d the whole affair pronounced a myth! We have no
space for controversy, but it is right to add that if it be a myth, the
records of the Kirk-sessions of Kirkinner and Penninghame--which exist,
and in which it is recorded--must also be mythical. The truth is, that
both stories have been elaborately investigated by men of profound
learning and unquestionable capacity, and the truth of them proved "up
to the hilt."

As to Graham of Claverhouse--there are people, we believe, who would
whitewash the devil if he were only to present himself with a dashing
person and a handsome face! But such historians as Macaulay, McCrie,
McKenzie, and others, refuse to whitewash Claverhouse. Even Sir Walter
Scott--who was very decidedly in sympathy with the Cavaliers--says of
him in _Old Mortality_: "He was the unscrupulous agent of the Scottish
Privy Council in executing the merciless seventies of the Government in
Scotland during the reigns of Charles the Second and James the Second;"
and his latest apologist candidly admits that "it is impossible
altogether to acquit Claverhouse of the charges laid to his account."
We are inclined to ask, with some surprise, Why should he wish to acquit
him? But Claverhouse himself, as if in prophetic cynicism, writes his
own condemnation as to character thus: "In any service I have been in, I
never inquired further in the laws than the orders of my superior
officer." An appropriate motto for a "soldier of fortune," which might
be abbreviated and paraphrased into "Stick at nothing!"

Coupling all this with the united testimony of tradition, and nearly all
ancient historians, we can only wonder at the prejudice of those who
would still weave a chaplet for the brow of "Bonnie Dundee."

Turning now from the south-west of Scotland, we direct attention to the
eastern seaboard of Kincardine, where, perched like a sea-bird on the
weatherbeaten cliffs, stands the stronghold of Dunnottar Castle.

Down in the dungeons of that rugged pile lies our friend Andrew Black,
very different from the man whose fortunes we have hitherto followed.
Care, torment, disease, hard usage, long confinement, and desperate
anxiety have graven lines on his face that nothing but death can smooth
out. Wildly-tangled hair, with a long shaggy beard and moustache,
render him almost unrecognisable. Only the old unquenchable fire of his
eye remains; also the kindliness of his old smile, when such a rare
visitant chances once again