her station at the head of the procession. "Men, and fellow-sufferers in the good cause!" shouted Walter Henderson at the conclusion of the widow’s tale, "what merits the man, who, on account of his high position and influence in this county, has it in his power to succour those overwhelmed by dangers and miseries of every description, and to befriend the followers of the Covenant, but who, instead of shielding these poor afflicted ones under the strong arm of his might, reduces them to the bonds of slavery, and exercises his authority over the minds of his friends and dependants to the furtherance of every evil work, whereby the blood of innocent and inoffensive men is poured out like water on the hills and valleys of Scotland?" "Death!" was the rejoinder. "What punishment should be inflicted on him," pursued their leader, "who has driven the labourer from his kindred and home, and the patriot from his country?" "Let him perish in the midst of his ungodliness, and let his stronghold be razed; yea even to the ground!" "Comrades," shouted Walter Henderson, "It is Sir Robert Grierson whom ye have with one accord denounced; he it is who has clad the green hills of Dumfriesshire in mourning, and caused the wail of widows and orphans to ascend up to heaven for a testimony against him; then let us, trusting in the help of the Almighty God, call upon him to account for his iniquities, and burn down the stronghold of his cruelties. "Amen," said they all. "Who is this? how comes it to pass that you have one of the ungodly in your company?" inquired one of the bier-bearers, addressing Walter Henderson, and pointing to John Kirsop as he spoke.