AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME,' "HELEN OF THE GLEN," NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET. 1842. BANKS OF THE IRVINE. CHAPTER I. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him; and he shall direct thy steps." SOLOMON. THERE is no truth in the Bible better confirmed, or more fully illustrated by the experience of the saints whose lives it records, or by the plain declarations of the Holy Spirit, than that God will never leave nor forsake those who put their trust in him. Yet no truth in that sacred book is the young Christian more frequently tempted to doubt. The veteran soldier of Jesus Christ, who hath fought long under the banners of the Most High, sees in his own history so many dangers escaped, so many temptations resisted, so many trials endured, and so many battles with the devil, the world, and the flesh, fought and won, that he feels little dismay in the most trying and threatening circumstances. Although, like the children of Jacob of old, the sea be before him, and pathless mountains on the right hand and on the left, and the shout of his enemy behind him, he can exclaim in the language of faith, "Verily, the Lord sendeth none a warfare on his own charges: He hath delivered me out of six troubles, and in seven he will not forsake me." But when the young Christian is left to experience poverty, and contempt, and shame; when he is tried by temptations which he feels too persuasive; and he meets with enemies too formidable for his single arm; little acquainted with the experience of others, and little assisted by his own; he is ready to take up the unbelieving complaint, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his promise faii for evermore?" It is a pity, young reader, that a child of grace should ever thus complain, and charge God foolishly. And that you may be cautioned against thus dishonouring the veracity of the God of truth, I request your attention to the following story.— RALPH GEMMELL, the subject of the following narrative, was born in the year of our Lord 1669, a period when persecution for religious opinion raged in the country. His father, George Gemmell, possessed from a long line of ancestors, the small, but fertile estate of Craigfoot, situated on the banks of the Irvine, near to where that river pours itself into the Atlantic. From time immemorial, the younger sons of this family had generally devoted their lives to the service of their sovereign, while the eldest son farmed the estate, related the gallant actions of his kinsmen, and boasted the steady loyalty of his house to the reigning prince. And to Craigfoot, in the evening of their lives, had their warlike relations often returned, bringing with them many a story of deeds done in the field of battle, of dangers braved, and honours received. From generation to generation, the castle of Craigfoot had thus been like a garrison of disabled soldiers, where the ever loyal toast, the fearless attack, the hairbreadth escape, the profane jest, the unchaste song, and the daring oath, make their constant rounds. Within its walls was heard neither the humble voice of prayer, nor the sweet melody of sacred praise. But of all the masters of this house, none ever proved himself so careless of religion, or so blindly devoted to a prince, as the father of Ralph. In those troublous and cruel times, when the church of the land was driven to the wilderness; and when its scattered members hanged their harps on the willows of Scotland's wildest streams, zealously did he |