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Sharp, and in the popular sense of the injustice with which the friab had been conducted $92 bas a

Archbishop Sharp was universally regarded as the most Zead loys and cruel of the persecutors baleful influence in the general government of the Kingdom, severities to the nonconformists of Fife, where he had his own re Tesidence, made himathel object of special These 's detestation

have been unusually great during the vegies, seem to

pose of killing him. Their intended victim had, however, been forewarned of his danger and, disappointed of finding him, the party were on the point of separating, when a farmer's wife sent abboy to tell them that the archbishop's coach was on the road to St. Andrews, somes one of them; that albeit we had missed the before them. It was immediately sug gested to us," says man we sought for, yet God had, by a wonderful providence, delivered the great and capital enemy of his church into our hands, and that it was a visible call to us from Heaven not to let him escape." Such was the spirit of the times, that these lawless sentiments determined the whole party, except Hackstoun of Rathillet, who declined acting as their leader on the occasion, taking any share in the action, but said he would a accompany them as a spectator. On this Balfour volunteered to be leader, and the whole party gallopped off in pursuit of the archbishop They overtook that h on a barren heath called Magus Moor, a few miles from St Andrews. The archbishop, who had his daughter in the coach with him, perceived his danger, and drivers on at full speed. The suers fired a volley after the carriage, carriage, and then coming up it cut the traces of the horses, and disarmed the postilions. Balfour then ordered the primate to come out; and when he refused, two of them fired into the carriage, but without in jaring him, his daughter all the while shrieking piteously by his side. "Come out," said the relentless Burleys of I take God to witness? that it is not out of any hatred of your person, i nor from any prejudice have done or could have done. b9jdrobnu a so

called out to his servantimon

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me, that I intend now to take your life; but because you have been, and still continue to be, an avowed opposer of the gospel and kingdom of Christ, and a murderer of his saints, whose blood you have shed like water." At length, after being wounded by a sword-thrust, the old man left the coach, and creeping on his knees to Hackstoun, said, "You are a gentleman; you will protect me." "I will not lay a hand upon you,” said Hackstoun, turning away. "Spare his gray hairs," cried another; but the rest, after firing upon him, drew their swords, and despatched him with many wounds-his daughter, who threw herself between her father and the assassins, also receiving one or two wounds in the scuffle. After rifling the coach of the arms and papers which it contained, they rode off, leaving the mangled body of their victim lying on the highway.

The news of this bloody deed soon spread over the whole country. The great proportion of the Presbyterians, although they regarded Sharp's violent death as a just judgment of God, disowned and condemned the action; and only a few of the more wild and desperate of their number dared to defend it. The government, on the other hand, visited the crime on the whole body of the nonconformists, and made it the pretext for fresh proclamations and increased severities against them. Every attendance on a field-conventicle was declared high treason, new troops were raised, and their officers invested with the most unlimited authority against the seditious.

Meanwhile Balfour, Hackstoun of Rathillet, and the rest of the assassins, escaped to the west. Having committed themselves beyond all hope of pardon, their only chance of safety lay in open insurrection; and there were many kindred spirits among "the chased and tossed men" in that part of the country ready to join them. Among these was Robert Hamilton, brother of Sir William Hamilton of Preston, and a most zealous Covenanter. Having assembled a body of eighty horse, Hamilton, Burley, and Hackstoun entered the royal burgh of Rutherglen, near Glasgow, on the 29th of May 1679, and made a public protest against the proceedings of the government, extinguishing the bonfire which had been kindled in honour of the day as the anniversary of the Restoration, and burning all the acts of the Scottish parliament in favour of Prelacy. Thus openly declared rebels, they were joined by a number of peasantry, eager, but ill-armed, and took up their position on Loudon Hill. Receiving intelligence of the outbreak, Graham of Claverhouse, who was then stationed at Glasgow, marched to suppress it at the head of a hundred and fifty cavalry. Learning his approach, the Covenanters, to the number of forty horse, and a hundred and fifty or two hundred foot, met him at Drumclog, a boggy piece of ground about a mile distant from Loudon Hill; and a desperate engagement followed, in which, principally by the bravery of Burley, Claverhouse was defeated, and forced to flee-his horse, whose belly

had been cut open by the stroke of a scythe, so that the bowels trailed on the ground, carrying him off the field with the greatest difficulty.

After the defeat of Claverhouse at Drumclog, the insurgent army gained such an accession of numbers, as to count six or seven thousand men, among whom were several of the west country gentry, and a considerable number of the outlawed clergy. An attack was made upon Glasgow, which was not successful, but which had the effect of inducing Claverhouse to evacuate the city, and proceed eastward, leaving the Covenanters masters of the west country. In the meantime the privy council, greatly alarmed, were making what preparations they could to meet the emergency. At London also, to which intelligence of the rising had been immediately forwarded, the affair was viewed in a serious light; and Charles, in whose mind the conviction was growing, that his representatives in Scotland were driving matters to extremities, sent down his natural son, the popular and mild-tempered James, Duke of Monmouth, to assume the command of the army in Scotland, and endeavour to restore order. At the head of a well-disciplined army of about ten thousand men, Monmouth, with Claverhouse as commander of the cavalry, reached Bothwell, a village on the banks of the Clyde, near the rebel encampment, on Sunday the 22d of June. The two armies occupied opposite sides of the river, which was crossed by a high, steep, and narrow bridge, having a gateway in the centre. The insurgents were in no condition to meet such a foe -being not only inferior in numbers and discipline, but also wofully divided in their counsels. There were among them, or rather among their clergy, two distinct parties-a moderate party, at the head of which were Mr John Welch and Mr David Hume, who were anxious for an accommodation, if it could be obtained on tolerable terms; and an extreme or fanatical party, headed by Mr Donald Cargill and Mr John King, who would consent to no compromise. For upwards of a fortnight the most violent disputes had been going on between these two parties on political and theological points; and at the very time when Monmouth's army came in sight, their camp was the scene of vehement controversy, which ended in the triumph of the more violent party. The consequence was the total defeat of the insurgents. Balfour, Hackstoun of Rathillet, and a few others, behaved with bravery, and defended the bridge as long as possible; but the rest seemed, in the words of the historian Burnet, "to have neither the grace to submit, the courage to fight, nor the sense to run away." Monmouth's anxiety to spare blood restrained the fury of the royalist officers, and the carnage was not so great as might have been anticipated. Claverhouse, however, burning with the recollection of his defeat at Drumclog, would not be altogether balked of his revenge, and four hundred of the Covenanters were left dead on the field.

them now, and I must make the most of them. If the uncertainty of our possessions is to paralyse our exertions, those who have money are nearly as bad off as those who have not. Riches take to themselves wings and fly away; they are at the mercy of fire and water. Uncertainty is written upon all things. I believe my prospects are as stable as most people's." "Let me hear what they are?"

"In the first place, sir, I have health; in the next, activity; and then my profession is a pretty sure one. A physician will always find patients, if he is attentive and skilful; and I mean to be both. However, I confess that our greatest security for a living will consist in our moderate desires and simple habits. You know, sir, Jane has no passion for fine dress; and, in short

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"In short, Frank, you are determined to be married; and there is an end of all argument."

"I only wait for your consent, sir."

"You know very well that mine will follow Jane's. And she is willing to live with you on the bare necessaries of life?" Jane only answered by an assenting smile. "Very well, I give up. One thing, however, let me tell you-beyond bread and water, a shelter for one's head, a bag of straw to sleep on, and covering and fuel to guard us from the inclemencies of the weather, there are no positive necessaries; all the rest are comparative." Jane had hitherto sat very quietly at her work, but she now laid it in her lap, and looked up with an air of astonishment. "You do not agree with me, I perceive," said Uncle Joshua; "tell me, then, what you think are the necessaries of life?"

"I confess, sir," said Jane a little contemptuously, "when I agreed with Frank that we could live on the necessaries of life, I did not mean like the beasts of the field or the birds of the air; but, graduating our ideas to what is around us, I am sure we shall ask for nothing more than the necessaries of life. The luxuries,” added she with a pretty sentimental air, “we will draw from our own hearts."

"And I," said Frank, looking enchanted with her eloquence, "shall be the happiest of men."

"Graduating our ideas to what is around us!" exclaimed Uncle Joshua. "Ah, there it is; you could live on broth, or water-gruel, if everybody else did; but the fact is, that nobody does; and so you, like the rest of the world, will live a little beyond your means.”

No, sir," said the young people eagerly; "we are determined to make it a rule never to exceed our means.'

"As long as you keep to that rule, you are safe; you do not know what it is to be beset by temptations. But I have done; advice is of little value where we have nothing else to giveand that is pretty much my case; but a bachelor's wants are few."

"Yes, dear uncle," said Jane smiling; "he wants nothing but the necessaries of life-an elbow-chair, a good fire, and a cigar half a dozen times a-day; and long, long," added she, affectionately embracing him, ": may you enjoy them, and give to us what is of far more value than money-your affection; and on every other subject, your advice."

In one fortnight from this conversation Frank and Jane were man and wife. Perhaps a more united, or a more rational pair, had seldom pronounced the marriage vow. They began with the wise purpose of incurring no debts, and took a small house, at a cheap rate, in an obscure but populous part of the city.

Most young physicians begin life with some degree of patronage, but Frank had none. He came to the city a stranger from the wilds of Vermont, fell in love with Jane Churchwood-Uncle Joshua's niece; a man whom nobody knew, and whose independence consisted in limiting his wants to his means. What little he could do for Jane, he cheerfully did. But after all necessary expenses were paid, the young people had but just enough between them to secure their first quarter's rent, and place a sign on the corner of the house, with " Dr Fulton" handsomely inscribed upon it. The sign seemed to excite but little attention —as nobody called to see the owner of it, though he was at home every hour in the day.

After a week of patient expectation, which could not be said to pass heavily-for they worked, read, and talked togetherFrank thought it best to add to the sign-" Practises for the poor gratis." At the end of a few days another clause was added"Furnishes medicines to those who cannot pay for them." In a very short time the passers-by stopped to spell out the words, and Frank soon began to reap the benefit of this addition. Various applications were made; and though they did not, as yet, promise any increase of revenue, he was willing to pay for the first stepping-stone. What had begun, however, from true New England calculation, was continued from benevolence. He was introduced to scenes of misery that made him forget all but the desire of relieving the wretchedness he witnessed; and when he related to his young and tender-hearted wife the situation in which he found a mother confined to her bed, with two or three helpless children crying around her for bread, Jane would put on her straw-bonnet, and follow him with a light step to the dreary abode. The first quarter's board came round; it was paid, and left them nearly penniless. There is something in benevolent purpose, as well as in industry, that cheers and supports the mind. Never was Jane's step lighter, nor her smile gayer, than at present. But this could not last: the next quarter's rent must be provided-and how? Still the work of mercy went on, and did not grow slack. One day, taking a small supply of provisions with them, they went to visit a poor sick woman. After ascending a crooked flight of stairs, they entered the for

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