destined, under God's providence, to
exercise a lasting influence over my character and
life. The younger of the two was the
excellent Mr. Alexander Peden, minister of
New Luce, in Galloway, a man of singular
piety and earnestness. The other was that
pillar of the Covenant, Donald Cargill, of
the Barony Church of Glasgow. He was
at that time about fifty years of age, a
strong, active man, in whose every look
there was determination, and in every
accent of whose tongue there was power to
persuade, or to overawe, and who, to my
youthful imagination, seemed to be more
like an inspired apostle than any preacher
of God's Word whom I had ever seen or
read of. The conversation of my father and
mother with these two ministers was grave
and sad. Mr. Cargill said (and I remember
his words as clearly as if he had only
spoken them yesterday):

"Dark days are coming for Scotland and
for the church. I believe Charles Stuart
to be an enemy of the people of God. He
is surrounded by evil-minded men, who
counsel him to set at nought the laws of
our Commonwealth, and to introduce
prelacy among us. But he shall not prevail.
Scotland, oh, my country! He that
dasheth in pieces cometh up before thy
face. Keep thy munition; watch thy way;
make thy loins strong; fortify thy power
mightily. Rejoice not against me,
mine enemy! When I fall I shall arise,
and when I sit in darkness the Lord shall
be light unto me."

Mr. Peden spoke after the same manner,
his pale face glowing red, his eyes flashing
fire, as he prayed to the Lord that in the
day of tribulation, which was near at
hand, the Scottish people might prevail
against all the foes of their faith, and that
from the burning furnace of great sorrow
they might come forth triumphant over all
heresy, schism, and oppression, even though
the sister land of England might bow the
knee to Baal. During my sojourn at St.
Andrews, when every day had its stent of
work, and my mind was fully occupied with
necessary studies, these matters did not
receive the same earnest thought that I
afterwards gave them, though many a time
since my entry into the active world these
predictions came back vividly upon my
memory, and I resolved that I too, though
not a minister of the Word, would do battle
for the liberty of my faith, even with the
sword, if my sword were needed.

The great persecution began in Scotland
very shortly after this conversation. In
less than a year the king and his wicked
advisers had let loose the flood of wrath
against Presbytery, hoping to undo the
goodly work of the Covenant. But the
imagination of his heart was as vain as it
was cruel, and though for awhile the
ministers of the prelatical church took
possession of the manses and the pulpits of
Scotland, and it was made a crime to preach
the gospel of the covenant to the people;
not all the power of Charles Stuart, nor of
his priests, nor of his soldiers, nor of his
judges and hangmen could daunt the gallant
spirit of my countrymen, or compel them
to drink the milk of righteousness from the
poisoned chalices of prelacy. While I write
the great struggle still continues; and the
Covenant has been sealed by the blood of
many thousands of saints and martyrs.
But unto me, even unto me, is given, to
see the end, though it be far off, and to
know, in this the day of my tribulation,
that right shall prevail, and that the
perjured and cruel princes of the House of
Stuart shall be hurled from the high places
where they are unworthy to sit. In this
faith I live. In this faith I will die.

It was in the month of August, 1662,
when I was in my seventeenth year, that
Mr. Cargill, having business in St. Andrews,
was asked by my father to take charge of
me on the journey, and deliver me to my
uncle, Doctor Brodie, a physician in that
city, in whose house I was to reside, while
I attended college. I should not think it
worth while to mention an event so slight
as this journey, even although the
companionship of Mr. Cargill on the way made
it very memorable to me, were it not for the
things we witnessed on our arrival. There
was a great multitude of people in the High-
street and in the road from Edinburgh, so
great as well nigh to prevent us from
passing to my uncle's house; and on Mr.
Cargill inquiring of a bystander what was
the reason of such a gathering, we were
told, that the Archbishop of St. Andrews,
with a brave cavalcade of gentlemen and
soldiers, was approaching from Edinburgh
to take possession of his see. "Let us
stand aside, Gideon," said Mr. Cargill,
"that I may look upon the face of James
Sharpe, the traitor, in the day of his pride.
Such as he are more to blame than Charles
Stuart for the miseries that are yet to
befall Scotland. If to me were given the
power of cursing, upon his head my curse
should fall, not because he is a prelatist,
but because he has shown himself false
to the Covenant which he swore to uphold;