Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 2 | Page 9

the Almighty? Dreadfu' as those judgments
seemed to be, o' a' that crowd o' mortal creatures there were but only
twa that drew their breath without a shudder--and these twa were
Christian Logan and her beautifu' wee dochter Hannah, wi' her rosy
cheeks, for they blanched not in that last extremity, her blue een, and
her gowden hair, that glittered like a star in the darkness o' that dismal
day. 'Mother, be not afraid,' she was heard to say, when the foam o' the
first wave broke about their feet--and just as these words were uttered,
all the great black clouds melted away from the sky, and the sun shone

forth in the firmament like the all-seeing eye of God. The martyrs
turned their faces a little towards one another, for the cords could not
wholly hinder them, and wi' voices as steady and as clear as ever they
sang the psalm within the walls o' that kirk, did they, while the sea was
mounting up--up from knee--waist--breast--neck--chin--lip--sing
praises and thanksgivings unto God. As soon as Hannah's voice was
drowned, it seemed as if her mother, before the water reached her own
lips, bowed and gave up the ghost. While the people were all gazing the
heads of both martyrs disappeared, and nothing then was to be seen on
the face o' the waters, but here and there a bit white breaking wave or
silly sea-bird floating on the flow o' the tide into the bay. Back and
back had aye fallen the people, as the tide was roarin' on wi' a hollow
soun'--and now that the water was high aboon the heads o' the martyrs,
what chained that dismal congregation to the sea-shore? It was the
countenance o' a man that had suddenly come down frae his
hiding-place amang the moors--and who now knew that his wife and
daughter were bound to stakes deep down in the waters o' the very bay
that his eyes beheld rolling, and his ears heard roaring--all the while
that there was a God in heaven! Naebody could speak to him--although
they all beseeched their Maker to have compassion upon him, and not
to let his heart break and his reason fail. 'The stakes! the stakes! O
Jesus! point out to me, with thy own scarred hand, the place where my
wife and daughter are bound to the stakes--and I may yet bear them up
out of the sand, and bring the bodies ashore--to be restored to life! O
brethren, brethren!--said ye that my Christian and my Hannah have
been for an hour below the sea? And was it from fear of fifty armed
men, that so many thousand fathers and mothers, and sons and
daughters, and brothers and sisters, rescued them not from such cruel,
cruel death?' After uttering mony mair siclike raving words, he
suddenly plunged into the sea, and, being a strong swimmer, was soon
far out into the bay--and led by some desperate instinct to the very
place where the stakes were fixed in the sand. Perfectly resigned had
the martyrs been to their doom--but in the agonies o' that horrible death,
there had been some struggles o' the mortal body, and the weight o' the
waters had borne down the stakes, so that, just as if they had been
lashed to a spar to enable them to escape from shipwreck, baith the
bodies came floatin' to the surface, and his hand grasped, without

knowing it, his ain Hannah's gowden hair--sairly defiled, ye may weel
think, wi' the sand--baith their faces changed frae what they ance were
by the wrench o' death. Father, mother, and daughter came a'thegither
to the shore--and there was a cry went far and wide, up even to the
hiding-places o' the faithfu' among the hags and cleuchs i' the moors,
that the sea had given up the living, and that the martyrs were
triumphant, even in this world, over the powers o' Sin and o' Death.
Yea, they were indeed triumphant;--and well might the faithfu' sing
aloud in the desert, 'O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy
victory?' for these three bodies were but as the weeds on which they lay
stretched out to the pitying gaze of the multitude, but their spirits had
gane to heaven to receive the eternal rewards o' sanctity and truth."
Not a house in all the parish--scarcely excepting Mount Pleasant
itself--all round and about which our heart could in some dreamy hour
raise to life a greater multitude of dear old remembrances, all touching
ourselves, than LOGAN BRAES. The old people, when we first knew
them, we used to think somewhat apt to be surly--for they were
Seceders--and owing to some unavoidable prejudices, which we were
at no great pains to vanquish, we Manse-boys recognised something
repulsive