harbour to convey him on board was taken
possession of by the militia of Boston, and
the guns of the battery being turned against
the fort, Andros surrendered at discretion,
and was forthwith committed to the same
prison whither fourteen days before he had
sent the messenger. The aged Simon
Bradstreet, a trusty servant of the Lord, was
proclaimed governor by the people, and all
New England was alive with praises to
God, and heartfelt rejoicing that the
people of the colonies and plantations, as
well as those of Great Britain, had been
freed from the yoke of Popery, and were,
under a new king, to enter into the full
enjoyment of the civil and religious liberty of
which they had long been deprived. To
me these days were days of ample recompense
for all my past sufferings, and I
forthwith determined to return to my own
people, and pass the remainder of my days in
Scotland.

Glasgow, April 27th, 1690.

It is exactly a year this day since I added
a short chapter to my history. I take up
the pen to complete the record, that my
children, and all who come after me, may
learn from my own hand the story of my
happy return to my home and family. On
arrival in London from Boston, in July
last, after a voyage in which our ship was
many times in great peril from icebergs,
far more terrible than storms, I learned to
my infinite satisfaction that the Revolution
of 1688 had ended in the happy though not
unquestioned establishment of the throne of
William the Third, whom may God long
preserve for the government of these realms!
Also, that all the wicked laws of Charles
and James Stuart, levelled against
Presbytery and the Christian people of
Scotland, had been repealed. I learned at
the same time, to my exceeding sorrow,
that my sainted friend, Mr. Renwick, had
fallen into the hands of the Philistines, had
been tried before the High Court of
Justiciary in Edinburgh on an indictment
charging him with denying the king's
authority in the Church of Christ, refusing
to pay the cess, and maintaining the
lawfulness of defensive war against civil and
religious oppression. It did not surprise
me to learn that he was found guilty, and,
when found guilty, that the malignants
rejoiced at the infliction of his doom. But
he was the last of the martyrs, and one of
the bravest and best. He sealed his faith
with his blood, in the twenty-sixth year of
his age, and left no successor to fight his
good fight, inasmuch as the fight was ended,
and a truce, if not a peace, was allowed to
Scotland and the upholders of the Covenant.
On reaching Glasgow, I learned with
much grief, but no surprise, that my
venerated mother had been gathered to the
blessed company of the just in heaven, and
that almost her last words were a prayer
for me, her banished son. I also learned—
and the blow was indeed very hard to bear
—that the Lord had taken to himself the
youngling of my little flock, my wee
daughter Jeanie, who died when I was at
sea, coming home with the yearning hope
to press her to my bosom. All else was
well with me—in mind, in body, in family,
and in estate. For all which blessings, with
a humble, a contrite, and a grateful heart,
I here, in closing my narrative, return
thanks unto the Lord God of my salvation.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

A YACHTING STORY.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER VII. BREAKING DOWN.

CONWAY wrote every day full of hopes
and anxieties; but everything seemed to
be going well on the whole. These letters
gradually grew warmer and more hopeful.

Dearest, I know now that I am quite
certain; and when I return to you next
week I shall be M.P. for St. Arthur's-on-
the-Sea. Then what a world before us!
. . . . . You write to me not to be
anxious about certain matters, but trust to
you. Trust to you, dearest! Why there
is a melody for me in these words. You
little know the confidence I have in you.
It was one of the charms that drew me to
you. Your very look has been enough for
me, and a mere motion, a glance of your
eye, I accepted as an assurance. Indeed,
your whole life for me has been such—
always true—though there has been a little
foolish cloud between us of late. Dudley
I see little of, and he is of no use to me.

There was something in this letter that
gave her a hope and peace she had not had
for long ages. He had never paid her so
candid or so just a tribute before, and it
made her face glow all over. It seemed to
dispel the noxious vapours which had been
rising about her. Her spirits began to rise.

The next day passed without a letter
from him; the nomination was to be on the
following morning. It was now known that
the other candidate had but a poor chance.
In the afternoon she went almost treading
on air, she was so happy, when she met an
elderly friend.