treating before the gathering army of Cl was joined on the Spey by Kilsyth and Mackay had heard whispers of his disaffe loath to believe the story. Thinking, how cretion was necessary, he placed Kilsyth a a position where they were surrounded by The consequence was that the favourabl for which Kilsyth waited never came. soon got his eyes open to the nature of t which Kilsyth had been planning. strongly reinforced, rather than retreat f Claverhouse he resolved he would sudder him and attack him. Unaware how his en strengthened, Dundee was lying at Eding Don, in fancied security, while Mackay upon him stealthily in the hope of overwhe a sudden surprise. Kilsyth trembled fo Claverhouse when he saw the scheme which Mackay was preparing for him. De provençal, his sergeant, along with his per he sent to Viscount Dundee and warned h pardy in which he stood and the bolt t forged against him. The messengers dis duty, and Dundee was saved. Before, emissaries had time to return, Mackay ha his advance on Dundee's encampment. Wh it he found to his chagrin the place des plans upset. Close to the camp the tw

were found hid in the woods. They were immediately pounced upon and examined. Mackay's eyes having been opened, he did not allow the grass to grow beneath his feet. Lord Kilsyth, along with three captains, one lieutenant, and several dragoons, was at once arrested. They were sent to Edinburgh, and each was confined in a dungeon in the Tolbooth until such time as they should be brought to trial. Mackay advised that the emissaries who had been captured near the camp should be put to death, and, that the full truth might be elucidated, that the other troopers should be put to the torture. At this juncture Lord Kilsyth's position was critical in the extreme. He had been the leader of the conspiracy beyond doubt, and William being every inch a soldier, and well aware of the enormity of his offence, it is highly probable the signing of a warrant for Kilsyth's execution would not have caused him the slightest concern. Kilsyth's friends were both powerful and influential, and they did everything they could to save his head. After the court-martial, Kilsyth's case was delayed, and it is supposed the good offices of Dalrymple and Melville were secured by substantial bribes. Be this as it may, to the crime of conspiracy Kilsyth certainly did not add that of murder. The story that Claverhouse received his death-wound from the hand of Kilsyth that he might marry his widow is found upon investigation to be a mere popular imagination. When the battle of Killiecrankie was fought, Kilsyth was lying a close prisoner in the Tolbooth waiting the pleasure of the King. The Government were unwilling to proceed to extremities, but the nature of the doom hanging over his head, united to the irksomeness of the suspense and the privations of prison life, so thoroughly broke down the spirit of Kilsyth that he wrote and forwarded to William an appeal for mercy

couched in pitiable language. The King read his unofficerlike letter and spared his life. The rents of his estates were, however, sequestrated, and for the next five years he remained a prisoner. Kilsyth's captivity terminated on the 10th May, 1694. On that day the Scottish Council received a letter from the King making intimation that William Livingston was to be liberated on the condition of his leaving "the three kingdoms," and that he was not to return without the King's permission under penalty of one thousand pounds sterling. Livingston took passage on board a Dutch vessel from Leith to Holland. The ship not being ready to sail on the expiry of the short period of grace granted him, he received a further extension of time. Kilsyth used the interval allowed him in bringing to a termination the addresses he had been paying to Jean Cochrane, the widow of Viscount Dundee. These addresses must have been paid for the most part by letter, as the opportunities afforded them for meeting during the period of Kilsyth's imprisonment were of the very scantiest kind. Around this marriage there clusters a large amount of romantic tradition, and not the least interesting of these stories is that which recounts the curious episode of the exchange and loss of the engagement, or betrothal, rings. The late Sir Archibald Edmonstone said that the marriage of Kilsyth with the beautiful widow of Claverhouse took place at Colzium, and that they met there about a year after the battle of Killiecrankie. At this meeting Kilsyth presented Lady Dundee with a gold ring as a pledge of his affection. As bad luck would have it, the lady dropped the ring the next day in the garden. The circumstance was regarded as of evil omen, and a liberal reward was offered to the fortunate finder. The offer proved fruitless, and after nearly a century had rolled away the in

cident was passing rapidly into oblivion. When, however, in 1796, the ring was discovered in a clod of earth. by the gardener when he was digging, the whole story was once more brought freshly to the recollection, and the newly found ring was at once held to be the lost ring of Lady Kilsyth. It is a hoop of gold without any stone, and of the intrinsic value of ten shillings. It is ornamented on the external surface with a myrtle wreath, and on the internal surface it bears the inscription, "Zours onlly and Euver." But this is not all. Some years after another gold ring was found not very far from the spot where the first was discovered. This second ring is larger, and bears the inscription, "Yours till dathe." Of the loss of this second ring there is no tradition, but it may well be supposed it was the ring Lady Dundee gave to Lord Kilsyth. Both rings are now at Duntreath, and in the possession of the present Sir Archibald Edmonstone. The story is romantic, and may be defective in its details, and the hands of the lovers are long cold, but the rings and their inscriptions remain the tangible and visible memorials of an extinct passion. Having accompanied her husband to Holland, Lady Kilsyth some time afterwards gave birth to a son. They took up their residence at Utrecht in a very modest house. The roof of it was loaded with turf, which served the purpose of fuel. One afternoon in October, 1695, Kilsyth had two friends to dinner. One of his guests, a Mr. Blair, left early, but the other lingered on into the evening. In a moment, through the weight of the fuel, the joisting gave way, and the little party were buried beneath the turf and rubbish. After three quarters of an hour Kilsyth and his friend were extricated. Lady Kilsyth, however, and her infant son, along with Mrs. Melville, the nurse, perished. To his

broken-hearted man stanched his grief

he was able the poor remains of wife a the most costly nards and ointments, h embalmed after a manner worthy of Pharaohs. A year after, when the pur in this particular was accomplished, German Sea, and deposited the embal vault in the churchyard of Kilsyth. was conducted amidst the greatest pon There was an enormous crowd, and never seen a costlier funeral.

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The Presbyterian preachers made Kilsyth's death than they were entitl represented it as a witness of that which would sooner or later overtake t Covenant. Wodrow writes :—“ Lady of Clavers, was very violent against t and it is said she used frequently to sa day she heard a Presbyterian minister, fall down and smother her, which it referred to is to the effect that, on th day on which she was killed, she had Robert Fleming, one of Scotland's Dr. Rennie, on the other hand, gave c he found floating in the parish, whic blame of Lady Kilsyth's death on There being at that time a considerable bers of Scotland's persecuted Church