union with Miss Palmer, as Graham always called her. Her own father, too,
was opposed to her forming a connection with the son of one who had treated
him so cruelly, and, as he thought, unjustly--and it became manifest to
William, as he was in every sense of the word his own master, that had he
his fair betrothed in the leas of Middlefield, he might set them all at
defiance, and effect their union peaceably, according to the rules of the
church. In an evil hour, Helen consented to leave her father's house by
night, along with her William, and on horseback, to take their way across
the Border for Cumberland. They had reached the parish of Kirkconnel about
two o'clock in the morning, and were giving their horses a mouthful of
water in the little stream called Kirtle, when a shot was heard in the
immediate neighbourhood--it was heard, alas! by two only, for the third was
dying, and in the act of falling from her seat in the saddle. She was
caught by a servant, and by her lover; but she could only say--"I am
gone--I am gone!" before breathing her last. Oh, curse upon the hand that
fired the shot? It was, indeed, an accursed hand, but a fatal mistake. It
was one of the bloody persecutors of Lag's troop, who, having been
appointed to watch at this spot for some Covenanters who were expected to
be passing on horseback into England, in order to escape from the savage
cruelty of their persecutors, had immediately, and in drunken blindness,
fired upon this inoffensive group. The ball, alas! took too fatal effect in
the heart of Helen Palmer; and it was on her, and not as Allan Cunningham
represents it, "on Helen Irving, the daughter of the laird of Kirkconnel,"
that the following most pathetic verses were written--
"I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries:
Oh, that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirkconnel lea!
"Oh, Helen fair beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair;
Shall bind my heart for ever mair,
Until the day I dee.
"Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropped
On fair Kirkconnel lea!"
XII.--THE CAIRNY CAVE OF GAVIN MUIR.
There is a wild, uninhabited district, which separates Nithsdale from
Annandale, in Dumfriesshire. It is called Gavin Muir; and, though lonely,
and covered with spret and heather, exhibits some objects which merit the
attention of the traveller in the wilderness. There is the King's Loch, the
King's Burn, and the King's Chair, all records of King James V.'s
celebrated raid to subdue the thieves of Annandale. Tradition says, what
seems extremely likely, that he spent a night in the midst of this muir;
and hence the appellations of royalty which adhere to the objects which
witnessed his bivouac. But, although the localities referred to possess an
interest, they are exceeded, in this respect, by a number of "cairns," by
which the summits of several hills, or rising grounds, are topped. These
cairns, which amount to five or six, are all within sight of each other,
all on eminences, and all composed of an immense mass of loose, water-worn
stones. And yet the neighbourhood is free from stones, being bare, and fit
for sheep-pasturage only. Tradition says nothing of these cairns in
particular; or, indeed, very little of any similar collections, frequent as
they are in Scotland and throughout all Scandinavia. Stone coffins, no
doubt, have been discovered in them, and human bones; but, beyond this, all
is surmise and uncertainty. Often, when yet a boy, and engaged in fishing
in the King's Burn, have we mounted these pyramids, and felt that we were
standing on holy ground. "Oh," thought we, "that some courteous cairn would
blab it out what 'tis they are!" But the cairns were silent; and hence the
necessity we are under of professing our ignorance of what they refused to
divulge. But there is a large opening in the side of one of these cairns,
respecting which tradition has preserved a pretty distinct narrative, which
we shall now venture, for the first time, to put under types, for the
instruction of our readers.
The whole hill country, in Dumfriesshire and Galloway in particular, is
riddled, as it were, with caves and hiding-places. These, no doubt,
afforded refuge, during the eight-and-twenty years of inhuman persecution,
to the poor Covenanter; but they were not, in general, constructed for or
by him. They existed from time immemorial, and were the work of that son of
night and darkness--the smuggler, who, in passing from the Brow at the
mouth of the Nith, from Bombay, near Kirkcudbright, or from the estuary of
the Cree, with untaxed goods from the Isle of Man--then a separate and
independent kingdom--found it convenient to conceal both his goods and
himself from the observation of the officers of excise. So frequent are
these concealed caves in the locality to which we refer, that, in passing
through the long, rank heather, we have more than once disappeared in an
instant, and found ourselves several feet below the level of the upper
world, and in the midst of a damp, but roomy subterraneous apartment of
considerable extent. We believe that they are now, in these piping times of
peace and preventive service, generally filled up and closed by the
shepherds, as they were dangerous pitfalls in the way of their flocks. In
the time, however, to which we refer--namely, in the year 1683--they were
not only open, but kept, as it were, in a state of repair, being tenanted
by the poor, persecuted remnant (as they expressed it) of God's people.
That the reader may fully understand the incidents of this narrative, it
will be necessary that he and we travel back some hundred and fifty years,
and some miles from the farm-house of Auchincairn, that we may have ocular
demonstration of the curious contrivances to which the love of life, of
liberty, and of a good conscience, had compelled our forefathers to have
recourse. That cairn which appears so entire and complete, of which the
stones seem to have been huddled together without any reference to
arrangement whatever, is, nevertheless, hollow underneath, and on occasions
you may see--but only if you examine it narrowly--the blue smoke seeking
its way in tiny jets through a thousand apertures. There is, in fact, room
for four or five individuals. Beneath, there are a few plaids and
bed-covers, with an old chair, a stool, and seats of stone. There is
likewise a fire-place and some peats, extracted from the adjoining moss.
But there is, in fact, no entrance in this direction. You must bend your
course round by the brow of that hollow, over which the heather hangs
profusely; and there, by dividing and gently lifting up the heathy cover,
you will be able to insert your person into a small orifice, from which you
will escape into a dark but a roomy dungeon, which will, in its turn,
conduct you through a narrow passage, into the very heart or centre of this
seemingly solid accumulation of stones. When there, you will have light
such as Milton gives to Pandemonium--just as much as to make darkness
visible, through the small, and, on the outside, invisible crevices betwixt
the stones. Should you be surprised in your lighted and fire
apartment--should any accident or search bring a considerable weight above
you, so as to break through your slightly supported roofing--you can
retreat to your ante-room or dungeon, and from thence, if necessary, make
your way into the adjoining linn, along the bottom of which, you may
ultimately find skulking-shelter, or a pathway into a more inhabited
district. Now that you have surveyed this arrangement, as it existed a
hundred and fifty years ago, we may proceed to give you the narrative which
is connected with it.
In the year above referred to, the persecution of the saints was at its
height--Clavers, in particular, went about the country with his dragoons,
whom he designated (like the infamous Kirk) his _Lambs_, literally seeking
to hurt and destroy in all the hill country, in particular of Dumfriesshire
and Galloway. Auchincairn was a marked spot; it had often been a city of
refuge to the shelterless and the famishing; but it had so frequently been
searched, that every hole and corner was as well known to Clavers and his
troop as to the inhabitants themselves. There was now, therefore, no longer
any refuge to the faithful at Auchincairn; in fact, to come there was to
meet the enemy half-way--to rush as it were into the jaws of the lion. In
these circumstances, old Walter Gibson, a man upwards of seventy years of
age, who, by his prayers and his attending conventicles, had rendered
himself particularly obnoxious, was obliged to prolong a green old age by
taking up his abode in the cave and under the cairn which has already been
described. With him were associated, in his cold and comfortless retreat,
the Rev. Robert Lawson, formerly minister of the parish of Closeburn; but
who, rather than conform to the English prayer-book and formula, had taken
to the mountain, to preach, to baptize, and even to dispense the Sacrament
of the Supper, in glens, and linns, and coverts, far from the residence of
man. Their retreat was known to the shepherds of the district, and indeed
to the whole family of Auchincairn; but no one ever was suspected of
imitating the conduct of the infamous Baxter, who had proved false, and
discovered a cave in Glencairn, where four Covenanters were immediately
shot, and two left hanging upon a tree. On one occasion, a little innocent
girl, a grand-daughter of old Walter, was surprised whilst carrying some
provisions towards the hill-retreat, by a party of Clavers' dragoons, who
devoured the provisions, and used every brutal method to make the girl
disclose the secret of the retreat; but she was neither to be intimidated
nor cajoled, and told them plainly that she would rather die, as her
granduncle had done before her, than betray her trust. They threw her into
a peat-hag filled with water, and left her to sink or swim. She did _not_
swim, however, but sank never to rise again. Her spirit had been broken,
and life had been rendered a burden to her. She expressed to her murderers,
again and again, a wish that they would send her to meet her uncle (as she
termed it) William. Her body was only discovered some time after, when the
process of decomposition had deformed one of the most pleasing countenances
which ever beamed with innocence and piety.
"The old hound will not be far off, when the young whelp was so near,"
exclaimed Clavers, upon a recital of the inhuman murder. "We must watch the
muirs by night; for it is then that these creatures congregate and fatten.
We must continue to spoil their feasting, and leave them to feed on
cranberries and moss-water." In consequence of this resolution, a strict
watch was set all along Gavin Muir; and it became almost impossible to
convey any sustenance to the famishing pair; yet the thing was done, and
wonderfully managed, not in the night-time, but in the open day. One
shepherd would call to another, in the note of the curlew or the miresnipe,
and without exciting suspicion, convey from the corner of his plaid the
necessary refreshments, even down to a bottle of Nantz. The cave was never
entered on such occasions; but the provisions were dropped amidst the rank
heather; and a particular whistle immediately secured their disappearance.
Night after night, therefore, were these prowlers disappointed of their
object, till at last, despairing of success, or thinking, probably, that
the birds had escaped, they betook themselves, for the time, elsewhere, and
the cairn was relieved from siege. Clavers, in fact, had retired to
Galloway, along with Grierson and Johnstone, and the coast was clear, at
least for the present.
It was about the latter end of October, when Mr Lawson was preaching and
dispensing the Sacrament to upwards of a hundred followers, in the hollow
where stood the King's Chair. This locality was wonderfully well suited for
the purpose--it was, in fact, a kind of amphitheatre, surrounded on all
sides by rising ground, and in the centre of which three large stones
constituted a chair, and several seats of the same material were ranged in
a circular form around. The stones remain to this hour, and the truth of
this description can be verified by any one who crosses Gavin Muir. It was
a moonlight night--a harvest moon--and Mr Lawson, having handed the
Sacramental cup around, was in the act of concluding with prayer, when the
note of a bird, seemingly a plover, was heard at a great distance. It was
responded to by a similar call, somewhat nearer; and, in an instant, a
messenger rushed in upon their retreat, out of breath, and exclaiming, "You
are lost!--you are all dead men!--Clavers is within sight, and at full
gallop, with all his troop at his back."
One advantage which the poor persecuted had over their persecutors, was a
superior knowledge of localities. In an instant the hollow was tenantless;
for the inmates had fled in all directions, and to various coverts and
outlets into the vale of Annan. The minister alone remained at his post
continuing in ejaculatory prayer, and resisting all persuasion even to take
advantage of the adjoining cairny cave. In vain did Walter Gibson delay
till the last moment, and talk of his farther usefulness. Mr Lawson's only
answer was--"I am in the hands of a merciful Master, and, if he has more
service for me, he himself will provide a way for my escape. I have neither
wife nor child, nor, I may say, relation, alive. I am, as it were, a
stranger in the land of duty. If the Lord so will it that the man of blood
shall prevail over me, he will raise up others in my stead, fitter to serve
him effectually than ever I have been; but, Walter, _you_ have a bonny
family of grandchildren around you, and your ain daughter the mother of
them a', to bless you, and hear you speak the words of counselling and
wisdom; so, make you for the cave and the cairn out by yonder--I will e'en
remain where I am, and the Lord's will be done!" Seeing that all persuasion
was unavailable, and that, by delaying his flight, he would only sacrifice
his own life, without saving that of his friend, Walter appeared to take
his departure for his place of refuge. It was neither Clavers, however, nor
Lag, nor Johnstone, nor Winram, who was upon them; but only Captain
Douglas, from Drumlanrig, to which place secret information of the night's
_wark_, as it was termed, had been conveyed. Captain Douglas' hands were
red with blood; he had shot poor Daniel M'Michan in Dalveen Glen, and had
given word of command to blow out his brother's brains, as has been already
recorded in the notices of these times. One of his troop had been wounded
in the affair at Dalveen, and he was literally furious with rage and the
thirst of blood. Down, therefore, Douglas came with about half-a-dozen men,
(the rest being on duty in Galloway,) determined to kill or be killed--to
put an end to these nightly conventicles, or perish in the attempt.
Mr Lawson had taken his position in the King's Chair, which, as was
formerly described, consisted of three large stones set on end, around one
in the centre, which served as a seat; and when Douglas came in sight,
nothing appeared visible in the moonshine but these solitary stones.
"They are off, by G----d!" exclaimed Douglas; "the fox has broken cover--we
must continue the chase; and Rob," added he, to one who rode near him,
"blaw that bugle till it crack again. When you start the old fox, I should
like mightily to be at the death. But--so ho!--what have we here?--why,
here are bottles and a cup, by Jove! These friends of the Covenant are no
enemies, I perceive, to good cheer"--putting the bottle to his mouth, and
making a long pull--"by the living Jingo! most excellent wine. Here, Rob,"
emptying what remained into the silver goblet or cup, "here, line your
weasan with a drop of the red, and then for the red heart's blood of these
psalm-singing, cup-kissing gentry. So ho--so ho!--hilloa--one and all--the
fox is under cover still," (advancing towards the stone chair,) "and we
thought him afield, too. Stand forth, old Canticles, 5 and 8th, and let us
see whether you have got one or five bottles under your belt. What! you
won't, or you can't stand! Grunt again!--you are made of stone, are
you?--why, then, we will try your qualities with a little burnt powder and
lead. Gentlemen of the horse-brigade, do you alight, and be d----d to you,
and, just by way of experiment, rattle me half-a-dozen bullets in the face
of that there image of stone, which looks so mighty like the parson of
Closeburn that one might easily mistake the one for the other."
The men had alighted with their holster pistols, and had arranged
themselves, as directed, in the front of the stone chair, and with a full
view of the figure which occupied the seat, when, at this very critical
juncture, a band of upwards of fifty horses, with panniers on their backs,
came up at a smart trot.
"Stop your hellish speed!" said a voice from the front of the band; "or, by
this broadsword, and these long six-footers, you are all dead men, ere you
can say, Present, fire!" Instantly, Douglas saw and comprehended his
position--"To horse!" was his short exhortation, and, in an instant, his
five followers and himself had cleared the brow of the glen, and were out
of sight at full speed. "Shed not their blood!--shed not their blood!"
continued to exclaim a well-known voice amongst the band of smugglers--for
such the reader may have guessed they were. It was the voice of Walter
Gibson, well known to many of the smugglers; for again and again they had
supplied Auchincairn with Hollands and Nantz. "Shed not one drop of blood,
I say; but leave them to Him who has said, 'Vengeance is mine, and I will
repay it;'--He will find His own time of revenging the death of my poor
murdered bairn, whom they drowned in the King's Moss, owre by there. But,
dear me, Mr Lawson, are ye dead or living, that ye tak nae tent o' what's
going on?" In fact, Mr Lawson, having given himself up as lost, had
committed himself, with shut eyes, so intently to prayer, that he had but a
very confused notion of what had happened.
"The Lord's will be done!" he exclaimed at last; "and is this you, Walter
Gibson?--fearful! fearful!--are these the Philistines around you?--and are
you and I to travel, hand in hand, into Immanuel's land?--or, but do my
poor eyes deceive me, and are these only our good friends, the fair
traders, come to the rescue, under God and his mercy, in the time of our
need?"
"Indeed," responded a known voice--that, namely, at whose bidding the work
of death had been staid--"indeed, Mr Lawson, we are friends and not foes;
and, whilst our cattle, which are a little blawn, with the haste into which
they were hurried by old Walter here--until the beasts bite, I say, and eat
their corn, we will e'en thank God, and take a little whet of the creature.
You know, such comforts are not forbidden in the laws of Moses, or, indeed,
in any laws but those of this persecuted and oppressed land."
So saying, he disengaged from a hamper a flagon of Nantz, and was about to
make use of the Sacramental cup, which Douglas had dropped, to convey it
around, when his arm was arrested by the still strong hand of Walter.
"For the sake of God and his church--of Him who shed his blood for poor
sinners--profane not, I beseech you, the consecrated, the hallowed vessel
which I have so lately held in these vile hands as the emblem of my
purification through the blood of sprinkling--profane not, I say, that
vessel which, when all worldly goods were forfeited and relinquished as
things of no value, our worthy pastor has borne along with him--being the
gift of his parishioners--to the mountain and the glen--to the desert and
the wilderness!"
There needed no further admonition; the cup was deposited in the hands of
its owner, and the whole _posse comitatus_ spread themselves out on the
grass--for, though all around was heath, this little spot was green and
lovely--and, by applying the vessel directly to their lips, each one took a
draught so long and hearty that the captain or leader had again and again
to replenish the measure. Nor were Lawson and old Walter Gibson behind in
this work of refreshment. Many a day they had laid themselves down to rest
in the damp and cold cave, with little of food and with nothing to cheer
and support them but a mouthful, from time to time, of the _Solway
waters_--viz., _smuggled brandy_. We are all the children, to a great
amount, of circumstances; and the very men who, but a little ago, were
engaged in the most solemn act of religion, and counted themselves as at
the point of death--these very men were now so much cheered, and even
exhilarated, by the reviving cordial, that they forgot, for the time, their
dangers and their privations, and were not displeased to hear the smugglers
sing the old song, "We are merry men all," when a figure approached, out of
breath, exclaiming--
"The gaugers! the gaugers!--the excisemen from Dumfries!"
In an instant the whole troop stood to arms. They had been
well-disciplined; and the horses, along with the parson and Walter, were
stowed away, as they called it, behind. They spoke not; but there was the
click of gunlocks, and a powerful _recover_, on the ground, of heavy
muskets, with barrels fully six feet long, which had been used by their
forefathers in the times of the first Charles and the civil commotion. The
enemy came up at the gallop; but they had plainly miscalculated the forces
of their opponents--_they_ were only about fifteen strong; so, wheeling
suddenly round, they took their departure with as much dispatch as they had
advanced.
"We must off instantly!" exclaimed the leader of this trading band. "We
must gain the pass of Enterkin ere day-dawn; for these good neighbours will
make common cause with the King's troops, whenever they meet them, and
there will be bloody work, I trow, ere these kegs and good steeds change
masters."
So saying, the march immediately proceeded up Gavin Muir, and the minister
and Walter took possession of their usual retreat--the Cairny Cave I have
so often referred to.
Douglas was not thus, by accident, to be foiled in his object; for having,
in the course of a few days, obtained additional forces from Galloway, he
returned to the search in Gavin Muir, where he had, again and again, been
told meetings still continued to be held, and some caves of concealment
existed. Old Lauderdale in council had one day said--"Why, run down the
devils, like the natives of Jamaica, with blood-hounds." And the hint was
not lost on bloody Clavers--he had actually a pair of hounds of this
description with him in Galloway at this time; and, at his earnest request,
Douglas was favoured with one of them. Down, therefore, this monster came
upon Gavin Muir, not to shoot blackcocks or muirfowl, in which it abounded,
but to track, and start and pistol, if necessary, poor, shivering,
half-starved human beings, who had dared to think the laws of their God
more binding than the empire and despotism of sinful men. The game was a
merry one, and it was played by "merry men all:" forward went the hound
through muirs and mosses; onward came the troop, hallooing and encouraging
the animal in pursuit of its horrid instincts. As they passed the moss-hole
in which the poor grand-daughter of Walter had been suffocated, the jest,
and the oath, and the merriment were at their utmost.
"Had we but a slice of the young pup," said one, "to flesh our hound with,
he would soon scent out the old one--they are kindred blood, you know. But
what do I see?--old Bloody, is it, on the top of the cairn yonder?--and
scooping, nosing, and giving tongue most determinedly. By the holy
poker!--and that's a sanctified oath--I will on and see what's agoing
here." Thus saying, he put spurs to his horse, and, waving his sword round
his head, "Here goes for old Watty!--and may the devil burn me if I do not
unearth the fox at last!" Onwards they all advanced at the gallop; but Jack
Johnston was greatly in front, and had dashed his horse half-way up the
steep cairn, when, in an instant, horse and man rushed down, and
immediately disappeared.