And, having prayed fervently, and placed the younger ones in each other’s arms, they laid themselves down and fell asleep. They must have slept long and soundly, for the sun was more than an hour risen, when a staghound was seen licking the face of Andrew Watson as he and his family lay in the woods of Falkland: in fact, Lord Crawfurd had left, that morning, his residence at Struthers, in the parish of Ceres, and had pursued a fallow deer, with “hound and horn,” into Falkland forest. The hounds had been taken off the scent by the unusual finding of a covey, as it were, of human beings beneath a tree, and sleeping in the open air; so this naturally excited observation, and his lordship himself, with several attendants, immediately rode up to the spot. The Earls of Crawfurd, from time immemorial, were distinguished not less by their high and noble descent, than by their princely bearing and kindly feeling; besides, they had all along aided the Reformation from its opening, and supported Presbytery against the inroads of Prelacy. The mournful story was told and listened to. A horseman was called upon, and dismissed on a secret errand, and the family were directed to make the best of their way to Struthers—the Fife residence of his lordship. An ample breakfast with the housekeeper awaited their arrival; and they were told after breakfast, that as his lordship’s _hen-wife_ had died suddenly—a few days before—and no new appointment had been made, Andrew Watson should possess the lodge, which she formerly occupied at the gate. And whilst he looked after the gate, and a few black-faced sheep which were kept, for table use, in an adjoining park, his wife should take the management of the poultry. Thus ended the trials of Andrew Watson, who lived to see his uncle bankrupt, turned out of house and hold, and carried to his grave, with scarcely a mourning attendant, in consequence of his own acts. Truly, “The ways of God are righteous altogether.” XIX.—THE TRIALS OF THE REV. SAMUEL AUSTIN. Amongst the oldest recollections which I have, is my attendance, along with my mother, at the dispensation of the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, in the parish of Penpont, Dumfriesshire. Mr Keyden officiated at that time as parish minister, and was known through all the adjoining parishes, and, in particular, in my native parish of Closeburn, as a most able, eloquent, and popular preacher. Consequently, whenever the occasion came round, as it did regularly about the middle of June— “The roads war filled frae side to side Wi’ mony a weary body, In droves that day.”