he heard the
occasional churme of discourse from passengers still abroad, and now and
then the braggart flourish of a trumpet resounded from the royal
masquing at the palace,--breaking upon the holiness of the night with
the harsh dissonance of a discord in some solemn harmony.--And as he was
meditating on many things, and grieving in spirit at the dark fate of
poor Scotland, and the woes with which the children of salvation were
environed, he was startled by the apparition of a great blaze in the
air, which for a moment lighted up all the land with a wild and fiery
light, and he beheld in the glass of the North Loch, reflected from
behind the shadow of the city, a tremendous eruption of burning beams
and rafters burst into the sky, while a horrible crash, as if the
chariots of destruction were themselves breaking down, shook the town
like an earthquake.

He was for an instant astounded; but soon roused by the clangour of an
alarm from the castle; and while a cry rose from all the city, as if the
last trumpet itself was sounding, he rushed into the street, where the
inhabitants, as they had flown from their beds, were running in
consternation like the sheeted dead startled from their graves. Drums
beat to arms;--the bells rang;--some cried the wild cry of fire, and
there was wailing and weeping, and many stood dumb with horror, and
could give no answer to the universal question.--"God of the heavens,
what is this?" Presently a voice was heard crying, "The King, the King!"
and all, as if moved by one spirit, replied, "The King, the King!" Then
for a moment there was a silence stiller than the midnight hour, and
drum, nor bell, nor voice was heard, but a rushing of the multitude
towards St Mary's Port, which leads to the Kirk o' Field.

Among others, my grandfather hastened to the spot by Todrick's Wynd; and
as he was running down towards the postern gate, he came with great
violence against a man who was struggling up through the torrent of the
people, without cap or cloak, and seemingly maddened with terrors. Urged
by some strong instinct, my grandfather grasped him by the throat; for,
by the glimpse of the lights that were then placing at every window, he
saw it was Winterton. But a swirl of the crowd tore them asunder, and he
had only time to cry, "It's ane of Bothwell's men."

The people caught the Earl's name; but instead of seizing the fugitive,
they repeated, "Bothwell, Bothwell, he's the traitor!" and pressed