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Updated: June 23, 2025
In this group of Bibles, Peden's is the largest; Cargill's is underneath it, and Captain Paton's to the left. We had the privilege of using Cargill's Bible in 1896, at a Conventicle service held on the Cargill farm. We felt deeply impressed, while reading from the pages upon which the piercing eyes of the martyr had often flashed. "Shoot," cried Claverhouse. Not a gun was discharged.
With the spread of this news men began to gather in front of Peden's to see what the city marshal was going to do, how he would accept this defiance, if he meant to accept it, and what the result to him would be. Judge Thayer came down to the square without his alpaca coat, his perturbation was so great, looking for Morgan, talking of swearing in a large number of deputies to uphold the law.
And on the inflow of custom and the uprising of jubilant mirth, Peden turned his quick, crafty eyes as he stood at the head of the bar to welcome back to his doors this golden stream. Close within Peden's wide door, one on either hand, two vigilant strangers stood, each belted with two revolvers, each keeping a hand near his weapons.
Peden's resentment rose in that second of reflection with the dull fire that spread in his dark face. He flung his hand to his revolver, throwing aside the skirt of his long coat. "Let your gun stay where it is," Morgan quietly advised him. "Get these people out of here, and close this place." "Show me your authority!" Peden demanded, scouting for a moment of precious time.
"It WAS a great day," Walter Skirving muttered, letting his arm rest on the little square deal table which stood beside him with his great Bible open upon it "a great day aye, Maister Peden's laddie i' my hoose! He's welcome, he's mair nor welcome."
Morgan, silent, determined, inflexible, had drawn his line around the depot, across which no man dared to pass. No friend of Craddock should meet him for support of warning word or armed hand; no innocent one should be jeopardized by a curiosity that might lead to death. The moving question now was, had Peden's gun-notable friends joined Craddock?
Long after the fearful waste of battle had been cleared from Peden's floor, and the lights of that hall were put out; long after the most wakeful householder of Ascalon had sought his bed, and the last horseman had gone from its hushed streets, Morgan walked in the moonlight, keeping vigil with his soul.
"If you want me, stand five minutes on Peden's Stone!" That was all, but Patsy knew that Stair had all the time been watching over her in some wild, sudden-swooping, peregrine falcon-fashion of his own.
The heat of the place was terrific; burning shingles swirled on the wind, coals and burning brands fell in a rain all over the square. At the corner of the broad street that came into the square at Peden's hall, another raider was stationed.
He supplied the Kirk with the tradition of supernormal premonitions in preachers second-sight and clairvoyance as in the case of Mr. Peden and other saints of the Covenant. But just as good cases of clairvoyance as any of Mr. Peden's are attributed to Catherine de Medici, who was not a saint, by her daughter, La Reine Margot, and others.
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