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THE LION OF THE NORTH
THE LION OF THE NORTH
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CHAPTER I THE INVITATION
It was late in the afternoon in the spring of the year 1630; the
hilltops of the south of Scotland were covered with masses of cloud, and
a fierce wind swept the driving rain before it with such force that it
was not easy to make way against it. It had been raining for three days
without intermission. Every little mountain burn had become a boiling
torrent, while the rivers had risen above their banks and flooded the
low lands in the valleys.
The shades of evening were closing in, when a lad of some sixteen years
of age stood gazing across the swollen waters of the Nith rushing past
in turbid flood. He scarce seemed conscious of the pouring rain; but
with his lowland bonnet pressed down over his eyes, and his plaid
wrapped tightly round him, he stood on a rising hummock of ground at the
edge of the flood, and looked across the stream.
It was late in the afternoon in the spring of the year 1630; the
hilltops of the south of Scotland were covered with masses of cloud, and
a fierce wind swept the driving rain before it with such force that it
was not easy to make way against it. It had been raining for three days
without intermission. Every little mountain burn had become a boiling
torrent, while the rivers had risen above their banks and flooded the
low lands in the valleys.
The shades of evening were closing in, when a lad of some sixteen years
of age stood gazing across the swollen waters of the Nith rushing past
in turbid flood. He scarce seemed conscious of the pouring rain; but
with his lowland bonnet pressed down over his eyes, and his plaid
wrapped tightly round him, he stood on a rising hummock of ground at the
edge of the flood, and looked across the stream.
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