MUCKLE KATE, THE HIGHLANDER. opportunity. It was a strange, and, as some may perhaps think, an unwarrantable way of attempting to win a soul; nevertheless, it was successful. The appeal went home to the old woman's conscience, backed with all the force of astonishment; the suddenness of the stroke, coming as it did from so perfectly unexpected a quarter, gave both point and poignancy to the blow; the shaft had found the joint in the harness, and, driven hard home by the Spirit's own hand, it sank deep, deep down into that old and withered soul which had hitherto resisted every impression. A long and fiery ordeal was appointed to the reclaimed profligate. Deep as her conviction was, it never seemed to subside; weeks, months, and even years passed away, and still the distress of the convicted sinner was as poignant and fresh as ever. "Never breathed a wretch like her; there might be hope for others, but, Oh, there was none for Muckle Kate!" This was wonderful, indeed, in one whose age was between eighty and ninety at the time of her conviction; for those who know anything of human nature are aware, that of all spiritual cases, the most utterly hopeless is that of one who has grown old in sin, whose conscience has become impervious to the truth, and whose whole soul is unimpressible by either the Gospel or the Law. To awaken feelings that have been dried up by age and sin requires almost a miracle in the world of grace. Kate's was, indeed, a special case; she was “a wonder to many"-a wonder to her neighbours, a wonder to unbelievers, a wonder to the church, a wonder to her astonished minister, and, most of all, a wonder to herself. But all has not yet been told. Are my readers prepared to hear that she wept herself stone blind? Yet this was actually the case, without exaggerating by a hair-breadth-she wept away her eye-sight! Poor Kate! Those sightless eyeballs weep no more: the wail of thine agony no longer rings amid the solitudes of thy native hills; for God himself hath wiped away all tears from thine eyes: and when the green graves of Lochcarron shall have disgorged thy blessed dust, thou shalt tune with ecstasy thy voice to the harp of God, as thou standest on that crystal sea in the place where there shall be no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying, for the former things shall have passed away! The excellent minister on whose authority I relate this story, stated that he was called on to assist in dispensing the Lord's-supper at Lochcarron on one occasion during Kate's MUCKLE KATE, THE HIGHLANDER. long period of darkness. "do you While walking with Mr. Lauchlan among the moors, he heard at a distance the moanings of a female in great distress. “Hush!" said the stranger minister, hear that cry? What is it?" Mr. Lauchlan knew it well. “Never mind,” replied he, "that woman has cost me many a tear; let her weep for herself now." He kept his eye on her ever afterwards, however, and was exceedingly kind to her, watching like a father over every interest of the old woman, for time as well as for eternity. During one of her visits to the manse kitchen, while waiting to converse with the minister, it is said that her attention was attracted by the noise of a flock of ducklings which drew near the place where she sat. Not aware of the presence of any other person, the poor blind woman was heard to exclaim, "O my poor things, ye're happy, happy creatures -ye have na crucified a Saviour as I have; it would be well for Muckle Kate to be a duck like you: for, Oh, then she would have no sin to answer for-no sin, no sin!" The anecdote may appear frivolous, if not ridiculous; not so the feeling which it expresses; for many is the awakened sinner that has shared in blind Kate's desire, and would gladly have exchanged being with a dog or a stone, for then he would have had " no sin to answer for-no sin, no sin!" vail 66 In the third year of her anguish, Mr. Lauchlan was exceedingly anxious that she should sit down at the Lord's table, and accordingly urged every argument to induce her to commemorate the dying love of Christ. But nothing could preupon her to comply. She go forward to that holy table! she, who had had her arms up to the shoulders in a Saviour's blood! Her presence would profane the blessed ordinance, and would be enough to pollute the whole congregation! Never, never would she sit down at the table; the communion was not for her!" The minister's hopes, however, were to be realized in a way that he never anticipated. The sabbath had arrived, the hour of meeting drew nigh, but Kate's determination still remained unchanged. I am not acquainted with the exact spot where the Gaelic congregation assembled on that communion sabbath; the tables were, however, spread, as is usual on such occasions, in the open air among the wild hills of Lochcarron. Did any of my readers ever witness the serving of a sacramental table at which there sat one solitary communicant? yet such a sight was witnessed MUCKLE KATE, THE HIGHLANDER. on that long-remembered day, and poor Kate and Mr. Lauchlan were the only actors in the scene. The tables had all been served, the elements had been removed, the minister had returned to "the tent," and was about to begin the concluding address, and all were listening for the first words of the speaker, when suddenly a cry of despair was heard in a distant part of the congregation—a shriek of female agony that rose loud and clear amid the multitude, and was returned, as if in sympathy, by the echoes of the surrounding hills. It was the voice of "Muckle Kate," who now thought that all was over-that the opportunity was lost, and would never more return! The congregation was amazed; hundreds started to their feet, and looked anxiously towards the spot whence the scream had proceeded. Not so the minister; Mr. Lauchlan knew that voice, and well did he understand the cause of the sufferer's distress. Without a word of inquiry he came down from the tent, stepped over among the people till he had reached the spot; and taking | Kate kindly by the hand, led her through the astonished crowd to the communion table, and seated her alone at its head. He next ordered the elements to be brought forward, and replaced upon the table; and there sat that one solitary blind being, alone in the midst of thousands-every eye of the vast multitude turned in wonder upon the lonely communicantshe herself all unconscious of their gaze. Oh for the pen Bunyan or of Boston, to trace the tumult of feelings that chased each other through that swelling, bursting breast! The secrets of that heart have never been revealed; but right confident am I, that if there be one text of scripture which more than another embodies the uppermost emotion in her mind during that hour of intense and thrilling spiritual excitement, it must have been the sentiment of one who knew well what it was to have been humbled in the dust like Kate: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I AM THE CHIEF." of This extraordinary service was ever afterwards known as "Muckle Kate's Table," and it is said, that by that single address no fewer than two hundred souls were awakened to spiritual concern, which ripened in many instances into deep and genuine piety. The minister to whom allusion has been made was himself acquainted with nine of these inquirers, who traced their earliest impressions to that table service, POETRY. and all of whom were, at the time of his acquaintance with them, eminently godly characters. "Muckle Kate" herself lived about three years after her first communion, possessed of that "peace which passeth all understanding," and manifesting, all the marks of a close and humble walk with God. Christian Treasury. Poetry. "YE MUST BE BORN AGAIN" AWAK'D by Sinai's awful sound, And knew not where to go; Amaz'd I stood, but could not tell, When to the law I trembling fled, O'erwhelm'd my tortur'd mind. Alas! I read, and saw it plain, But while I thus in anguish lay, To heaven the joyful tidings flew, All hail! the Lamb who once was slain, RICHES OF CHRIST. SAVIOUR DIVINE, thy love impart, What riches in my Saviour dwell, He's rich, not for himself alone, He's rich in love, and rich in grace, He's rich in wisdom and in might, And there with saints and angels taste J. D. ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS. Anecdotes and Selections. A SINGULAR DREAM.-The truth of the following anecdote, however extraordinary, respecting a lady at Manchester, may be relied upon. It is copied from a letter of Captain Jonathan Scott to a Mrs. B. in the neighbourhood of London, dated Manchester, July 25, 1781. "I know not whether I ever told you a singular story of a merchant's wife in this place, a gay lady, who had often been importuned by some near relations, who are serious, to hear the gospel; but she was too well satisfied with herself and her religion to wish that either should be changed, and therefore always refused. She dreamed one night that she thoughtlessly entered a strange place of worship, and sat down on a seat, when, as soon as the minister got up in the pulpit, he fixed his eyes on her, and immediately came down to her, and said, Madam, you must give me a text to preach from to-day.' She would fain have been excused; but he declared he would not leave her, or preach, till she did. She was therefore forced to comply; and chose those words, Isaiah i-2, 3. She then awoke. It happened a little while after, I came to Manchester, and my brother Priestley (as he usually does) published me by the title of Captain; and it came to this lady's ears that a Captain was to preach. She had met with various kinds of captains, but never with a preaching one; therefore her curiosity determined her to see what sort of a creature this was. As soon as she entered the place, she found it was the one she had seen in her dream; and, when I got up into the pulpit and took my text, she found I was the preacher, and my text was the very words of Isaiah which she fancied in her dream she had given to preach from: and the Lord was pleased to make use of them for her conviction and conversion. She became a serious inquirer after, and a lover and liver of, the truth, from that time, adorning the doctrine of God her Saviour till the day of her death. Evangelical Magazine, 1808. HAMMERING OUT A CHARACTER. Few men in public or private life escape the tongue of scandal. There is a propensity in human nature to cover its own defects by prating of the misdeeds of others. And it is not easy for the christian even, always to hold his peace when idle tongues are dealing with his fair name. If wise, however, he will do so, and let a lie die a natural death, instead of galvanizing it into life by the battery of passion. There is much good sense and sound philosophy in the following extract from the private note of a valued correspondent. "I like," he writes, "the story of the blacksmith who was requested to bring a suit for slander. He said he could go into his shop and hammer out a, better character in six months, than all the courts in Christendom |