hangman's ladder. After having served his college some time as regent or
assistant professor in the Moral Philosophy Chair, Guthrie took licence,
and was immediately thereafter settled as parish minister of Lauder, in
the momentous year 1638. And when every parish in Scotland sent up its
representatives to Edinburgh to subscribe the covenant in Greyfriars
Churchyard, the parish of Lauder had the pride of seeing its young
minister take his life in his hand, like all the best ministers and
truest patriots in the land. But just as Guthrie was turning in at the
gate of the Greyfriars, who should cross the street before him, so as
almost to run against him, but the city executioner! The omen--for it
was a day of omens--made the young minister stagger for a moment, but
only for a moment. At the same time the ominous incident made such an
impression on the young Covenanter's heart and imagination, that he said
to some of his fellow-subscribers as he laid down the pen, 'I know that I
shall die for what I have done this day, but I cannot die in a better
cause.'

In the lack of better authorities we are compelled to trace the footsteps
of James Guthrie through the Laodicean pages of Robert Baillie for
several years to come. Baillie did not like Guthrie, and there was no
love lost between the two men. The one man was all fire together in
every true and noble cause, and the other we spew out of our mouth at
every page of his indispensable book. As Carlyle says, Baillie contrived
to 'carry his dish level' through all that terrible jostle of a time. And
accordingly while we owe Baillie our very grateful thanks that he kept
such a diary, and carried on such an extensive and regular correspondence
during all that distracted time, we owe him no other thanks. He carried
his dish level, and he had his reward.

As we trace James Guthrie's passionate footsteps for the years to come