G.o.d had now begun judgment at His own House. He was testing the fidelity of His people. The test must touch every point, cover every relation, and reach the degree of suffering that satisfies His mysterious will.

G.o.d cares much, even for houses, fields, harvests, garners, comforts, conveniences, earthly ties--He cares much for all these as they affect His people. He cares infinitely more, however, for their moral cleanness, spiritual growth, untarnished fidelity, unconquerable faith, and everlasting honor. Therefore He permits the furnace to be heated, and sometimes heated sevenfold; yet He brings them out of the flames without the smell of fire on their garments.

The persecutors, heartless as the rocks and frigid as the iceberg, had equal disregard for the rights of men, the delicacy of women, and the innocency of children. A few incidents will show the general conditions.

Nor are these exceptional cases; thousands, yea, tens of thousands suffered in like manner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HOWIE HOME, LOCHGOIN.

The house is located in one of Scotland's solitudes. Here the Howies have lived for 28 successive generations, keeping the altar fire burning since 1178. The present house is modern, bearing the date 1858; John Howie, the present occupant, (1912), is the 28th lineal descendant of one of the first settlers. We had the pleasure of meeting this genial Scotchman in his meadow, as he was making hay one fine August day. He immediately laid his fork aside, and brought us to his house, where we were deeply interested in a fine collection of souvenirs of the martyrs and their times.]

A Home at Lochgoin. This is a very ancient residence of the Covenanters.

The Howies have lived here since 1178, the twenty-eighth generation now occupying the house. The building is stone, one story high, with a loft.

While the persecution raged, this was a chief resort of the Covenanters.

Occupying a solitary place, with a vast out-stretch of waste moorland on every side, this house was like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land: the pursued often found shelter under its roof. Hither Peden, Cameron, Renwick, Paton, and many others repaired, and found a cordial welcome. On one occasion a group had come to spend the night in prayer.

They felt comparatively secure, because a storm was raging over the moor. The clouds were pouring down torrents, and the fitful gusts were playing wildly across the broad expanse of moss and heather. These men of G.o.d knew how to wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and betimes continued their prayers till the break of day. The pursuers had scented their game; in the morning a detachment of cavalry rode up to the house.

The Covenanters escaped through the back door. To give them more time, Mrs. Howie stood in front of the soldiers, and disputed their entrance into the house. A burly dragoon attempted to push in. She grappled him by the shoulder, whirled him about, and shoved him out with such force that he fell to the ground. Her Covenanted guests all escaped, and the soldiers, after a fruitless pursuit, withdrew. For this heroic service Mrs. Howie suffered much and her life was sought. Often she had to leave her home, and spend whole nights in the cold, damp moor, with a tender babe on her breast.

A Home near Muirkirk. James Glendinning was a shepherd whose humble cottage escaped not the notice of the persecutor. Knowing the danger that enshrouded his home, he arose one evening from his knees after family worship, and, walking softly across the floor, uncovered the cradle and gently lifted the babe, which he tenderly placed on the mother's knee, saying, "I commit you, my dear wife, and this sweet babe to the fatherly care of the Great Shepherd of Israel. If my days be cut short, G.o.d, the G.o.d under whose shadow we have taken refuge, will be to you a Husband, and to this child a Father." Not long after this, the home was beset by a company of soldiers. That very night his wife had constrained him to retire to his hiding-place near by. The soldiers rudely rushed into the house, expecting to pounce upon him as their prey. Not finding him they were enraged. Seizing the infant, they held the struggling form up in the face of the frantic mother, and, flashing a glittering sword, threatened to cut it into pieces, if she did not reveal the hiding-place of her husband. At that moment the father, who had been attracted to the door, seeing the manoeuvres, rushed in. His soul was on fire; he was just then strong as ten men; he feared not consequences. "Hold, ye murderers! Back! back!" cried he, waving his sword in their faces. He sprang toward his babe and rescued it, while he used his sword with telling effect upon the intruders. The soldiers retreated, leaving the floor sprinkled with their blood. The family soon afterward removed to Holland.

A Home near Closeburn. James Nivison was a farmer whose hospitable home afforded comfort and shelter to many who were houseless. He was an unbending Covenanter. Nothing could daunt his n.o.ble soul. Being threatened with trouble and loss, he once replied, that if the turning of a straw, in obedience to unprincipled and arbitrary rulers, would save him from harm, he would not comply. His wife was of equal heroism.

His home was so often beset by soldiers in search of him, that he had to retire to the solitudes. He one day said to his wife, "My dear wife, stern necessity demands our temporary separation. G.o.d will be with us both--you at the home, and me in the wilderness." "I will accompany you," she firmly replied; "I will accompany you. If the archers. .h.i.t you, I will be there to staunch your wounds and to bind up your bleeding head. In whatever danger you may be, I will be at your side, your affectionate wife, in life or in death." They went out together. Sadly they closed the door of their pleasant home, to wander, not knowing where. The mother carried a tender little babe in her bosom. Their first retreat was found in the woods, then in different caves. They made a basket of twigs for the infant. The mother, sitting in the mouth of the cold cavern, would rock her little darling, and sing the soft lullabies that mingled with the sighing of the winds. They survived the persecution.

Sweet home! The Covenanted home is but an annex of heaven. Home is G.o.d's inst.i.tution, endowed by Him with the wealth of infinite grace, furnished with holy ordinances, and consecrated with the blood of Christ. Do we appreciate the value, the dignity, and the advantage of a Covenanted home? Do we keep the home bright, cheerful, and inspiring, by worshiping our Covenant G.o.d, and honoring the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ?

POINTS FOR THE CLa.s.s.

1. Describe a Covenanted home of the olden time.

2. What distresses fell upon these homes?

3. Can we account for these afflictive providences?

4. What is the explanation?

5. Give an incident at Lochgoin; Muirkirk; Closeburn.

6. How should a Covenanted home be appreciated?

XXIX.

THE BATTLE OF RULLION GREEN.--A.D. 1666.

A young Covenanter once stood on the battlefield of Rullion Green, pensively pondering over the battle and the heroes whose blood had watered this soil. Two centuries and more had fled since the engagement, yet the field appealed to the responsive heart with powerful eloquence.

The beautiful slope, the verdant pasture, the grazing flocks, the broad valley, the distant hills, the expansive sky, the summer charms--all blended into a strange enchantment around the young man's soul. The quiet meditation quickened the heart; the heart aroused the imagination; the imagination revived the scenes of November 28, 1666, by which this field was made memorable in the struggle of the Covenanters for civil and religious liberty. He was deeply impressed with the value of the Covenant, which was sealed with the blood of the n.o.ble warriors who sleep on this hillside. There he vowed, that if G.o.d would ever give him a home of his own, the home would be called RULLION GREEN. G.o.d gave him a home; a beautiful residence, adorned with this name, graces the city of Airdrie to-day.

The battle of Rullion Green had its cause many days previous to the actual engagement. We will get the better view by following the chain of events.

Four years before this, to the very month, four hundred ministers had been expelled from their churches, because they would not forsake their Covenant, renounce Presbyterianism, and follow the instructions of King Charles and his Council, in the administration of G.o.d's House.

The Covenanted people, deeply in sympathy with their ministers, refused to wait on the preaching of the curates--the ministers of the Episcopal Church sent by the authority of the king to supply the vacant pulpits.

A series of proclamations was then issued to bring the Covenanters into subjection, each proclamation being severer than the one preceding.

The people were enjoined to attend their own parish church, warned against going to the Conventicles, and threatened with fines, imprisonment, and exile for frequenting what the king termed "unwarrantable preaching."

To enforce the royal will and overawe the Covenanters, troops were stationed among the people and commissioned to plunder and kill the disobedient at will.

The sufferings of the Covenanters, at the hands of the soldiers, were indescribable. Their homes were invaded; their property was confiscated; their flocks and herds were driven off; their families were broken up; the aged and delicate, the women and children--all who would not yield to their demands endured personal violence. The country groaned and staggered under the cruelty authorized by King Charles, and practiced by his agents.

Conditions became desperate; the wise were driven mad; patience ceased to be a virtue; endurance was at the point of conflagration. Thousands had to flee and keep in hiding, to escape personal harm and even the shedding of their blood.

At this juncture of events, four young Covenanters, fleeing from place to place for safety, came to a dwelling, where they found four dragoons preparing to roast an old man on a gridiron, to extract information concerning his money. The sight shocked every n.o.ble feeling; their manhood was aroused, and their courage was greater than their prudence.

They challenged the conduct of the soldiers, and were answered with drawn swords. The Covenanters came off best. They rescued the aged victim, disarmed the soldiers, and marched them off at the point of their own sabers. In the fight one of the Covenanters fired a pistol, wounding a dragoon. That was "the shot that echoed around the world,"

and re-echoed, till it resounded over the green valley of the Boyne, among the rocks of Bunker Hill, and along the banks of the Appomattox.

The Covenanters knew that they had now precipitated a conflict, that would call armies into the field. The king's measures have hitherto been severe, but now the furnace will be heated seven fold. The Covenanters must now meet force with force, or be utterly crushed. They attempted to raise an army. Next morning, the four men were increased to ten, and a second encounter resulted in the capture of a detachment of the king's regulars, with one dead. The second day volunteers swelled the number to 250; the prospects were growing bright. Another engagement resulted in the surrender of Sir James Turner, the local commander of the royal forces. Thus far the operations greatly encouraged the Covenanters; they now hoped to be able to redress their grievances, and compel the king to withdraw his army, thus bringing the horrors of those times to an end.

King Charles hastily prepared to meet the new conditions. He termed the uprising, "A formidable insurrection." He ma.s.sed his troops to crush "the rebels." The Covenanters spent their time moving from one town to another to increase their forces. Colonel James Wallace, a brave officer of considerable military experience, was chosen commander. The recruits were not numerous. They were also without discipline, and inefficiently armed, carrying muskets, pistols, swords, pikes, scythes, pitchforks, and flails.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRAVESTONE AT RULLION GREEN.

The stone, three feet by two, stands at the head of this battlefield.

Beautiful firs pensively wave their soft branches over the grave. Here lies the dust of the 50 Covenanters who fell on the sloping field in front of the stone. On that day it was covered with sleet. The fallen lay all night, some stiffened in death, and others benumbed with the Sharp November winds. The next morning, the good women of Edinburgh came, with shrouds for the dead, and blankets for the living, all having been stripped by the foe.]

At Lanark they remained a day, renewing their Covenant and issuing a Public Declaration, stating that the object of their appeal to arms was the redress of their grievances. The next day they manoeuvred, coming in contact with detachments of the enemy. The weather was unfavorable; rain, snow, sleet, and wind united in drenching, chilling, and depressing the unsheltered and underfed men, and turning the roads, over which they marched, into deep mire. When the morning of the 28th arrived, the day of the battle, Colonel Wallace had only 900 men at his command.

The Covenanters were moving around the foot of the Pentland hills, a few miles from Edinburgh, when General Dalziel, with 3000 of the king's troops, emerged from a pa.s.s behind them, and offered battle. Wallace accepted the challenge. He formed his men for action on the hillside, having the advantage of the higher ground. The gentle slope extended down to the spot where Dalziel's war-horse was pawing the ground. The sun was sinking behind the hills. The day was cold and the country was covered with sleet.

Dalziel ordered an attack by his cavalry. The hors.e.m.e.n formed, each with blade in hand, and moved rapidly up the rising ground. Colonel Wallace immediately placed his mounted men in readiness to receive them. The s.p.a.ce between the armies was about half a mile. The Covenanters grimly watched their approach. The waiting moments were burdened with awe, but the Covenanters knew how to turn awful moments into power. They carried the Psalms in their hearts. Some one began to sing. The Psalm was pensive and the tune solemn. All hearts were responsive; from 900 voices a wave of sacred music rolled up the mountain-side against the heavens.

The very sentiment seemed to be the stirring of hearts, that were consciously entering into a forlorn battle:

"O G.o.d, why hast Thou cast us off?

Is it for evermore?

Against Thy pasture-sheep why doth Thine anger smoke so sore?"

They sang three stanzas. While the echoes were dying away, the brave Colonel ordered a charge. Adown the field his hors.e.m.e.n dashed. They struck the enemy with terrific force, broke their ranks, and hurled them back upon their own base.

Dalziel ordered another charge. The troops plunge forward to retrieve their lost honor. Over the blood-stained snow they gallop; nearer and nearer they approach the stern line awaiting them on the hillside.

Wallace gives the word, and the Covenanters again strike the gleaming column with clash of swords, once more rolling it back upon itself in confusion.

A third time the cavalry charged up the hill, and a third time the Covenanters hurled them back. Dalziel at last moved his entire force forward, which, like a tidal wave, carried all before it. The Covenanters were swept from the field leaving 50 dead. The battle was lost, but not the cause. These heroes fought well. The defeat was certain, in their own minds, even before a shot was fired; but believing that the cause of liberty now demanded a sacrifice, they freely offered up themselves on the altar.

Rullion Green! How euphonic the name! What music in the words! What cl.u.s.tering memories to awaken all that is heroic and enn.o.bling in our hearts! De we appreciate the fruits of the fields, fertilized with the blood of the fathers? Are we loyal as they were to the Covenants? Do our lives arise into the heroic spirit, and take on the moral grandeur exhibited by them?