Saint George and Saint Andrew were the last of all the Seven Champions
who remained together, rivalling each other in gallant deeds of arms.
Where breathes the Scotchman who does not desire, when his life's work
seems almost done, to return once more to scent the air of his own free
heathery hills, to climb their rocky heights, and to wander around their
fertile vales? Strongly did the desire to turn homeward seize the heart
of Scotland's Champion. He, however, did not lay aside his spear and
sword; but old as he was, still clad in his armour, bestriding his
war-horse, and followed by the faithful Murdoch, he kept steadily
travelling on, day by day, towards the north.
Thus should the true knight do. Life is a battle from the beginning to
the end--as the brave Saint Andrew well knew; and never should the
armour, the shield, or sword, be laid aside till death strikes the knell
which summons the warrior from the world.
Many were the adventures he and the faithful Murdoch met with on their
journey. More than one giant was slain, numbers of unhappy people
released from slavery, and many districts cleared of wild beasts, before
the aged Knight and his faithful Squire reached the fair shores of
Scotia.
The fame of their deeds had gone before them, and all the nobility of
the realm, and a vast concourse of people, assembled to do them honour.
It was a proud day for the aged Saint Andrew, when, clothed in his
well-worn suit of armour, with Murdoch McAlpine of that ilk carrying his
spear by his side, he rode through the streets of auld Reekie, with the
shouts of the delighted populace sounding in his ears and singing his
praises.
"Long live Saint Andrew! Long live Saint Andrew! Wherever the Scottish
name is known there will we Scotchmen boast of our own Saint Andrew--of
the gallant deeds he has done--of the name and of the fame he has won!"
Such were the cries which from far and near saluted his ears.
A grand tournament was also given in Saint Andrew's honour, at which the
aged Knight sat as umpire, though he wisely refrained from running a
tilt, much as his heart tempted him to put on armour for the occasion.
Soon after this, being assured that feats of arms were no longer suited
to him, he resolved to instruct his countrymen in certain important
branches of knowledge which he had acquired in his foreign travels. To
prepare himself for this new work he retired to a hermitage he had built
high up on the side of a mountain. Thither, however, in a short time,
resorted to him all the youths of aspiring minds who desired to acquire
information, and to receive instruction from the sage. Thus, in process
of time, the rude hut became a spot celebrated for learning and piety.
There, happily and usefully employed, the old warrior spent many years
of his declining life.
But, alas! what virtue, what piety, can enable a man to escape from the
snares of enemies and detractors? Accused of witchcraft, and other
malpractices, the aged Saint was brought before some stern judges, who
forthwith condemned him to death. Scarcely, however, had his head been
cut off than his innocence was discovered, and a church was raised to
his memory; and he has ever since been held in honourable recollection
by all Scotchmen as the Champion of whom his country should be proud--a
knight _sans peur et sans reproche_.
Such, however, is the way of the world.