"As Lag and bloody Bruce command, We were hung up by hellish hand, And thus their furious rage to stay, We died at Kirk of Irongray. Here now in peace sweet rest we take, Once murder’d for religion’s sake." "Puir murdered things," sobbed forth Mrs. M’Adam at the close of the minister’s narration, raising her handkerchief to her eyes as she spoke. "Oh dear, dear! is’na it sad to think that religion, whilk ought to make men sae peaceful and godly in their lives, should, in many cases, just hae the contrary effect. See now at the present time, a’ men are set by the ears, and what is it all about?—a mere trifle—just a difference o’ opinion. How true are the words of Him that knew all things, ’I am come not to bring peace on earth, but a sword!’" "Yes," was the reply, "but I am afraid religion is often made a cloak to cover bitter feelings engendered by party strife. No one possessing the meek Christian feeling of brotherly love and charity towards all men, could thus wantonly imbrue his hands in the blood of a fellow-creature." "’Deed no, Mr. Weir, you say very true; they are no’ the richt sort o’ Christians who delight in bloodshed and warfare; a wheen apostates are they; wolves in sheep’s clothing, whom we are expressly warned against——" Here Gilbert, who knew from experience that whenever his mother got upon these topics she could continue, without pausing to draw her breath, until pretty near midnight, suggested to her the propriety of Mr. Weir retiring early to rest, as he would need to rise betimes in the following morning. The worthy minister, homeless and ill-provided for as he was, accepted with gratitude the humble accommodation offered to him by the poor but hospitable widow, and shortly afterwards withdrew to his sleeping apartment. By the early hour of six o’clock, Mr. Weir, accompanied by Mrs. M’Adam and her son, was on his way to the place of meeting. The morning was fine, and a numerous concourse of people, many of whom had come from a great distance, were assembled to hear their beloved Clergyman. The incense of praise had been offered up, and Mr. Weir was about to commence his sermon, when a party of soldiers appeared in sight. These proved to be a body of militia, under the command of Sir Archibald Kennedy of Culzean, then scouring the country in search of prey. Mr. Weir on perceiving their approach, closed his Bible, and exhorting his hearers to remain quietly in their seats, went forward to meet the hostile band. "Why come ye thus to interrupt us in our devotions?" he inquired, when the rapid advance of the soldiers brought them within hearing. "You shall soon see that, you old canting hypocrite," thundered forth Sir Archibald Kennedy in his fiercest tones. "I’ll teach you to come here with your psalm-singing, dismal faced companions. Come, be off with you, or I will this instant send a brace of bullets through that thick head-piece of yours!"