"What a noble witness for the truth is that good man! There is but one such man in our age, Uncle Malcolm; at least but one given to an especial branch of the Christian church." "Yes, Roland, the Church of England has her Bickersteth; the Baptist, her Robert Hall; the Methodist, her Wesley; and a' seeking one great end, the glory of the Saviour, and the spread of his kingdom. What a blessed day that will be, when these sects shall pass away, and we shall be truly one in Christ, once more the simple primitive Christians of Antioch!" And thus they fulfilled the blessed command of their Master, talking of the things of his kingdom, until like the disciples on their way to Emmaus their hearts burned within them with emotions of holy love. Where the fountain is full, the streams will gush forth naturally, freely, healthfully. "It is a fine day, Uncle Malcolm," said Roland, on the following Monday; "can we go to-day to visit the glen where my martyred ancestors lie?" "I was thinking o' it mysel', Roland; the weather could na' be better, hard roads, and clear sharp air--it is a long ride frae' here, and we will set out early--hae the carriage ready, Dugald, and a basket o' provision; we will gae in aboot an hour." It was a splendid ride over these mountain roads, winding around in their ascent to heights whence there were vistas charming in their grandeur even at this season; then descending into rural glens where the cottages of the peasantry ever and anon met their view. "There is Castle Kennicott, Roland;" and Malcolm pointed to a miserable range of buildings, so dilapidated that his companion smiled at the name. "There lives old Sir Peter Kennicott; he is a specimen o' an auld Scottish laird, vera poor, and vera proud; his wife, Lady Catherine, and three daughters, make up his household; they visit us two or three times a year, and living as they do in the seclusion o' their Highland home, ken but little o' the ways o' the rest o' the warld; they are vera amusing wi' their quaint auld-fashioned manners; but Lady Catherine is a guid woman, and much esteemed." Beguiling the way with pleasant chat, in a few hours they reached the spot they sought for. Dismounting, they stood around the lowly grave--the same ruined chimney, the same grand old trees, the same dark and sombre glen, where no human habitation was visible, recalled the picture so deeply engraved upon the memory of Roland. "We stood just here, Uncle Malcolm," (and Roland almost whispered, for he felt in the midst of solemn associations,) "when my mother told me the story of old David Gordon and the sweet Lilian, and I think from that day my childish soul took a great leap in its existence, and I never could forget the thoughts which stirred within me, as I remembered that my ancestors were among the holy band of Christian martyrs." "It is a great honor, Roland, to be descended frae those who will hereafter be kings and priests unto God."