CHAPTER III. THE SWORD UNSHEATHED.
Soon after Charles II. was seated on the throne troubles began to thicken around us. Our kirk was early made to feel that it must either come under the yoke of a king as faithless and despotic and as determined to enforce the royal supremacy and Episcopacy as his father and grandfather, or struggle for its independence, or rather, its liberty to regard and obey our Lord Jesus Christ as the true and only Head of the church.
The Marquis of Argyle, one of the noblest supporters of our cause, was arrested, condemned, and beheaded on the 27th of May, 1661. The excellent minister, James Guthrie, was executed a few days later. This was the commencement of deeds so foul that even the stoutest of heart must ever sicken at their rehearsal.
Most of our ministers were ejected from their churches and driven from their parishes, Alexander Ramsay with the rest. He and Mary and his father and mother took refuge at our house. Curates were placed in the vacant churches, and a tax was soon imposed on all who did not go to hear them. Absences were not uncommon, for we all felt as did Bessie McDougal, who said she "couldna thole sic preaching as thae curates gie us." Accordingly we went to hear our own ministers in the field. The royal bloodhounds, as they have been well called, were for some time kept at bay by the payment of fines; but there came a time when nothing would satisfy them but the slaughter of the Lord's chosen ones.
We knew that gangs of men were scouring the country, imprisoning, and sometimes even slaying, those who would not renounce the Covenant, now declared treasonable; and we knew not how soon we might fall into their hands.
My father was one day returning from school, leading Jamie's wee lad by the hand, when five of his countrymen, who had been bribed to do evil deeds, rode past him. Suddenly they wheeled about, faced him, and eyed him sharply.
"By my faith," said one of their number, "we hae lighted on rare game the day. Now we hae the auld deil himsel," mistaking father for Donald Ramsay, who had been a bearer of the blessed tidings of the gospel for more than forty years in our kirk.
It was vain for father to tell them that he was the village schoolmaster. They would not believe him. He had a learned look, and piety was stamped on every lineament of his face. The persecutors were not slow to discern between the true and the false. Those who counted the cause of Christ dearer than life showed in their countenances something of the holy zeal that lifted them above fear.