ortune in the house of some of the great men of the time, kindly
offering to procure for him, on their arrival at St Andrews, the favour
and patronage of his kinsman, the Archbishop.

CHAPTER III

It was the afternoon when my grandfather and Sir David Hamilton came in
sight of St Andrews, and the day being loun and bright, the sky clear,
and the sea calm, he told me that when he saw the many lofty spires and
towers and glittering pinnacles of the town rising before him, he verily
thought he was approaching the city of Jerusalem, so grand and glorious
was the apparition which they made in the sunshine, and he approached
the barricaded gate with a strange movement of awe and wonder rushing
through the depths of his spirit.

They, however, entered not into the city at that time, but, passing
along the wall leftward, came to a road which led to the gate of the
castle where the Archbishop then dwelt; and as they were approaching
towards it, Sir David pointed out the window where Cardinal Beaton sat
in the pomp of his scarlet and fine linen to witness the heretic
Wishart, as the knight called that holy man, burnt for his sins and
abominations.

My grandfather, on hearing this, drew his bridle in, and falling behind
Sir David, raised his cap in reverence and in sorrow at the thought of
passing over the ground that had been so hallowed by martyrdom, but he
said nothing, for he knew that his thoughts were full of offence to
those who were wrapt in the errors and delusions of popery like Sir
David Hamilton; and, moreover, he had thanked the Lord thrice in the
course of their journey for the favour which it had pleased Him he
should find in the sight of the kinsman of so great an adversary to the
truth as was the Archbishop of St Andrews, whose treasons and
treacheries against the Church of Christ he was then travelling to
discover and waylay.

On reaching the castle-yett they alighted; my grandfather, springing
lightly from the saddle, took hold of Sir David's mare by the
bridle-rings, while the knight went forward, and whispered something
concerning his Grace to a stalwart, hard-favoured, grey-haired
man-at-arms, that stood warder of the port, leaning on his sword, the
blade of whilk could not be shorter than an ell. What answer he got was
brief, the ancient warrior pointing at the same time with his right hand
towards a certain part of the city, and giving a Belial smile of
significance; whereupon Sir David turned