[Footnote B: See the life of this booted apostle of prelacy, written by
Swift, who had collected all his anecdotes of persecution, and appears
to have enjoyed them accordingly.]

[Footnote C: "They raved," says Peden's historian, "like fleshly devils,
when the mist shrouded from their pursuit the wandering whigs." One
gentleman closed a declaration of vengeance against the conventiclers
with this strange imprecation, "Or may the devil make my ribs a gridiron
to my soul!"--MS. _Account of the Presbytery of Penpont._ Our armies
swore terribly in Flanders, but nothing to this!]

In truth, extremes always approach each other; and the superstition of
the Roman catholics was, in some degree, revived, even by their most
deadly enemies. They are ridiculed by the cavaliers, as wearing the
relics of their saints by way of amulet:--

"She shewed to me a box, wherein lay hid
The pictures of Cargil and Mr Kid;
A splinter of the tree, on which they were slain;
A double inch of Major Weir's best cane;
Rathillet's sword, beat down to table-knife,
Which took at Magus' Muir a bishop's life;
The worthy Welch's spectacles, who saw,
That windle-straws would fight against the law;
They, windle-straws, were stoutest of the two,
They kept their ground, away the prophet flew;
And lists of all the prophets' names were seen
At Pentland Hills, Aird-Moss, and Rullen Green.
"Don't think," she says, "these holy things are foppery;
They're precious antidotes against the power of popery."