Irongray were the first to offer strenuousopposition to the settlement of the curates.
When Gordon and McCubine were standing under the fatal tree with theropes round their necks, a sorrowing acquaintance asked the latter if hehad any word to send to his wife.
"Yes," answered the martyr; "tell her that I leave her and the two babesupon the Lord, and to his promise: `A father to the fatherless and ahusband to the widow is the Lord in His holy habitation.'"
Hearing this, the man employed to act the part of executioner seemedtouched, and asked forgiveness.
"Poor man!" was the reply, "I forgive thee and all men."
They died, at peace with God and man. An old tombstone, surrounded byan iron rail, marks to this day the spot among the old oak-trees wherethe bodies of McCubine and Gordon were laid to rest.
Commenting on this to his friend Selby, the Reverend George Lawless gaveit as his opinion that "two more fanatics were well out of the world."
To which the Reverend Frank replied very quietly:
"Yes, George, well out of it indeed; and, as I would rather die with thefanatics than live with the godless, I intend to join the Covenantersto-night--so my pulpit shall be vacant to-morrow."
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.
In February 1685 Charles the Second died--not without some suspicion offoul play. His brother, the Duke of York, an avowed Papist, ascendedthe throne as James the Second. This was a flagrant breach of theConstitution, and Argyll--attempting to avert the catastrophe by aninvasion of Scotland at the same time that Monmouth should invadeEngland--not only failed, but was captured and afterwards executed bythe same instrument--the "Maiden"--with which his father's head had beencut off nigh a quarter of a century before. As might have beenexpected, the persecutions were not relaxed by the new king.
When good old Cargill was martyred, a handsome fair young man waslooking on in profound sorrow and pity. He was a youth of great moralpower, and with a large heart. His name was James Renwick. From thathour this youth cast in his lot with the persecuted wanderers, and,after the martyrdom of Cameron and Cargill, and the death of Welsh, hewas left almost alone to manage their affairs. The "Strict Covenanters"had by this time formed themselves into societies for prayer andconference, and held quarterly district meetings in sequestered places,with a regular system of correspondence--thus secretly forming anorganised body, which has continued down to modern times.
It was while this young servant of God--having picked up the mantlewhich Cargill dropped--was toiling and wandering among the mountains,morasses, and caves of the west, that a troop of dragoons was seen, oneMay morning, galloping over the same region "on duty." They swept overhill and dale with the dash and rattle of men in all the pride of youthand strength and the panoply of war. They were hasting, however, not tothe battlefield but to the field of agriculture, there to imbrue theirhands in the blood of the unarmed and the helpless.
At the head of the band rode the valiant Graham of Claverhouse. Mostpeople at that time knew him as the "bloody Clavers," but as we look atthe gay cavalier with his waving plume, martial bearing, beautifulcountenance, and magnificent steed, we are tempted to ask, "Has therenot been some mistake here?" Some have thought so. One or two literarymen, who might have known better, have even said so, and attempted todefend their position!
"Methinks this is our quarry, Glendinning," said Claverhouse, drawingrein as they approached a small cottage, near to which a man was seen atwork with a spade.
"Yes--that's John Brown of Priesthill," said the sergeant.
"You know the pestilent fanatic well, I suppose?"
"Ay. He gets the name o' being a man of eminent godliness," answeredthe sergeant in a mocking tone; "and is even credited with havingstarted a Sabbath-school!"
John Brown, known as the "Christian carrier," truly was what Glendinninghad sneeringly described him. On seeing the cavalcade approach heguessed, no doubt, that his last hour had come, for many a time had hecommitted the sin of succouring the outlawed Covenanters, and he hadstoutly refused to attend the ministry of the worthless curate GeorgeLawless. Indeed it was the information conveyed to Government by thatreverend gentleman that had brought Claverhouse down upon theunfortunate man.
The dragoons ordered him to proceed to the front of his house, where hiswife was standing with one child in her arms and another by her side.The usual ensnaring questions as to the supremacy of the King, etcetera,were put to him, and the answers being unsatisfactory, Claverhouseordered him to say his prayers and prepare for immediate death. Brownknew that there was no appeal. All Scotland was well aware by that timethat soldiers were empowered to act the part of judge, jury, witness,and executioner, and had become accustomed to it. The poor man obeyed.He knelt down and prayed in such a strain that even the troopers, it issaid, were impressed--at all events, their subsequent conduct would seemto countenance this belief. Their commander, however, was not muchaffected, for he thrice interrupted his victim, telling him that he had"given him time to pray, but not to preach."
"Sir," returned Brown, "ye know neither the nature of preaching norpraying if ye call this preaching."
"Now," said Claverhouse, "take farewell of your wife and children."
After the poor man had kissed them, Claverhouse ordered six of his mento fire; but they hesitated and finally refused. Enraged at this theircommander drew a pistol, and with his own hand blew out John Brown'sbrains.
"What thinkest thou of thy husband now, woman?" he said, turning to thewidow.
"I ever thought much good of him," she answered, "and as much now asever."
"It were but justice to lay thee beside him," exclaimed the murderer.
"If you were permitted," she replied, "I doubt not but your crueltywould go that length."
Thus far the excitement of the dreadful scene enabled the poor creatureto reply, but nature soon asserted her sway. Sinking on her knees bythe side of the mangled corpse, the widow, neither observing nor caringfor the departure of the dragoons, proceeded to bind up her husband'sshattered skull with a kerchief, while the pent-up tears burst forth.
The house stood in a retired, solitary spot, and for some time thebereaved woman was left alone with God and her children; but beforedarkness closed in a human comforter was sent to her in the person ofQuentin Dick.
On his arrival in Wigtown, Quentin, finding that his friends the Wilsongirls had been imprisoned with an old covenanter named Mrs. McLachlan,and that he could not obtain permission to see them, resolved to pay avisit to John Brown, the carrier, who was an old friend, and who mightperhaps afford him counsel regarding the Wilsons. Leaving Ramblin'Peter behind to watch every event and fetch him word if anythingimportant should transpire, he set out and reached the desolated cottagein the evening of the day on which his friend was shot.
Quentin was naturally a reserved man, and had never been able to take aprominent part with his covenanting friends in conversation or in publicprayer, but the sight of his old friend's widow in her agony, and herterrified little ones, broke down the barrier of reserve completely.Although a stern and a strong man, not prone to give way to feeling, helearned that night the full meaning of what it is to "weep with thosethat weep." Moreover, his tongue was unloosed, and he poured forth hissoul in prayer, and quoted God's Word in a way that cheered, in no smalldegree, his stricken friend. During several days he remained atPriesthill, doing all in his power to assist the family, and receivingsome degree of comfort in return; for strong sympathy and fellowship insorrow had induced him to reveal the fact that he loved Margaret Wilson,who at that time lay in prison with her young sister Agnes, awaitingtheir trial in Wigtown.
Seated one night by the carrier's desolated hearth, where severalfriends had assembled to mourn with the widow, Quentin was about tocommence family worship, when he was interrupted by the sudden entranceof Ramblin' Peter. The expression of his face told eloquently that hebrought bad news. "The Wilsons," he said, "are condemned to be drownedwit
h old Mrs. McLachlan."
"No' baith o' the lasses," he added, correcting himself, "for thefaither managed to git ane o' them off by a bribe o' a hundred pounds--an' that's every bodle that he owns."
"Which is to be drooned?" asked Quentin in a low voice.
"Marget--the auldest."
A deep groan burst from the shepherd as the Bible fell from his hands.
"Come!" he said to Peter, and passed quickly out of the house, without aword to those whom he left behind.
Arrived in Wigtown, the wretched man went about, wildly seeking to movethe feelings of men whose hearts were like the nether millstone.
"Oh, if I only had siller!" he exclaimed to the