drew near. I had diligently trained up my
younger brother, Andrew, to take my place
as the head of the family, and to watch
over the comfort of my mother, my sisters,
and my wife and children, in case the
persecuting hand of the foes of the Covenant
should be laid heavily upon me. I had so
arranged all my affairs that the loss of my
liberty, and even of my life, would not
reduce the household of my father into
poverty, or send the seed of the righteous
into the world to beg their bread. And it
was well I made these arrangements in
time; for my foes were many. They
could not prove that I was at Bothwell
Brigg; but it was known that I had
been a frequent worshipper in the hills
when Mr. Cargill preached. It was
suspected that I had harboured him when
Claverhouse was in pursuit of him; likewise,
that I had been present at the memorable
preaching in the Torwood. At the beginning
of the year 1682 I was arrested on these last
two charges, and taken to Edinburgh for
trial. I was found guilty, as I foresaw, but
was told that my life would be spared, and
that I should be transported to the Plantations
of America. Lest I and my companions
should find our way to New England,
whither many friends of the Covenant
and the freedom of conscience had banished
themselves that they might worship God
in their own way; and lest we should there
find the comfort and companionship of fellow
Christians; we were consigned, as if we
had been merchandise, to Virginia—a
plantation almost as full of malignants as
London, or the court of King Charles.
Seventy-three of us were shipped on board
a small vessel in the Leith Roads. We
set sail the next day for the Thames. The
weather was very stormy, and the winds
were adverse; after beating wofully about
for eleven days, our captain took refuge
at Berwick-on-Tweed. It was six weeks
before we anchored off Gravesend, where I
received letters from my family and my dear
wife, who had resolved to follow me with
her two youngest bairns to the plantation,
or wherever else my evil fortune might lead
me. To this I would not consent, and it
was well for me that I would not. The
English merchant to whom we were
consigned, and who was to have the benefit of
our labour and services in Virginia, had
despatched his vessel to America a fortnight
before our arrival. After some hesitation he
refused to take charge of and feed us, and
said that until the return voyage of his ship
he would allow us to go free. Strange to
say, he did this without conference with the
government, or the exaction of any promise
from us to return into captivity when he
should be ready for us.

Under these unexpected circumstances,
I determined to return to Glasgow. I
was well acquainted with a worthy man
from Newhaven, near Edinburgh, who was
master and part owner of a trading smack
plying between London and Leith. I
determined to make my case known to him, and
solicit a passage in his vessel. I found him
at home at his lodgings in Wapping, and
he readily agreed to convey me to Leith.
All his crew were Scotsmen, and enemies
of prelacy, and abhorred the persecution
that the Scottish people had so long
suffered for the faith. This good man's
name was Anderson; and in his little
smack I sailed for Leith seven days after
my arrival at Gravesend. What became of
my seventy-two companions I did not know
at the time, but I afterwards met several
of them in Scotland. The voyage was
favourable, and only occupied us ten days.
On the twelfth day, at evening, I stood at
my own door in the Candleriggs of Glasgow.
My dear mother and my wife wept
with joy to see me. The two younger bairns
sat upon my knee and prattled merrily, not
knowing what had been wrong with me,
while the elder boy plied me with many
questions, scarcely comprehending the
wickedness of those who had torn me
away from them, and promising that when
old enough, he too would be a soldier of the
Covenant. The prayers we all put up to
God that evening ascended from grateful
as well as contrite hearts, though all of us,
save the children, were aware that I might
again be snatched from them on my former
sentence, and a worse penalty than banishment
inflicted. Happily these fears proved
groundless; and greatly to my surprise and
joy I remained in Glasgow, publicly attending
to my affairs without being molested.
There was a lull in the persecution, for
what cause I know not, unless it were
that the English people were becoming
as discontented as the Scotch, because an
avowed papist like the Duke of York was
heir to the throne, and because that if he
succeeded to it Protestantism itself would
be in danger. For me, I resolved to walk
warily, and avoid occasion of offence,
though I could not conform to prelacy,
even to save my life, or cease attendance at
the ministrations of such true servants of
Jesus as Mr. Cargill had been, and as the
other brave and good men were, who since
his martyrdom had been raised up to supply
his place.