escaping from them, and very disagreeable things they are when one is far removed from a house of any kind, and there is not light sufficient to guide one on one’s way. "Ay, ay," said Mrs. Anderson, addressing her husband, "but for all that ye say, Mr. Peden was a great prophet;" then turning towards me, she continued. "when I was a little girl I resided for some time wi’ a farmer who lived on the celebrated farm of Wellwood, near Airdsmoss, and used to hear a great deal about Mr. Peden. You must know that he is buried at Cumnock. He was first interred in the Laird of Affleck’s aisle (Auchenleck), a mile distant, but was lifted, as he predicted, by soldiers, and conveyed to the foot of Cumnock gallows, which stands near the village. That spot soon came to be used as the public burying-grouud, and, in my younger days, was a very pretty rustic graveyard. But it is said that before his death, Peden stated that after his second burial a _thorn bush_ should grow at his head, and an _ash tree_ at his feet; and when the branches of each met, there should be a bloody battle in Shankson wood (about a mile distant), where the blood would be up to the horse’s bridles. The thorn did grow, and is there yet, I believe, and many slips have been taken from it by strangers, but the ash is said to have been pulled up ere it was large enough to touch the thorn, so the battle never took place. And I mind weel o’ a strange epitaph that was on an ancient tomb-stone beside Peden’s grave, which, if I remember rightly, was something like this:—’Here lies David Dun and Simon Paterson, who _was_ shot in this place for their adherence to the word of God and the covenanting work of reformation, 1685,’ (the black year.) There was also another stone, just in front of Peden’s grave, but I forget the precise words; they ran, however, nearly as follows:— ’Halt, passengers, and I will tell to thee For what and how I here did dee, For always in my station. Adhering to the work of reformation, I was in on time of prayer By Douglas (Colonel) shot; O, cruelty, ne’er to be forgot.’ Now ye see," she continued, "there are no less than three poor men, there may be more for all that I mind o’, lying in Cumnock burying-ground who were shot by the royalists, and I think, Willie," she said, again addressing her husband, "seeing that your own forefathers all fought in the good cause, you need’na say just sae much in favour o’ their adversaries." "Dear me," said Mr. Anderson, in reply to this rebuke, "I am not denying that there were many cruel actions done in these sad times, but I am just saying that I don’t believe all the stories told in the Scots’ Worthies: do you imagine for one moment that I can credit that one about open, open to the Duke o’ Drumlanrig? No, nor any other sensible person." "What one was that?" I inquired. "Oh, just some idle tale not worth repeating——"