While staying at ——, in the parish of W——, I discovered that a standard, borne by the Covenanters at Bothwell Bridge, was still to be seen at the farm of Westcroft. Being very desirous of viewing this interesting relic, I set off one fine morning in the hope of obtaining a glimpse of the time-honoured banner. On reaching the village of H——, which lay on my way, I observed a very portly-looking woman standing by the side of the road, apparently enjoying the grateful breeze, as she looked east and then west, evidently in search of something amusing or exciting. Being now somewhat at a loss in what direction to turn my steps, I crossed over to where she was standing, in the expectation of obtaining from her the requisite information, when the following dialogue ensued:— "Would you be so kind as to tell me the way to Westcroft?" "That I will. I’ll just go wi’ you a step or two and show you the farm itsel’. But what are ye wanting at Westcroft, if I may ask the question?" "I wish to see Mr. Anderson, as I understand he has got a standard that was borne at Bothwell Bridge." "He has that—he has that; but it’s often away frae hame, ta’en to Glasgow and the like, for ye see it’s something to say, a body has seen the like o’ that." "From what I have heard, this seems to have been a great part of the country for the Covenanters to take refuge in." "’Deed an’ it was, but for my part I dinna ken much _aboot_ them; my brother, again, was a great _antiquarian_, and rale ta’en up about these auld affairs." "Does he live near here?" "Oh! mam, he’s dead;" and after a short pause added, "Now, you see that white house forenent the road?" "Yes." "Well, that’s Westcroft; and if Willie Anderson be at hame, ye’ll get plenty o’ cracks about the Covenanters, for he has lots o’ bees in his bonnet, him." After thanking the good humoured dame for her information—upon which she replied I was welcome—I turned up the path leading to Westcroft. In answer to my request to see Mr. Anderson, I was informed he was in the fields; but that Mrs. A. was within, upon which a very intelligent-looking woman came forward, and, on my expressing a wish to see the standard, desired me to come ben, and I should have a sight o’ the colours. Following the mistress of the house, I was speedily ushered into a tidy little room, the walls of which were adorned with pictures, the most striking of which was one entitled "The Guardsman’s Farewell," representing a gallant son of Mars in a most gorgeous uniform, on horseback, taking leave of a stout woman, attired in a yellow polka-jacket and a crimson petticoat, who was gazing upwards in the face of the departing soldier, with a look of agony impossible to describe.