tears gathered in many an eye, and in Mr.
Cargill's own, as he read it slowly and
solemnly to the people. "Brethren," he
said, "this is mournful news, and betokens
new evil to the unhappy realm of Scotland.
It is not thus that I would have
had the traitor die. I would have had
him die on the scaffold, as an example of
man's justice as well as God's. But his
murder, I cannot, and I will not, approve,
though I have no pity to throw away
upon such as he. But take warning, my
brethren, and beware of the evil that will
assuredly come upon us in consequence
of this deed. The savage Highlanders
from Stirling will be let loose upon us, and
English soldiers will be sent to help them
in the work of exterminating the people of
the Covenant. You and I, and all of us—
every man in Scotland, who clings to the
faith, and abhors prelacy and popery—will
be held guilty of the putting to death of
James Sharpe. Let us be prepared for the
dark night. Let every man that hath a
weapon see to it that it be ready. Let
every man who hath no weapon see that
he buy or borrow one for the Lord's service.
Deliver us from our enemies, Lord!
Defend us from those that rise up against
us! Deliver us from the workers of iniquity,
and save us from bloody men! For
lo! the mighty are gathered against us, not
for our transgressions, and not for our sins,
Lord!" After these words, Mr. Cargill
called upon the people to join in singing
the Sixty-fourth Psalm, which was singularly
appropriate for the occasion.

The clear notes of the people's voices
rang far up the glen, as they intoned
the solemn psalmody, and repeated the
words after their beloved minister. Mr.
Cargill would not return with me to
Glasgow as I bade him, fearing that my
house would not be a safe retreat for him
during the next three or four weeks. But
he promised that he would let me know of
his whereabouts by means of trusty
messengers. Before he and I met again, the
trouble had come upon Scotland which he
had foreseen. The hirelings of Charles
Stuart, his soldiers and his judges, had
so filled up the cup of oppression, that the
brave people—able to endure no longer—
had taken up arms and resisted even unto
the death. On the twenty-ninth of May—
the day of the restoration of the king, when
bonfires had been alighted by the order of
the malignants to signify the national joy
for an event which was a national
humiliation—the persecuted saints extinguished
the fires, and at Rutherglen, near Glasgow,
a party of near upon a hundred made a
bonfire of another kind, by publicly burning
all the Acts of Parliament against Presbytery.
Thence they marched into Glasgow
and affixed upon the cross a declaration of
their adherence to the Covenant. They then
retired into the Lanarkshire Hills, on the
borders of Ayrshire, under the godly James
Hamilton, many people flocking to them
from all parts. Here on the Sabbath
following, when they were assembled for the
worship of God at Loudon Hills, they
were suddenly assailed by a troop of
mounted dragoons, under the command of
the bloody Claverhouse. But the Lord
fought on the side of His people, and
Claverhouse was put to the rout, and fell
back into Glasgow, our people following.

Great evils ensued. The defeat of
Claverhouse, small though it was, inspired the
friends of the Covenant with renewed hope,
and before many weeks Mr. Hamilton
found himself at the head of six or seven
thousand men—shepherds, farm-labourers,
farmers, gentlemen, and men of character
and substance from Edinburgh and Glasgow—
determined, if occasion served, to
strike a blow in the Lord's cause. The
English government despatched in all
haste the Duke of Monmouth, the basely-
begotten son of the lecherous and treacherous
Charles Stuart, to try conclusions between
Prelacy and Presbytery on the
Scottish Hills. I was not present with Mr.
Hamilton's army, not from want of will to
aid in the holy cause, but from the occurrence
of circumstances which, to my great
disappointment at the time, prevented me
from uniting my aid to that of my countrymen.
But Mr. Cargill was present when
the Duke charged the friends of the Covenant
at Bothwell Brigg, and inflicted upon
them the heaviest loss that the cause had
ever yet suffered. I will not attempt to
describe a battle which I did not see,
though I well remember the wail of lamentation
that went up through all the west
and south of Scotland when the truth became
known, that the Host of the Covenant
had been destroyed under the hoofs of
Monmouth's horse and at the hands of
Monmouth's men. Among the number of
wounded at that great Armageddon, was
Mr. Cargill, who received many cuts of a
trooper's sword upon his head, but who
nevertheless escaped from the field and
took refuge in my house in the Candleriggs
of Glasgow, after wandering in much pain
and peril over the country, and hiding in