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VOICE FROM THE DESERT 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE CHURCH IN THE WILDERNESS, 
 
 |1arts. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REY. ROBERT SIMPSON, D.D., 
 
 SANQUHAR, 
 
 AUTHOR OF “ THE TRADITIONS OF THE COVENANTERS,” ETC. 
 
 “ The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them ; and the desert shall rejoice 
 and blossom as the rose.”— Isaiah. 
 
 GALL & INGLIS, 38 NORTH BRIDGE. 
 
 LONDON : HOULSTON & WRIGHT. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 
 | 
 
 The writer of the ensuing work has ventured to add an- 
 other volume to those which he has already furnished 
 on the persecuting times. He has divided the work 
 into two parts. In the First, his main object has been 
 to point out the kind of doctrine and the peculiar sort 
 of preaching which were employed at the conventicles ; 
 and which were accompanied with so much success, 
 and with so great and -continued effusions of the Divine 
 Spirit. 
 
 For this purpose, he has made a number of extracts 
 from the richest portions of the Sermons of the Con- 
 venticlers, as they have come down to our times ; and 
 v which, as he apprehends, will do more to set their 
 v character in its just light than almost any thing else. 
 He has carefully avoided every thing like tediousness in 
 the quotations. 
 
 Another object he had in view, was to describe the 
 localities in the wilderness where they preached, and 
 to collect all the incidents of every kind peculiar to 
 those localities, and any new thing respecting the 
 preachers themselves. He has selected ten of the 
 leading Conventiclers, parts of whose Discourses have 
 been transmitted to us. He has traversed the moor- 
 lands, and followed them step by step in their sojourn- 
 ings from place to place, in their preaching to the 
 
IV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 children of those solitary places, and collected every 
 thing of interest he could find. 
 
 With regard to the Second Part of the work, he has 
 gathered a number of fresh traditions, and brought 
 together a few others which he had contributed to 
 various periodicals, and regarding some of which he 
 has received additional information. He trusts that 
 this new embodiment of traditions will be found by its 
 readers in no respect inferior in interest to those for- 
 merly published. 
 
 It is the last work of the kind, probably, that can 
 now be collected, as the traditionary field in the south 
 and west of Scotland is now nearly exhausted. 
 
 He has entitled the volume, “A Voice from the 
 Desert ; ”■ — and it is emphatically so, as the most part 
 of the Discourses, from which the extracts have been 
 made, were preached in the remote moorlands and deso- 
 late places. They were like “ the voice of one crying 
 in the wilderness and the cry has been echoed down 
 to our times. 
 
 The author commits the work to the Great Head, 
 — whose Church, in affliction, he has attempted to 
 exhibit, — in the hope that it may prove a blessing to 
 some, and a stimulus to all to continue steadfast in the 
 faith. 
 
 R. S. 
 
 Sanquhar, April 1856 . 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAET i. 
 
 THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS. 
 
 Page 
 
 GENERAL REMARKS, ..... 7 
 
 JOHN BLACKADER OF TROQUEER, . . . 14 
 
 JOHN WELSH OF IRONGRAT, . . . .34 
 
 JOHN KID, . ..... 54 
 
 GABRIEL SEMPILL, . . . . .67 
 
 RICHARD CAMERON, . . . . .73 
 
 JOHN WELLWOOD, . . . . .101 
 
 DONALD CARGILL, . . . . .110 
 
 ALEXANDER PEDEN, . . . . .136 
 
 ALEXANDER SHIELDS, . . . . ,179 
 
 JAMES RENWICK, . . . . .189 
 
 SUMMARY OF THEIR DOCTRINE, . . . 218 
 
 PAET II. 
 
 THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 GENERAL REMARKS, 
 WILLIAM GODWIN, 
 FRANK JOHNSTONE, 
 
 231 
 
 255 
 
 260 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Page 
 
 james noPE, ...... 265 
 
 ROBERT HISLOP, ..... 267 
 
 THE FAMILY OF MONTHRAW, .... 273 
 
 WILLIAM LOURIE, ..... 280 
 
 DUNCAN OF NETHERTON, .... 290 
 
 MRS HARKNESS, ..... 299 
 
 GRAHAM OF THREEPWOOD, . . . .306 
 
 THE YOUNGS OF HIGHCRAIG, . . . .311 
 
 THOMAS DOUGLAS, . . . . .319 
 
 MARGARET GRACIE, ..... 328 
 
 HELEN ALEXANDER, ..... 340 
 
 W. SMITH AND M. M‘CLYMONT, . . . . 364 
 
 THE DUNS OF AYRSHIRE, . . . .376 
 
 THE TWO FORESTS, ..... 385 
 
 WILLY SMITH, THE SIMPLETON, . . . .399 
 
 DAVID STEEL, ...... 409 
 
 WILSON OF WASTELAND, . . . .415 
 
 GILBERT M‘MICHING, . . . . .417 
 
 THE RIVER CRAWICR, ..... 423 
 
 442 
 
 THE SPY, 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
 THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS. 
 
 “ The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of 
 the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our 
 God.”— Isaiah. 
 
 In surveying the history of the stirring times of the 
 Scottish persecution, which lasted nearly eight-and- 
 twenty years, under the oppressive reigns of the royal 
 brothers, we are particularly struck with the fact, that 
 during the era of the conventicles a powerful divine 
 influence seemed uniformly to accompany the ministra- 
 tions of the preachers — the outed ministers, who, after 
 the first bufferings of the storm, began to creep from 
 their hiding-places, and to spread themselves gradually 
 over the country, preaching boldly in the fields, not only 
 to assemblies of hundreds, hut of thousands, who crowded 
 from all parts to the interdicted conventicle. It was in 
 the heart of the dreariest solitudes, and in the bosom 
 of the most remote and inaccessible wilds, that the 
 multitudes convened, under the screen of the trailing 
 mists, or in the shining of the bright summer’s sun, that 
 there, without interruption, they might worship the God 
 of their fathers. 
 
8 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 In the upland districts of Nithsdale, Lanarkshire, 
 Ayrshire, and Galloway, the trackless moorlands were 
 often frequented with companies of worshippers un- 
 known to one another, from whose devoted hearts the 
 hallowed sound of praise ascended as incense to the 
 upper sanctuary, and came with acceptance before God, 
 through the great Intercessor in the heavens ; who deeply 
 sympathised with his church in the furnace, and sent 
 down his Holy Spirit, the Comforter, to sustain the hearts 
 of his people in the day of their trial. Everywhere, in 
 moor, in glen, in the solitary dell, or on the bleak moun- 
 tain side, was seen, on all fitting occasions, the solemn 
 conventicle. The church had fled into the wilderness 
 from the face of the dragon ; and there in peril she 
 gathered the hidden manna, the precious bread of life, 
 by which she was sustained during all the dreary years 
 when she was made the subject of a relentless persecution. 
 
 In her seclusion in the desert, the great Master of 
 assemblies was in her midst ; for when she withdrew 
 from the world, her Lord withdrew with her. That the 
 conventicles experienced unwonted visitations of divine 
 grace, is not a matter of tradition merely, it is a matter 
 of historical verity. It is true what the moorland poet 
 affirmed : — 
 
 “In cities the wells of salvation were seal’d, 
 
 More brightly to burst on the moor and the field; 
 
 And the Spirit, that fled from the dwellings of men, 
 
 Like a manna-cloud rain’d round the camp in the glen.” 
 
 In confirmation of this, Wodrow the historian says, “It 
 must be owned, even by adversaries, that much success, 
 and many remarkable, yea, extraordinary conversions 
 and changes, did accompany the labours of the Presby- 
 terian ministers at this time, up and down the country. 
 Many were pricked at the heart, and cried out, 4 Men 
 and brethren, what shall we do to be saved?’ — and their 
 after practice evinced their repentance was not to be 
 repented of, and the Lord gave testimony to the word 
 of his grace. Sometimes people of years would come 
 to ministers and bemoan their want of baptism; and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS. 
 
 9 
 
 after instruction, received it, to the edification of many. 
 Others had their secret sins set in order before them, 
 and would come to ministers and confess them, and 
 offer public satisfaction for them. Now and then con- 
 formist ministers came, and, after the forenoon sermon, 
 offered themselves, and, as circumstances allowed, actually 
 did profess their sorrow for joining in the present course 
 of defection/* 
 
 Speaking of a conventicle held at Obsdale, at which 
 the Lord’s supper was observed, this same author says, 
 that “ At the last sermon there was a plentiful effusion 
 of the Spirit upon a great many present; and the eldest 
 Christians there declared they had not been witness to 
 the like. In short, there was so sensible and glorious 
 discoveries made of the Son of man, and such evident 
 presence of the Master of assemblies, this day and the 
 preceding, that the people seemed to be in a transport, 
 and their souls filled with heaven, and breathing thither, 
 while their bodies were upon the earth ; and some were 
 almost at that, 6 Whether in the body or out of the body, 
 I cannot tell/ Even some drops fell on strangers. There 
 was one poor man, who had formerly no profession of 
 religion, but came to Obsdale perfectly out of curi- 
 osity, who was sensibly wrought upon. At his return, 
 one of his neighbours, having got notice where he had 
 been, said to him, c he was a great fool, to lose his cow 
 and his horse/ which were all he had to sustain him, 
 and assured him they would be taken from him. The 
 other answered, ‘You are more to be pitied who was not 
 so happy as to be there. For my part, if the Lord would 
 maintain me in what I hope I have won to, I would not 
 only part with these, but my head likewise, if called to it/” 
 
 Many similar instances of the success of the gospel 
 in those times are found recorded by the writers of the 
 period. Mr Blackader, who was one of the most dis- 
 tinguished and judicious of the conventicle preachers, 
 says: <c During this time, called the blink (1671), which 
 continued about a quarter of a year, several meetings 
 and remarkable passages fell out. Several ministers, 
 
10 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 some of whom not at all, others rarely, preached at 
 public meetings, especially in the fields, vrere stirred up 
 and animated with greater confidence to exercise their 
 ministry ; as also, many more of the people, both gentry 
 and others, burgesses in towns, &c, came forth to these 
 public assemblies. Lauderdale being still commissioned, 
 and in Scotland all the time, and also knew thereof; 
 but was so overruled by an invisible power, that he and 
 others used little force against any of these meetings all 
 that time. These conventicles did wonderfully increase 
 in number. In many shires ministers were invited, and 
 preached at the parishes* desire in several kirks and 
 pulpits ; meetings of several thousand in the fields ; 
 and not only did the Lord restrain the rulers and soldiers 
 from forcibly assaulting, but gave great signs in their 
 presence everywhere in these assemblies, making his 
 w T ord, even in the mouth of the weakest of his servants, 
 not only to convert several who could date their new 
 birth from that time, but generally on all who came to 
 attend these ordinances ; which forced them to say, that 
 God was with them of a truth : yea, so great w^as the 
 appearance of God that season, that the enemies were 
 forced to look on, as men damped and astonished. 
 One of the greatest of them said to a gentleman, whom 
 he alleged to be a favourer of the Reformation, ‘ Faith, 
 I trow your folk shall carry the day now/ ” 
 
 In another place he says, “ It pleased the Lord to 
 visit Galloway and Nithsdale again with a great blink 
 of the gospel, and four public communions within three 
 years; where there hath appeared more success than 
 ever before. Also, poor Annandale hath been visited 
 wdth public preaching near these two years, with no 
 small affection of the people to the gospel, and some 
 really engaged in several parts thereof, till now there is 
 ane interruption in Nithsdale, Annandale, and the 
 Stew T artry,by horse and drowgunnes, who are lying there 
 for the time. It broke up in the shire of Galloway this 
 last summer, with great confluence of people, and 
 divers of the gentry of quality/’ 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS. 
 
 11 
 
 In speaking of a great conventicle held in Teviotdale, 
 where the Lord’s supper was dispensed, he says, “And 
 truly the spectacle of so many grave, composed, and de- 
 vout faces, must have struck the adversaries with awe, 
 and been more formidable than any outward ability of 
 fierce looks and warlike array. We desired not the 
 countenance of earthly kings; there was a spiritual and 
 divine majesty shining on the work, and sensible evi- 
 dence that the great Master of assemblies was present 
 in the midst. It was indeed the doing of the Lord, who 
 covered us a table in the wilderness in the presence of 
 our foes, and reared a pillar of glory between us and 
 the enemy, like the fiery cloud of old that separated 
 between the camp of Israel and the Egyptians, encour- 
 aging to the one, but dark and terrible to the other. 
 Though our vows were not offered within the courts of 
 God’s house, they wanted not sincerity of heart, which 
 is better than the reverence of sanctuaries. Amidst the 
 lonely mountains w*e remembered the words of our 
 Lord, that true worship was not peculiar to Jerusalem 
 or Samaria : that the beauty of holiness consisted not 
 in consecrated buildings or material temples. We 
 remembered the ark of the Israelites which had sojourned 
 for years in the desert, with no dwelling-place but the 
 tabernacle of the plain. We thought of Abraham and 
 the ancient patriarchs, who laid their victims on the 
 rocks for an altar, and burnt sweet incense under the 
 shade of the green tree. 
 
 46 The ordinance of the last supper, that memorial of 
 His dying love till his second coming, was signally coun- 
 tenanced, and backed with power and refreshing influ- 
 ence from above. Blessed be God, for he hath visited 
 and confirmed his heritage when it was weary. In that 
 day Zion put on the beauty of Sharon and Carmel ; the 
 mountains brake forth in singing, and the desert place 
 was made to bud and blossom as the rose. Few such days 
 were seen in the desolate Church of Scotland, and few 
 will ever witness the like. There was a rich and plenti- 
 ful effusion of the Spirit shed abroad in many hearts. 
 
12 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 Their souls, filled with heavenly raptures, seemed to 
 breathe in a diviner element, and to bum upwards as 
 with the fire of a pure and holy devotion. The minis- 
 ters were visibly assisted to speak home to the con- 
 science of the hearers. It seemed as if God had touched 
 their lips with a live coal from his altar, for they who wit- 
 nessed declared ‘ they carried more like ambassadors from 
 the court of heaven than men cast in earthly mould/” 
 In another place he says, “ Take notice, therefore, of 
 the wondrous works of the Lord, and these his mar- 
 vellous doings, even those in the wild places of Northum- 
 berland, that was a land that one could scarcely ride 
 through without being spoiled by thieves and robbers. 
 Now, a thievish country is become a civil country; and 
 a people of no understanding are made a wise and pru- 
 dent people of the gospel.” 
 
 Patrick Walker, who passed through the scenes of 
 these trying times, says, when speaking of what he calls 
 the “ good-ill times of persecution,” that “it was a 
 time of great sinning and suffering; which was a 
 defiling furnace to the most part, and which is not 
 purged away to this day; but a purifying day to those 
 who kept clean hands and garments ; a day of power 
 of the gospel to the conviction and conversion of many 
 souls; which made some to call in question if there had 
 been a greater since the apostles' days, in so short a 
 time and so small bounds as the south and west of 
 Scotland, for some years after the standard of the gospel 
 was publicly set up in the fields, especially on the four 
 occasions of the sacraments dispensed in the open fields, 
 — viz., Maybole, Irongray, East Nisbet Haugli, and 
 Haughhead, in the years 1677, 1678, and 1679, before 
 Both well; — a day of great confirmation, support, and 
 comfort to the souls of his people, and of very remark- 
 able steps of his providence towards their bodies, until 
 they were some way fitted and spirited for trials ; and 
 their hour came wherein the Lord answered them in 
 the day of their distress, and wherein they had their 
 Bethels, Penuels, and Mahanaims, which made them 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS. 
 
 13 
 
 set up stones, and write on them Ebenezer, that hitherto 
 had the Lord helped.” 
 
 These testimonies obviously show that a religious re- 
 vival of no common kind actually took place in the 
 days of the conventicles, when “ the desert was made 
 to rejoice and blossom as the rose/’ An awakening 
 was experienced in every corner of the land, where 
 ejected ministers set up their tents. Whether they 
 preached in houses or in fields the result was the same ; 
 the Lord bore testimony to the word of his grace ; and 
 while the souls of his own people were refreshed as with 
 a dew from on high, sinners were gathered in flocks 
 within the fold of Christ. Perhaps there never w r as a 
 meeting in desert places, or elsewhere, without a mighty 
 spiritual influence coming down at the same time on 
 many hearts. And as the ranks of the witnesses were 
 daily thinned by persecution, so the great Head of the 
 church was rearing and marshalling hosts in the wilder- 
 ness, to supply the place of those who were incessantly 
 drained off. Every conversion at a conventicle fur- 
 nished a fresh witness, who was ready to stand forward 
 to bear his testimony on the*day of trial. Where one 
 fell two rose, and, in some cases, even scores were 
 evoked at one and the same time, by the powerful ap- 
 peals at the conventicle. 
 
 It becomes, therefore, a matter of something more 
 than mere curiosity to inquire what the kind of doc- 
 trine was which w r as preached by the conventiclers, and 
 which was thus signally owned by the Spirit of the 
 Lord for the conversion of such multitudes in those 
 times of peril and bloodshed. Conversions then were 
 realities, and not merely things in appearance, as they 
 may often happen professionally to be in the days of the 
 church’s tranquillity. There is only one doctrine, we 
 know, which the Divine Spirit countenances in the 
 conversion of sinners to God ; and that is the doctrine 
 concerning Jesus Christ, and Him crucified , and this 
 doctrine exhibited in all its breadth, and length, and 
 urgency. 
 
14 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 It is to be regretted that we have not more numerous 
 specimens of the sermons delivered by the conventicle 
 preachers, as in that case we would be enabled to glean 
 from a wider field, and to furnish a greater body of evi- 
 dence relative to the specific topics of their addresses. 
 As it is, however, we possess enough to show what they 
 did preach, and how far they exhibited, in their minis- 
 trations, the glorious gospel of the blessed God. In 
 looking at the heavenly truth which these great men of 
 the covenant dealt out so liberally and so scripturally to 
 the crowds to whom they proclaimed the divine mes- 
 sage, it has not a little surprised us to observe how far 
 they excelled, in the right direction, not a few of the 
 preachers in our own times, of whom better things might 
 be expected. 
 
 In the prosecution of our inquiries into the doctrine 
 maintained at the conventicles, it is our intention to bring 
 before the reader some of the well-known and popular 
 preachers of those stirring times, and to give a few ex- 
 tracts from their discourses that have been transmitted 
 to our times; and the first of these eminent men that 
 claims our notice is John Blackader, minister of Tro- 
 queer, in the vicinity of Dumfries. He was one of the 
 leading conventicle preachers, and from the time of his 
 ejection he continued to minister in houses and in fields, 
 as opportunity offered, till his imprisonment in the Bass, 
 where he died. No one who has consulted the Life of 
 Mr Blackader will entertain the conviction that he was 
 anything else than an intelligent, prudent, cautious man, 
 and one who feared the Lord above many. He could 
 never be charged with extravagances, flights, and heats, 
 as they were called; for the tenor of his conduct was 
 that of an evenly, composed, and well-principled per- 
 son, who had the honour of his Master and the salva- 
 tion of souls constantly in his view, and who possessed 
 a solidity of mind, and a calm earnestness of manner, 
 which entirely divested him of the imputation of an 
 enthusiast. Mr Blackader, along with Mr Welsh, and 
 a few others, presided at the more frequent and most 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS BLACKADER. 15 
 
 numerous conventicles that were ever held in Scotland; 
 and their ministrations were blessed in an uncommon 
 degree to the good of thousands. The circumspect 
 and judicious behaviour of Mr Blackader was a suffi- 
 cient guarantee, therefore, that every thing at these con- 
 venticles would be conducted in the most orderly and 
 seemly manner. The fact that for many a long year Mr 
 Blackader was the very soul of these conventicles is a 
 sufficient refutation of all the calumnies that were uttered 
 by their adversaries. 
 
 It is much to be regretted that we do not possess 
 more of what Mr Blackader uttered in these religious 
 assemblies, — his papers would have been invaluable; — 
 but it was the custom of the soldiers, in plundering the 
 houses of the ministers, to seize especially on their 
 papers, and to carry them to the authorities for inspec- 
 tion ; and in this way many of the manuscripts of 
 these worthy men were carried off, and placed beyond 
 the possibility of recovery. The extracts from his 
 remaining writings, which we shall here give, though 
 not on the particular points of the gospel, will, never- 
 theless, abundantly show that this chief of the con- 
 venticles was all that we have affirmed him to be. In 
 his sermon on the restoration of Zion’s captivity, from 
 the text, u When the Lord turned again the captivity 
 of Zion, we were like them that dream, ” he dwells 
 mainly on the anticipated deliverance of the church in 
 his native land, which was so sorely trodden down 
 under the feet of the oppressor. With this prospect 
 he tries to cheer the hearts of the sufferers in the dark 
 and cloudy day : — 
 
 “ Now, I think I need not tell you of this, that the 
 kirk of God may be led to captivity ; for this people, 
 that was the only nearest and dearest to him upon 
 earth, were led to captivity, and must go threescore and 
 ten years down to Babylon. And who knows how 
 long our time may be ? But if you speir why they con- 
 tinued so long, I answer, Because the Lord had so 
 appointed it. And it is no new thing, that ye are con- 
 
16 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 tinuing this day so sad ; and I would not have you to 
 offend at God for this, nor yet to look on it as a 
 strange thing that he should suffer a people near to him 
 to go to captivity, and stay long there, till his time of 
 delivery come. 
 
 44 But I see another thing in the captivity of the 
 kirk of God. When the Lord has laid those who are 
 his people in captivity and bondage, and tried them by 
 affliction, as he did Joseph in prison, they are all to 
 return back again : for the church’s captivity is not like 
 an enemy’s, that never returns; though she go down 
 to Babylon threescore and ten years, — a long time to 
 her. Her adversaries think that she will never return; 
 but the Lord has a set and an appointed time for her 
 return, as well as for her going into captivity : for the 
 Lord her Redeemer is mighty and strong to deliver and 
 bring her back again. Therefore, I say, seek on to 
 know the Lord, and follow him in the way of your 
 duty : and, if you will do so, I dare promise you, in 
 God’s great name, an answer of all your prayers, to 
 your joy and rejoicing. Make ye sure with God, and 
 then you may be sure that he will not devour nor destroy 
 the land. If ye cleave to him and follow him in the 
 sincerity of your hearts, and put your life in his hands 
 in the way of believing, then I am sure and do promise 
 you, that he will not break the everlasting covenant 
 and contract between him and us, but will own us as 
 his church and people ; and then I shall promise you, 
 there shall be a time when the church’s captivity shall 
 be turned back again. But we cannot, we cannot tell 
 you, nor no man, when that shall be, for the times and 
 seasons are not for us to know : but they are in His 
 hand who should not be inquired after; for he doth in 
 heaven and earth what pleaseth him, and who may say, 
 4 What doest thou ?’ Wait on him, and ye need not 
 fear but ye shall be delivered out of this. 
 
 44 4 When the Lord turned back the captivity of Zion, 
 we were like them that dream from which I would 
 have you to mark, that in the return of the Lord’s 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS BLACKADER. 17 
 
 people, either from a foreign land, or from great bond- 
 age and affliction in their own land, it was to be in 
 such a manner, that men could hardly get it believed 
 to be a delivering w T hen it comes. Those who see it best 
 shall have to say, in that day they were like men 
 dreaming, it shall be so wonderful ; they shall not be 
 certain till the deliverance be wrought, any more than 
 a man asleep can tell the truth of his dream till he 
 awake.” 
 
 Farther on in the discourse, he says, “ Since ye have 
 ground of hope that God will return our captivity in 
 his appointed time, then study thankfulness to him in 
 all your ways ; and that ye may do so, take the Bible, 
 his own word, along with you for every piece of your 
 walk, and in all your deportment, as becomes the gospel 
 of Christ ; and take the Bible, and not anything in 
 yourselves, for the ground of your hope, that ye may 
 rest on good ground ; and so much the more with con- 
 fidence in God's word, expect to see a wondrous work 
 wrought in Britain and Ireland. Now do not mistake 
 me ; think not that I am bidding you expect miracles 
 now — although he may as well now as long ago — for he 
 has ceased now from miracles, and works now by means 
 and second causes : but we may look for some strange 
 act, or for some wonderful dispensation God will make 
 use of in an ordinary way, for the deliverance of his 
 church, either as to the time or means, if not both ; 
 for the return of his people shall be as when a man 
 dream eth. A strange work it will be, and a wonder, but 
 no miracle.” 
 
 Again, he says, “ But in that day when the Lord 
 shall vindicate his people’s integrity, and bring their 
 righteousness forth as the light, and their judgment as 
 the noon-day, then shall enemies see who have been 
 the greatest fanatics, rebels, and traitors to the king 
 and country, and who have been the best subjects; 
 then shall enemies themselves know and bear witness 
 to the people of God, who would not break the vows of 
 God and bonds upon their consciences, for the pleasure 
 
18 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 of men and their interest. Go the world as it will, ye 
 have been the best subjects ; they shall confess this, 
 when enemies shall be the first to say, Behold how 
 great and admirable things God hath done for his 
 people!” 
 
 Is there anything like fanaticism in all this ? any- 
 thing of those foolish ravings with which these men 
 were injuriously charged? We have quoted these few 
 sentences at the commencement of our extracts to show 
 the soberness of mind which characterised one of the 
 master spirits among the Covenanting party, and which 
 may be regarded as a pretty fair specimen of the spirit 
 which was distinctive of the rest. 
 
 The main thing, however, which we have in view in 
 making the subsequent extracts from the discourses of 
 conventicle preachers, is, as we have already stated, to 
 show the specific doctrines on which they descanted, 
 and the manner in which they presented the recognised 
 truth to the acceptance of sinners; and this the more 
 especially, as their ministrations were attended with 
 such divine power from on high ; for we know that the 
 Spirit of God will not set to the seal of his approbation, 
 in the conversion of sinners, to a doctrine which is not 
 of his own inspiration as given in the Book of Grace. 
 
 We shall here present the reader with a few more 
 lengthened quotations from Mr Blackader, in reference 
 to his peculiar manner in handling the gospel message. 
 The following extracts are from two sermons which he 
 preached at Kilbride, in the autumn of the year 16^5, 
 from the text, “ He shall see of the travail of his soul, 
 and shall be satisfied:” — 
 
 “ Now, I come unto a short word of application. 
 What say ye unto it, when we are speaking of Christ's 
 travail ? which, alas ! we can give you but a poor, 
 narrow hint of. Will ye make it your study more and 
 more to search, and know more of the soul- sufferings 
 of our Lord Jesus ? What say ye unto the sufferings 
 of our Lord that he suffered in his soul? and what 
 think ye of them ? All the angels in heaven are look- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — BLACK ADER. ID 
 
 ing into this mystery, 4 God manifest in the flesh;' God- 
 man suffering in our nature, to reconcile sinners unto 
 himself. They look and wonder, and they can never 
 come at the bottom of it. Strange mystery ! A world’s 
 wonder ! O, sirs, what think ye of it, that the soul of 
 Him that was God was thus put to travail for your sins ? 
 What think ye of it, O west country and parish of Kil- 
 bride, before whom Christ crucified has been evidently 
 set forth many a day before you in the gospel, and in- 
 culcated upon you ? What say ye to it, that have this 
 day heard a short repetition of Christ’s soul’s travail, and 
 some of the fruits of it ? What think ye of it ? But, 
 alas ! woe’s me, I am afraid that all is wrong with many 
 of you. I fear we may say to many in Scotland, and to 
 many of you, what the apostle said to the unbelieving 
 Jews at Antioch, who, when he had been setting forth 
 the sufferings of Christ and the fruits of them, offering 
 Christ unto them, and through him the forgiveness of 
 sins, he comes to give them this caveat, 4 Beware, there- 
 fore , lest that come upon you that is spoken of in the pro- 
 phets; Behold , ye despisers , and wonder , and perish' The 
 Lord forbid that we should have this to apply to you, 
 Behold a crucified Christ, a soul-travailing Redeemer; 
 behold him bleeding in his love wounds, and scorched 
 before the fire of divine justice ; behold him bleeding on 
 the cross ; behold him dead and buried ; behold him in 
 his soul’s travail, and wonder and perish ! ” 
 
 Again, he says, 44 What is our Lord doing by his gos- 
 pel ? We have our record in heaven this day, that this 
 is our great errand amongst you, to gather in the travail 
 of his soul ; to see where there is any of the lost sheep 
 of the house of Israel, and to get a grip of them ; to 
 get poor, bankrupt sinners, who are bound captives to 
 sin and Satan, and have nothing to pay their debt, 
 brought in to the Saviour and set free. And it is the 
 enemy’s design this day to obstruct this ; but it is above 
 their hand to hinder it, though they are despisers. So 
 they add more to what they have already done; they are 
 adding more soul-suffering to Christ, for he has a sym- 
 
20 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 pathy with his mystical body, the church : 4 Saul, Saul, 
 why persecutest thou me?’ O despisers ! wonder and 
 perish ; ye that slight all that Christ’s soul hath endured 
 already. And not only so, but they must add opposi- 
 tions to the afflicted, and persecute Him in his members 
 whose soul suffered before. ,, 
 
 In another place he says, “ A word unto you sinners 
 who are out of Christ, and yet slaves unto your lusts. 
 It is a day of ChristYgood-will to Scotland, — good news 
 to you poor strangers, sinners, — the best news that ever 
 ye heard, — that Jesus Christ was put to such sore soul- 
 travail for reconciling sinners unto God. But you will 
 say, c Alas ! minister, what of that ; I know and have 
 heard of that, but that is for the saints, friends and 
 followers of God, or godly folk/ But, graceless person, 
 who art thou, yet lying in enmity against God ? what 
 wilt thou say if thou shalt find it in Scripture, that all 
 this his souls travail was for enemies and them that are 
 ungodly ? and wilt thou add a column to it ? And we 
 shall prove that thou must do so, if thou wert the most 
 debauched sinner in all Scotland, — and there are as de- 
 bauched sinners in it as in all the world. What wouldst 
 thou say if thou shalt find thy name engraven upon the 
 soul-sufferings of Christ? Bead Bomans 5th and 6th : 
 ‘ For when we were without strength, in due time Christ 
 died for the ungodly/ He died not for saints or friends, 
 but for ungodly persons like unto thee; and even for 
 enemies, as in the 10th verse, 6 When we were enemies , 
 we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son/ 
 Now, enemy and sinner, what sayest thou ? canst thou 
 lay any claim to it ? or hast thou any use for the soul- 
 sufferings of Christ ? for it was for such sinners as thou 
 art. 
 
 M But I will tell thee better news yet, if better news 
 can he told thee : There is authority given from the great 
 Master, whose soul travailed all this travail, unto his 
 lawful and sent servants to treat with ungodly sinners 
 upon the satisfaction of his soul’s travail. To ‘us is com- 
 mitted the word of reconciliation and, says the same 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — BLACKADER. 21 
 
 apostle, 4 We pray you in Christ’s stead be ye reconciled 
 unto God/ And we have a warrant and unquestion- 
 able foundation of assurance that backs our request, that 
 it shall be made out : for 4 He shall see the travail of his 
 soul, and be satisfied ;’ for 4 He hath made him sin for us, 
 who knew no sin, that w r e might become the righteous- 
 ness of God in him/ And what sayest thou to that ? 
 Come, then, graceless and godless sinner, and once more 
 be invited to come to Christ, before ye hear that dreadful 
 sound, 4 Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, 
 prepared for the devil and his angels/ Come, then, and 
 partake of the soul- sufferings of Christ. And we ob- 
 test and charge you, before the great Judge of the quick 
 and the dead, and by all the torments of hell, and all 
 the joys of heaven and earth, and by that precious, im- 
 mortal soul of yours, that, be what ye will, ye come in 
 now and have a share of the soul-travail of Christ. Is 
 thy name Sin ? then he was made sin. Is it abominable, 
 destitute of righteousness, yea, sin and all sin? then he 
 was made sin in the abstract for us, 4 that we might be 
 made the righteousness of God in him/ Come, then, 
 and confess your sins, 4 only acknowledge your iniqui- 
 ties/ and that thou hast walked contrary to him. 
 Humble yourselves, take with your libel, even all the 
 curses and condemnation of the law; and bring your 
 bill and put it into Christ’s hand, and tell him you are 
 not able to pay it; and see what he can make of it by 
 the travail of his soul. He can cancel all in the sight of 
 God his Father; only confess your faults, take with the 
 charge, and break off your sins by repentance. Cast 
 down your weapons of sin, and let them be no more ; 
 let him that is filthy be filthy no more. Lay down your 
 weapons, if ye would share of the soul-travail of Christ. 
 4 Come away,’ says the Spirit of God; 4 fury is not in me : 
 let him make peace with me, and he shall have peace 
 with me.’ The Lord himself make a barganqof it. Amen/’ 
 The preceding extracts are from the discourse which 
 he delivered in the forenoon, and the following are from 
 his afternoon sermon on the same text : — 
 
22 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 u We told you last that it was for ungodly sinners, 
 debauched sinners, and the chief of sinners. We asked 
 again and again, if ye had any use or need of this 
 travail ; and we shall ask it as long as there is any un- 
 godly sinner out of hell, when the everlasting gospel is 
 preached ; — hut we know not how long our time and 
 yours shall be together. We spake also of what 
 improvement ye should make of this soul-travail; — and, 
 O strange, strange ! that we should have to put you 
 again in mind, and that the sense of need puts you not 
 in mind of it. In all this it was true that for wicked 
 and ungodly sinners he died : for the ungodly, to make 
 them godly: and he died for enemies, to make them 
 friends ; but it is a certain truth that he died for them 
 while they were enemies. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, 
 David, &c., yea, all the chief of the saints that are now 
 in heaven, what were they once but ungodly men ? 
 Christ died for these while ungodly, even as ungodly, 
 some of them, as you and I am. He had not another 
 sort to die for, but enemies and ungodly sinners ; and 
 he had no call to have died had they been so. There- 
 fore, again and again I tell you these good news, even 
 all you ungodly sinners that are in the land of the 
 living and out of hell, — Christ’s soul travailed for ene- 
 mies and ungodly men such as you and I am. May 
 ye not come then, and get a share of it imputed unto 
 you for righteousness ? And you stout-hearted sinners, 
 that are far from righteousness, what will ye do ? 
 will ye protract time, until the time be changed ? it 
 may be it will never be put in the mouth of a messenger 
 of God to come so near hand with an offer of peace 
 unto you again. What shift will ye make in a little ? 
 ye will not have the opportunity every day to come to 
 a moor-side to hear the joyful sound. O then for a 
 touch of this soul-travail of Christ to reconcile you to 
 God! Take it in time, so long as ye may have it. 
 Til tell you what many a soul once in Britain and 
 Ireland, now in hell, is crying, c We once heard the 
 fame of the gospel, and woes us that we slighted the 
 
THE CONVENTTCLE PREACHERS — BLACKADER. 23 
 
 call and cry of ministers, praying us to be reconciled to 
 God/ Then shall answer the reflex sound in the con- 
 science, — for all the preaching-days, fast-days, and great 
 communion-days, all these shall sound again in the 
 conscience, that shall he more dreadful than the shrieks 
 of devils, — ‘ I heard the fame of the soul-travail of 
 Christ, but I cared nothing for it. Then, woe’s me, 
 that I hated instruction and despised the voice of my 
 teachers/ All this and more will be your cry then, 
 believe it, if ye hearken not in time. 
 
 “ There is no more ado now, but to lay down your 
 weapons of rebellion, and accept the offer of Christ, 
 and that without money and without price ; only be 
 sensible of want, misery, and unworthiness, and be 
 willing. O debauched sinner, that hast been so willing 
 to sin, wilt thou be heartily willing to be saved, and to 
 take the soul-travail of Christ this day ? Here it is 
 offered, and it is like it is for thy sake that this text of 
 Scripture is preached this day. Wilt thou not be per- 
 suaded ? or is the pleasure of sin so sweet that thou 
 wilt sit the invitation a quarter of an hour? Ye know 
 not but he may take back his word, and clap a righte- 
 ous curse of hardness upon your heart ; or the devil 
 shall cast in some impediment or other in your way, in 
 the application of this soul-travail of Christ. We are 
 aiming to have some ungodly sinner made godly, and 
 some enemy reconciled unto God, this day, and we wot 
 not what will become of it. Oh, that there might be 
 a bargain of it among you this day, when Christ is 
 offered to you. Well, sirs, he shall see of the travail of 
 his soul, and shall be satisfied, — good news as ever ye 
 heard: he travailed to the full, and finished the journey, 
 and brought forth the great birth of salvation to pur- 
 pose, and that unto every elect mind to the end of the 
 world. Peace with God, and pardon of all transgres- 
 sions, are for them wrought out by this soul- travail of 
 Christ. But we have better news to tell you yet ; and 
 that is, Christ shall see the travail of his soul made out 
 unto himself : he shall be a living witness to see all 
 
24 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the travail of his soul recompensed. This lies not on 
 your name or mine, or the church’s care. O sirs, 
 if it did so, we would not take meikle pains of it in 
 gathering in his soul’s travail ; — but he himself shall see 
 it done/’ 
 
 These extracts are fraught with rich and precious 
 gospel truth, applied to the conscience with an urgency 
 not easy to be resisted. They are not merely dry 
 doctrinal statements, addressed to the head rather than 
 to the heart, as matters of mere speculative considera- 
 tion ; but they have about them a warmth, and a raci- 
 ness, and a soul-stirring earnestness, suited to the 
 prodigious importance of the theme, and the inestimable 
 value of the human soul. 
 
 Mr Blackader, in his sermons, seems never to have 
 forgotten the faithful advices tendered to him by the 
 venerable Mr Archibald, minister of Dunscore, on the 
 Sabbath after his ordination, when he was introduced 
 to his congregation at Troqueer. Mr Archibald took 
 occasion to lay before him the leading theme of the 
 Christian ministry, namely, “ That the first duty of the 
 pulpit was to preach the gospel, — to make the Christian 
 atonement a prominent topic in all its instructions. As 
 the herald of grace, it became a divine ambassador to 
 proclaim the doctrines of grace, to publish the free offers 
 of salvation, and make the example of Christ to be 
 distinctly recognised in his earthly representative. 
 Without this, he had mistaken his errand, and was un- 
 worthy to bear the seal and commission of his heavenly 
 Master. At the same time, his plan ought to compre- 
 hend all parts of Scripture truth that could influence 
 men’s practice, or amend their lives.” 
 
 The discourses from which the extracts are taken 
 were preached, as we have said, in the year 1675. 
 This was about the middle of the great conventicle era, 
 when, as Patrick Walker says, the gospel went to the 
 fields. At first the outed ministers, as they were called, 
 preached in private houses ; but at length, owing to the 
 prodigious increase of their audiences, and other circum- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS BLACK ADER. 25 
 
 stances, they were compelled to betake themselves to 
 the fields and moorlands, where they had ample scope 
 and freedom. These field conventicles occupied more 
 especially the middle decade of the persecuting period. 
 Mr Blackader, in a letter to his friend, Mr M‘Ward, 
 then in Holland, says in reference to the testimony of 
 conventicle preaching : — 
 
 “ The first time that work began, was by four or five 
 ministers in Galloway and Nithsdale, immediately after 
 our outcasting, who did continue preaching within the 
 stewartry of Galloway, and sheriffdom of Nithsdale, from 
 the latter end of the year 1662 till April 1666 ; during 
 which time Sir J. Turner, with the forces, made three 
 several expeditions into Galloway, till at last the perse- 
 cution of people and ministers became so great, that the 
 ministers were forced to withdraw and shelter them- 
 selves elsewhere : which scattering, and the great per- 
 secution in Galloway after Pentland, did occasion that 
 long and sad interruption of the work there, from 1666 
 until about the spring of 1675, which was ordered in 
 holy, wise providence, to the further extending of that 
 work than was intended either by enemies or friends ; 
 for in the year 1667 did break up that glorious appear- 
 ance of our Lord and mighty power of the gospel in 
 Northumberland ; about which time also preaching be- 
 came more frequent and public in the city of Edinburgh, 
 which continued for several years. 
 
 “ About 1668 it broke up, and spread in Linlithgow- 
 shire, where it hath continued with great success unto 
 this day (1679) without any long interval. About the 
 same time it broke up in Stirlingshire, and hath con- 
 tinued unto this day with good success, with some 
 intermixt blasts of persecution. In the year of Lauder- 
 dale's first session of parliament, about six weeks before, 
 began the first public preaching in the fields in Fife ; 
 hut few more after that until the Hill of Beath, which 
 fell out in June, about two years after, and hath since 
 spread throughout all parts of Fife, and hath continued, 
 with some interruption of blasts, to this day, with great 
 
20 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 success. About the year 1074 it brdke up in East 
 Lothian ; and after some interruption, it broke up again, 
 and spread in the ’7 0 more than before, and yet con- 
 tinued! with good success. In the 1675 and *70, it broke 
 up in the fields in Teviotdale and Merse, where there 
 was frequent preaching in houses long before ; which 
 was occasioned by the apprehending of honest Mr 
 William Erskine, who had preached both publicly and 
 at his own house for several years before, and was instru- 
 mental of much good. It broke up in Tweeddale about 
 June 1677, and yet continueth with good success. 
 There hath been many public preachings in Mid- 
 Lothian, bewest Edinburgh, within this month, among 
 these ignorant people, whose number still grows, and 
 hears with great affection. Great meetings are broken up 
 about Perthshire, about April and May 1678, and have 
 spread there since with great success. It pleased the 
 Lord to visit Galloway and Nithsdale again with a 
 great blink of the gospel, and four public commun- 
 ions within three years ; where there hath appeared more 
 success than ever before. Also, poor Annandale hath 
 been visited with public preaching near these two years, 
 with no small affection of the people to the gospel and 
 some really engaged in several parts thereof, till now 
 there is ane interruption in Nithsdale, Annandale, and 
 the stewartry, by horse and drawgunnes, who are lying 
 there for the time. It broke up in the shire of Gallo- 
 way this last summer, with great confluence of people, 
 and divers of the gentry of quality. It broke up about 
 Dumbarton about the spring of this last year, and is like 
 to break in towards the Highlands. 
 
 “ I suppose you have heard of the breaking up of it 
 in Garrick, and the two great days of communion that 
 were there. It is about four or five years since it broke 
 up publicly about Lanark, Lesmahago, and Tintock. 
 What great meetings there have been about Glasgow, 
 in the nether ward of Clydesdale, and towards Ren- 
 frew, and the west country, I doubt not but you have 
 heard, and much more this last year than formerly. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — BLACKADER. 27 
 
 It seems all the common enemy hath yet done, even by 
 their late forces raised expressly for suppressing that 
 work, hath tended, and doth still tend, to the great 
 furtherance thereof. If our own miscarriages and mis- 
 guiding does not put it away, it will not be in their 
 power to do it. But being hastened by the bearer, I 
 must break off. It is beyond all doubt that there are 
 many more converts in Scotland than ever. Let the 
 Lord do with us as he pleases.” 
 
 This year, 1675, when the discourses to which we 
 have alluded were preached by Mr Blackader at a con- 
 venticle at Kilbride, was especially distinguished by the 
 efforts put forth by the authorities for the suppression 
 of field-preaching. “ The chief topics of the year 1 675,” 
 says Dr Hetherington, “ so far as it is distinguished 
 from preceding years, were, the establishing of garrisons 
 in several parts of the country, the act of intercommun- 
 ing, and the dissensions among the prelates. The first 
 of these measures arose from the rapid progress of field- 
 preaching, which it was found impossible to suppress 
 by the means hitherto employed. For this reason an 
 act of council was passed, appointing garrisons to be 
 placed in the houses of two noblemen and ten gentle- 
 men in those parts of the country where conventicles 
 and field-preaching were most prevalent. In each 
 instance the garrison was placed in the residence of a 
 friend to the suffering Presbyterians, that he might be 
 oppressed and reduced to poverty by the free quarters 
 of the soldiery, while they were watching their oppor- 
 tunity to seize upon the ministers by whom these for- 
 bidden meetings were held. 
 
 “ The issuing of letters of c intercommuning/ as they 
 were called, was one of the most oppressive and inhuman 
 deeds ever perpetrated by despotism. After mentioning 
 by name above a hundred persons, of whom sixteen or 
 eighteen were ministers, and who were all declared to 
 be in a state of rebellion on account of their holding and 
 frequenting conventicles, this document proceeds in the 
 following terms : — ‘We charge and command all and 
 
28 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 sundry our lieges and subjects, that they, nor none of 
 them, presume, nor take upon hand to reset, supply, or 
 intercommune with any of the foresaid persons, our 
 rebels, nor furnish them with meat, drink, house, har- 
 bour, victual, nor no other thing useful or comfortable 
 to them ; nor have intelligence with them, by word, writ, 
 or message, or any other manner of way ; under the pain 
 to be reputed and esteemed art and part with them in 
 the crimes foresaid, and pursued therefor with all rigour, 
 to the terror of others/ 
 
 “ By this fiend-like measure the nearest relations 
 were prohibited from assisting one another ; the wife 
 might not assist the husband, nor the husband the 
 wife ; the brother might not comfort the brother, nor 
 the parent give food and shelter to the son, if the 
 sufferers had been intercommuned. Every feeling of 
 humanity, every tie of nature, every bond of affection, 
 was outraged, — and for what ? That prelacy might be 
 established in Scotland ! Yes, for that and something 
 more ; — that the supremacy of the king, equally in spirit- 
 ual as in civil matters, might be confirmed, a pure 
 despotism erected, religion trampled under foot, the 
 sovereignty of the Lord Jesus over his church abolished, 
 and Christianity reduced to a political engine for sway- 
 ing the community. And Scottish prelacy assisted 
 willingly in the prosecution of this truly diabolical 
 scheme, by measures such as Sir Walter Scott says 
 might have been suggested by Satan.” 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell on the great success of Mr 
 Blackader’s ministry at the conventicles ; but I shall 
 here give an anecdote as related by his son, which 
 indicates the powerful effects of his appeals on the 
 minds of his auditors : — 
 
 “ I was once with my father at a conventicle, as they 
 call it, on the craig above Balcarras, in Fife, where was 
 a great confluence of people, and many of distinction. 
 His text was Job xxiii. 8 : ; Oh that I knew where I 
 might find him/ While he was setting forth the 
 miseries of those who had lost God for ever, and de- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS BLACKADER. 29 
 
 spaired ever to find him in mercy, &c., a countryman 
 with a blue bonnet, standing hard by me, dropt down 
 all of a sudden, and tumbled over and over upon the 
 ground. My mother, who was sitting upon the 
 stones beside me, cries, ‘Dear sirs, will ye take care of 
 the poor man, for he is sick/ But none durst come 
 near him. After he tumbled and wrestled about half a 
 minute, he threw himself upon his back at full length, 
 and takes himself all in his arms, and hugs himself ; 
 then lifted up his eyes to heaven, (it seems they had been 
 shut all this time,) and cried out, 4 Oh, blessed be the 
 Lord that ever I did see this happy day/ With that 
 he starts quickly upon his feet, his hair all hanging 
 about his eyes, his bonnet lying under foot, and cries, 
 
 4 Let me till him, for the Lord’s sake let me till him ; 9 
 meaning my father, and came near the tent. All this 
 while there was such a noise and disturbance among 
 the people, that my father was necessitat to desist for a 
 time, not knowing the matter, till he observed the poor 
 man pressing to be near him. Then he gave a sign to 
 the people to give way and let him come forward ; 
 which they did, till he came to the very tent door, when 
 my father began where he had left off, the poor man 
 staring him all the while broad in the face, and hearing 
 every word as if he had been sucking it out of the 
 preacher’s mouth. When all was over, and my father 
 going to a neighbour house with some of the gentry, to 
 take a little refreshment, the poor man comes to the 
 door, and would needs be in. The people of the house 
 told him he could not have access as yet ; but the man 
 was importunate, and cries, 4 Dear sirs, hinder me not, 
 for I maun speak with the minister : ’ which they ac- 
 quainted my father with, who caused all present to 
 withdraw ; then called him into the room, where he 
 made a clear breast, confessing what for a notorious 
 sinner he had been all his life, — an enemy to every 
 thing that was good ; and, as I have heard my father 
 afterwards say, he confessed one sin that was capital. 
 Such instances of the power and irresistible grace of 
 
30 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 God, he used to say, rejoiced his heart, and did him 
 more good than twenty years’ stipend.” 
 
 Mr Blackader’s son relates an anecdote of his father 
 similar to this, which on account of its interesting char- 
 acter, may be given here : — 
 
 “ A remarkable passage occurred at Cramond kirk, 
 after Bothwell Brig affair, when there was a greater 
 liberty than we had enjoyed for many years, but lasted 
 not long. The curate of that parish happened to be 
 absent one Sunday, when my father had got a call to 
 preach within the bounds. When the people were 
 gathering, some gentlemen came to my father and said, 
 c Sir, our curate is not at home to-day; we think ye may 
 e’en come and preach in the kirk/ c Well,’ say s he, 
 c if you will venture to hear me, I’ll venture to preach : ’ 
 which they did. The church was crowded up to the 
 very roof, besides a multitude in the church-yard striv- 
 ing to hear, but could not get near. There was in the 
 neighbour parish, a brother and sister ; he a rude, igno- 
 rant fellow, and went always to hear the curate ; she a 
 good, sober girl, and frequented conventicles. That 
 Sunday morning they came both out of their fathers 
 house. The sister says upon the road, 4 Johnny, will 
 ye come and hear one of my ministers to-day V ‘Awa! 
 rebel dog,’ says he, 4 deil tak’ them if I hear any of 
 them ; I’ll go and hear mine own honest minister/ She 
 insists and urges him ; but he will not hear of it. At 
 last she says, 4 Will ye come and hear the minister to- 
 day, and if he does not please, then I’ll never bid ye all 
 my days again V But he gave her the same answer, 
 Go away, the deil tak* them altogether, I’ll hear none 
 of them/ Well, they part, the sister to Cramond, the 
 brother toward his own church. But it seems, before 
 he came the length, he began to think with himself, 
 4 Might not I have gone once and heard what those 
 fallows had to say? I think I’ll go yet/ With that he 
 turns about, and came to Cramond kirk, brisking for- 
 ward till he both heard and saw the minister. About 
 the middle of the sermon, whom does the girl see but her 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — BLACK ADER. 31 
 
 brother, bursting and weeping, his bonnet in his hand, 
 wiping his eyes with it ! This, to be sure, was a joyful 
 sight to her. So soon as the sermon was over, Johnny 
 presses through the crowd to be at his sister, whom he had 
 likewise seen. 4 Ou, Johnny, what brought you here?* 
 6 Oh !’ said he, ‘ let us go to our kirk and pull down that 
 fause loon out of the pulpit,’ — meaning the curate; 
 c through God’s grace, I shall never hear one of them 
 after this. Oh ! this was a wonderful man.’” 
 
 There is a number of striking occurrences in the his- 
 tory of Mr Blackader’s family, during his wanderings 
 after his ejection from the parish of Troqueer. They 
 are given in the words of his son, and as we have already 
 recorded a few things of this nature, perhaps the reader 
 may not be displeased to have them here presented to 
 him ; and the first that we shall notice is the removal 
 from the manse of Troqueer, and the behaviour of the 
 soldiers on that occasion: — “ A party of the king’s life- 
 guard of horse, called 6 blue benders,’ came from Dum- 
 fries to Troqueer to search for and apprehend my father, 
 but found him not ; for what occasion I know not, — 
 whether he stayed beyond the set day for transporting 
 himself and numerous family of small children ten miles 
 from his parish church, or because he was of the num- 
 ber of those who refused to observe the 29 th of May. 
 So soon as the above party entered the close, and came 
 into the house, with cursing, swearing, and damning, 
 we that were the children were frightened out of our 
 little wits, and ran up stairs, and I among them ; who, 
 when I heard them all roaring in the room below, like 
 so many breathing devils, I had the childish curiosity 
 to get clown upon my belly, and peep through a hole in 
 the floor above them, to see what for monsters of crea- 
 tures they w ere. And it seems they were monsters indeed 
 for cruelty; for one of them perceiving w r hat I was do- 
 ing, immediately drew his sword, and thurst it up with 
 all his force where I w T as peeping, so that the mark of 
 the point was scarce an inch from the hole, though no 
 thanks to the murdering ruffian, who designed to run 
 
32 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 it up through my eye. Immediately after we were 
 forced to pack up, bag and baggage, and to remove to 
 Glencairn, ten miles from Troqueer. We who were 
 the children were put into cadgers’ creels, where one 
 of us cried out, coming through the Brigend of Dum- 
 fries, 4 I'm banish’t, I'm banish’ t.' One happened to 
 ask, 4 Who has banished ye, my bairn ?’ He answered, 
 
 4 Bite-the-sheep has banished me/” 
 
 The following story is sufficiently illustrative of the 
 state of the times, and points out the licentious char- 
 acter of the military, the legalised plunderers of a 
 peaceable and industrious peasantry; it is given from 
 the same source as the preceding : — 44 These rascally 
 ruffians beset our house round, about two o’clock in the 
 morning, then gave the cry, 4 Damned Whigs, open the 
 door/ Upon which we all got up, young and old, ex- 
 cepting my sister, with the nurse and the child at her 
 breast (now Colonel Blackader, deputy- governor of 
 Stirling castle). When they came in, the fire was gone 
 out. They roared out again, 4 Light a candle imme- 
 diately, and on with a fire quickly, or else we’ll roast 
 nurse and bairn and all in the fire, and make a braw 
 bleeze/ When the candle was lighted, they drew out 
 their swords, and went to the stools and chairs, and 
 clove them down, to make the fire withal; and they 
 made me hold the candle to them, trembling all along, 
 and fearing every moment to be thrown quick into the 
 fire. Then they went to search the house for my father, 
 running their swords down threw the beds and bed- 
 clothes ; and, among the rest, they came where my 
 sister was, then a child, and as yet fast asleep, and with 
 their swords stabbed down threw the bed where she was 
 lying, crying, 4 Come out, rebel dog/ They made nar- 
 row search for him in all corners of the house, ransack- 
 ing presses, chests, and flesh-stands. They then went 
 and threw down all his books from the press upon the 
 floor, and caused poor me hold the candle all this while, 
 till they had examined his books ; and all they thought 
 Whiggish, as they termed it, and brave judges they 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — BLACKADER. S3 
 
 were ! they put into a great horse-creel and took away ; 
 among which were a number of written sermons and 
 some printed pamphlets. Then they ordered up one of 
 their fellow-ruffians to climb up to the hen-baulks, 
 where the cocks and hens were, and as they came to 
 one, threw about its neck, and then down to the floor 
 wi’t, and so on till they had destroyed them all ; then 
 they went to the meat-ambry, and took out what was 
 there ; then to the meat and beef barrels, and left little 
 or nothing there. All this I was an eye-witness to, 
 trembling and shivering all the v T hile, having nothing 
 but my shirt on me. So soon as I was relieved of my 
 office, I begins to think, if possible, of making my 
 escape, rather than to be burnt quick, as I thought and 
 they threatened. I goes to the door, where there was 
 a sentry on every side, standing with their swords drawn; 
 for watches were set around, to prevent escape. I ap- 
 proached nearer and nearer by small degrees, making as 
 if I were playing myself. At last I gets out there, 
 making still as if I were playing, till I came to the gate 
 of the house ; then, with all the little speed I had, look- 
 ing behind me now and then, to see if they were pur- 
 suing after me, I ran the length of half-a-mile in the 
 dark night, naked to the shirt. I got to a neighbour- 
 ing toune, the Brigend of Minnihyvie ; w r here, think- 
 ing to creep into some house to save my life, I found 
 all the doors shut and the people sleeping. Upon which 
 I went to the cross of the toune, and got up to the 
 uppermost step of it, and there I sat me down, and fell 
 fast asleep till the morning. Between five and six 
 o’clock a door opens, and an old woman comes out, 
 and seeing a wffiite thing upon the cross, comes near it, 
 and, when she found it was a little boy, cries out, 
 6 Jesus, save us ! what art thou V With that I awaked, 
 and answered her, 4 I am Mr Blackader’s son/ 4 O my 
 puir bairn ! what brought ye here ? ’ I answers, 4 There’s 
 a hantle of fearful men with red coats has burnt all our 
 house, my breethor, and sister, and all the family/ 4 Oh, 
 puir thing/ says she, 4 come in and lie down in my 
 
34 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 warm bed:’ which I did, and it was the sweetest bed I 
 ever met with." • 
 
 The following is strikingly illustrative of the divine, 
 providential care over Christ’s people : — 
 
 44 A remarkable instance of God’s providence hap- 
 pened to us in Glencairn. One evening in 1665, be- 
 fore my father fled to Edinburgh for refuge, I was 
 playing in the close with the rest of the children. We 
 sees three gentlemen on horseback riding into the close : 
 which, when my mother saw, and perceiving who they 
 were (Mr Welsh, Mr Semple, and another), she clasped 
 her hands and cried, 4 Now, Lord help me, for I have 
 neither black nor white to give them/ — these were her 
 very words. They alighted, put their horses into the 
 stable, and comes in to my father ; who made them very 
 welcome. After they had put off their great-coats, and 
 w r ere smoking a pipe, in comes a fellow with a good 
 fat wether-sheep on his back, and calls for my mother, 
 4 Mistress, here’s a wether such a lady has sent you/ 
 You may be sure this was a welcome guest, and a sur- 
 prising mercy. They soon killed the fatted calf, and all 
 supped plentifully. My father and the strangers knew 
 nothing of the matter all this while, till they were at sup- 
 per, when my mother broke out with it.” 
 
 Mr Blackader traversed the wilds of Galloway and 
 Nithsdale, holding conventicles in the most retired cor- 
 ners in the lonely moors. At length, after many pain- 
 ful years of great labour and suffering for his Master’s 
 sake, he died on the Bass, where he was a prisoner, in 
 the year 1686, having completed the seventieth year of 
 his age. He was buried in the churchyard of North 
 Berwick, where a handsome tombstone still marks the 
 grave of the martyr. 
 
 The famous John Welsh, of Irongray in Galloway, is 
 the next conventicle preacher we shall introduce to the 
 reader. He was the zealous and steadfast coadjutor of 
 Mr Blackader. He was the grandson of the 44 incom- 
 parable Welsh of Ayr," and the great-grandson of the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 35 
 
 illustrious John Knox. His father, Josias Welsh, was 
 minister of Templepatrick, in Ireland. He was one of 
 the ejected brethren who joined the band that held con- 
 venticles in houses, and then in the open fields. He ac- 
 companied Mr Blackader when the gospel was banished 
 to the moorlands ; and united with him in dispensing 
 the Lord’s supper at some of the greatest conventicles 
 that were held in different parts of the country. 
 
 Mr Welsh was a clear-headed, warm-hearted man, 
 and inherited no small share of the spirit of his godly 
 ancestors. He was intrepid in defence of the truth, and 
 unwearied in preaching the gospel in the destitute parts 
 of the land. He was a leading man among the con- 
 venticlers, and was of great influence in the community. 
 His preaching was attended with much of the divine 
 countenance, and with great and abiding efficacy on the 
 hearts of his hearers. Few names, among the Scottish 
 ministry, have come down to us with greater prestige 
 than that of W elsh, and to few names does the popular 
 heart cling with greater fondness. 
 
 We shall here present the reader with a pretty copious 
 extract from one of Mr AV^elsh’s sermons, preached in 
 the parish of Cathcart : the date not given. The text is, 
 “ Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men.” 
 He says, “ We are to persuade men to be convinced of 
 sin, and to be converted unto Jesus Christ. We are 
 to persuade the ungodly and profane to turn and live ; 
 and if they will not turn, they must burn for ever. 
 c Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die, O house of Israel?’ 
 That is one thing we are to persuade you of, — to tell you 
 that Christ is standing at the door and knocking, and 
 he will take it ill if you refuse to open unto him. It is 
 a great thing to persuade you of the necessity of con- 
 version work, or the new birth, and that except ye be 
 holy ye shall never be happy. And we find this to be 
 the work of both prophets and apostles. Jeremiah 
 cries, c Return, ye backsliding children, and I will heal 
 your backslidings/ Ezekiel says the same, c Turn ye, 
 turn ye and live, for why will ye die, 0 house of Israel ?' 
 
36 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 And Solomon makes this also his work, c Wisdom crieth 
 without, she uttereth her voice in the streets, Turn ye 
 at my reproof/ Jesus Christ makes this his work : 
 says he, ‘ Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish/ 
 And so did his apostles after him. We are to tell and 
 persuade you to set about the work of faith and repent- 
 ance ; we have to persuade you to turn unto God, and 
 to tell your danger if ye do not. This presupposes that 
 every man and every woman have their back upon God. 
 And we come to you, sirs, that are yet strangers unto 
 God, and to his Son, Jesus Christ, and that are strangers 
 to the Holy Spirit and the grace of repentance ; we come 
 to you that are strangers to God. And it is supposed 
 some of you may he thinking, What brought you here 
 this day ? The Lord knows it was with no view to 
 worldly gain or outward advantage, but to persuade you 
 to turn unto God, and be converted, and to let you 
 know your hazard and danger while in an unconverted 
 state; and therefore it is your duty to be persuaded. I 
 shall give you three persuasions in order thereunto. 
 
 “ If ye will not turn, ye shall die without grace, with- 
 out faith, repentance, &c. The whole world, and much 
 more, cannot save you. Therefore turn, and ye shall 
 live ; but if not, c Ye shall surely die in your iniquities/ 
 “ Turn unto him, and we assure you in his name it 
 shall he well with you. We tell you he has a fatted 
 calf for you ; robes to put on you. We tell you he has 
 all that can make you happy. Sirs, you shall have a 
 life of it here, and eternal life hereafter. And, — 
 w We persuade you that Christ is in good earnest with 
 you. You’ll wrong yourselves if you accept not of the 
 offer. Nay, you will perish eternally, if you do not. 
 Therefore, oh be persuaded unto this. 
 
 “ The second thing we are to persuade men to do, is 
 to tell men to turn, and to turn to purpose ; for it is not 
 every sort of turning that will do the turn. We find it 
 in Scripture, that every kind of turning has not the 
 everlasting advantage with it. Therefore the Lord en- 
 joins his servants to tell you to make the thing sure, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS WELSH. 
 
 37 
 
 that you do not beguile yourselves as to your turning. 
 Tell them, and tell them that it is not every sort of turn- 
 ing that will do the turn ; hut ye must turn, and turn 
 with all vourt heart and soul ; — this is it, to turn to pur- 
 pose. And there are four motives I would give you to 
 persuade you to set about a thorough repentance: — 
 
 “ For a motive, consider that it is a want of a thorough 
 turning to God that undoes many souls. Thus, many 
 think they are persuaded that they repent and turn to 
 God ; but then, they are but almost persuaded, and there- 
 fore stick there. 
 
 “ Consider that if ye repent not thoroughly, if ye turn, 
 and turn not with your whole heart, ye but lose all your 
 pains ; you never, so to speak, get so much as thanks 
 for your work. 
 
 “ Consider that ye not only lose your pains, hut ye 
 make the thing worse. Many a man by his formal con- 
 version has a show of something of the work of God, 
 that makes his case more desperate than that of the 
 worst atheist in the world. For many a man’s conver- 
 sion, that has lived under the gospel, becomes more 
 desperate and hopeless than the conversion of heathens ; 
 for, bid him turn and be converted, it never alters the 
 matter with him. And why ? He thinks he has already 
 done it. 
 
 “ Lastly, consider but this, — who they are that Satan 
 prevails most with to cause them to despair ; he tempts 
 men to delay, and to halve their repentance, and to be 
 hypocritical therein; and then, when he has done that, 
 he will easily prevail to make them despair. 4 Ye did 
 this and ye did that, ye w T ent this length and ye went 
 that length,’ says the enemy, c and ye never made your 
 point good ; and think ye that a little more will do your 
 turn now ? no, ye need never think that when ye have 
 provoked God with your formality, a little more w r ill do 
 your turn/ Now, these and the like arguments Satan 
 may use to make such despair. Upon these considera- 
 tions, I would have you to make thorough work of re- 
 pentance, and I pray you consider them. 
 
38 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 “ Ministers have to persuade folk to embrace Jesus 
 Christ as he is offered to them in the gospel. We are 
 to persuade you to close with him, as he has offered 
 himself unto you. This was the work of Isaiah the pro- 
 phet, Paul the apostle, yea, of Christ himself, after his 
 ascension. Says he to the Church of the Laodiceans, 
 c I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear my 
 voice, and open the door, I will come in to him.* That 
 
 is, take him for a king, prophet, and priest, as he is 
 offered unto you ; and, to persuade you to this, take the 
 following considerations : — 
 
 “ Consider what ye will do if ye do it not. Do ye 
 not think the day will come that ye will wish ye had 
 done it ? — the day will surely come that ye will wish ye 
 had taken him on his offer, and that upon the worst of 
 
 it. And, — 
 
 “ Consider that the terms are easy, and so easy that 
 it is, ‘ Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, 
 and he that hath no money ; come ye, yea come, buy 
 wine and milk without money and without price/ 
 Drink, and drink fully. Would ye have larger terms 
 than these ? ‘ He that is athirst, let him come ; and who- 
 soever will, let him come, and take of the water of life 
 freely. And, — 
 
 “ Consider that there is nothing so acceptable and 
 well-pleasing unto God as this ; and you'll make many 
 a sad heart by refusing him. And if ye receive him, 
 it will he well-pleasing to many, — it will be the most 
 acceptable thing ye ever did : for ye will thereby please 
 God, angels, and saints ; ye will only displease Satan and 
 wicked men. Put these two in the balance : If ye do 
 the one, ye will please God, angels, and saints; — ye 
 only displease the devil and wicked men, and I know 
 not if ye owe them any thing else. And consider the 
 disadvantages the refusing of him will bring unto you, 
 and the advantages you will have by receiving of him ; 
 for, — 
 
 “ Ye may come forward with confidence, and that 
 even before others, and when hardest set on, as ye see a 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 39 
 
 good example, or a way made to walk by, in that 7th 
 of the Acts. What made Stephen have such confidence, 
 courage, and boldness ? He had two things to support 
 him in this: he knew he was suffering for Jesus Christ, 
 and he knew what was the sufferers reward. And, — 
 
 “ Ye may by this attain to an assurance of an interest 
 in Christ. Stephen had received Christ, he had an in- 
 terest in him ; and that yields him confidence. And I’ll 
 tell you, every one will have much ado to get matters 
 right at death ; but some will have more to do than 
 others. Sirs, I’ll tell you who will have least to do at 
 death, — even those who have been most forward in giv- 
 ing a testimony for the cause of Jesus Christ. They 
 have an open door in heaven to see Jesus Christ, as 
 Stephen in his sufferings had. 
 
 “Will you consider that your sin and guilt is great, 
 and so your punishment shall also be great; and the 
 more, because you have sinned against the remedy pro- 
 vided, and against mercy. And think ye that they 
 shall be thought worthy who have done so ? Nay, c Of 
 how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be 
 thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of 
 God, and counted the blood of the covenant an unholy 
 thing?’ He that despised Moses’ law, you know, died 
 without mercy ; and shall ye escape ? Here I would not 
 be in your place who refuse Christ, for ten thousand 
 worlds.” 
 
 In another part of the same discourse, he remarks in 
 the same urgent manner : — “ The second to be spoken 
 with, is the grounds or reasons upon which they are to 
 be persuaded or pressed. I shall only mention these 
 four following: — 
 
 “ First, The doing of these things is of absolute neces- 
 sity. It is necessary that ye be converted and saved ; 
 that ye turn, and turn to purpose ; that ye embrace 
 Jesus Christ as he is offered in the gospel, and so to be 
 saved : or else to lie in your sins and be eternally 
 damned, and so adjudged unto everlasting torment. 
 Is not the damnation of immortal souls a thing of weight 
 
 D 
 
40 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and moment ? And, therefore, is it any wonder that 
 ministers use all arguments to persuade you to do all 
 these things, seeing they are so absolutely necessary, 
 that without the doing of them all the world cannot 
 save you from hell and eternal ruin. 
 
 “ Secondly, They are not only absolutely necessary, 
 but of present necessity. They must be done without 
 delay, now or never, — no repentance after death. And 
 the longer they are delayed, they become the more diffi- 
 cult to be done ; and therefore these things are of pre- 
 sent necessity, as well as absolutely necessary. 
 
 44 Thirdly, Great are the advantages that attend ; and 
 this says, it is a duty to set about such a work. Oh, the 
 advantage of gaining but one soul to Christ ! Oh, the 
 disadvantage of not confirming and establishing one soul 
 in the hour of tentation ! It is worth all the pains a 
 minister can be at, though he should labour all his days ; 
 and oh, the advantages that come to the soul, and that 
 accrue unto God’s glory ! 
 
 44 A fourth ground or reason may be taken from the ad- 
 vantages that follow 7 this so absolute a duty of persuad- 
 ing men to believe, repent, and be saved; to let them 
 know that if they do not they shall perish for ever.” 
 
 We shall conclude our extracts here with the follow- 
 ing : — 44 Now I come to a short word of application; and 
 herein I shall divide all hearing me into these four or 
 five classes following ; and, — 
 
 44 The first sort is such as are altogether strangers to 
 God, 4 Without God, without Christ, being aliens to the 
 commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the cove- 
 nant of promises/ And I conceive that there are not 
 a few of this denomination here, that are yet strangers 
 to God, and living in darkness. There are numbers of 
 you that have lived under the drop of the gospel, that 
 are yet in a natural state. Ye were ignorant atheists 
 before; ye are so yet. The thing I would say unto you 
 is, that wffiat we come this day unto you for is this, that 
 you would now r look about you, and consider your ways, 
 as ye have it in Haggai, 4 Thus saith the Lord of hosts, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 41 
 
 Consider your ways/ This thing the Lord would have 
 you to do. Oh, consider what you are, and what you are 
 doing. Consider in what state you are by nature, 
 whither you will go if you continue in that state. Con- 
 sider your ways, and turn unto the Lord, and live ; seek 
 that the Lord w r ould turn you unto himself. But if you 
 will not turn, make ready for hell, — that meeting- place 
 of all torment and woe ; and even a hotter hell than the 
 hell of Sodom. Oh, make you for torment, and that an 
 intolerable torment, — worse than the torment of Sodom 
 and Gomorrah ! My exhortation unto you is, lose not 
 a moment longer in that condition, which is so danger- 
 ous. Death, hell, and damnation, will be upon you ; 
 and all the world, nay, all the angels in heaven, cannot 
 save you from it, while living in that condition. There- 
 fore, without delay, flee out of it unto Jesus Christ, — rest 
 not a moment longer ; for if ye die in that condition all 
 the world cannot save you from hell and destruction. 
 
 “ Secondly, Some folk are here, as I suppose, that 
 have had some resolutions, and have been half per- 
 suaded to reform their ways; they have been almost 
 persuaded to be Christians, but never altogether per- 
 suaded. Ye have never made your point good ; but are 
 just where you w r ere. Well, the thing I would say to 
 you is, either make thorough work, be thorough in the 
 business, and be persuaded ; otherwise, persuade your- 
 selves, and I, in the name of the Lord, persuade you, 
 that it shall make your case worse, and less hopeful 
 than the case of pagans. 
 
 “ A third sort of folk that I would speak to, is, to 
 those who were once zealous and forward in religion, 
 but now they are turned cold, and fallen from their first 
 love. A word to you that once appeared hot and zealous 
 for God, and are now turned key cold. Consider your 
 ways before it be too late; for if ye give way unto such 
 backsliding courses, your case may at length become 
 desperate on your hand. Therefore what I would say 
 unto you is, 1 Remember from whence thou art fallen, 
 and repent, and do thy first works/ 
 
42 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 “A fourth sort is, a company of poor, murmuring 
 people. They are still entertaining hard thoughts of 
 God. What I have to say to them is, Have better 
 thoughts of God, or assure yourselves he will make 
 something fall in your way that will make you have 
 better or worse thoughts of him. And, — 
 
 “ Lastly, I will say this one word to those that are 
 really godly, Fight it out, sirs. Fun the Christian race 
 set before you ; run, and run with patience ; ye will come 
 to the end of it shortly. Be faithful unto Him that 
 called you. Let not the world, nor your own corrupt 
 hearts, make you flinch from it.” 
 
 In giving this extract, we have left out the figures 
 that mark the numerous subdivisions, which tend 
 only to confuse, and to hide the continuity of the dis- 
 course. 
 
 We shall next introduce a somewhat striking table- 
 address, which Mr Welsh delivered at the famous sacra- 
 mental occasion held at Maybole in the year 1677. 
 This communion was celebrated in the open fields, as 
 was customary in those times, from necessity. Thousands 
 were in attendance, and the banks of the water of Gir- 
 van were vocal with the melody of praise, and with the 
 sound of the everlasting gospel. The assistant ministers 
 on this occasion were, as Wodrow informs us, Mr Archi- 
 bald Fiddel, Mr John Welsh, Mr Andrew Morton, Mr 
 Patrick Warner, Mr George Barclay, and some others. 
 Mr Fiddel preached the action sermon from the text, 
 “ Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it;” and the 
 other brethren assisted in their order. This conventicle, 
 one of the most numerously attended in those days, pro- 
 duced a prodigious excitement in the western parts, and 
 was accompanied with remarkable success, in a spiritual 
 sense. A heavenly influence came down on many a 
 soul, and the hearts of the people were moved by the 
 •word of the Lord, even as the trees of the forest are 
 moved by the wind. It fell to Mr Welsh to address 
 two tables on that distinguished occasion, the fifth and 
 the sixth, and we shall here give the first of the two en- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS WELSH. 
 
 43 
 
 tire, as a specimen of the manner in which this part of 
 the service was conducted on these solemnities : — 
 
 44 We are poor, weak creatures ; and we have a wicked, 
 a strong enemy, who is still ready to give our hand a 
 wrong touch; and still, the more solemn the ordinance 
 is, he is the more busy. This day we have been wit- 
 ness to many wonders, in seeing God deal so kindly 
 with us in this sinful land. O this is a great wonder, 
 that after so many slights that he hath gotten, after the 
 sad defections that have been of late, that yet he hath 
 his heart toward us, and his word this day is, 4 Return 
 unto me, saith the Lord/ 
 
 44 I remember that, in the conference betwixt Christ 
 and the two disciples going to Emmaus, they told him of 
 the dispensation they were trysted with, ft was a very 
 mixed dispensation : there was much darkness in it, and 
 there is also somewhat promising like; and they tell 
 Christ the sad part of that dispensation, and likewise 
 the sweet part of it, namely, that they had got good 
 news, if they were true, — that Christ was risen again. 
 But they wanted the confirmation of these good news ; 
 they say, 4 Him we saw not/ We had a mixed train 
 of providential dispensations, since that table was 
 covered in Galloway, such a table as is covered here. 
 But we may hear many saying, 4 But him we saw not/ 
 4 We see the ordinance, we see a multitude, we see many 
 good people, ministers and professors, and we see the 
 elements before us ; but him we see not/ Now, O 
 friends, ye have come here, and hath not God very 
 much disappointed your fears ? I doubt not but some 
 of you may be tried ; but it is God that must bring you 
 through. What will carry communicants through so 
 many raging devils ? What will carry them through, 
 when amongst the hands of the devil's instruments, that 
 hath such power? For while England is, on the one 
 hand, overrunning us with their arms, and Ireland upon 
 the other hand, surely nothing can uphold us but the 
 mighty power of God 1 The Lord hath covered a table, 
 and hath said unto us, 4 Go ye out into the wilderness/ 
 
44 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 But Pharaoh will not let you go ; but ye shall go, and 
 keep a feast unto the Lord your God; and here is the 
 feast, and it is a 4 feast of fat things/ I will tell you a 
 few words which Christ spake out of his own mouth, 
 and I think they may even revive any fainting person. 
 There is one word, and it is what he said unto the 
 woman who, after his resurrection, came to seek him, — 
 4 Go tell my brethren, and Peter, that I am risen ;’ go 
 tell them that I have an appointment with them. 
 Peter was afraid that he had not forgot what he had 
 done, in denying him so lately in the face of his ene- 
 mies ; yet he had a special kindness for Peter. 4 Go tell 
 Peter, poor man ; it may be that he dare not look me in 
 the face, since he hath so shamefully denied me/ Other 
 folk may put off without Christ for a time, but Peter 
 may not ; 4 Go, tell my disciples, and Peter/ 
 
 44 Ye are come here to hold a feast with the great 
 God, that made these heavens and that earth; and He 
 is to feast you with delicacies. Here is a feast of fat 
 things : here is the bread and here is the wine, here is 
 the flesh and here is the blood that ye are to feast upon 
 this day ; and 4 unless ye eat his flesh and drink his 
 blood, ye have no part in Plim, ye have no life in you/ 
 Our Lord Jesus Christ hath made a sweet covenant. 
 The first covenant was a severe covenant, and yet there 
 was much condescension in it; but the second covenant 
 is all condescension, it is all love, a covenant that hath 
 this in it: 4 1 will require nothing from you but what I 
 will give you. You have no strength, therefore will I 
 give you my Spirit to keep you/ Here is a sweet cove- 
 nant; and here are the seals of the covenant. When he 
 died he left a glorious testament ; and here is the seal of 
 the testament, 4 In that night w'herein he w 7 as betrayed 
 he took bread,’ as we do in his name; ‘and after 
 he had given thanks,’ as we have done (and we bless 
 his name that ever we heard of these good news, and 
 for the continuance of the gospel) 4 he said, Take ye, 
 eat ye ; this is my body, that is broken for you : this 
 do in remembrance of me/ Just as when a friend is 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 45 
 
 going a far journey, another says to him , 4 You are going 
 a far journey; you must leave me some token to remind 
 me of you/ So says Christ, 4 Here is a love token that 
 ye must keep 44 until I come again.” Ye must be cele- 
 brating this sacrament as ye have occasion; 44 do this in 
 remembrance of me.” Remember me, for I remembered 
 you in your low estate and condition, as ye have it in 
 the psalms, 44 Who remembered us in our low estate.” 
 
 I have done so unto you. Then give me a kind recep- 
 tion/ .... 4 After supper, in like manner, he took the 
 
 cup, saying, Drink ye all of it ; this cup is the new 
 testament in my blood. This do ye; for as often as ye 
 eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show forth the 
 Lord’s death till he come again/ 
 
 44 Now, sirs, here is good news after the sacrament, that 
 our Lord declared in his exhortation, when he gave the 
 cup out of his hand. What was that ? Why, it was this to 
 his disciples, 4 Ye must show forth my death till I come 
 again. I am now going away to heaven, and I have 
 an errand to that kingdom for you, and it is to prepare 
 a place for you. But I assure you, when I have done 
 my business, and have stayed as intercessor till I have 
 received all the petitions of the elect that shall be given 
 of the Father to me, then will I come again, and bring 
 you to that inheritance that I go to prepare for you. 
 You must suffer my absence a while; it is for your 
 errand and for your behalf that I go away/ But may 
 we communicate for no other coming of Christ but his 
 second coming ? Yes, we must communicate for Christ’s 
 coming again to Scotland in the power of the gospel, as 
 some of us have seen him hitherto ; for come again he 
 will, — he will not leave us thus. Thanks be to God that 
 there are some sounds of his chariot wheels ; there are 
 some of the forerunners of Christ’s coming again to 
 Scotland, as ye see here. Now, sirs, be busy, for ye 
 wot not if ever ye shall have such a time as this ; for now 
 Christ shakes hands with you, and is saying , 4 Let all by- 
 gones be bygones, and let fair play be in the time to come/ 
 44 Now, Christ is coming unto you, saying, 4 What 
 
46 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 pledge will ye have of the reality of my love ? Here I 
 have given you my life ; here I have given you my flesh 
 and my blood, and somewhat to bear you through, and 
 be as a staff in your hand through the valley and sha- 
 dow of death. Here I have given you all that my name 
 has in it, and all that I have purchased for you. Here 
 I have given all that is in me; and you have got 
 Christ for 44 wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctifica- 
 tion, and redemption .” 9 Oh, friends! have ye then arms 
 to embrace him, and hearts to receive him ? Poor crea- 
 tures are like children with short fingers, whose father 
 holds out a great purse of gold unto them, and they can- 
 not grip or fathom it, it is so large. So our Lord Jesus 
 Christ exceeds our confined desires and expectations. 
 4 Now, I command you to open your mouths wide: and 
 for as wide as ye will open them, I see/ says Christ, 4 1 
 have that which ye will not comprehend, and which is 
 above your faith; for as great confirmations as it has, yet 
 1 see you gripping at that which is above you/ Then, 
 O believers, let me entreat you that have life to sing 
 that short song, 4 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget 
 not all his benefits; who forgiveth all thine iniquities, 
 and healeth all thy diseases/ And there is another song 
 you must sing, and that is the song above: 4 Oh the 
 height, the length, the breadth, and the depth of the 
 love of God !’ and, says the prophet Micah, 4 Who is a 
 God like unto thee, wLo pardoneth iniquity, and passeth 
 by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage V So 
 sing, O believers, on a ten-stringed instrument; say unto 
 him, 4 O how great things hast thou done for me ! 9 and 
 let him see that ye have some impression of his good- 
 ness. Oh, friends of Christ, ye are come here, and we 
 shall be so tender of you as to hope that, though ye be 
 now content to offer your blood as a sacrifice for his 
 gospel, ye shall go home without losing a drop of it ; 
 but he has taken the will for the deed. We are buckled 
 with the best of friends, the best of husbands, the best 
 of masters, the best of physicians that ever was. Oh, 
 let your souls cleave unto him ; and though the Lord 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS "WELSH. 
 
 47 
 
 give you not such large allowance as to he idle, yet take 
 up your work. The Lord still gives meat and work to 
 his disciples ; and thanks be to God for it. He is will- 
 ing you put him upon supplying you with furniture. 
 Ye would not count him a gentleman that would send 
 out one to his work, and say, 4 Sir, take your expense 
 out of your own pocket/ 4 Nay/ says Christ, 4 1 will 
 give you your expenses. If you need much, I will give 
 you much ; yea, I will give you glory also for the fur- 
 nishing you for your work/ And what would ye have 
 more ! Our Lord Jesus hath promised this, and ye may 
 put him to his promises. 
 
 44 Now, friends, though I tell you this, ye must not 
 promise yourselves a feather-bed to lie upon ; but ye 
 must be as your Master, and it is very fair that it 
 should be so. Many souls cannot count the cost ; they 
 think that Christ’s yoke should have nothing heavy or 
 burdensome in it unto the flesh. We find Christ him- 
 self, in Luke ix. 23, pointing out this mistake. There 
 were multitudes following him, and he looks, as it were, 
 over his shoulder, and says, 4 Where are all these going ? 
 If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, 
 and take up his cross daily and follow me/ But go in 
 peace, and the God of peace be with you/’ 
 
 The year of the famous Maybole conventicle was that 
 in which the venerable John Temple of Carsphairn died. 
 He was one of the indulged, as they were called ; that 
 is, one of those who were allowed to remain in their 
 parishes under the wing of the government, on certain 
 conditions. This worthy man preached with amazing 
 success in the wilds of the upland parts of Galloway, 
 where the people flocked to his ministry from all the 
 surrounding mountainous district in the midst of which 
 Carsphairn is situated. The throngs that gathered on 
 sacramental occasions were astonishing. Persons came 
 even from Fife to the communion, when celebrated in this 
 wild parish. Patrick Walker says, 44 He sometimes had 
 the Lords supper administered two Sabbaths together in 
 the year, to which many godly people came from a great 
 
48 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 distance.” The desert parts of upper Galloway were 
 greatly refreshed by the ministry of this godly man ; who, 
 as his relative, Gabriel Sempill, remarks, though “ he 
 was no scholar, or bred at universities, or Latin schools, 
 had as much of an apostolic gift of preaching as I knew 
 any of the ministry .” Mr Peden used to remark of the 
 people of Carsphairn, “that they had moiyen [influence] 
 at the court of heaven beyond many Christian profes- 
 sors of religion he knew.” On the decease of this saintly 
 man, we find Mr Welsh using his influence in getting 
 a Mr Gilchrist inducted into the parish of Carsphairn ; 
 from which, however, he was in a brief space expelled, 
 and ordered by the Council to be transported as a prisoner 
 to Edinburgh. 
 
 Mr Blackader says, that “Mr Welsh held great 
 meetings, both on Sabbath and week days, in various 
 places in Fife, with great and admirable success, through 
 the Lord’s gracious presence ; so that many of the gentry 
 came forth from time to time, being much taken with 
 the word and work.” 
 
 Mr Welsh’s mode of address, it would seem, was 
 peculiar, and singularly effective. “ Mr Blackader,” 
 says Crichton, “ has recorded some instances of the 
 power and demonstration with which his eloquence 
 came home to the heart. At one time, after having 
 removed all impediments that might hinder sinners from 
 embracing the terms of salvation offered in the gospel, 
 he said at the conclusion, 4 1 must enter my protestation 
 in my Master’s name against any here who will not 
 close with the offer, and give their consent.’ A woman 
 in the company cried out, c Hold your hand, sir ; do it 
 not, for I give my consent/ 
 
 “ Again making a similar offer, wherein the Lord 
 frequently assisted him to be singularly dexterous, and 
 clearing the gospel to be of such large extent, that even 
 witches were not excluded, but that they might have 
 the offer made to them for accepting, though they had 
 made paction with Satan, one woman, not known before 
 to be such, was made to confess she was a witch, and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 49 
 
 had covenanted herself to the devil. Mr Welsh met 
 with her afterwards, and she still declared she was a 
 witch, and acknowledged herself not worthy to live. I 
 know not what notice was taken of her, but she con- 
 tinued seemingly penitent/' 
 
 Among Mr Welsh's converts in Fife, we are told that 
 the Countess of Crawford, then Lady Lindsay, was one. 
 Her conversion took place at a conventicle at Duraquair, 
 near her own house, where Mr Welsh preached. “ The 
 power of God,” says Mr Blackader, “ was manifested 
 to the checking of the conscience and awakening the 
 hearts of many. On that occasion there were about 
 eight thousand persons present, and the honourable lady 
 declared she was constrained to close with the offer then 
 made. The impression was lasting, and evinced by much 
 fruit of piety, which shone forth in all her walk as a 
 Christian, and dutiful yoke-fellow to her lord, whom 
 she also benefited by her conversation and the report 
 she made of that day.” Mr Blackader had this infor- 
 mation from herself, who told him with great majesty 
 and seriousness, in the presence of her lord, who since 
 has carried more steadfastly in the path of righteousness 
 and cause of reformation, keeping at a distance from all 
 the steps of defection. After the day of this lady's 
 conversion, she could never be induced, by all the in- 
 sinuations and threats of her noble relations, to go back 
 to the prelate's preachers, or countenance any of their 
 assemblies ; but frequented all the persecuted meetings 
 she could win at. She lived and died endeavouring to 
 adorn her station and profession by a conversation 
 becoming the gospel/' 
 
 Kirkton in his History gives the following character 
 of Mr Welsh : — “ He was a godly, meek, humble man, 
 and a good popular preacher, but the boldest undertaker 
 that ever I knew a minister in Christ’s church, old or 
 late ; for notwithstanding all the threatenings of the 
 state, the great price of .£500 set upon his head, the 
 spite of bishops, the diligence of all blood hounds, he 
 maintained his difficult task of preaching upon the 
 
50 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 mountains of Scotland, many times to many thousands, 
 for near twenty years, and yet was kept always out of 
 his enemies* hand. It is well known that bloody 
 Claverhouse, upon intelligence that he was lurking in 
 some secret place, would ride forty miles in a winters 
 night ; yet when he came to the place he always missed 
 his prey. I have known Mr W elsh ride three days and 
 two nights without sleep, and preach upon a mountain 
 at midnight on one of the nights. He had for some 
 time a dwelling-house near Tweedside; and sometimes, 
 when the Tweed was strongly frozen, he preached in 
 the midst of the river, that either he might shun the 
 offence of both nations, or that two kingdoms might 
 dispute his crime. He was eminently useful on the 
 borders. He used to say to his friends who counselled 
 him to be more wary, that he believed God would pre- 
 serve him as long as he continued among dangers, but 
 whenever he betook himself to safety, then his time 
 should come: which accordingly came to pass, after 
 Both well in 1679; when all forsook field meetings, he 
 went to London, and there died, on the 9th of January 
 1681 .” 
 
 Mr Welsh’s departure from his parish at the time of 
 his ejection, as given by Mr Blackader, is very affect- 
 ing : — u He was accused for having in his sermon called 
 the parliament a drunken parliament. An order was 
 sent to Maxw r ell of Munshes, Steward-deputy of Gallo- 
 way, to apprehend him ; who came on Sabbath night 
 to his house at Irongray. But as he was to preach on 
 Monday at Holywood communion, he begged to stay; 
 which liberty, Maxwell, though a Papist, civilly granted. 
 Most all the parishes were convened, and many others 
 about, with some ministers who waited to convey him 
 a little on his way. There was a great sorrowing and 
 outcrying of the poor multitude beside the water of 
 Cluden, where he was to take horse. It was with great 
 difficulty he got from among them, who were almost 
 distracted, and crying ruefully with tears ; but he, being 
 resolute, would not be detained, and after two or three 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 51 
 
 of the ministers had knelt down and prayed, he got to 
 horse, the people still holding him. The ministers and 
 he rode quickly through the water, to win from among 
 them. Many, both men and women, brake in on foot 
 after him, and followed on the road a good space, with 
 hitter weeping and lamentation.” 
 
 If Mr Welsh was a very meek and humble person, 
 he was also a man of great daring, and of indomitable 
 intrepidity. He feared the face of no man, and was not 
 appalled by any combination of circumstances in the 
 way of his duty ; and, indeed, we may affirm the same 
 of all those noble spirits who carried aloft the standard 
 of Zion in the day of her conflict, — a spirit of might 
 rested on them all. The following anecdote is given as 
 illustrative of his firmness in critical circumstances : — 
 “ Being pursued with unrelenting rigour, he was one 
 time quite at a loss where to go ; but depending on 
 Scottish hospitality, and especially on the providence of 
 God, he in the evening called at the house of a gentle- 
 man of known hostility to field preachers, and to him- 
 self. He was kindly received. In the course of conversa- 
 tion, Welsh was mentioned, and the difficulty of getting 
 hold of him. Says the stranger, c I know where he is to 
 preach to-morrow, and I will give you him by the hand.’ 
 At this the gentleman was exceeding glad, and engaged 
 the company of his guest with great cordiality. They 
 set off next morning. When they arrived at the con- 
 gregation, they made way for the minister and also for 
 his host. He desired the gentleman to sit down on a 
 chair, where he stood and preached. During the sermon 
 the gentleman appeared much affected. At the close, 
 Mr Welsh gave him his hand; which he cheerfully re- 
 ceived, and said, 6 Ye said you was sent to apprehend 
 rebels, and I, a rebellious sinner, have been apprehended 
 this day.’” 
 
 An equally striking anecdote is recorded in the Life 
 of Richard Baxter, who, as a Nonconformist preacher, 
 was placed in the same circumstances as Mr Welsh. 
 As it may not be unacceptable to the reader, I shall 
 
 u. OF ILL. Lift 
 
52 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 venture to give it here : — “ He was to deliver a lecture 
 at a private house on a neighbouring common. The 
 time of worship was generally a very early hour. Mr 
 Baxter left Coventry in the evening, intending to preach 
 the lecture on the following morning. The night being 
 dark, he lost his way ; and after wandering about a 
 considerable time, he came to a gentleman's house, 
 where he asked for direction. The servant who came 
 to the door informed his master that a person of very 
 respectable appearance had lost his way. The gentle- 
 man thinking it would be unsafe for such a person to 
 be wandering on the common at so late an hour, re- 
 quested the servant to invite him in. Mr Baxter readily 
 accepted the kind proposal, and met with a very hospi- 
 table reception. His conversation was such as to give 
 his host an exalted idea of his good sense and extensive 
 information. The gentleman wishing to know the 
 quality of his guest, said, after supper, ; As most persons 
 have some employment or profession in life, I have no 
 doubt, sir, that you have yours?' Mr Baxter replied, 
 with a smile, c Yes, sir; I am a man-catcher/ ‘ A man- 
 catcher ! ' said the gentleman, 6 are you ? I am very 
 glad to hear you say so, for you are the very person I 
 want. I am a justice of the peace in this district, and 
 am commissioned to secure the person of Dick Baxter, 
 who is expected to preach at a conventicle in this neigh- 
 bourhood early to-morrow morning ; you shall go with 
 me, and I doubt not we shall easily apprehend the rogue. 
 Mr Baxter very prudently consented to accompany him. 
 
 “ Accordingly, the gentleman, on the following 
 morning, took Mr Baxter in his carriage to the place 
 where the meeting was to be held. When they arrived 
 at the spot they saw a considerable number of people 
 hovering about; for, seeing the carriage of the justice, 
 and suspecting his intentions, they were afraid to enter 
 the house. The justice observing this, said to Mr 
 Baxter, 4 1 am afraid that they have obtained some in- 
 formation of my design ; Mr Baxter has probably been 
 apprised of it, and therefore will not fulfil his engage- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELSH. 
 
 53 
 
 merit, for you see the people will not go into the house. 
 I think if we extend our ride a little farther, our de- 
 parture may encourage them to assemble, and on our 
 return we may fulfil our commission. When they 
 returned they found their efforts useless, for the people 
 still appeared unwilling to assemble. 
 
 “ The magistrate thinking he should be disappointed 
 of the object he had in view, observed to his companion, 
 that as the people were very much disaffected to the 
 government, he would he obliged to him to address them 
 on the subject of loyalty and good behaviour. Mr 
 Baxter replied, that perhaps this would not be deemed 
 sufficient ; for, as a religious service was the object for 
 which they were met together, they would not be satis- 
 fied with advice of that nature ; but if the magistrate 
 would begin with prayer, he would then endeavour to 
 say something to them. The gentleman replied, putting 
 his hand to his pocket, c Indeed, sir, I have not got my 
 prayer-book with me, or I would readily comply with 
 your proposal. However, I am persuaded that a person 
 of your appearance and respectability would be able to 
 pray with them, as well as to talk with them. I beg, 
 therefore, that you will be so good as to begin with 
 prayer/ This being agreed to, they alighted from the 
 carriage and entered the house; and the people, hesitat- 
 ing no longer, immediately followed them. 
 
 “ Mr Baxter then commenced the service, and prayed 
 with that seriousness and fervour for which he was so 
 eminent. The magistrate, standing by, was soon 
 melted into tears. The good divine then preached in 
 his accustomed lively and zealous manner. When he 
 had concluded, he turned to the justice and said, ‘ Sir, 
 I am the very Dick Baxter of whom you are in pursuit. 
 I am entirely at your disposal/ The magistrate, how- 
 ever, had felt so much during the service, and saw things 
 in so different a light, that he had laid aside all his enmity 
 to the Nonconformists, and ever afterwards became their 
 sincere friend and advocate, and it is believed also a 
 decided Christian/' 
 
54 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 The similarity of the incidents in reference to Welsh 
 and Baxter respectively is very striking ; and the happy 
 results are equally noticeable. 
 
 Mr Blackader, who may be said to have preached Mr 
 Welsh’s funeral sermon to a vast assembly convened 
 from all the surrounding district, far and near, with 
 almost the whole town of Dumfries, appeared with a 
 mourning band about his hat ; which, when observed, 
 the vast confluence of people “ raised a heavy groan, 
 and several cried out for sorrow for some time ; which 
 did also much affect him, and did occasion a very 
 moving discourse by way of preface. He put them 
 in mind of the great days of the gospel they had enjoyed 
 both of old and under the by-past persecution • that 
 God had now taken home some of the most eminent 
 servants who laboured more abundantly than many, 
 whom now their eyes should see no more in this world. 
 But withal he told them that the living Fountain was 
 still to the fore, and pressed them to improve that well, 
 especially now when all other streams were running 
 dry, and when the labourers that remained on the field 
 were few, like the grapes on the uttermost boughs after 
 the gleaning of the vintage. After sermon, all the 
 Irongray people came about him to condole. He took 
 them kindly by the hand, one by one, and promised a 
 visit to their parish ; but his heart being overcharged 
 with sorrow, he could offer them no comfort then.” 
 
 Mr John Kid is the next conventicle preacher from 
 whose sermons we shall present the reader with a few 
 extracts. He is generally mentioned in connection with 
 Mr John King, because they often preached together in 
 the wilderness, and finally suffered martyrdom together 
 on the same scaffold. Mr Kid continued to traverse 
 the country and to preach at conventicles as opportunity 
 offered, for about nine years. After his apprehension, 
 he was examined before the Council, and put to the tor- 
 ture ; but maintained his constancy with great meek- 
 ness. When he was going to the scaffold, hand in hand 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — KID. 
 
 55 
 
 with his dear associate, Mr King, he cheerfully remarked, 
 “ I have often heard and read of a kid sacrifice.” The 
 fellow-martyrs died in great peace and joy. 
 
 The extracts which we shall give here are from two 
 sermons preached by Mr Kid from the text, “ Stand 
 fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made 
 us free.” The discourses were preached in the year 
 1678, but the place is not mentioned. 
 
 In alluding to the commission wdiich the patriarch 
 Abraham gave to his servant Eliezer to go to the land 
 of his kindred to fetch a wife for his son Isaac, Mr Kid, 
 in applying the subject to the case in hand, says, — 
 
 “ And when he came to that good woman Rebekah, 
 he said, c Wilt thou go to my master ? he is his father’s 
 only son; and he is a good man, and in covenant with 
 God. Wilt thou go with me unto a far country ? w T hat 
 answer shall I take back ? what say you ? wilt thou go 
 v T ith this man ? And she said, I will go . 9 The very 
 report of an Isaac engaged her heart to consent to go ; 
 but, sirs, here is a greater Isaac offered unto you this 
 day. Will ye go unto our Lord Jesus Christ ? This day 
 w 7 e are sent, as Eliezer, to tell you that he is his 
 Father’s only Son ; he is rich, and he wants for nothing, 
 and he is in covenant v T ith you. What shall we answer 
 his Father this day concerning your consent ? will ye 
 go and take him to be your lord and husband ? or will 
 ye go without him? He is blessed , and shall be blessed; 
 and they are a happy and blessed people who accept of 
 him. You may all cast down your caps before this 
 matchless one, who has all the blessings of the covenant 
 to bestow upon you. Then come and take him with 
 all his blessings ; for all grace is in him, for verily in 
 him is all grace and glory. Come away, then, unto 
 this precious and glorious Isaac. Young men and 
 young women, will ye fall in love with him ? ye will 
 never sustain any loss by him. It were a thousand 
 pities to let him go and not accept of him. Come, then, 
 and espouse him. Will none of you come ? will not 
 some one or other of you come and marry this Isaac ? 
 
 E 
 
56 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 Come and go with him. "When your hearts are black 
 and decayed, then take a view of your privileges: look 
 unto all the four airths of heaven, and ye shall not find 
 such a lovely one to match with as our Lord Jesus 
 Christ. He is a blessed man that can review all his 
 privileges: we tell you, and tell you over again, when 
 we have done what we can, we will not get to the far 
 end of them.” 
 
 Again he says, in another part of the discourse : — 
 
 “ The grace of self-examination is not in exercise in 
 this our day. Then try yourselves. We have taken an 
 * easy way now; we are not found in the exercise of this 
 duty; men and women have left that, and it is now 
 many years since it was rightly practised. So you must 
 examine your state, and see whether you are in the faith 
 or not, whether ye be following hard after God or not. 
 He is, as it were, hovering over you ; therefore study to 
 he praying folk; try whether ye be in a thriving condi- 
 tion, following the Lord and advancing in Christianity. 
 See ye be mortifying sin and corruption. Lay your- 
 selves in God’s balance, deal emphatically as before 
 God. Indeed, the grace of self-examination is become 
 very rare in these days ; but, O sirs, believe in Christ, 
 and weigh yourself, and see w 7 hat weight of mettle ye 
 have, and what ye are of, — see whether ye be good or 
 had mettle. We exhort you to weigh yourselves before 
 God. Many amongst you have complied with those 
 that hate God; yea, they hate God and Christ both, 
 and even when his back is at the wall, so to speak. 
 Therefore examine into that, and see your sin in so 
 doing, and be humbled for it ; for the stress of your 
 business lies in avowing of God. We are concerned to 
 own him, and to own the government of his house, and 
 to own his covenants that ye and the land did swear. 
 Examine your own particular engagements that ye have 
 come under at the communion days or fast days; 
 weigh these things, I say, and see how answerably ye 
 have walked unto them, or else the Lord will weigh 
 them and you both, — or rather, you for the abusing of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — KID. 
 
 57 
 
 them. There are many that may have the root of the 
 matter in them, and yet things may not be right between 
 God and them ; but the exercise of grace will keep 
 things right, but the habit of grace will not keep you 
 right if ye be not assisted by the exercises thereof.” 
 
 In the second sermon he says, “ Say, Come Lord 
 Jesus to thy house in Scotland ; pray that Christ may 
 come again to the palaces in Scotland. It is a wonder 
 to me that some are in their right minds, and not 
 breaking their very hearts for his return. What do ye 
 say ? — tell him from me my heart is with him, my soul 
 is w r ith him, my heart goes out after him, and I am sick 
 of love ? Be ashamed, all ye professors in Scotland : we 
 are all affronted for evermore. O sirs, we have sinned 
 away Christ from amongst us in all the parishes round 
 about ; and how many broken hearts are there amongst 
 us all for him ? And wherefore serves preaching or 
 ordinances if Christ be not in them ? Preaching is not 
 worth the wag of one’s finger if he be not there. Now 
 what think ye of him ? I doubt not but believers will 
 think much good of him : all the world cannot express 
 the thoughts that they have of him. Oh, if we saw 
 but one blink of his face, we would be made to w onder 
 at him. But I fear we lose him while amongst our 
 hands : we do not hold, or grip to him ; nay, there are 
 many of you that care not for him in receiving of him. 
 Ye walk only by rule of thumb, as we use to say: if ye 
 get him ye will take him, but if ye get him not ye can 
 deliberately w T ant him. But prize him, ye that are privi- 
 leged Christians. If ye do not, come not again here 
 the next day; and though all should lie by, see that ye 
 who are privileged people lie not by. He shall have a 
 generation yet in Scotland that shall praise him. When 
 he returns back, hands, heart, and feet, and all, shall 
 yet set forth his praise. Now r for the time, where are 
 your hearts ? are they gone out after him ? what think 
 ye of him ? I cannot tell you ; but if ye serve and exalt 
 him, it shall not be for nought. So study to be in him ; 
 and ye that are privileged folk, bless him every day, and 
 
58 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ye are faulty if ye do not. What ye have here is but 
 the earnest of what ye are to receive hereafter. Your 
 great things are reserved to be given you at the great 
 day. If ye knew it, ye w r ould long after him. 
 
 “ Many a brave day are ye to have there. There will 
 he no preaching in heaven, no ordinances there ; Christ 
 Jesus is the light there unto all that fair company and 
 household. Will it not be a fair family, when all the 
 general assembly of the first-born shall be convened and 
 met yonder in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air ? 
 There shall not be one awanting ; but there shall be a 
 perfect number in that day with the Father and 
 the Son, when they shall all meet up in the higher 
 house, with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. Ye are 
 great folks, ye are Christians ; but many shall fall away 
 betwixt this and that day. Therefore guard well whilst 
 you are here, and God will help you to it. If we had 
 our salvation a- guiding; — but, God be thanked, it is in 
 a surer hand than ours. Our help is laid upon one that 
 is mighty, and can guide well; that is, upon the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, who is the Captain of our salvation. 
 There is many a poor man and w'oman up yonder that 
 he hath guided thither; therefore we exhort you and 
 press you, in this King’s name, to begin now and bless 
 him in the midst of all your troubles. Bless, bless him 
 that ever the Captain of our salvation was made perfect 
 through suffering. 
 
 “ Now there will be a fair company of you there, that 
 neither gout, gravel, nor any other disease will seize 
 upon through all the ages of eternity. Ah, ah ! think 
 upon your privileges, and much good may ye have of 
 them ; but if ye slight your mercy now, it is a hundred to 
 one if ever ye repent, and if ever ye shall have these offers 
 again if ye slight them now. I tell you that angels are 
 now taking notice of what entertainment ye are giving 
 him. Men and women, lads and lasses, are ye receiving, 
 or will ye enter into a covenant with him never to be 
 forgotten ? Now, men and women, what say ye to the 
 offer ? Say ye, c We will not accept of him then I am 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — KID. 
 
 59 
 
 afraid that it he said by him, c Ye shall have no more of 
 it from me/ But if ye will accept of him, then come, 
 and delay not. There has been much of this language 
 in Scotland. He had stayed long from it, if he had not 
 loved it better than ever we loved him. While he hath 
 respect to us, improve it, and oh, improve it now; and 
 when ye find him, part not with him again, but follow 
 him whithersoever he goeth. Follow him in all terms 
 and upon all hazards, and do not quit him or turn your 
 backs upon him. Stand fast in the liberty wherewith 
 Christ hath made you free. 
 
 “ Now at this time we shall only speak a few things 
 by way of direction unto those who never knew Christ. 
 And in the name of the Lord, I charge and command 
 you all to embrace him. And there are these five things 
 to prove how much he is in earnest with you in this 
 matter ; and our desire is that you and he may now 
 meet and go home together. And if ye get a meeting 
 with him, you may go home joyfully, and sing praise 
 unto him in your smoky cottages. Now we say unto 
 you, both you that know him, and you that know him 
 not, we beseech and obtest you in the name of the Lord, 
 that ye renew and make sure your bargain with him ; 
 for he w T ill give you good entertainment this afternoon, 
 and it is hard to say if ever ye find him upon such 
 terms again. 
 
 “ And the first ground that he gives you to receive 
 and accept of him is this : he is come to bewail and 
 lament over you. If Scripture had not expressed this, 
 we durst not have said it. He is w T ailing over us, having 
 gathered us afar off and near hand, c How often would 
 I have gathered thy children together/ &c. So assure 
 yourselves if ye slight him now it will be dear bought 
 unto you ; if ye slight him, he will complain of you as 
 he justly did, ‘ What could I have done more to my 
 vineyard than I have done in it V And I tell you he 
 hath given you the great things of his law r ; he hath 
 had his delight with you in Christ before the mountains 
 were laid. What could Christ have done more amongst 
 
60 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 you and for you, that he hath not done ? He hath been 
 in earnest with you, and wailing over you. Sirs, he 
 hath given you preaching in abundance, communion- 
 days, fast- days, and thanksgiving-days. He hath been 
 saying to-day, c What could 1 have done more to the 
 inhabitants of Clydesdale, and of Clydeside, and the 
 inhabitants of Glasgow ? I have been looking for 
 grapes, but ye have brought forth wild grapes . When I 
 looked for a praying people, I have not got it/ We 
 command you to take this charge in the name of the 
 Lord, that when the Lord Jesus is weeping over us, it 
 will beseem us to weep over ourselves, that we have 
 given him such a bad requital. Will ye bewail your- 
 selves ? for he will take notice of every poor man and 
 woman amongst you, if ye set unto this duty. I tell you 
 Christ our Lord is in good earnest; come and embrace 
 your privileges, come and make them your own. Is 
 there not a person in this great company that will pity 
 this tender-hearted Lord and Saviour ? It will be a sad 
 business and a sad matter if he be obliged to return to 
 heaven and to complain to the Father in this manner, 
 ‘I have been w r ailing over yonder great company; and 
 there is not a man nor woman, lad nor lass, not one of 
 many hundreds, that w ill accept of, or that cares for me/ 
 Oh, sirs, if this he so, it will draw deep ; the consideration 
 of it should have weight with you ; but, — 
 
 Secondly, As Christ is w r ailing over you in order to 
 embrace you, so he is, as it were, weeping over you 
 to accept of him. The poor Jews when they saw' him 
 weeping over Lazarus’ grave, took notice of it, and said, 
 c Behold how he loved him / Will ye also take notice, and 
 lay it to heart ? We w r ould have you this day consider- 
 ing how matters go in Scotland, and what Christ is 
 doing with us. We think he is doing similar to that in 
 Luke’s nineteenth, where he came near and beheld the 
 city, and wept over it. It may be, Christ is passing over 
 Scotland, and weeping over it. He is giving you fast- 
 days, these are visits ; do not therefore grieve his tender 
 heart by rejecting him. What ! are ye a stupid people, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — KID. 
 
 61 
 
 under immediate wrath and great hazard? We exhort 
 you again and again, grieve not Christ's tender heart, 
 for perhaps it will lie upon you when you cannot help 
 it. His heart is tender, as it were melting over you. 
 He said to Jerusalem, ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how 
 often would I have gathered thee as a hen doth her 
 brood under her wings, and ye would not !’ So Christ 
 says to Scotland, { 0 Scotland, Scotland, how often 
 would I have gathered thee, and ye would not !’ What 
 mean his exhortations and his invitations ? The report 
 of them says this : c Is it true that Christ would be far in 
 amongst you in Scotland, and you care not for him ? 9 
 Oh, if you would not grieve his heart, — we wot not how 
 to word it, but we say this : That there never was a poor, 
 pitiful, tender-hearted mother, more indulgent to a 
 tender and beloved child, than Christ has been to us. 
 Well then, will ye come to him, and accept of him ? I 
 can assure you, he will make you welcome ; and if ye 
 will not receive him, I further assure you, that this offer 
 shall stand on record against you as long as sun and 
 moon endure. Therefore, as ye would not be guilty of 
 your own blood, I must yet use the expression, do not 
 break or grieve Christ’s tender heart : and I again charge 
 you in his name to embrace him ,• for it will not go well 
 over with you, when he shall tell at last, c I took much 
 pains upon you, but ye refused and rejected me.’ 
 
 64 Thirdly, We will give this inducement to embrace 
 him, and we would fain hope that some of you would 
 do it ; be not refractory, sirs, but do it, for Christ hath 
 waited many days and years upon your accepting of 
 him, and is yet waiting upon you. What have ye to 
 return in answer to his call ? or what say ye unto us 
 who are sent to call you in his name ? What say ye ? 
 He hath been waiting to be gracious ; he hath been, 
 as it were, looking down from heaven day by day ; he 
 hath been waiting upon you from duty to duty ; he 
 might have sent you to condemnation, ere even ye saw 
 the Bible. I will tell you God is giving you to-day a 
 glorious offer, and he is waiting what answer ye will 
 
62 
 
 A YOTCE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 give. Are ye content to take him ? and if not, what 
 fault find ye in him? We hid you take him and all 
 advantages with him. Let it not he said that he hath 
 opened his shop and yet sold no wares; for have ye 
 been idolaters, swearers, Sabbath-breakers, drunkards, 
 mockers of God and his works, &c. ? if ye will now give 
 up your names, he will accept of you, for all the wrongs 
 you have done to him. Indeed it does not become him 
 to wait on such as you, but the Scripture says that he 
 waits to be gracious. He hath let down, as it were, a 
 rope from heaven, that ye may by faith grip into it. He 
 is giving you a new invitation to-day, and if ye would 
 accept of it, Christ and all his angels in heaven would 
 rejoice. This would be a marriage-day. If we could 
 but buckle a certain number of you to Jesus Christ, he 
 would go unto the Father and say, 4 Yonder is a number 
 of poor things that have accepted of me in the offer of 
 the gospel/ And the angels in heaven would rejoice at 
 your accepting of him. And can ye think or find in your 
 heart to put him away ? Dare ye do it ? If ye do, we 
 take heaven and earth, yea, and that firmament above 
 you, to witness against you ; if ye do it, it will be the 
 dearest refusal ye ever heard of in your life. 
 
 44 Fourthly, To induce you further to accept of him, 
 he here offers himself. Yea, unto the most ignorant 
 amongst you this day he is, as it were, looking through 
 a narrow casement in heaven, to see and hear what you 
 are doing and saying this day. Are you saying, 4 I will 
 take him, and I will have no other beloved than him ? * 
 Do it, and ye will have a sweet look from him ; such a 
 look as he gave poor Peter. A little godless girl made 
 him swear that he knew not his Lord and Master ; yet 
 this tender-hearted Master had more good-will to him 
 than to forsake him utterly for all that. If ye will 
 accept of him, go w T here ye will he will be for you, and 
 he will look to you, and his look will be a two-edged 
 sword ; it will cut and pierce you wherever it comes ; 
 there will be no resisting of this. He can make one of 
 his words go through you as it did Peter. His look 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — KID. 
 
 63 
 
 like a sword will cut between the joints and the marrow. 
 When he looked to Peter, it made Peter weep, and that 
 bitterly; and I suppose that the denying of his Master 
 made him weep while he was in this world. And had 
 he not reason, when he had denied his precious Lord 
 and Master ? Some of you have turned your back upon 
 him and denied your Master Christ, — have you not got 
 such a look of him ? If that have brought you to re- 
 pentance, then ye have got a blessed look, and will be 
 ashamed of your ways, and say, ‘ Oh ! that ever I should 
 have denied such a Master/ He hath got the wrong by 
 you, and yet he makes the mends of it. Peter found it 
 so. He proved a coward in the day of adversity : but 
 after that, he never did such a turn again ; he boldly 
 avowed him, before councils, judicatories, and great 
 men. He still minded that a poor girl caused him to 
 deny Him who was a kind Master ; he thus still minded 
 what he did long since. When he w T as before their rulers 
 and elders he spoke boldly, and avowed his Master, and 
 woijd not be dissuaded from preaching the gospel. 
 
 44 Come away, then, sirs, and serve this Lord, strike 
 a bargain with him. Serve him, for he is a goodly 
 Lord and Master. He is waiting on you, although it sets 
 you better to wait on him. What do you say, all 
 around this company ? Are ye content to take him, 
 dead or living ? One look of his blessed face will be 
 worth all that ye can suffer for him. Are ye content 
 to close with him, young and old ? Then come, I say, 
 it is a bargain, 4 I give you my hand and my heart, and 
 I take heaven and earth to witness that I close now 
 w 7 ith him, and him alone, for my Lord and Saviour/ 
 Now r I will warrant you, sirs, Christ and all his blessed 
 company in the higher house are now beholding what 
 you are doing ; and he will say, 4 Father, see yonder 
 poor things are accepting of me in the offers of the 
 gospel ; 44 Father, I will that they also whom thou hast 
 given me be with me where I am, ,M &c. We tell you, 
 ye would be all Christians, if ye knew what privileges 
 follow 7 them, and come to them. 4 What art thou V says 
 
G4 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Christ. ‘ Why, I am the Christian whom thou gainedst 
 by thy gospel/ Says Christ, 4 What wilt thou then do 
 for me?" 4 Why, I will, through thy grace, suffer the 
 worst of hardships/ Now, such as say so, or would 
 desire to say so, he would gladly be at it with them so 
 to say. He is going through Scotland, he is walking 
 among the seven golden candlesticks, to see who will 
 accept of him ; and well may he go, and much speed 
 may he come. 
 
 “Now we exhort you at last to accept of him, — he 
 is going about to engage you ; and if you do not, perhaps 
 ye shall never all get such an offer again. He is calling 
 for a peremptory answer from you this day. What do 
 you say, 4 We shall advise, and give an answer next 
 day V No, no ; accept of him without delay. Tell not 
 Christ that tale ; go no farther, resolve upon it. Christ 
 is walking now among the seven golden candlesticks ; it 
 says that Christ would be about with you, — allow me to 
 use the expression : give up with all, and take him, — 
 quit relations, and say, 4 Thou must be my God, and I 
 must covenant with thee/ 
 
 44 Lastly, To prove that Christ is in earnest with us, 
 he is wearied out with the offering of himself so often 
 and so long as he hath done with us. He hath been 
 inviting you to take him : 4 1 have spread forth my hands 
 all the day unto a rebellious people/ When he is 
 stretching forth his hands, men and women, will ye 
 come and accept of him ? take him, and make him your 
 own. I say, if ye will do it, he will give you a warm 
 reception, he will make you welcome, he will meet you, 
 like young babes that never knew any thing of him all 
 their life. Will ye, then, come and say, 4 1 will be for 
 Aim, and not for another ; I will be for thee, and take 
 thee, and all that follows thee ? ’ Now, if ye say so, it 
 shall be a bargain, and it shall not fail. So do not 
 weary our Lords patience to wait upon you any longer ; 
 and if ye refuse, ye shall repent it. Remember that the 
 Lord Jesus Christ is, as it were, hovering over you, he 
 is wailing over you, he is weeping over you, he is 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS KID. 
 
 65 
 
 stretching out his hands to accept of you. Say then, 
 4 I will be thine, I will go with thee ; it is a meeting ; 
 Lord, I will make a bargain/ And the good Lord bless 
 the bargain, and to his name he the praise.” 
 
 These extracts speak for themselves, and show what 
 a blessing Mr Kid must have been to the people of the 
 moorlands, among whom he and his companion, Mr 
 King, sojourned. He was a man comparatively obscure ; 
 but the great truths which he promulgated in his warm 
 and homely, but pungent manner, must have told with 
 admirable effect on the hearts of the simple-minded 
 children of the desert. 
 
 We have said that the discourses were preached in 
 the year 1678, a year of decided advance in the perse- 
 cution. The plot was thickening, the tempest was 
 gathering dark and dreadful over head, and the ominous 
 cloud that had lowered for so many dusky years over 
 the land, was now about to discharge its contents with 
 destructive energy down on the devoted region over 
 which it impended. There were three things more 
 especially for which this year was noted. One was the 
 descent of the Highland host. 64 An army of ten thou- 
 sand men were invited from the mountains of the north, 
 consisting chiefly of barbarian Highlanders, ferocious in 
 their manners, and trained to habits of depredation. This 
 lawless and undisciplined crew were let loose to live at 
 free quarters, and exact discretionary penalties from all 
 who refused to sign the bond . It may readily be imagined 
 to what excess a tumultuary rabble would go, naturally 
 addicted to plunder, and without either law or humanity 
 to restrain them. They were sent among men whom 
 they had been taught to consider as intractable rebels 
 and wild enthusiasts, who merited the worst treatment. 
 Every variety of insolence and exorbitance was practised. 
 Their rapacity made no distinction of age or sex : those 
 who subscribed and those who refused, were equally the 
 victims of indiscriminate pillage. Threats and torture 
 were employed to extort a confession of hidden wealth. 
 Every article they laid tbeir hands on was appropriated 
 
66 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 without reserve ; and as they had been nurtured in 
 indigence and were strangers to refinement, the most 
 trivial and common utensils appeared valuable. The 
 people were not only stripped of their clothes and furni- 
 ture, but deprived of the means of defence, — all persons 
 being required to surrender their horses and ordinary 
 arms. In this condition, and in a time of profound 
 peace, the country was ravaged like a conquered pro- 
 vince ; a sober and industrious peasantry were delivered 
 up to a horde of barbarians, to be robbed and pillaged 
 with impunity. The voice of the nation was raised 
 against this enormous outrage ; and after two months* 
 free quarter, the Highlanders were sent back to their 
 hills loaded with the spoils and execrations of the 
 west.” 
 
 The design of this Highland invasion was to enforce 
 what was termed the bond ; by which deed noblemen, 
 barons, and land-holders, were required to bind them- 
 selves for the whole persons residing within their estates, 
 that they should not frequent conventicles, reset or sup- 
 port vagrant preachers, but to use their utmost endea- 
 vours to bring the contra veners to justice. To enforce 
 this deed it was deemed necessary to employ the High- 
 land host. Patrick Walker speaks of a fragment of 
 this same host, amounting to a thousand men, that was 
 found in the country long after the seventy -eight. u There 
 are many thousands yet alive,” he says, u who can wit- 
 ness, from their sad experience, that there were 1000 
 Highlanders in the month of March 1685, six years 
 after Bothwell, who were sent to the south and west of 
 Scotland, it being killing time, to assist the forces, they 
 being more swift of foot to run through bog and moss, 
 hill and glen, to apprehend the sufferers, than the 
 standing forces, who were turned fat and lazy with free 
 quartering and strong feeding upon the ruins of the 
 Lord's people. As also, these Highlanders were brought 
 to the west, to rob and plunder, and to frighten people, 
 more especially women and children, by their strange, 
 uncouth language, not knowing whether they were to 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SEMPILL. 
 
 67 
 
 kill them or save them alive ; which was a great aggra- 
 vation of a judgment.” 
 
 The other thing which characterised this year, was 
 the imposition of what was called the cess, — a tax levied 
 for the purpose of maintaining an army for the suppres- 
 sion of conventicles, or, as they were termed, “ rendez- 
 vous of rebellion.” A vast deal of suffering was caused 
 by this circumstance ; for honest people refused to com- 
 ply with such an exaction, as being directly opposed to 
 their conscientious principles. They could not think of 
 contributing money for suppressing the gospel, and their 
 refusal was punished accordingly. 
 
 The third was the appearance of the bloody Claver- 
 house on the scene of Scotland’s tragedy. This person- 
 age, on account of his deeds of atrocity and mean 
 rapine, earned for himself a memorial which the lapse 
 of time has not yet effaced. Claverse and Lagg 
 traversed the wilds of Galloway and the upland parts of 
 Nithsdale and Ayrshire, in their raids against a harm- 
 less and noble-minded peasantry, on whom, without 
 responsibility, they exercised all manner of cruelty 
 and injustice. Their names are stereotyped in the 
 popular mind, and will be for many generations yet to 
 come. 
 
 Gabriel Sempill was a man of kindred spirit with the 
 preceding worthies, and preached with great success at 
 the conventicles. He was the son of Sir Bryce Sempill 
 of Cathcart, and was ordained minister of Kirkpatrick- 
 Durham. Not a few of the earlier ministers of the 
 Church of Scotland were related to the best families in 
 the land ; and this, in connection with their learning and 
 piety, gave them a status and an influence from the very 
 first. Mr Sempill was ejected by the Act of Glasgow, 
 and continued, in conjunction with some of his outed 
 brethren, in preaching the gospel to the scattered flock 
 of Christ. He had been at the battle of Pentland; for 
 the which he was intercommuned, and denounced as a 
 rebel. He was related to the venerable John Sempill 
 
68 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 of Carsphairn, to whose personal piety and official talents 
 as a minister he bears a very strong testimony. Mr 
 Sempill’s heart was in his Master’s work, and this work 
 he laboured to advance in the face of all the perils to 
 which he was exposed. We shall give here an extract 
 or two, from the only sermon of his we have seen. The 
 text is, “ Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call 
 upon him while he is near.” The discourse was preached 
 at Millhouse, in the parish of Kilbride, in the spring of 
 1679. 
 
 “ Man once stood in good terms with God, sirs ; O 
 but man when he was first created was a happy and 
 glorious creature ! He was made a little lower than the 
 angels ; for his glory and his holiness was such, that, as 
 the friend of God, he might have spoken as familiarly 
 to his Lord and Creator as a man speaks to his friend. 
 But, O he sinned away that privilege, and the Lord 
 chased him away, and excluded him from paradise. 
 That w r as a sad change to Adam, when the Lord’s 
 voice was terrible to him in the garden. Says Adam, 
 
 6 1 heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid/ 
 
 4 What fears thee, Adam ? what ails you at my voice ? 
 it used not to be a terror unto you ; — have you sinned ? 
 Adam, I am sure something is not right here what, 
 have you eaten of the forbidden tree, and sinned against 
 me ? No wonder that you are afraid, for I am become 
 your enemy for that : and now begone from my sight 
 and presence, until ye be reconciled unto me in another 
 way and manner, and that through the blood of my 
 own Son/ There was Adam and all his posterity 
 banished forth from the presence of God. Now, what 
 state is man then in ? He is in a state that he can- 
 not look God in the face; and God cannot look 
 him in the face, but he is a terror to him. Now, 
 till he be reconciled by Jesus Christ, he cries nothing 
 but, 4 Hide us from the face of Him that sits upon the 
 throne , from the saints, &c. ; — hills and mountains 
 cover us from his glory, for we cannot endure his spot- 
 less holiness/ But though this be the case with all 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS SEMPTLL. 
 
 69 
 
 mankind, yet bless the Lord that he has found out 
 another way whereby he reconciles him again unto 
 himself, — that is, in and through the blood of his own 
 Son, his sent and well-beloved Son, to become man, 
 and in that nature to suffer in his merit and me- 
 diation for man's sin and transgression, and thereby 
 to be reconciled unto God again. There, man has 
 access unto his holiness ; man may come boldly un- 
 to the throne of his grace, and none to make him afraid. 
 Oh, the Lord is got off the throne of justice, and 
 for Christ’s sake is now seated upon the throne of 
 mercy, love, and grace. And what says he now ? 
 what cries his messengers here unto you, but, ‘ Seek 
 ye the Lord while he is to be found, call upon his 
 name while he is near ? ’ Christ has brought God the 
 Father near ; for ‘ God was in Christ reconciling the 
 world unto himself/ And therefore this is the charge 
 given all his messengers, that they should tell all the 
 world, that if ever they would come near him, they must 
 do it in Christ. Oh, if ye would be acquainted with him, 
 it must be in and through his precious Son, Jesus Christ. 
 If you would have that enmity done away, and be made 
 friends with him again, ye must seek the Lord while 
 he is to be found. 
 
 “ Men and women, what is your duty and work in 
 the world, or business hereaway ? It is not to eat, 
 drink, sleep, live, die, and perish like the beasts. No; 
 our great work is to seek the Lord upon great business, 
 — to call upon the name of the Lord. Seek the favour 
 and friendship of God ; seek nearness, union and com- 
 munion with him. Seek to glorify God here, and to 
 enjoy him hereafter. This is your great work and busi- 
 ness in the world. 
 
 “We have the encouragement given; that is, while 
 he is to be found. ‘Why/ say ye, ‘ need we seek Him ? 
 He will not be found of us now — we have offended 
 him by breaking the covenant of works. Now he has 
 cast us out with our forefathers, for their sins and our 
 sins and transgressions/ ‘ No/ says the Spirit of God, 
 
70 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 for all this there may he peace made with him yet ; for 
 as far as he is gone, he may yet be found/ If we take 
 the right way with it, he is yet nigh at hand; 4 Seek Him 
 while he is to be found, call upon him while he is near/ 
 
 44 The Lord Jesus Christ is not shut up from poor 
 souls ; but if any have a mind for him, they may find 
 him. 4 If any man lack wisdom, let him ask it of God, 
 which giveth liberally unto all men, and upbraideth 
 not/ He is not on the reserve, he is not so shut up 
 from sinners that he is not to be found. Indeed, he 
 may sometimes, as it were, go to his place, that ye may 
 seek the more after him. 
 
 44 He has commanded all men and women to seek 
 him ; and thus says he is not upon his keeping, so to 
 speak, from them, when he has commanded all the 
 children of Adam, all at least within the visible church, 
 4 Seek ye the Lord ichile he is to be found* 
 
 44 He gives them a blessed welcome that seek him ; he 
 upbraids none, hut makes all welcome. He is easily 
 overcome by them: 4 I found him whom my soul loved; 
 I held him, and would not let him go/ says the spouse : 
 and he is well content to be holden of her. I say the 
 great welcome he gave the prodigal son when he comes 
 to himself, is proof of this. Says he, 4 1 will go back 
 again to my father’s house, and confess my sins, and so 
 glorify God/ What does the father ? He goes out to 
 meet him, and says, 4 Is this my son V He, as it were, 
 gives him not leave to speak, but flies into his neck, 
 and kisses him, saying, 4 This is my son that was dead, 
 and is yet alive again — that was lost, and is found/ 
 Such a meeting betwixt Christ and the soul is as vras 
 between Jacob and Joseph, — 4 It is enough that my son 
 Joseph is alive/ And it is said, 4 he wept on his neck/ 
 This says he is content to be sought, and gives great 
 welcome and encouragement: 4 Bring the fatted calf, 
 and the best raiment to put on him/ 
 
 “Now, sirs, here is a great witness against you in 
 the day of the Lord, if ye will not come and seek 
 mercy in time through the blood of Jesus, for cleansing 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SEMPILL. 7 1 
 
 from your sins. Forsake your evil ways ; and if tliis 
 were the case, the fatted calf would be killed. If 
 Scotland were on the turning hand, we would get an- 
 other feast yet for a new marriage bargain. " Yea, it is 
 said, 4 There is joy in heaven at the conversion of one 
 sinner/ There is much sorrow in the world when a 
 poor soul turns to God ; the devil and the world is 
 saying, ‘We have lost a good comrade — ay, but there 
 is joy in heaven for that.” 
 
 In another place he says, 44 We have got a new 
 morning of it now ; but there was a black night of it 
 by the Glasgow Act in Scotland. Many places of the 
 land to this day are like the land of Zebulon and 
 Naphtali, especially many places in the north of Scot- 
 land, that are sitting in darkness. Pray for them. 
 I think the Highland host that lately came from thence 
 among you, might draw prayers from you. ‘What!’ 
 would they say ; 4 pity us ! we are your mother’s children ; 
 we were baptized in the same church ; ye minded your 
 own corner, and ye see we are but a parcel of savages. 
 Ye did not pray for us as ye should have done, and it 
 is but just with God that we should be a plague unto 
 you. If ye have the light and the knowledge of Christ 
 yourselves, ye care not for others, and therefore God 
 has sent us to chastise you for this fault amongst others/ 
 A man will perhaps pray for those in his own parish ; 
 but oh, prayer should be extended to all Scotland, 
 England, and Ireland, — nay, all the habitable world ! 
 4 Be thou exalted, O Lord, above the heavens, and let 
 the whole earth be filled with thy glory/ Some places 
 have not yet seen the dawning of the gospel day. Oh, 
 if they would chase the gospel to the north of Scotland. 
 Oh, for an entrance there ! But while ye have the 
 morning of the gospel, improve it ; we cannot tell how 
 long it will last ; our sun rises not so high as at other 
 times. Therefore, I pray you, while ye have the gospel 
 and gospel ordinances, make use of them. Seek the 
 Lord and close with him in the offers of his grace, and 
 say, 4 Lord, thou offerest thyself unto me for wisdom, 
 
 F 
 
72 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 justification, sanctification, and complete redemption ; 
 so here I am with all my soul ; I accept of this offer. 
 u I will be your God, and ye shall be my people.” I 
 take instruments that thou slialt be my king, priest, and 
 prophet/ Oh, improve the offers of the gospel ! Ye can- 
 not tell how long this morning of it shall be continued 
 with you. Therefore seek the Lord, call on his name. 
 Ye cannot tell how soon he may go, and how far he may 
 go away from you. We shall add no more. The Lord 
 bless what ye have heard, and to his name be the praise.” 
 
 As the sermon was preached in the year 1679, it 
 suggests to us some of the incidents of that stirring 
 year. This was the year of the death of Bishop Sharp 
 of St Andrews. He was killed in Magus Moor on 
 his return from Edinburgh, where, at a sitting of the 
 council, he had been instrumental in instituting certain 
 severe measures against the nonconformists, with a view 
 to their utter extirpation. His death made a great 
 noise throughout the country, and roused the persecut- 
 ing junto to excessive fury against the Presbyterians, 
 who were charged as being the instigators of the foul 
 deed; but this they utterly repudiated, and denounced 
 it as much as others. It was, to say the least of it, an 
 injudicious and unjustifiable affair, and instead of 
 mending the matter, aggravated the sufferings of the 
 persecuted, and became a ground of indiscriminate per- 
 secutions. It threw oil into the furnace of the perse- 
 cution, and stimulated the fires into a still fiercer rage. 
 
 The skirmish at Drumclog befell also in this year. In 
 this encounter between the troops and the Covenanters, 
 who had assembled peaceably for religious exercises, 
 Claverhouse sustained an ignominious defeat. The 
 shame of this discomfiture maddened the cavalier, and 
 the spirit of retaliation, like a vengeful demon, took so 
 ample and prominent a possession of him that it was 
 never exorcised so long as he lived. His subsequent 
 deeds showed what fell revenge stimulated ever and 
 anon all the worst passions of his nature. 
 
 The battle of Bothwell Bridge, famous in covenanting 
 
THE CONVENTTCLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 73 
 
 story, was also the product of this year, and arose out 
 of the affair of Drum clog. This was a disastrous con- 
 flict to the covenanting party, who were entirely routed 
 and scattered like the leaves of the wood. “ After this," 
 says Hetherington, “the bloody Claverhouse, at the 
 head of a strong detachment, was let loose upon the 
 western and southern counties, and swept across them 
 like a demon of destruction guiding an exterminating 
 whirlwind. Torture, rapine, and murder, marked his 
 path. Those who fled were hunted down and shot in 
 the fields ; and those whose age or sex rendered them 
 incapable of flight, were tortured, abused, and butchered 
 by their own hearth-side. The hoary head of three- 
 score years and ten was dashed to the earth in blood ; 
 the shrinking form of woman was exposed to violence 
 and fiery agonies ; and the tender limbs of youth w r ere 
 mangled, or their heads cut to the skull with twisted 
 cords, in the barbarous attempt to wring from their 
 anguish a discovery where their dearest relatives were 
 concealed. But humanity recoils from the hideous 
 recital of such horrors, perpetrated by the command, 
 beneath the eye, and often by the hand of that relentless 
 ruffian, — the favourite hero whom the admirers of Scot- 
 tish prelacy delight to honour." 
 
 The events of this year led on to those irresponsible 
 shootings in the moorlands on the part of the military, — 
 those licensed slaughter- men, who slew without remorse, 
 and as in sport, the unoffending peasantry. 
 
 Bichard Cameron was one of the most popular of 
 the conventicle preachers. He made the glens and 
 lonely hills to resound with the thunder of his eloquence. 
 He traversed almost every footstep of the dreary upland 
 wastes in searching out the flock of Christ in the dark 
 and cloudy day, till he fell in the contest on that dismal 
 day in Ayr’s moss. The first of our extracts which we 
 shall here give is from a sermon by Cameron, on the 
 text, “ And ye will not come unto me that ye might have 
 life : 
 
74 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 44 There were many of the Jews,” he says, 44 as ye may 
 see from the preceding part of this chapter, that came 
 to Christ in the external ordinances, following the gospel, 
 and yet the ends they had before them were not good ; 
 therefore he upbraids them with this, 6 And ye will not 
 come unto me that ye might have life/ Now I would 
 ask you this question, What went ye out to see ? came 
 ye out to see a man, a reed shaken with the wind ? or 
 came ye out to see a multitude gathered together ? or 
 came ye out to see a minister’s deportment ? or came ye 
 out to betray us ? Well, whatever way, our Lord knows 
 your ends; and the greatest sinner here, for aught I 
 know, shall be welcome to come to Jesus Christ. He 
 is saying, 4 You in the parish of Crawfordjohn, will ye 
 come to me ? ye in the parish of Douglas, will ye come 
 to me? ye in the parish of Affleck, will ye come to me, 
 that ye may have life ? 9 Now, our Lord knows every one 
 of your ends in coming here this day. 
 
 “Now, in the words read, there are these two things 
 observable : — First, There is a great unwillingness to 
 come to Christ : 4 And ye will not come unto me/ There 
 is a great unwillingness in Scotland this day to come to 
 Christ. The king will not come ; the council will not 
 come ; the prelates will not come ; and the indulged 
 w r ith their favour v r ill not come. Christ says, 4 They 
 will not come;’ and the devil says, ‘They shall not 
 come/ 
 
 44 Secondly, I observe that they that come to Christ 
 get life : 4 That ye might have life/ They get a life that 
 is worth the having. We think much of the natural 
 life, but this life will avail us when the other is gone. 
 
 44 1 return to the first of these, to show that there is a 
 great unwillingness in sinners to come to Jesus Christ; 
 and to make out this, ye may say, 4 What is it to come 
 unto Christ ? 9 Now, as I was hinting at in the lecture, 
 as to coming unto Christ, If he were coming in pomp 
 and grandeur as a king in a bodily shape, we would 
 stoop down and take him by the hand, and put him in 
 our bosom. Come, then ; oh, will ye come in a believ- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 7 5 
 
 ing way to him? In a word, will ye believe the doctrine ? 
 It is, more plainly, to believe and rest upon him as he is 
 offered to you in the gospel. I wot well they are great 
 fools who will not set to their seal to what our Lord 
 here says. ‘ How long shall I stretch out my hand to a 
 gainsaying people ? how long shall I say unto you, Be- 
 hold me, behold me ? ’ Many a time have ye been called 
 upon, at preaching days and on fast days, but are there 
 not many of you as ignorant as those that never heard 
 of him ? In clearing of which, I shall offer you these 
 few particulars, and, — 
 
 “ First, There is a great unwillingness. Consider how 
 great a work it is to bring men to make use of the 
 means, — yea, of outward or external means. It is true 
 there are very few of the sons of men but they make 
 use of some sort or form of worship ; but for the power- 
 ful and effectual means that he has appointed, it is not 
 easy to bring folk to these ; it is not easy to bring people 
 out to hear the persecuted gospel this day. There are 
 not many free to hear preaching in the open fields ; it 
 is not easy to bring folk to read the Word. I trow the 
 Bible is a slighted book by many. 
 
 u Secondly, There are some that are brought to the 
 use of the means, but how unconcerned are they whether 
 they profit by those means or not. Folk that give way 
 to sleep give evidence that they are not much concerned 
 about coming to Christ. The claping or rather raking 
 up of their eyes, says to me that they are not seriously 
 insisting for a meeting with Christ. 
 
 u Thirdly, It is very hard to convince men of sin. 
 Many come to hear preaching, and read the Bible ; hut 
 those that are not convinced of sin have never come to 
 Christ. They cannot bear them that are free in telling 
 them their faults. It is true, they will hear of sin in 
 general, but how hard is it to get folk to particularise 
 their sins. There is not a man amongst a thousand that 
 will take freely and fully with sin ; and to all such our 
 Lord is saying, 6 Ye will not come unto me that ye 
 might have life/ 
 
76 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 “ Fourthly, Let us consider how hard a thing it is 
 to bring a man to grief for and hatred of sin. Some 
 are brought to ordinances, and some to read the Word, 
 and some even to conviction of sin ; but will they quit 
 it ? It is true, ye may be grieved for sin ; but have ye 
 grieved and hated yourself for your sin ? Oh, if ye got 
 but a view of the saints on Mount Zion, clothed with 
 righteousness, even that of Christ, and a sight of the 
 terror of God, ye would know that it is a bitter thing 
 to depart from the living God ; ye would abhor nothing 
 like sin. Where there is so little hatred of sin, it is an 
 evidence that ye will not come to Him who is the pro- 
 pitiator for sin, even Him who came to be a propitiation 
 for those that are sick and diseased with sin . 
 
 “ Fifthly, Consider how few are prevailed with to 
 resolve and endeavour to forsake sin. There are many 
 folks will be convinced of sin, and grieve for it, but 
 they cannot quit it. Many a man that has even paid 
 that wicked cess will acknowledge it an evil and a sin. 
 But oh, how few men now will quit any thing for Christ! 
 Will ye not do as much as quit these things for him ? I 
 tell you that ere long you and these things shall be for 
 ever parted asunder.” 
 
 Again he says, “Do ye know any thing of this un- 
 willingness to come to Christ ? Are there any of you 
 here saying, ‘This doctrine is true that you are telling us. 
 Ye have told me the thoughts of my heart, for there is 
 a great unwillingness in me to come to Christ V There 
 are some that think it as easy to believe as to take a 
 piece bread in their hands, or a drink out of a man’s 
 hand. Alas, ye came over easily by your religion in the 
 west of Scotland, and so comes of it. Ye have taken 
 it up at your feet; ye have been born with it. Others 
 say that they have been sanctified from the womb. 
 Indeed, John the Baptist was so; but there are not 
 many such at this day, for he was a singular and exer- 
 cised man. Ye may think of yourselves as ye will, but 
 if ye have not some kind of law-work within you, ye 
 will no more come to heaven than devils will do. There 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 77 
 
 are some of you that have been elders that know nothing 
 of this law-work within you. Ye are ignorant, utterly 
 ignorant, and so cannot be tender of the glory of God 
 and his cause. We told you of it, this day fifteen days, 
 that the Lord was in earnest with you, from Rev. iii. 20, 
 4 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock : if any man 
 hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, 
 and will sup with him, and he with me ; , and ye were 
 somewhat moved. We say that this is good indeed to 
 be moved, but it does no good without some law- work. 
 
 u Oh, sad to think upon the west of Scotland ! I 
 know no place wherein more will go to hell than many 
 places in the west of Scotland. The wild Highlands 
 have not sitten so many calls as thou hast done. O 
 West, thou hast been, Capernaum-like, lifted up unto 
 heaven, but thou shalt be thrust down to hell. O ye 
 in the west, ye all have religion ! truly ye are like the 
 church of Laodicea who lacked nothing, but knew not 
 that she was lukewarm, poor, wretched, blind, naked. 
 It may be ye think ye have enough, and stand in no 
 need of preaching, or persecuted gospel ordinances ; and 
 yet ye are the people in all Scotland that are in the 
 worst condition. I would not have the accompts on 
 my head, that you professors in Clydesdale, Ayr, 
 Galloway, and Tweedale have, for all the world. He 
 hath been crying unto you in the parishes of Moorkirk, 
 Crawfordjohn, and Douglas, that 4 ye will not come 
 unto me that ye might have life/ And what say ye 
 unto us ? Are there any here that say we will not ? 
 Shall we go away and tell our Master that ye will not 
 come unto him ? 0 ye professors and elders, ye are a 
 
 shame and a disgrace unto religion. The truth is, that 
 many of you have got that which ye will never cast. 
 Yea, many a man, since the affair of Hamilton Moor, 
 hath got a judicial stroke, so that the cause amongst 
 ministers and professors now seems lost. 
 
 “ Are there any here that are at this with it, c Indeed, 
 I find it very difficult to close with Christ ? ’ But before 
 we speak to this, we shall pray a short word. 
 
78 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 u Now for you that are saying this, 4 It is true, it is 
 not easy to bring folk to Christ. I have had a profes- 
 sion for many years/ say ye, 4 and yet I fear I have 
 never yet come to Christ/ But I say, our Lord is here 
 this day, saying, ‘ Will ye take me, ye that have had 
 a lie so long in your right hand ? ' What say ye to it, 
 ye that have been plagued with deadness, hardness of 
 heart, and unbelief ? He is now requiring you to give in 
 your answer. What say ye, Yes or No ? What think 
 ye of the offer ? And what fault find ye in him ? 
 There may be some saying, ‘ If I get or take him, I shall 
 get a cross also/ Well, that is true ; but ye wall get a 
 sw T eet cross. Thus we offer him unto you in the 
 parishes of Auchinleck, Douglas, Crawfordjohn, and all 
 ye that live thereabout ; and w r hat say ye ? Will ye 
 take him ? Tell us what ye say, for w r e take instru- 
 ments before these hills and mountains around us, that 
 we have offered him unto you on this day. Ye that 
 are free of cess-paving, will ye take him ? Ye that 
 are free of the bond now tendered by the enemies, will 
 ye accept of him this day, when the old professors are 
 taking offence at his way and cross ? Oh, will ye cast 
 your eyes upon him ? Angels are wondering at the 
 offer, — they stand beholding with admiration that our 
 Lord is giving you such an offer this day. Nay, those 
 that have gone to hell many years ago, who are now 
 crying out in the agonies of torment, maybe saying, ‘Oh, 
 that we had such an offer as yonder parish of Auchin- 
 leck ! * O come, come then to him, and there shall 
 never be more of your by-past sins ; they shall be 
 buried. But if ye w r ill not come unto him, it shall be 
 more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah than for you. 
 Now, what say ye to me ? And what shall I say to 
 Him that hath sent me to you ? Shall I say, ‘ Lord, 
 there are some yonder saying, “ Oh, I am content to give 
 Christ my heart, hand, house, lands, and all that I have 
 for his cause ? 99 * Now r , if ye can make a better bargain, 
 then do it. Look over to the Shawhead, and these 
 hills, and take a look of them, for they are all witnesses 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 
 
 79 
 
 now ; and when you are dying they shall come before 
 your face. We take every one of you witness against 
 another ; and will not that aggravate your sorrow when 
 they come into your mind and conscience, saying, 
 ‘We heard you invited and obtested to take Christ, and 
 we are witnesses ; and yet ye would not ; and now we 
 come in here as witnesses against you ? * There is some 
 tenderness among you now, and that is favourable-like 
 to look upon ; but yet that is not all. The angels will 
 go up to report at the throne what is every one’s choice 
 this day ; they will go up to heaven and report good 
 news, and thus they will say, ‘ There were some in the 
 parishes of Auchinleck, Douglas, and Crawfordjohn, 
 that were receiving our Lord in the offers of the gospel, 
 and he is become their Lord and this will be welcome 
 news. Many in hell will be saying, ‘Woe’s us \ * There 
 are some going away and will not come here ; they are 
 taking the alarm, and flying from the wrath to come, 
 that is now devouring us. ‘ Oh, we had the offer, but will 
 never get it again/ ‘ But stay/ says the devil, ‘ we will 
 set the troopers and dragoons upon them, and they 
 shall be taken, and their minister shall be killed ; yea, 
 they shall be taken, and imprisoned, and banished, and 
 all ruined/ But we defy him and them. Ye will not 
 come, ye that live hereabout, for fear of this ; and some, 
 it may be, have not come here on that account. Oh, 
 dreadful stupid fear, that has come upon you. But 
 our Lord has come to your door — will ye take him ? yea 
 or not ? Will ye take him home with you ? It is a 
 great wonder that any one in Scotland is getting such 
 an offer this day. About this time twelvemonth, it 
 would have been thought strange to have heard it said 
 that field-meetings would have come under disdain. 
 But take him and change your minds. Give up with 
 banning, cursing, and swearing ; give up with cess- 
 paying ; give up with the indulgence ; and give up 
 with all the ministers that take not up the cross of 
 Christ which we are bearing at this day. Take the 
 glorious person who has occasioned our coming here 
 
80 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 this day into this wild place. What shall I say ? that 
 any of you were content to take him ? I would fain 
 think that some will take him ; and if ye from the 
 bottom of your heart have a mind to take him, ye shall 
 get the earnest of the Spirit ; he will in no wise cast 
 you out. Poor, vile drunkard, adulterer, and liar, be 
 what ye will, we give you the call, and warning, to 
 come and take him. Upsitten professor, it is such as 
 you that he is seeking after. Our Lord cannot get 
 entertainment amongst the scribes and Pharisees. 
 Well, poor thing, that hast neither skill nor religion, 
 are ye content to take him ? Pie speaks peace to you. 
 Go and sin no more ; and let us not return again unto 
 folly ; and study to redeem the time, because the days 
 are evil.” 
 
 With what urgency do these words come home to 
 every weary heart ; and how free, and full of heart, 
 and encouraging to all and every one are they. Truly, 
 Richard Cameron dealt faithfully by the souls of his 
 hearers ; his heart yearned for their salvation, and poured 
 out itself in the most melting commiseration for them. 
 
 The sermon from which these extracts are taken was 
 delivered on the last Sabbath of his life but one. The 
 conventicle at which he presided was convened in the 
 Moss of Hyndbottom. This Hyndbottom is a lonely 
 retreat in the wilderness half-way between Muirkirk 
 and Sanquhar, and a desert more secluded can scarcely 
 be conceived. Nothing can exceed the dreary aspect 
 of the locality. Bleak moorlands spread abroad on all 
 sides, exhibiting vast spaces of tufted heath and rugged 
 moss, in the deep and smeary hags of which many a 
 wanderer concealed himself from the face of the troop- 
 ers that scoured the wastes. Plyndbottom is near the 
 source of the dark Duneaton, a mossy stream that rises 
 in the remote moors, and, winding its way through 
 Crawfordjohn, falls into the Clyde. Hyndbottom was 
 as unlikely a place as any to be intruded on by the 
 troopers, on account of the broken and sinking surface 
 of the moorland ; and such retreats were chosen by the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 81 
 
 conventiclers for this very reason. In those days there 
 were no roads through the vast wastes, excepting, here 
 and there, the slender foot-tracks formed by the sheep 
 as they follow in long and irregular lines along the 
 sides of the hills, or through bent and shaggy heath. 
 The heavy horses of the troopers were no match for 
 the light-footed conventiclers, who could easily make 
 their escape over the yielding surface of the moors, and 
 reach the heights on the farther side in safety. 
 
 Hyndbottom was in this respect a pretty secure re- 
 treat, as well as in regard to its entire seclusion. It 
 does not appear that ever the dragoons discovered this 
 place, or caused the least annoyance to the worshippers 
 on the present occasion ; for the solitudes around the 
 seclusion of Hyndbottom must, in those days, have 
 been almost impassable to horsemen. The retreat in 
 which Cameron held this conventicle is to this day 
 pointed out by the shepherds, whose huts, here and 
 there, stud the wilderness, and the spot is still dear to 
 them from the hallowed associations of those times. 
 The name of the preacher is as familiar in their mouths 
 as if he yet lived among them, and as if the tones of 
 his voice were still sounding in their ears. This Hynd- 
 bottom was in the vicinity of Shawhead, a farm-house 
 near the water of Duneaton in the wilds. It would 
 appear that the family resident here was favourable to 
 the persecuted people, and entertained them in their 
 dwelling ; and it is not improbable that Mr Cameron 
 was hospitably treated there on the Sabbath he 
 preached in Hyndbottom. The households in the 
 moorlands showed much kindness to the wanderers, 
 who were buffeted by the storms of persecution, and 
 were destitute of all things, and had no certain dwell- 
 ing-place. The huts of the shepherds were friendly 
 hiding-places to those who were mercilessly expelled 
 from their cherished homes. Mr Cameron in address- 
 ing his audience in the wilds of Hyndbottom said, 
 u Look over to the Shawhead and these hills, and take a 
 look of them, for they are all witnesses now ; and when 
 
82 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 you are dying they shall all come before your face.” 
 An appeal like this produced a prodigious effect on the 
 simple-hearted children of the desert. 
 
 Hyndbottom is in the close vicinity of Friarminion, 
 a spot well known in the time of Cameron. The 
 house was situated on the margin of a mountain rivulet, 
 that drained the mossy back-ground on the north. 
 The brawling brook swept round a small green plot of 
 ground near the steading. This secluded abode was a 
 rendezvous to the wanderers, who left their retreats in 
 the moss and spent many a comfortable night in the 
 hospitable mansion ; and many a happy day, too, around 
 the blazing hearth, on w T hich were piled the brick-like 
 peats, hard and dry, which in the warm days of sum- 
 mer had been dug from the black moss in the neigh- 
 bourhood. Friarminion was a sanctuary to God's 
 people in the days of their tribulation, and many a 
 blessed hour was enjoyed by the house conventicle in in- 
 tercourse with God and in Christian fellowship. It was 
 here, too, that the deputations of the society people, as 
 they were called, frequently met for prayer and con- 
 ference, and for transacting the general business of the 
 praying associations. These honest people generally 
 courted the remotest situations for their private religi- 
 ous ^meetings, as well as for the more public conven- 
 ticle ; for the silent glens and the unfrequented wastes 
 were the spots where they found themselves most at 
 home. 
 
 Nor was Hyndbottom far from the wilds of Blagan- 
 nock, a place famous in those days for the meetings of 
 the worthies. It was here that the tent was erected on 
 the edge of the moss on the height, when Mr Ren wick 
 preached to the conventicle assembled from the neigh- 
 bouring wilds, and where, being attacked by the troop- 
 ers, the meeting was dispersed over the moss and 
 along the sides of the hills, like sheep fleeing before the 
 ravenous wolf. On that day Mr Renwick escaped in 
 the habiliments of a shepherd, while Laing, the tenant 
 or laird of Blagannock, arrayed in Mr Ren wick's minis- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS CAMERON. 83 
 
 terial garb, became the chief object of pursuit, and 
 decoyed the soldiers from the others ; for the capture 
 of the minister was the great object. The moss of 
 Blagannock was a tower of safety, for the troopers 
 never durst venture on its precarious surface. The 
 peril of a march through the mosses always appalled 
 them, while the shepherds alone knew the places where 
 the footing was safe. The worthy family of Blagan- 
 nock never failed to open their door to the wanderers 
 with whom in principle they were identified, and with 
 whom they had thrown in their lot. The Laings were 
 renowned throughout the district ; they seem to have 
 been a race of intrepid men, well principled, and steady 
 to the cause they had espoused. 
 
 As the house of Blagannock was a place of frequent 
 resort to the sufferers, so the general meeting of the 
 delegates from the societies was sometimes held here. 
 The meeting which perfected the Sanquhar declaration 
 convened in the house of Blagannock on the 28th of 
 May 1 685. The declaration having been duly consi- 
 dered, it was resolved on to publish it at the cross of 
 Sanquhar on the same day. “ According to this con- 
 clusion, v says Michael Shields, “about 220 men drew up 
 in arms, who went to the said burgh, and at the market 
 cross, after singing a psalm, and Mr James Renwick 
 having prayed, the said protestation was published, and 
 a copy left on the cross ; thereafter the men marched 
 out of the town.” 
 
 This declaration created a great stir at the time, and 
 was a wind that blew into a fiercer flame the hot fires 
 of the persecutors, especially in that particular locality. 
 The writer of the “Faithful Contendings” says, “that 
 after the publishing of the foresaid declaration at San- 
 quhar, the enemies, but especially Claverhouse, that 
 wicked and furious zealot, was very outrageous and 
 active, for he with armed men searched for them 
 through mosses, and muirs, and the remotest places, 
 where it was known these people frequented, — who 
 were glad many times not only to seek shelter there, 
 
84 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 but also beneath the ground, in dens and caves, when 
 they could get none above it.* 
 
 The entire district around Hyndbottom is bleak and 
 desolate, but exactly suitable to the condition of the 
 persecuted people, w r ho found within its precincts a 
 hiding-place and a defence which could not otherwise 
 be afforded. To a stranger passing through this wilder- 
 ness no scene could be more uninviting and cheerless; 
 but to one who knows its history, the whole becomes 
 instantly invested with an interest of a most absorbing 
 kind. The streamlet, the mosses, the mountain sides, 
 the lonely glens, have all and each stories of their own, 
 and traditions of other times, and romantic incidents, 
 stereotyped* and ineffaceable, and which are distinctly 
 legible to the people who w r on in their solitary retreats. 
 
 “ O wild, traditioned Scotland ! 
 
 Thy briery burns and braes 
 Are full of pleasant memories 
 And tales of other days ; 
 
 Thy story-haunted waters 
 In music gush along, 
 
 Thy mountain glens are tragedies, 
 
 Thy heathy hills are song. 
 
 66 Land of the Bruce and Wallace ! 
 
 Where patriot hearts have stood ; 
 
 And for their country and their faith 
 Like water poured their blood ; 
 
 Where wives and little children 
 Were steadfast to the death, 
 
 And graves of martyr warriors 
 Are in the desert heath.” 
 
 Hyndbottom to this day echoes the voice of Cameron, 
 who displayed the standard of the gospel in its soli- 
 tudes. 
 
 The topography of this wilderness exhibits some 
 curious things to the eye of the geologist. The Gair- 
 land Cleuch affords matter of inquiry. It seems to be 
 the deep and deserted bed of some antediluvian or 
 pre-Adamite river. The broad and whilom stream 
 has cut its channel as sheer through the rocks as if it 
 had been chiselled by the human hand, — very much re- 
 sembling the straight and regular streets of some of our 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 85 
 
 large cities. There purls through it at present a small 
 mountain rill, by no means competent in its erosive 
 power to the formation of such a river-bed as the 
 romantic Gairland Cleuch. An admirable retreat this 
 in covenanting times, and a retreat which was no doubt 
 often used. The concealment it furnished was perfect ; 
 and with a sentinel placed on the high margin on the 
 moor, no body of troopers could have assailed with 
 success a conventicle in its bosom. The desert afforded 
 in those days numerous places of concealment which 
 cannot now be had, on account of the denudation of the 
 ancient natural woods that fringed the mosses and filled 
 the ravines with impervious thickets, and also on account 
 of the formation of roads and foot-paths through the 
 glens and along the moors. 
 
 In the extracts from Cameron’s sermon which we 
 have given above, a reference is made to some of the 
 contiguous parishes from which the audience at Hynd- 
 bottom was drawn. Auchinleck, Douglas, Muirkirk, 
 and Crawfordjohn, are more particularly enumerated. 
 Now, it is to be remarked that these parishes, in connec- 
 tion with New Cumnock, Kirkconnel, and Sanquhar, 
 form a district on the north side of Upper Nithsdale, in 
 which the great storm of the persecution at particular 
 periods spent its main fury. The wilds in the upland 
 parts of these parishes are, as Mr Ren wick said, flowered 
 with martyrs. Still, this is only a section of the perse- 
 cuted field, but a section where intense suffering was 
 endured. Hyndbottom is in the parish of Crawford- 
 john, and at the extreme point westward, where it 
 infringes on the parishes of Muirkirk and Kirkconnel. 
 Crawfordjohn had its worthies in those days, and per- 
 sons who contributed their quota to the support of the 
 cause. The parish of Douglas had in it men of renown 
 and noble adventurers for the truth. We can never 
 forget James Gavin the tailor, whose hiding-place was 
 Earn-sallach cave, and whose ears were cropped off by 
 Claverhouse in wanton cruelty, when he had been 
 betrayed by the fierce barking of his little dog, his 
 
86 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 companion in his concealment. His case is an interest- 
 ing one, and is fully detailed in the “ Traditions of the 
 Persecuted.” He was banished to the West Indies; but 
 he survived the persecution, returned from his banish- 
 ment, and died in peace in the town of Douglas. Old 
 Douglas ! how our heart warms at the remembrance of 
 thee, historic Douglas, famous in the annals of thy 
 baronial chieftains ! Thy ancient burying- ground, time 
 out of mind the sleeping place of the dead, with the 
 mouldering ruins of old St Bride's Church in the centre 
 of the field of graves, where erst on Palm Sunday the 
 doughty Douglas routed the Southern foes, and killed 
 the mighty in war on the blood-stained floor of thy 
 chancel. The men of Douglas went also into the wil- 
 derness to meet the solemn conventicle, and hung on the 
 lips of Cameron while he announced in their audience 
 the great truths of the everlasting gospel. 
 
 Muirkirk, another of the parishes mentioned by 
 Cameron in his sermon at Hyndbottom, or, as it was 
 anciently termed, “the Muirkirk of Kyle,” had its soli- 
 tudes filled with the wanderers of the covenant, and in 
 few places did the conventicle preachers meet with more 
 cordial welcome. Muirkirk had its martyrs, and this 
 was to be expected, for “ where the carcase is, there 
 will the eagles be gathered together.” Where could 
 confessors for the truth fall but where they were to be 
 found ? and here they were to be found, for unto this 
 locality they fled for refuge. The martyrdom of the 
 godly carrier, the saintly John Brown of Priesthill, 
 furnishes the most interesting story of all the sufferers 
 in those times. How the heart bleeds at the recital in 
 the grouping of all the circumstances, when, on the first 
 morning of summer, surrounded by the dragoons of 
 Claverhouse, he was shot by the cavaliers own hand. 
 
 Cameron, in his sermon at Hyndbottom, addresses in 
 particular the people of Douglas, Muirkirk, Crawford- 
 john, and Auchinleck, who had convened at the risk of 
 their lives to worship with him in the desert. “ He 
 hath been crying to you in the parishes of Muirkirk, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 87 
 
 Crawfordjohn, and Douglas, that ‘ye will not come 
 unto me that ye might have life/ And what say ye 
 unto us ? Are there any here to-day who say, 6 We will 
 not"? Shall we go away and tell our Master that ye will 
 not come unto him?” It appears that this and similar 
 appeals in the sermon were accompanied with great 
 power from on high. The hearts of the people were 
 bowed like the trees of the wood before the wind. 
 They were melted into tears ; and the weeping was so 
 general, that the services, for a brief space, were inter- 
 rupted. It was a solemn day in Hyndbottom. A 
 pentecostal visitation seems to have overtaken the audi- 
 ence, and the great Master of assemblies was in their 
 midst. “ The wilderness and the solitary place was glad 
 for them, and the desert rejoiced and blossomed as the 
 rose.” 
 
 Howie of Lochgoin remarks, that, according to Patrick 
 Walker’s account, u both the minister and the greater 
 part of the people fell into a fit of calm weeping, which 
 obliged the minister to stop short and pray ; which he 
 did powerfully in behalf of the people assembled on that 
 occasion, and on behalf of the church. And however 
 defective this sermon may now appear, perhaps the 
 delivery of no sermon, except that by Mr Livingstone at 
 the Kirk of Shotts, was more remarkably blessed with 
 success from the Lord, in Scotland, since the primitive 
 times.” This is a strong testimony to the efficiency of 
 conventicle preaching ; and it is no less strong than true. 
 Such a scene must have been singularly affecting : A 
 great company gathered in the heart of the dreary desert, 
 under the canopy of the sky, and in danger of being 
 invaded by the' troopers, who were by this time com- 
 missioned to shoot indiscriminately or otherwise maim 
 all whom they found at those rendezvouses of rebellion. 
 We say, such a scene must have been deeply moving; 
 and could their enemies have beheld it, it might have 
 changed their minds in reference to those whom they 
 termed rebels and outcasts : but they were neither rebels 
 against God nor outcasts from his favour, as the rich 
 
 Q 
 
88 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 manifestations of his grace that day vouchsafed, most 
 amply proved. It was in this way that the Lord 
 ripened one harvest of witnesses after another, to supply 
 the place of those who had fallen in the conflict ; so that 
 the ranks never seemed to be thinned, for the more they 
 were oppressed the more they grew; the bush burned 
 and was not consumed, — “ The blood of the martyrs is 
 the seed of the church.” 
 
 Mr Cameron tried to improve the moments of tender- 
 ness he witnessed in his audience for making a deeper 
 impression still, and that something like permanent 
 fruit might be the result ; because emotions are not un- 
 frequently evanescent, and unless principle take hold of 
 the heart, all will at length vanish away. In the pro- 
 gress of his discourse, he said, 44 There is some tender- 
 ness among you now, and that is favourable to look 
 upon ; but yet that is not all. The angels will go up to 
 report at the throne what is every one’s choice this day. 
 They will go up to heaven and report good news, and 
 thus they will say, 4 There are some in the parishes of 
 Auchinleck, Douglas, and Crawforcljohn, that were re- 
 ceiving our Lord in the offers of the gospel, and he is 
 become their Lord and this will be welcome news. 
 
 It must have gladdened Cameron’s heart that day to 
 'witness the power of the gospel on the company con- 
 vened in the moss, far from the dwellings of men, but 
 near God, and under the bright shining of his face. 
 What a stimulus it must have imparted to him, and 
 what a heavenly eloquence must have flowed from his 
 lips, when the Spirit of God fell alike on the preacher 
 and on the hearers ! The spiritual refreshment enjoyed 
 on that Sabbath-day at Hyndbottom strengthened 
 hundreds to seize the standard of Zion with a firmer 
 grasp, and to elevate it higher still in the sight of the 
 nation. The wells of salvation that were opened in the 
 desert flowed in the track of the conventicles, like the 
 water from the smitten rock of old in the wilderness. 
 
 Cameron’s race w as now near its end, and the Lord once 
 more set the seal of his approbation to the ministry 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS CAMERON. 89 
 
 ot his servant, who, in a few days after, was to seal his 
 testimony with his blood. 
 
 But we are not yet done with our extracts from 
 Cameron’s sermons. The following is from a discourse 
 of his preached from the text, “ Saw ye him whom my 
 soul loveth ? ” Among other excellent things, he says : 
 — 44 1 will tell you, ye may come here to-day, and yet 
 find yourselves no better ; but ye may go unto the Lord, 
 and pray and cry unto him that he would bless the 
 ordinances unto you. Ye must go back again to him 
 in secret, when ye have done with the public ordinances. 
 Well, when she (the spouse) has found the watchman, 
 what says she to him ? She says, in the words of the 
 text, ‘Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?’ She had 
 her case more ready, I trow, than the most part of folk 
 have. They may talk to ministers hours, yea, whole 
 days, ere they propose such questions as this, ‘ Saw ye 
 him whom my soul loveth?’ And ye know that by the 
 spouse is signified the church, or particular believers ; 
 and by her well-beloved, is Jesus Christ, the beloved of 
 his people. But in the words more particularly, ye 
 have the object of her love : she says, ‘ Him whom my 
 soul loveth; ’ that is, Jesus Christ. He is the object of 
 her love in the night of trial, in the night of darkness, 
 in the night of desertion and persecution. The soul 
 loves him, and still says, ‘ Saw ye the object of the be- 
 liever’s love ?’ Sometimes he will stop away, as it were, 
 from the church, and withdraw and hide his face from 
 her. Therefore, seek him and long to get a sight of 
 him. ‘ I trow,’ many may say, ‘ since I saw him it is now 
 a long time.’ Can ye tell what he said to you, and what 
 ye said to him? What passed betwixt him and your 
 souls ? Whether saw ye him in the public ordinances, or 
 saw ye him in private, or saw ye him in secret exercises, 
 when alone, or saw ye him when reading and meditat- 
 ing on his Word? But I think ye that never had a 
 view of him should be saying, ‘ Oh, where shall I get a 
 sight of him ? ’ I will tell you, if ye saw him indeed aright, 
 it would overload your hearts. There never was one 
 
90 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 that saw him aright, hut his heart was drawn out after 
 him. There is no such lovely object as he, neither in 
 heaven nor upon the earth besides him. Oh, what a 
 lovely, excellent, beautiful one is he ! Oh, sirs, how 
 little can we speak of him ! Time would fail us to tell 
 how excellent a one he is. He is far more glorious than 
 mountains of prey. I will tell you he is as well worth 
 the seeking after as ever he was, notwithstanding all 
 the things that the seekers and followers of him have 
 met with in this dark and cloudy day. 
 
 44 And there is another thing in these words : As she 
 was under desertion, so she was under the sense and 
 feeling of it. Therefore says she, 4 Saw ye him whom 
 my soul loveth? I cannot endure this way. Will ye 
 tell me, ministers, will ye tell me, professors, what shall 
 I do ? for I cannot live without him and his company, 
 at this rate. For every day is a week, and every week 
 is a month, and every month is a year, since I lost sight 
 of my well-beloved/ 
 
 44 Now, that which we particularly intend from these 
 words is this, — That Jesus Christ is the object of the 
 church’s and the believers love. Indeed, he is best 
 worthy of it. There are some folk that have no love 
 at all, and they have little or no hatred either ; and 
 there are some that have some love, but it is misplaced. 
 Indeed, it is ill-bestowed love that is not bestowed on 
 Jesus Christ himself. David bestowed his love w r ell 
 when he said, 4 Whom have I in heaven but thee, and 
 there is none upon the earth that I desire beside thee/ 
 Now says she, 4 Saw ye him whom my soul loveth ?’ 
 It is not a mouth or lip love ; no, it is a soul’s love, and 
 there are many who want that. Sirs, many ministers’ 
 and professors’ love is not like this. I trow many make 
 no love of it ; they think there is no need of professing 
 their love this way. But I will tell you, the believer’s 
 love to Christ is a sure love, — it will not be love in the 
 mouth only, but in the inmost parts of the soul. The 
 chief place of the soul is kept for Christ ; and if Christ 
 be aw 7 ay, it is kept empty. Many folk put their confi- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 91 
 
 dence in themselves, or in some other thing ; they take 
 other things in his room when he deserts them, before 
 he comes back again. But woe to that soul that takes 
 other loves in his absence, if he ever return back again V’ 
 
 In order to excite the believers love to Christ, he says 
 in another place : “ I will tell you what he has done for 
 us : he has taken upon him our nature. This is a very 
 common thing, that ye have heard very often of ; but it 
 is soon forgotten by some at least, and little thought of. 
 He took upon him our nature ; 4 he took not upon him 
 the nature of angels,’ but the nature of poor ruined man. 
 Oh, this is a heart-engaging consideration ! Many think 
 nothing of this, that Christ left his place in heaven, and 
 came from the Father’s bosom, and took upon him our 
 nature. But is not that a great wonder, — the eternal Son 
 of God, the second person of the glorious Trinity, came 
 down here upon earth, and took upon him the nature of 
 the seed of Abraham ? Oh, wonderful condescension ! 
 Many think nothing of this ; but I will tell you, poor 
 sinners could never otherwise have gone up to heaven to 
 him. No; for if he had appeared like himself, — the second 
 person of the ever blessed Trinity, — if he had appeared 
 in his regal robes of glory and majesty, we could not 
 have looked near him. Ye know when the Lord de- 
 scended upon Mount Sinai, and gave the law, all Israel 
 cried unto Moses, c Let not the Lord speak anymore to us 
 after this manner ; but go and hear the Lord speak, and 
 speak thou unto us/ Herein is the Lord’s wonderful 
 condescension displayed, that he took on him our nature, 
 and became bone of our bones, and flesh of our flesh. 
 And should not this engage us to love him very much ? 
 
 4C Let us consider, that he not only took on him our 
 nature, ‘but he took on him the form of a servant/ He 
 came not only like man , but like a mean man. In- 
 deed, had he come like rich or great men, poor folk 
 would not have got leave to come near him, nor so 
 much as to touch the hem of his garment. But our 
 Lord has his own way of coming. He comes like a 
 poor, mean man into the world ; and he goes ofttimes 
 
92 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 to poor men's houses. It is true he went sometimes 
 into the rich men's houses, when they were to get good 
 of him. Zaccheus had great riches; Christ came to 
 his house, and said, ‘ This day is salvation come to this 
 house;' but then, Zaccheus cast away all his ill-got- 
 ten gain. So I say, our Lord comes in the form of a 
 servant. And seeing he came in such a poor, mean way, 
 should not this make us look unto him ? Great men 
 should not despise poor folk, though there were a great 
 difference between them. Indeed, the great men will 
 talk of great things; but they are no more in his sight 
 than the poorest beggar that goes on the ground. 
 
 “ I will tell you further what he has done. He has 
 taken upon him all our infirmities and our diseases. 
 He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. 
 He was tempted in all things like unto us, that he 
 might be able to succour them that are tempted. Here 
 there may be some that are hungry, thirsty, and cold; 
 as it was so with them when put to those straits after 
 the affair of Pentland; although it has not been just 
 so with those who have been at Bothwell. At Pentland 
 they were like to perish in woods, and mosses, &c. 
 They were both cold, hungry, and thirsty. Ye know 
 what persecutions they suffered by enemies; but may 
 not this be comfort to all sufferers in affliction, — 4 We 
 have not an high priest that cannot be touched with 
 our infirmities,’ but one who was exercised with sad 
 afflictions, and suffered, and was persecuted in his body, 
 in our nature ; and, therefore, knows well how to sup- 
 port and succour his people in all their afflictions? 
 And should not this engage us to love him, and to 
 desire conformity unto him ? for indeed he knows well 
 how to see to us, and how to comfort us under all 
 cases and conditions. 
 
 “ I tell you further what he has done for us. He 
 bore the wrath of God for believers, for all that come 
 to God in and through him. This is a strong engage- 
 ment to all the people of God to love him with their 
 whole heart and soul, that has borne that w T rath that 
 
TIIE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 03 
 
 would have crushed all the elect, yea, all the world, 
 and kept them in the place of torment for ever and 
 ever. He hath borne that wrath that made him sweat 
 great drops of blood, and cry out, My soul is exceed- 
 ing sorrowful, even unto death/ What shall I say ? 
 He was so deserted of God, as made him cry out upon 
 the cross, ‘ My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
 106?’ I think the person that has soul's love to 
 Christ, has good reason, and may well bear the wrath 
 of man ; for that wrath is far inferior to the wrath that 
 Christ hath borne for his people. Oh, how this ought 
 to endear Christ unto us ! 
 
 “ I will tell you what Christ has also done for be- 
 lievers. Take heed, sirs ! he has even died for them, — 
 even that cursed death of the cross. Hence he has taken 
 away the sting of natural death, and he will keep us 
 from eternal death, if we believe in him ; for while we 
 were yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly. 
 
 “He not only died for us, but went down and per- 
 fumed the grave for believers ; so that they may say, 
 
 4 O death ! where is thy sting ? O grave ! where is thy 
 victory ? ' But take heed, sirs, now ; for I think if ye 
 be believers ye will have love to him on this account. 
 Those who have gone to a scaffold for Christ have 
 done it cheerfully, so that their dying day has been 
 the best day that ever they saw in their life ; yea, they 
 have been so joyful that their souls have been made, as 
 it were, to leap out of their bodies ; because our Lord 
 has gone through death and the grave for them — there- 
 fore they have the victory, and have overcome death 
 and the grave. Which leads us unto this, that for 
 believers he rose again and overcame death. But oh, 
 how few are buried with him in baptism, and have 
 mortified every sin and corruption arising within them, 
 that they may partake of his resurrection unto eternal 
 
 “ Lastly, I will tell you what Christ doth to endear 
 himself to us. He intercedes always at the Father's 
 right hand for you, if ye be believers. Christs praying 
 
94 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 respects every believer in the Church of Scotland. He 
 prays even for ministers and professors that have in a 
 great measure given over their prayers for him and his 
 cause ; and hence ‘ He is able to save all that come 
 unto him, because he ever lives to make intercession 
 for us/ I say, consider these things, and ye will think 
 it no wonder that the believer loves him above any 
 other object- whatever. No wonder that the spouse 
 makes' such ado, saying, c Saw ye him whom my soul 
 loveth ? , But there are many folk that will not love 
 Christ, for as much as they talk of him. Many folk 
 do not know him, and therefore they cannot love him. 
 Although many folk have a little love unto him, yet 
 they love other things better than him ; — they do not 
 love him indeed. And though they may have some 
 sort of love to him, yet they dare not say, 4 Tell me, O 
 thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, and 
 where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon ? ’ 
 
 Again he says, “ Those who love Christ will be much 
 thinking of him ; for ye know that if there is a person 
 or object that one loves much, he will not readily let 
 that person or object be long out of his mind. Ye 
 know it is said, c Blessed is the man whose delight is 
 in the law of the Lord ; 9 and David says, 4 On his law 
 do I meditate day and night/ Now, the person that 
 loves him will be thinking much upon him, and he 
 will be still labouring to get mueh love to him. 
 
 44 Those who love Christ will speak much of him. 
 But, alas ! there are many folk among whom there is 
 not one v T ord of Christ to be heard. I tell you, there 
 is much talk about religion and religious matters, but 
 little talk of Christ ; much talk of other men's faults 
 and failings, (alas, that w 7 e should have so many of 
 these to talk of !) but, believer, ye should not spend your 
 time so much in this. When ye are met together, let 
 not your discourses about the indulgence, &c., justle out 
 your speaking of Christ, and love to him. Let not the 
 esteem of his worth and excellency go down amongst 
 you. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 
 
 95 
 
 u Those who have love to Christ will do what they 
 can to bring in others to him. 
 
 “ Those who have true love to Christ will be loath to 
 offend him. Hence they will have an abhorrence of all 
 sin, as in that, “ I love thy commandments above gold ; 
 I hate every false way.” These two always go hand in 
 hand. As for the man who says he hath love to Christ, 
 and yet hates not every false way, — away with his love. 
 
 “ Lastly, those who have love to Christ will ever he 
 ready to lose and quit all other things for him. Says 
 Christ himself, ‘He that loveth any thing better than me, 
 is not worthy of me/ They are not for Christ ; they 
 prefer other things to him, when it comes to this, 
 that they must quit the one or the other. But ye 
 must quit all, and buy that pearl of great price. 
 They who do so shall be no losers ; for they shall have 
 an hundred-fold in this life, and life everlasting in the 
 world to come. I assure you, if ye had love to Christ, 
 ye would think it much to get an opportunity to 
 give him a proof of it. You would even thank God 
 for this opportunity, and say, ‘Although I should lose 
 all, yet I have got an opportunity of giving a proof of 
 my love to him in this evil time/ And it is the best 
 time that many ever saw; for they have had an oppor- 
 tunity to give a proof of their love to this excellent 
 Prince and ever lovely One/’ 
 
 The following is from another sermon on the text, 
 “ O Israel thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is 
 thine help — 
 
 “ Now, by these and other things we have destroyed 
 ourselves, we have brought ourselves very low ; even 
 we of the anti-indulged have brought ourselves very low. 
 And I tell you how we have done it : we have done it 
 by joining with those that were for the king that was 
 set up without the Lord’s counsel and direction. They 
 would take him ; there were few or none but what in 
 some sort joined with the Hamilton declaration last year. 
 The truth is, we have all destroyed ourselves; and it 
 were not well for us that the world knew all that every 
 
96 
 
 A VOICE PROM THE DESERT. 
 
 one is guilty of. God forbid that every one knew what 
 every one of us hath done ! But let all of us look unto 
 ourselves, and see what we have brought upon ourselves. 
 We will not get a field-meeting in Scotland but what is 
 here at this time . Last year we had twenty to thirty 
 that carried the Lord’s banner from one place to another 
 in Scotland. It is not so now, but it is much that we 
 have such a meeting as this. God be thanked for it. 
 But we are brought very low, and our persecutors are 
 stronger than we; and they are now saying, ‘We have 
 got them under, and let us keep them so/ They have 
 been very successful this w T eek. They have taken several 
 both out of Kyle and Clydesdale, and they think they 
 will get us all apprehended; and there is a great appear- 
 ance of it. They will behead and hang us, and if pos- 
 sible eradicate us from the face of the earth. Ye may 
 say, ‘ And how shall we get this prevented V Indeed, we 
 are at that with it which David was at when the people 
 spake of stoning him. We look on our right hand and 
 on our left hand, but there is no man that knows or 
 cares for us. We are a party on whom few look upon 
 the right hand; that is, few of the ministers and profes- 
 sors. The most of them have got into towns and coun- 
 try places, and the best news they could hear would be, 
 that a party of the enemy had come and cut every one 
 of us off. Refuge faileth us. What shall we do ? Ye 
 shall not find a man among ten of us that hath any thing 
 to defend himself w r ith. There were some hope, if all 
 that are here had arms ; but even some that have them 
 are afraid to wear them. There is no courage among 
 us. Let us speak about the matters of God, we will 
 scarcely agree together; not one speaks comfortably, nor 
 agrees with another. Let us look to our motion, — there 
 is none to help us. We may say, ‘Where will we cause 
 our shame to go ? Our enemies laugh at us. And it is 
 sad that w r e have done it all with our own hands. Nay, 
 I will tell you, if we had kept our hands free of all sin, 
 it had been otherwise with us; — we might have defied 
 all our enemies. But now we are scattered, like sheep 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS— CAMERON. 97 
 
 without a shepherd, or like a leaf tossed and driven to 
 and fro with the wind. But let us encourage ourselves 
 in the Lord our God.” 
 
 We shall here conclude with a single extract from 
 his last sermon on earth. He preached it at the Kype 
 Water, in Evandale, on the 19th of July 1680, three 
 days before he was killed in Airsmoss. His text was, 
 “ Be still, and know that I am God.” 
 
 “ The man, he says, that hath a good conscience, has 
 a good bed to sleep on, were it in a moss, muir, or 
 mountain, in the open fields, exposed to wind and 
 weather. But for a guilty conscience, there is no get- 
 ting free of it. A man that hath a good conscience, 
 before he sees them may be afraid ; but when come, his 
 fears vanish. But an evil conscience is never without 
 fears ; and O man, if thy heart condemn thee, God can 
 lay much more to thy charge. Many folk venture on 
 sin to get outward peace; but by getting that, they forfeit 
 inward peace and tranquillity of mind. But as for the 
 man that is on good terms with God, c though the earth 
 he removed, and the mountains cast into the sea, or 
 turned upside down, he will not be afraid/ For cast a 
 man over a height, or precipice, he still, as it were, falls 
 on his feet if he have a good conscience. It is true, 
 when in providence he is cast here and there, he thinks 
 that this will ruin him ; hut when the confusion is past, 
 and he is come to himself, he finds himself better, or at 
 least as well as he was before.” 
 
 This year, 1680, was famous for two things as regards 
 Cameron himself ; the one was the first Sanquhar de- 
 claration, and the other the skirmish in Airsmoss. 
 The declaration was concocted by Cameron and his 
 friends, and was publicly read at the cross of Sanquhar 
 on the 22d of June, by Michael Cameron, with about a 
 score of persons who had convened in arms on that 
 occasion. This manifesto gave grievous offence to the 
 ruling party, and large sums were offered for the appre- 
 hension of the persons concerned in it. The military 
 spread themselves abroad over the district with the 
 
98 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 fullest licence from the Council. “ Meanwhile,” says 
 Wodrow, “great numbers of soldiers were quartered 
 upon country families ; and where they lodged one night 
 they ate up as much provision as they could, and brought 
 in sheep and cows and killed them, without paying any 
 thing. They put their horses into the meadows and 
 the standing corn, and either ate them up or trod them 
 down. Any horses they saw feeding, or found in 
 houses, they seized, and made the owners pay their 
 worth, or took them with them. All the houses in 
 their route were perfectly spoiled ; and one troop coming 
 on the heels of another, any thing left by the first w r as 
 quite consumed by the after- comers. Dreadful were 
 
 the ravages they made upon the Sabbath-day through- 
 out all the country round them. I have seen sums of 
 almost incredible losses sustained this way in the 
 parishes of Carsphairn, Dairy. Balmaclellan, and many 
 other places whither the soldiers came.” 
 
 The skirmish at Airsmoss, which befell on the 2 2d 
 of July this year, was that in which Cameron termi- 
 nated his earthly career. After the Sanquhar declara- 
 tion, numerous bands of soldiers overspread the country, 
 especially in the suspected districts ; and on this account 
 Cameron and his associates were compelled to herd 
 together in greater numbers for their own defence. It 
 was reported that a band of armed Covenanters were in 
 concealment in Airsmoss; and accordingly Bruce of 
 Earlshall, w T ith a company of troopers, marched in that 
 direction, with a view to surprise the party in the moss. 
 A conflict speedily ensued, before the commencement 
 of which Cameron several times uttered this emphatic 
 prayer, “Lord, spare the green, and take the ripe.” In 
 the keen onslaught twenty-eight of the soldiers and nine 
 of the Covenanters fell, among whom were Cameron 
 and his brother Michael. They were found lying side 
 by side among the slain. Cameron's head and hands 
 were cut off, and carried to Edinburgh, to be fixed up 
 in some elevated position ; even the person who did the 
 deed said, “ These are the head and hands of a man 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CAMERON. 99 
 
 who lived preaching and praying, and who died fighting 
 and praying/' Previous to this they were taken to his 
 father, at that time in prison, who was cruelly asked if 
 he knew them. The venerable man, taking them in 
 his hands and kissing them, while the tears fell fast 
 upon the faded relics, exclaimed, “ I know them, I 
 know them ; they are my dear son's, my own dear son's. 
 It is the Lord ; good is the will of the Lord." The nine 
 were buried in the moss, and a flat gravestone was 
 placed over them with the following inscription : — 
 
 “ Halt, curious passenger, come here and read. 
 
 Our souls triumph with Christ, our glorious Head; 
 
 In self-defence we murdered here do lie, 
 
 To witness ’gainst this nation’s perjury.” 
 
 The scene of the conflict in Airsmoss is so felicit- 
 ously depicted by James Hislop, commonly called the 
 Muirkirk Shepherd, that, in gathering up these memories 
 of the moorlands, we cannot refrain from giving his 
 beautiful poem a place here; and this the more especially, 
 as we happened to be somewhat familiar with the 
 author, who died a number of years ago in sailing to a 
 foreign land : — 
 
 “ In a dream of the night I was wafted away 
 To the moorland of mist where the martyrs lay, 
 
 Where Cameron’s sword and his Bible were seen 
 Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green. 
 
 “ ’Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, 
 
 When the minister’s home was the mountain and wood; 
 
 When in Wellwood’s dark valley the standard of Zion, 
 
 All bloody and torn, ’mongst the heather was lying. 
 
 66 ’Twas morning, and summer’s young sun from the east 
 Lay in loving repose on the green mountain’s breast; 
 
 On Wardlaw and Cairntable the clear shining dew 
 Glisten'd sheen ’mong the heathbells and mountain flow’rs blue ; 
 
 " And far up in heaven, near the white sunny cloud, 
 
 The song of the lark was melodious and loud; 
 
 And in Glenmuir's wild solitudes, lengthened and deep, 
 
 Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep. 
 
 66 And Wellwood’s sweet valley breathed music and gladness; 
 The fresh meadow-blooms hung in beauty and redness; 
 
 Its daughters were happy to hail the returning, 
 
 And drink the delights of July’s sweet morning. 
 
100 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 “ But, ah ! there were hearts cherished far other feelings, 
 Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings; 
 
 Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow. 
 
 For they knew that tlieir blood would bedew it to-morrow. 
 
 “’Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying 
 Concealed ’mong the mist where the heath-fowl were crying; 
 For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering, 
 And their bridle reins rang through the thin misty covering. 
 
 “ Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed, 
 
 But the vengeance which darkened their brow was unbreathed; 
 With eyes raised to heaven in calm resignation, 
 
 They sang their last song to the God of salvation. 
 
 “ The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing, 
 
 The curlew and plover in concert were singing; 
 
 But the melody died ’midst derision and laughter, 
 
 As the host of ungodly rushed on to the slaughter. 
 
 “ Though in mist, and in darkness, and in fire they were shrouded, 
 Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded; 
 
 Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and unbending, 
 They stood like the rock which the thunder was rending. 
 
 “ The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming, 
 The helmets were cleft and the red blood was streaming; 
 
 The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling, 
 
 When in Wellwood’s dark moorland the mighty were falling. 
 
 “ When the righteous had fallen and the combat had ended, 
 
 A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; 
 
 Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness, 
 
 And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness. 
 
 (i A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining. 
 
 All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining; 
 
 And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation. 
 
 Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation. 
 
 <c On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding. 
 
 Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding ; 
 Glide swiftly, bright spirits, the prize is before ye, — 
 
 A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory.” 
 
 The author of this delightful and thrilling effusion 
 was, as we have said, James Hislop, commonly yclept 
 the Muirkirk Shepherd. He was a native of Kirkcon- 
 nell, in the upper part of Nithsdale; and it was in a 
 little cottage on the margin of a moorland stream where 
 he first drew the breath of life ; — and it is exactly such a 
 spot as one would delight to look on as being the birth- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELLWOOD. 101 
 
 place of a poet. The brook on which stood his native 
 hut threads its way through the romantic defile of Glen 
 Aylmer, a scene of surpassing sweetness, and noted in 
 persecuting story for the escape of one of the worthies 
 of the covenant, who freed himself from the grasp of 
 the dragoon by slipping from the horse behind him, and 
 rolling like a ball down the steep green side of the hill 
 into the deep vale beneath. This streamlet, which 
 gurgles through the glen, whose verdant slopes are 
 spotted with the bleating ewes in the shiny days of 
 summer, pursues its course close by a deserted church- 
 yard, where slumber the ashes of many generations of 
 long- forgotten dead, and of some who jeoparded their 
 lives on the high places of the field in the day of Zion’s 
 troubles, when the sons of the covenant had to shelter 
 themselves in the moorland solitudes, and when 
 
 “ The minister’s home was the mountain and wood.” 
 
 This brook, advancing to the table-land beneath, has, 
 in ages long gone by, worn its channel to a great depth, 
 and formed a winding dell in the bottom ; and here, on 
 a little plain of velvet green, stood the cottage we have 
 mentioned, in which Hislop was ushered into the world. 
 
 The skirmish in Airsmoss silenced the tongue of 
 one of the most eloquent and successful preachers that 
 ever lifted a voice in the desert. But he being dead 
 yet speaketh, both in his sermons and in traditionary 
 story. The sound of the blessed Cameron’s voice is 
 still heard in the wailings of the wind as it sweeps in 
 fitful moanings over the wilds of Hyndbottom. 
 
 John Wellwood is another of the conventicle 
 brethren, a specimen of whose preaching we shall here 
 give. His father was James Wellwood, minister of 
 Tindergarth. His ministrations at the conventicles were 
 uncommonly acceptable. It is said that he once preached 
 five or six sermons in his father’s parish that seemed to 
 be productive of more spiritual and substantial benefit 
 than all his father’s services put together, and that not- 
 
102 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 withstanding all his faithfulness and painstaking among 
 his parishioners during the preceding years of his minis- 
 try. He associated with Richard Cameron and others 
 of the stricter sort in upholding the standard of Zion, 
 and in publishing the gospel of the grace of God. The 
 sermon from which we make the following quotations 
 was preached at Bogleshole, in Clydesdale, from the 
 text, “And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where 
 shall the ungodly and the sinner appear.” In urging 
 on the people the great matter of personal religion, he 
 says : — 
 
 “ I would speak a word to you that are here. 
 "Whence is it that some of you have the confidence that 
 ye shall be saved, since the righteous are scarcely saved ? 
 I think whoever is most godly will say, that it is very 
 much for him to get the hopes that he shall be saved. 
 I remember a saying of a godly man in Ayr when he 
 was dying: c For a long time/ he says, 6 1 have not gone 
 the length of the market cross without thoughts of God 
 and Christ; yet I am in doubt now about my salvation/ 
 What think ye of that, sirs ? It is reported of one who 
 lived many years a retired life, wholly taken up with 
 the matters of his salvation, that after so long a time’s 
 retirement, he was still in great vexation and perplexity 
 about his soul’s state. We speak not thus to discourage 
 you, as if the work of religion were a hard and intoler- 
 able work ; but I will tell you the even-down truth of 
 the matter, — The man that is saved goes through the 
 severest trial, and it is well if he escapes with the life. 
 It is a very great truth, The man who shall wrestle, 
 weep, and cry, and shall lie out of his bed when others 
 are in it ; shall keep at a distance from sin, and be 
 humbled for it ; shall have so much religion that all his 
 neighbours shall wonder at it ; — when such a man hath 
 been many days, nights, weeks, and years, seriously taken 
 up with the work of his salvation, minding nothing in 
 comparison of it, daily mourning over sin, mortifying 
 the body of sin and death, yet after all, it is much for 
 that man, who has taken all this pains, to attain unto 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELL WOOD. 103 
 
 the peace of God. I tell you, I think religion is another 
 business than folk think it to be. I wish that many of 
 those folk who have but a clipped religion, that will not 
 carry them to heaven, knew the exercise of the truly 
 godly. I think that is made out of this generation, that 
 many who in words 4 have a form of godliness, yet 
 indeed deny the power thereof/ I tell you we have 
 observed there would come out of a place three or four 
 thousand, and among all those four thousand, in most 
 places of Scotland, ye shall not get one fifty that 
 in the judgment of charity are truly righteous. And 
 again, take these fifty, and ye shall think it much if 
 there be forty that have experience of heart work. Ye 
 may possibly think this severe language, yet we say we 
 have observed that there would come out of a place 
 three or four thousand, of w T hom there would not be 
 fifty that a judicious person, in the judgment of charity, 
 could say, upon examination, w r ere religious and Chris- 
 tians indeed. They have, perhaps, another walk than 
 others, praying in their families and alone, and have a 
 good meaning. But heart religion is a strange thing. 
 It is a serious business to take the kingdom of heaven 
 by violence. It is a great matter for a man to get an 
 eye to Christ, to get corruption mortified, and his heart 
 set on things above. I remember what one says of 
 people’s mistaking of grace : 4 Grace is nothing but 
 Christ conquering, triumphing, and fighting in the soul; 
 where grace is, there is much hammering between grace 
 and corruption/ I assure you it is no small matter for 
 a man to be redeemed from death ; from a devilish 
 creature to become a heavenly creature; to have his life 
 hid with Christ in God. Truly religion is an uncouth 
 business. I have heard of the seriousness of some folk : 
 I have thought it strange that all their religion is to give 
 the Lord a good evening and a good morning in prayer, 
 and hearing of sermons. Such never knew what it was 
 to pursue after salvation to purpose; never knew what 
 it was to be concerned for their souls, so as to forget all 
 other things in comparison of this ; never knew what it 
 
 H 
 
]04 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 was to see the Lord Jesus and his sufficiency, and a new 
 way struck out unto them that;they knew not before; 
 and what it was to prevent the morning with their cries. 
 
 “ It is a very great truth, that most part of professors 
 will prove foolish virgins at the end of the day. I will 
 tell thee I am sure of it, — if thou art a wise virgin, thou 
 hast suspected that thou wast a foolish virgin, and it 
 hath been a great work unto thee to get it cleared that 
 thou wast one of the wise virgins. Was it not so unto 
 thee to get that white stone, and that new name ? But 
 I profess I know not what ye mean to do, and how you 
 intend to he saved, and on what grounds you have 
 builded. For my part, when I have conferred with 
 folk, I found few of them that could give me a reason 
 of their hope, but they w r ould senselessly say that they 
 hoped to come to heaven, and could say no more. But 
 I would say, that the righteous are scarcely saved. I 
 know some serious persons that have been Christians 
 fifty years, that still have fears about their salvation. 
 But I think there are several of you that have little 
 religion ; so little, that a man would buy your religion 
 over dear at one shilling, so to speak. You think, how- 
 ever, that you are going to heaven. Ay, but few come 
 there. But I say, if ye knew the religion of those who 
 are religious to purpose, it w r ould astonish you and make 
 you wonder. The daughters of Jerusalem said, when 
 the spouse w r as seeking her beloved, c What is thy beloved 
 more than another beloved V I assure you it is another 
 Christ, another salvation, another heaven, another glory, 
 they are aiming at, than the most part of folk are seek- 
 ing. If ye knew the religion of many, ye would stand 
 astonished at it. Will ye but answer this question ? Ye 
 know that there is a heaven and that there is a hell ; 
 in which of these tw r o doth every one of you hope to 
 land at the end of the day? Whether hope ye to be 
 saved or damned ? Which of these two will ye land in ? 
 Whether is it salvation or damnation ? All will have 
 hope, but I will tell you that the devil and your own 
 hearts have conspired to make you fools. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELLWOOD. 105 
 
 cc I think some of you have hope, but you dare not 
 say you are certain, or that you have sure grounds to 
 build upon. But I beseech you, if you can hearken to 
 it, try whether your hope be right hope or not. There 
 are some folk that build their hopes on an unsure foun- 
 dation. And their hopes are false. And what if your 
 hopes be builded on such a foundation ? The most part 
 deal with slipping fingers in a matter of so great import- 
 ance. Cast not away your souls, nor ruin them eter- 
 nally. In the meantime ye know not but ye shall have 
 your lot in devouring fire . For many are sleeping, and 
 the devil is, as it were, drawing the very throat out of 
 them. c But,’ says another, 6 it may be I am in Christ/ 
 But what if ye make pillows of that sort until the devil 
 carry you away to hell. I tell you, you are atheists 
 that build upon such grounds. May be ye are in Christ, 
 it may be ye will go to heaven ; but it may be ye will be 
 damned eternally. ‘Nay,* says another, c it is more 
 likely that I am in Christ than that I am not/ Now, 
 how prove ye that it is more likely that ye are in Christ ? 
 That is a strange business ; it is an herb that grows not 
 in every garden. Truly atheists think that it is likely 
 that they may go to heaven. Every body hath a thought 
 of going thither. But happy are they that have not 
 their hopes built on such a foundation. The foolish 
 virgins thought they would certainly get to heaven. 
 
 “ It is very difficult for a man to have the persuasion 
 and experience of serious heart work. I have seen folk 
 very serious, and yet it was to them a strange difficulty, 
 to be sure whether they would be saved ; whereas athe- 
 ists, who have nothing of religion, hope to be saved, and 
 yet sleep in a sound skin. I will tell you, all is not 
 gold that glitters. There are many religious curates in 
 the land that will not be such in eternity. Every one 
 would think that such a man is religious; but his religion 
 will not be current above. But I say unto thee, Man, 
 if thou hast not tried it by the touchstone of the Scrip- 
 ture, and found thy religion to be good and current, I 
 trow thou art a perfect atheist ; for the way that men 
 
106 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 try whether gold be counterfeit, is by the touchstone. 
 Now, the touchstone that folk should betake themselves 
 to is the Scripture. Canst thou prove thy hope by the 
 Scripture, the Spirit of God letting you see by that 
 touchstone that you are religious ? But I trow, take and 
 weigh many of us in the balance of the sanctuary, we 
 will be found light. I could wish that many of you 
 were doubting of your clipped religion. It is the ruin 
 of the most part of the world, that they are like such as 
 take money, and look not whether it is good or bad, and 
 so they are cheated. Many folk never question nor 
 examine themselves about this. But remember that the 
 righteous are scarcely saved. I can assure you it is 
 much for one to attain unto salvation, even when he is 
 wonderfully serious. I can assure you, that many have 
 watched day and night, and have cried, and repented, 
 and yet to this day are stark naught. Many such reli- 
 gious men are in hell this day, that had greater religion 
 than many of us have. I know a man alive still, who 
 is now a drunkard, and a declaration-taker, that was 
 once so serious that he hardly slept, being so taken up 
 about his salvation, and then lived godly, and yet is an 
 atheist at this day. I believe that many of you never 
 had a perplexed day about your souls, and yet ye think 
 ye are religious ; and if ye had any convictions, they 
 were but cutted fingers, that were soon healed again, like 
 the scratch of a pin. If I had but one word to say, it 
 would be this, Be sure that ye be in Christ, that the 
 devil and your own deceitful hearts be not cheating you. 
 I pray you take heed and have oil in your lamps, for 
 there are many lukewarm people in this generation. 
 
 44 There are some truly godly; and ye have difficulty 
 in attaining to the light of His countenance, to grace, to 
 the dominion over sin. Ye are often saying, with the 
 church, 4 Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?* 
 But be content ; for the truth is, as Mr Rutherford 
 saith, 4 We would have two summers in one year, — 
 heaven here, and heaven hereafter/ But it is very fair 
 if we go to heaven, though it be in a bloody winding- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — WELLWOOD. 107 
 
 sheet. Asaph was sore puzzled in that case, that he 
 should be in such an afflicted condition as he was, — 
 ‘Verily I have cleansed my hands in vain, and washed 
 mine hands in innocency; for all the day long have I 
 been plagued, and chastened every morning/ And for 
 mine own part, I know one that these seventeen years 
 hath been in constant terror of soul. I trow many here 
 never had so much all their lifetime, as that person hath 
 had in one hour. So I say, it is very well that you are 
 saved, and go not to hell eternally. It is very well, 
 though a man should be tossed in body and soul every 
 day, if he get to heaven in the end. If he should lose 
 health, means, wife, and children, and be troubled every 
 day, and yet get to heaven at last, it is well. 
 
 cc I confess that there are many in this generation 
 that would have all conveniences ; but I think it very 
 well, when the Lord is plucking up what he hath 
 planted, and throwing down what he hath built, if a 
 man gets his soul for a prey. While it is so, seekest 
 thou great things for thyself? seek them not. If 
 ye get heaven, though ye swim through a sea of 
 troubles, it is very well. There are two things that 
 every man should labour to be at, till he be a conqueror : 
 First, he should labour to be above sin, and that he be 
 in hazard by it no more. Secondly, to be above every 
 cloud of desertion, and to sail fair before the w T ind. 
 But w r hen he has lived an age, he must be content to 
 have clouds, and to have a body of sin and death to 
 w r restle with ; he must fall and rise, ride the ford as he 
 finds it, and take it as he comes to it. So, my friends, 
 be content if ye get to heaven, and have any assurance 
 of that. It may be, if the Lord will, he will hold up 
 his own. But the truth is, ye will have a sea voyage 
 before ye step within the gates of heaven. Corruption 
 will follow you, and will not leave you till ye be within 
 the threshold thereof. Till then, |Satan will pursue 
 you. But when ye are there, all your enemies will take 
 the retreat, and shall never vex you any more. But 
 resolve ye must to meet with trouble, and perplexity, 
 
108 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and waves roaring. But here is comfort, — ye shall not 
 be made shipwreck of. There shall come upon you 
 mountains of waves, as if they would overwhelm you ; 
 but they shall not prevail. 4 Surely in the floods of 
 great waters, they shall not come nigh unto you/ Only, 
 I pray you, take this note along with you, for I think 
 many serious folk cannot get sin under foot, and cannot 
 sensibly have God's countenance ; yet ye must be con- 
 tent. Ye may say, 4 If I could get the assurance of 
 heaven, I would be better content/ Nay, my friends, 
 ye must be content to have darkness as well as assurance. 
 You cannot be content with what you meet with, for 
 unbelief and sin are the cause of it.” 
 
 A little farther on he says, 44 Therefore I beseech 
 you to be religious to purpose; for God is coming. 
 Noah and Lot preached to the old world; but they were 
 nothing the better. And this generation seem to be 
 persuaded that hell and damnation will be in the end, 
 and yet they are hardened and given up unto the devil 
 to be deluded. Truly, I tell you, it is w r ell if there be 
 one righteous in a parish. For my part, I find few 
 ministers or professors either but what are quite wrong. 
 As for people's public and private walk, there are few 
 serious seekers of God, so as to redeem the time w r hen 
 the days are evil. Oh, I will tell you where I think the 
 life of religion lies,- — it is about the border, about Teviot- 
 dale, and about the Mearns and Angus. And those pro- 
 fessors that do not offer them help must be swept away ; 
 those have got such a wrong cast that they cannot be 
 serious, they cannot seek the Lord, there is such a spirit 
 of stupidity among them. I pray you who are ac- 
 quainted with this parish, to tell them that God shall 
 give to West Monkland such an awakening as shall 
 make all their heads find the smart of it. They once 
 had a minister who took much pains for their sakes 
 when he was yet present with them ; yet as to the 
 generality of them, they have become inconstant like 
 Reuben. If they get something for the back or belly, 
 they care for none of these things. But I tell you, the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS WELLWOOD. 109 
 
 wicked borderers up and down shall rise up and con- 
 demn this parish, — even those borderers who have be- 
 come zealous for the truth. If God plague not West 
 Monkland, except there be serious repentence, I am far 
 mistaken. They say they have got some dirt of the 
 world, and they hug that in their arms, and they care 
 for no other thing ; but I could wish it were rather in 
 the bottom of the sea, — I wish it were quite away. I 
 am sure that there are many that will yet curse the day 
 that ever they were laird or lord, — that ever they had 
 riches ; but shall wish that they had gone begging from 
 door to door. Ye have need to get the thing very clear, 
 and have the testificate lying beside you. Hast thou 
 been dying daily ? hast thou been suffering daily ? 
 that is to say, hast thou been forecasting these things 
 in thy mind ? Hast thou been thinking, ‘ What shall I 
 do if the Papists should rise, and cut the throats of both 
 the great and the mean men of this generation V Our 
 king and council are all dreaming ; and that is no strange 
 matter, but professors, and even the godly are dreaming 
 too. There are few now awake, few upon their feet, 
 and few upon their watch tower this day. In a word, 
 all will have enough to do, when the Lord shall come 
 out of his place to punish the inhabitants of the earth/* 
 
 The specimens of Mr Well wood’s sermons which we 
 possess breathe a somewhat uncompromising spirit, and 
 give utterance to a zeal bordering on fieriness of 
 temper, and want a good deal of that softened and 
 subdued disposition which characterised the other con- 
 venticle brethren. But he was a good man, a specimen 
 of genuine godliness, a burning and a shining light, and 
 eminently a blessing to many. 
 
 The state of his mind in the immediate prospect of 
 his dissolution is striking. “ In his conversation with 
 his friends/* says Patrick Walker, “ upon his death-bed, 
 he used very freely to communicate his own exercise 
 and experience, and of the assurance he had of his 
 interest in Christ. He told them he had no more 
 doubt of his interest in Christ, than if he was in heaven 
 
110 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 already. At another time, he told them he had been 
 for some weeks without sensible comforting presence, 
 yet he had not the least doubt of his interest in Christ ; 
 he had often endeavoured to pick a hole in his interest, 
 but he could not get it done. That morning he died, 
 when he observed the light of day, he said, c Now, 
 eternal light ! no more night nor darkness to me V No 
 more of his last words are remembered.” 
 
 He died in the year 1679, in the thirtieth year of his 
 age, and was buried in the church-yard of Drone. 
 
 Donald Cargill, one of the most renowned of the 
 conventicle preachers, next presents himself to our 
 notice. He was born in the year 1610, in the parish 
 of JRattray. After he was licensed to preach the gospel, 
 he received a call from the Barony parish of Glasgow. 
 He at first felt great misgivings in reference to his 
 acceptance of the charge, and though earnestly solicited 
 by some of the ministers to undertake it, he would by 
 no means comply. When he was on the eve of taking 
 his departure, a zealous woman accosted him in the 
 following words : — “ Sir, you have promised to preach 
 on Thursday, and will you go away and not give it? 
 If you do, the curse of God will go with you.” This 
 shook his purpose, and he at last consented to his being 
 ordained in that parish, where he continued to preach 
 with great acceptance till the Restoration. He was 
 ejected with the rest of the nonconformist brethren, and 
 became one of the most distinguished of the conventicle 
 preachers. His zeal in the cause he had espoused 
 made him particularly obnoxious to the persecutors, 
 who set a high price on his head ; for the rewards 
 offered for the apprehension of the ministers were gene- 
 rally in proportion to the popular estimation in which 
 they were held. The acceptability of his conventicle 
 ministrations is declared by the persons who heard him 
 to have been very great. Patrick Walker, who was 
 frequently an auditor of his, says, “ The sermons in 
 print and manuscript are nothing to what they were 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. Ill 
 
 when delivered to the conventicles/’ He was a man 
 of great fervour of spirit, and of a very saintly character. 
 The earnestness of his manner and the sanctity of his 
 life imparted an emphasis and an influence to every 
 sentence he uttered. The populace hung upon his lips. 
 He was an authority which they venerated, and an 
 instrument of much spiritual benefit to thousands. The 
 desert resounded with his oratory, and many a heart 
 w r as charmed away from the earthly to the heavenly, 
 and multitudes ranged themselves on the side of the 
 persecuted gospel, at whatever personal risk. Many a 
 waverer was confirmed, and many a soul converted, by 
 the ministry and example of the 44 good Cargill/’ His 
 discourses were not of a querulous cast; he dwelt chiefly, 
 as he himself remarks, 44 on the main things/’ — the 
 matters that relate to eternity. In this, it is true, he 
 was by no means singular, for his brethren all followed 
 in the same train, and this made their sermons so 
 effective, and so appreciated by persons who were ex- 
 claiming, 44 What must we do to be saved ?” In con- 
 firmation of this, we shall here adduce a few specimens 
 of the preaching of this faithful minister of Christ. The 
 specimens which we shall here furnish are from a ser- 
 mon on the text, 44 Come, my people, enter thou into thy 
 chambers, and shut thy doors about thee, and hide thyself 
 for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast/’ 
 
 44 There is here an advice given to God’s people : and 
 what is that ? It is first, That God’s people should get 
 out of the way of danger : 4 Come, my people/ Oh, but 
 God is tender of his people’s safety ! But, alas ! there 
 are few of them so tender of it themselves as to hear 
 God speaking kindly unto them, to make haste into 
 their chambers. There are chambers for you. Oh, 
 then, like doves, fly in at your windows ! Well, then, I 
 say, this is counsel unto them, — this is his command. We 
 see some great work God has to do, and he would have 
 his people providing for it. He commands you to lay 
 by all other things, and to labour to get a place of 
 refuge near God ; for he has a great work to do, and 
 
112 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 he would have you providing against an approaching 
 storm. Labour to get a secret hiding-place, — a place of 
 retirement from all dangers. 
 
 “ Secondly , 4 Enter into your chambers,* says he. W ell, 
 there is a warning. What more ? 4 Shut thy doors 
 
 about thee.* Make all fast. Make sure both before 
 and behind thee, and leave no open doors; for justice 
 will make a wonderful narrow search, and will pry 
 into the least clift or recess, and therefore make sure/ 
 
 “ Thirdly, 4 Hide thyself/ It is good for us, it is our 
 advantage to be there, until the wrath be over, till the 
 indignation be overpast. And we are never to come 
 out from thence. Oh, thrice happy they that shall 
 never come out of these chambers! We are sure, we 
 are persuaded, it shall ever be well with them who are 
 once entered into these chambers of safety. But as we 
 cannot speak particularly unto these words here, we 
 shall hint at these four things following : — 
 
 44 First. The tender care of God to his people, and 
 especially when they are reduced to straits. I say they 
 are always made to know his kindness in a time of 
 trouble or difficulty. We shall say somewhat concern- 
 ing this; — in effect we say that one word, that the best of 
 believers are not able to abide much dandling. It is 
 well known that folk cannot carry much under these 
 things ; for they cannot bear much without becoming 
 proud and self- conceited. I say, they are not able to bear 
 much of the manifestations of God’s kindness towards 
 them. But we are sure of this one thing, that in a 
 difficult time they meet with the best of dispensations ; 
 I say, for the most part the best dispensations are re- 
 served for the most hard and difficult times. Now, we 
 are sure of this, that when he sees you hardest put to 
 it, then he will verify this. For when ye come before men, 
 and cannot get your Bible, then be sure God will evidence 
 his kindness unto you, he will not then conceal it. 
 
 44 Secondly. But this is not the thing that we would 
 speak to, but this, that there are chambers of safety for 
 God’s people in a time of indignation. Now, seek 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGIL . 113 
 
 them out, for there are chambers provided for God’s 
 children in a time of wrath and indignation. Now, 
 wherefore are they called chambers ? They are called 
 chambers on these accounts : — They are chambers for 
 presence and delight ; for strength, protection, and 
 defence. In a w r ord: for delight , these chambers are a 
 palace ; and for strength, protection, and defence, they 
 are castles ; — so that they are chambers of safety and 
 pleasure too. In a word, they are God himself, who is 
 all in all to the believer. We may say this of them : 
 they are a palace of defence from the w T rath of God, for 
 it never pursues a man within these chambers. They 
 are palaces of delight, safety, security, and strength. 
 It is no wonder, then, that a soul desires to be near 
 God, and within these chambers; for there they have 
 all their soul can desire. There is nothing can fright 
 or terrify the soul of a believer, when he is once 
 entered into these chambers; for they are for a hiding- 
 place from the storm, and a covert from the tempest. 
 Safety, pleasure, and delight, are to be found in them. 
 Oh, happy soul, that shall be delighted with them ! he 
 is not to be pitied indeed: there is nothing to wrong 
 him when a storm of wrath is without upon the world. 
 
 u But here it may be thought or asked, £ What is signi- 
 fied by these chambers V In a word, it is this, — it is the 
 soul committing itself to God in his providence: the 
 providence of God shall provide chambers for you. 
 Oh, sirs, strive to get within these chambers of God’s 
 providences, for we are all likely to meet with a storm. 
 Oh, but there are few who can commit themselves to 
 God ! and it is a wonder the enemy gets not more 
 folk. When some come amongst their hands we see 
 what comes of them. We are sure of this, that there 
 is over little committing ourselves to Gcd. When they 
 are overtaken with temptations, they think their own 
 wit or wisdom will do their turn ; but indeed it will 
 not. Hence so many yield unto the enemy. They 
 are not betaking themselves unto their chambers, and 
 their heart fails them, and they forget to flee into them. 
 
114 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Oh but folk had need to be within these chambers now, 
 when they cannot go out nor come in, lie down or rise 
 up, without hazard ! Labour, then, to he within these 
 chambers. c Come, my people, enter thou into thy 
 chambers, and shut the doors about thee/ Man's 
 safety in a time of indignation lies in God's mercy; and 
 your duty is to betake yourselves to it — thus you will 
 be in the chambers of defence. A soul must betake 
 itself to the mercy of God, and so must be in the ex- 
 ercise of the duty here required, if it would put itself 
 into these chambers. But when we speak of God's 
 mercy, and our exercise of betaking ourselves to it, we 
 do not mean that these two have an equal hand in this. 
 No; the mercy of God is still before our duty, for it is 
 the love and mercy of God that stir a man up unto duty. 
 Then the Lord must both do his own part, and stir us 
 up and enable us to do our part too. It is the mercy of 
 God properly that does the whole work, and though he 
 puts us upon doing, yet we must do all in his strength." 
 
 The sententiousness of these remarks is obvious, 
 and the urgency of spirit with which they are pervaded 
 is remarkable. It is to be observed, that Cargill was 
 generally short in his prayers and his sermons. He 
 was not like some, w r ho count rather on quantity than 
 quality. His object was to present the truth pointedly 
 and concisely to his hearers, and to leave out all ex- 
 traneous matter, as only weakening the great subject he 
 had in hand. On a certain occasion one of his hearers 
 complained to him of the brevity of his services : “ Oh, 
 sir," said the man, “ 'tis long betwixt meals, and we are 
 in a starving condition, and it is good, sweet, and 
 wholesome, which ye deliver ; but why do ye straiten 
 us so much for shortness ? " Mr Cargill replied : 
 “ Ever since I bowed a knee in good earnest to pray, 
 I never durst pray and preach with my gifts ; and 
 where my heart is not affected, and comes not up with 
 my mouth, I always thought it time for me to quit it. 
 What comes not from my heart, I have little hope that 
 it will go to the heart of others." 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 115 
 
 This sermon was preached on Dunsyre Common, 
 between Clydesdale and Lothian, and was the last of 
 his public appearances, for he was apprehended next 
 morning by the infamous Bonshaw, who, when he 
 caught him, exclaimed in ecstasy : 44 Oh, blessed 
 Bonshaw ! and blessed day that ever I was born ! that 
 has found such a prize ! — a prize of 5000 merks for 
 the apprehending of him this morning 1 99 Bonshaw 
 tied Mr Cargill's feet below the horse's belly with his 
 own hand, very hard ; at which the good man looked 
 down to him, and said : “ Why do ye tie me so hard ? 
 Your wickedness is great — you will not long escape 
 the just judgment of God ; and, if I be not mistaken, 
 it will seize you in this place.” 44 Which, accordingly,” 
 says Howie, 44 next year came to pass : one of his com- 
 rades, in a rage, ran him through with a sword at 
 Lanark ; and his last words were, 4 God damn my soul 
 eternally, for I am gone/ — Mischief shall hunt the 
 violent man.” 
 
 Patrick Walker relates that he had the unspeakable 
 pleasure of hearing Mr Cargill that day in Dunsyre 
 Common ; 44 where,” he says, 44 he lectured on the first 
 chapter of Jermiah, and preached on that soul-refresh- 
 ing text, 4 Come, my people, enter into your chambers,' 
 &c. ; wherein he was marrowy and sententious, as his 
 ordinary was in all his public sermons and prayers, 
 with the greatest evidence of concernedness of the 
 hearers ; — exceeding all that ever I heard open a mouth, 
 or saw open a Bible to preach the gospel ; with the 
 greatest indignation at the unconcernedness of his 
 hearers. He preached from experience, and went to 
 the experience of all that had any of the Lord's gracious 
 dealings with their souls. It came from his heart, and 
 went to their heart. As I have heard some of our 
 common hearers say, 4 He spake as never man spake,' for 
 his words went through them. He insisted on what 
 kind of chambers of protection and safety these were, 
 and exhorted us all earnestly to dwell in the clifts of 
 the rock, to hide ourselves in the wounds of Christ, and 
 
116 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 to wrap ourselves in the believing application of the 
 promises flowing therefrom ; and make our refuge 
 under the shadow of his wings, until these sad calami- 
 ties pass over, and the dove come back with the olive 
 branch in her mouth. These were the last words of 
 his last sermon.” 
 
 The following extract is from the words, “ Here we 
 have no continuing city, but we seek one to come — 
 “We should not be troubling our thoughts with vain 
 prospects. Are there not many who have projected 
 things for twenty years hence ? and who knows if they 
 shall live so long ? But it were good for us that we 
 were employing our time, and casting off vain and 
 foolish prospects. The apostle James speaks well to 
 this: c Go to, now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we 
 will go to such a city, and continue there a year ; 
 whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow/ 
 If we would consider the shortness of our time, we 
 would think the care of every day enough for itself; but 
 this is a burdening of ourselves with unnecessary cares, 
 adding a load to a burden. Are not the cares of a day 
 sufficient for itself? Why, then, do we care for to- 
 morrow, or for many days hence ? And further, you 
 should consider that these unnecessary cares put the 
 soul out of frame ; they indispose the heart, so that we 
 cannot get our time as well spent as we ought. Nor 
 do they only indispose for duty, but duties are justled 
 out ; and these things that are at hand are put off, and 
 those things that are afar off are brought near; and you 
 know far-off thoughts put death and eternity out of 
 mind. And are there not many who, when they put 
 death, judgment, and eternity, far out of mind, are 
 suddenly surprised by them ? Now consider which 
 of these is most necessary ; and having found that 
 which is most necessary, let your thoughts be employed 
 about it. 
 
 “The consideration of this shortness of our time 
 should not only take off our hearts from earthly things, 
 but it should even help us to mitigate the cross, and help 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 117 
 
 to render it more easy, that we may suffer more content- 
 edly. Our longest afflictions must be, as it were, for a 
 moment, since our time is but as a moment, and shall 
 shortly be at an end. 
 
 cc Consider, that even whilst we are eating, drinking, 
 sleeping, &c., our time is fast elapsing, and all our 
 crosses and afflictions ere long shall be ended. We 
 speak this to believers ; but for unbelievers, however 
 sad their crosses may he, it were better for them that 
 they were thus continued and lengthened out to them 
 through all eternity, — at death, they emerge out of one 
 woe only to enter into a greater woe and misery. But 
 death to believers is an entrance into eternal happiness ; 
 and they ought to he more earnestly longing for it, as 
 the hireling for the end of the day. It is strange that 
 there is any intermission of afflictions in our moments 
 of time; for a cross abides not always, there is stiil some 
 intermission of it. Thence our life is compared to a 
 weaver’s shuttle, — it slips through many threads in a 
 little time, and steals away unperceived, or insensibly. 
 
 “ Consider, that though you be under many crosses 
 or afflictions, yet, if believers, you shall be freed from 
 them all by Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ shall make up 
 all your hardships. You shall shortly arrive at rest; and 
 rest unto them that are weary, 0 how sweet is it ! — and 
 a sweet rest it is for those who are seeking after him ! 
 But those who mind not Christ, have nothing to do 
 w r ith this rest that remaineth for the people of God. 
 But oh, believer, in thy Father’s house are many man- 
 sions. Thou mayest well be straitened here, but there 
 are no straitening circumstances there. 
 
 “ It becomes us to be moderate in all things, even in 
 the use of all lawful enjoyments. Do not bestow so 
 much of your time upon those things that are of a 
 perishing nature. It is strange to see even believers so 
 much taken up with the world, and the cares of this 
 life. This eats out the comfort of the soul. And where 
 there is very much of this, there cannot be much pro- 
 sperity in true godliness ; and where is much real god- 
 
118 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 liness, there cannot be much of this, — these two being 
 inconsistent with one another. We cannot serve God 
 and Mammon ; for as the thoughts of the one rise up, 
 the other goes down. Is it not strange that we should 
 be taken so much up with these things ? 
 
 “ If thou wouldst have thy thoughts weaned from the 
 world, as thou shouldst let it have little of thy time, so 
 give it little of thy affections. If believers were doing 
 this, they would be more cheerful ; and he that is most 
 cheerful in going about duty, is most taken up with 
 this city — ‘ but we seek one to come/ And consider what 
 a stir it would make if Christ should come and take 
 these things away, and if our mountain were moved. 
 Think ye what ye would do if put to difficulties. In- 
 deed it would be better if this world had none of our 
 affection. 
 
 “ And from this we would pose you, Are you 
 ready to meet Christ, and ready for eternity ? Have 
 you nothing to do but to come and meet him ? We 
 say, are you ready to step into eternity? Well, if it be 
 not so, you have need to be serious in time, for we are 
 not sure of another day or another sermon. Consider, 
 eternity will come once, and if ye spend not your time 
 well, it will be ill with you. Take the apostle's advice : 
 c Walk while ye have the day/ Hath God given you 
 a day ? Then ye should be serious in it, for we wot 
 not if we shall have another. And is it not a mercy 
 that we are not lying in the bosom of the earth unpre- 
 pared and unconverted. If you misspend this time, 
 then it will come upon you, — wrath will come upon you. 
 On the whole, these words are a direction to you to 
 consider the time is passing on, ‘for here we have no 
 continuing city, but we seek one to come/ *' 
 
 Patrick Walker says, that Mr Cargill was fond of 
 sojourning in Clydesdale, as probably it was here that 
 his ministry met with most acceptance. He preached 
 in places about the base of Tinto, where he received a 
 hearty welcome, and where the word of the Lord was 
 impressive. The lady of St John's Kirk professed no 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 119 
 
 small sympathy with the ejected ministers, and coun- 
 tenanced their ministrations by her presence. Her 
 leanings this way, however, became offensive to the 
 persecutors, who kept their eye upon her ; and hence, 
 in order to avoid trouble, she began to show a coldness 
 to those she formerly professed to favour. As the laws 
 were stringent and uncompromising in regard to the 
 proprietors on whose grounds meetings should happen 
 to be held, she did what she could to ward off from her 
 premises the interdicted conventicle. On one occasion 
 Mr Cargill was to preach at Tin to Hill ; but the lady 
 getting notice of the circumstance, gave out that he was 
 to preach at the back of Coulter Fells, a goodly distance 
 from her residence, to avoid suspicion. Of the change 
 of the* place of meeting Mr Cargill was not aware till 
 the Sabbath morning, when, seeing the people flocking 
 along the road, he asked where they were going ; and 
 being informed that the lady of St John’s Kirk had given 
 out that he was to preach that day in Holm’s Common, 
 they were hastening thither. “ That,” said he, “ is the 
 lady’s policy to get us at some distance from her house ; 
 but she will be discovered.” 
 
 He was lodging at this time in the house of one John 
 Liddel, near Tinto. He proceeded without breaking 
 his fast to the place of meeting, five miles distant. It 
 was a warm morning in June, and the hills were steep, 
 and he felt exhausted before reaching the place where 
 his work was to commence. The only refreshment he 
 received, when almost like to faint, was a draught of 
 cooling water, which an honest rustic lifted from the 
 mountain brook in his bonnet and held to his lips. The 
 same thing was repeated when he had finished his first 
 discourse. He lectured on the 6th chapter of Isaiah, 
 and preached from the words, “ Be not high-minded, 
 but fear.” 
 
 "What the number of his audience was on this occasion 
 is not said, but it is likely to have been by no means 
 small. The place was an entire seclusion, near the head 
 of Holm’s Water. It was a common like that of Dun- 
 
 I 
 
120 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 syre ; and being no one’s peculiar property, none could 
 be personally made answerable for the fact of the con- 
 venticle being held there. It was altogether a most 
 suitable place for such a meeting; for the back of Coulter 
 heights was a retreat not likely to be hastily invaded by 
 the troopers. And if the lady, in directing the people 
 to this solitude in the very heart of the mountains, con- 
 sulted her own interest, it turned out no less for the inte- 
 rest of the conventiclers, who there in perfect security and 
 confidence could worship God and listen to his gospel. 
 
 The locality, we have said, was remote. It was in 
 the bosom of the wild mountains, from the summits of 
 which a spacious view of the surrounding district is 
 obtained. There are to be seen the heights of Tweeds- 
 muir, the hills of old Drummelzier and Stobo; and 
 there Scrape, and Drummore, and Trahenny,andCardon, 
 and Tinto, and Leadhills, and innumerable others, all in 
 their several distances, are to be seen ; — massive moun- 
 tains all, to climb some of which is reckoned no small 
 feat. The rivulet which runs from Holm’s Common and 
 falls into the Biggar Water near to where it joins Tweeds 
 fair flood, traces a scene of rare enchantment. Well do 
 we remember when, in our boyish days, we accomplished 
 the feat of tracking Holm’s Water to its source among 
 the far wastes and the lonely hills. We knew not in 
 those days that the 44 blest Cargill” had preached there; 
 yet there we were in the common, far from the haunts 
 of men, where erst the solitary conventicle had assembled 
 sundry generations prior to our time ; and where the 
 loud but solemn voice of praise resounded from the 
 hills, and was wafted up with acceptance before the 
 throne on high. The sight of the fairy nooks in the 
 little coy glens, the beautiful amphitheatres which now 
 and then opened before us in the course of the streamlet, 
 the stunted trees bending their weary branches over the 
 glassy pools of the tributary brooks in which sported the 
 silvery trout, the ruinous huts long ago deserted of 
 their inhabitants, the verdant hills of a moderate height 
 that lined either side of the narrow pastoral vale, the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS CARGILL. 121 
 
 grassy plains on which sported the joyous lambkins ; 
 we say this sight, all so sweet and placid, has never 
 since been effaced from our mind’s eye, — it is stereo- 
 typed there, and there let it remain. 
 
 And well do we remember the old ruinous kirk of 
 Glenholm in the midst of its little churchyard, and 
 almost destitute of a sepulchral monument. We once 
 wonned three pleasant summers within a cry of the an- 
 cient Kirkton, as the hamlet was called that surrounded 
 the manse and crept near the churchyard. And well 
 do we remember an incident of affright which once 
 befell us in that same churchyard, when at night we 
 happened to pass through it on our way home, and just 
 as the lower limb of the large disc of the rising moon 
 was resting for a moment on the summit of the hill, and 
 casting a melancholy glance right down on the field of 
 graves, before she sprang up into the lift to pursue her 
 silvery course along the sable vault of the firmament. 
 The story of affright we shall not here narrate ; only we 
 may say it ended in smoke, as such occurrences gene- 
 rally do when sternly looked at. 
 
 The last worthy pastor who ministered in this 
 secluded corner was of the name of Haddon, who, 
 more than half a century ago, left the spot in his old 
 age, when his little parish was conjoined with the 
 contiguous one of Broughton. The inhabitants of 
 Glenholm are still a worthy race, and possessed of an 
 intelligence much above the common run. 
 
 It was, then, on the sterile common of Holm’s 
 Water, or the glen that goes by that name, that Cargill 
 held his conventicle, on the first day of June 1681. He 
 went with the flock of Christ to the back side of the 
 desert, and there fed them with the manna from heaven, 
 which fell round about their camp in the day of their 
 necessity. The lady of St John’s Kirk sent the conven- 
 ticle out of her locality, and put the benefit past herself 
 and people of her lands ; but the children of the soli- 
 tudes received the blessing, and drank of the fountain 
 that w r as opened in the desert. 
 
122 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 The scene of Cargill’s conventicle on this occasion 
 was not far from the glen of St Bega, now denominated 
 Kilbucho. This Bega was one of the famous saintesses 
 who lived in the earlier times of the gospel in Scotland. 
 She seems to have founded a church in this secluded 
 glen ; which afterwards retained her name, and which is 
 now corrupted into Kilbucho. The kil or cell was the 
 residence of a saint, or religious instructor, who located 
 himself among the rude people of a forgotten age, and 
 who w 7 ere by him initiated into the doctrines of the 
 Christian faith. It is an interesting thought, that the 
 religion of Christ w r as known in those remote ages in 
 some of the wildest solitudes, and in the deep and 
 retired glens afar in the bosom of the lonely hills ; and 
 that by this means people in a state of barbarism were 
 restored to their right mind, “ through the knowledge 
 of God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ/' In recent times 
 Kilbucho glen was favoured with the ministrations of a 
 worthy man, the Rev. William Porteus, who laboured 
 in this retirement for many a painful year, and preached 
 the gospel with great earnestness and unction. The 
 people of his upland parish, like the people of Ettrick 
 in the days of Boston, had powerful and salutary ser- 
 mons preached to them, while not a few of the congre- 
 gations in the populous cities were entertained with 
 meagre and frigid harangues. A distinguished and 
 admirable judge of men said of this rural pastor in his 
 glen, “That he was one of the greatest men in the 
 Church of Scotland in his day, and yet not known 
 beyond the bounds of his own presbytery/’ He had a 
 prodigious memory, was a great linguist, an accurate 
 historian, a profound theologian, and though not a 
 scientific man, yet a good philosopher. Happy were 
 the people who sat under his ministry, and listened to 
 his judicious exhortations of Scripture, and to his 
 powerful sermons. His tongue for about forty years 
 has been silent in the dust ; but the tones of his voice 
 still linger in the ears of his old parishioners. 
 
 But to return from this digression : Patrick Walker, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS CARGILL. 123 
 
 who was one of Mr Cargill’s hearers that day in Holm’s 
 Common, gives us a brief outline of the two discourses 
 which he preached to the flock convened in the heart of 
 the desert. 44 He lectured that day,” he says, 44 upon 
 the 6*th of Isaiah ; upon which he had many senten- 
 tious sayings. I remember from that word, 4 Whom 
 shall I send ? and who will go for us ? ’ he said, 4 To 
 speak with holy reverence, we see that the Trinity of 
 heaven may be at a stand where to get a fit messenger 
 to carry the message. The prophet said, “ Here am I, 
 send me.” It is like if he had known what he was to 
 do, he would not have been so forward ; for if an honest- 
 hearted minister might refuse any errand that God sent 
 him, it would be to denounce judgments upon a people, 
 especially spiritual. But the hand of God was here. 
 And when he had got his commission to preach to that 
 people, and they grew more and more deaf and blind, 
 he cried out, 44 How long?” and the answer was returned, 
 44 Until the city be without inhabitants, and the land 
 utterly desolate.” After he insisted a little in explaining 
 these words, he said, groaning deeply, 4 If I know any 
 thing of the mind of God, this is the commission that 
 we are getting, and the commission that ministers will 
 get, — to preach the generation more and more deaf and 
 blind. And preach who will, and pray who will, this 
 deafness and this blindness shall remain until many 
 habitable places in Scotland be as waste and desolate 
 as these mountains,’ looking to them with a very weary 
 countenance. 4 But remember, I am setting no time to 
 this. W e know not what spirits we are of. A thousand 
 years appear in His sight as one day ; and a delayed thing 
 is not forgotten nor forgiven ; and the longer delayed, the 
 sorer when it comes. It will be the midnight cry, — the 
 foolish found asleep, and the wise slumbering ; and will 
 come upon you as a thunder clap ! ’ He went on to the 
 following verse, 4 Yet in it shall be a tenth, who shall 
 be as an oak which hath the substance in the root.’ And 
 from that he asserted, that as the Lord had preserved a 
 remnant through all the periods of the church, so he 
 
124 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 would preserve a remnant that would ride out all these 
 winter storms. 
 
 “ He preached on these words in the afternoon, 4 Be 
 not high-minded, but fear/ His first note was, ‘That 
 those who knew themselves best would fear themselves 
 most ; and that as it was hard to determine what length 
 a hypocrite may go in the profession of religion, it was 
 as hard to determine what length a child of God may 
 go in defection, — having grace, but wanting the exercise 
 thereof; and that a Christian might go through nine- 
 teen trials, and carry honestly in them, and fall in the 
 twentieth. While in the body, be not high-minded, but 
 fear. I am not speaking thus of those wretched crea- 
 tures; — woe to them! Some of them are nothing but 
 devils, and many of them are misled. For the Lord's 
 sake, look not to these, — I mean John Gibb and his 
 company/ ” Such is an outline of the discourses preached 
 that day in Holm’s Common. 
 
 The most extraordinary proceeding in which Mr 
 Cargill was known to engage, was what is called the 
 Torwood excommunication, from the name of the place 
 where the circumstance occurred. He preached to a large 
 conventicle at this place from the words, “ And thou 
 profane, wicked prince of Israel, whose day is come 
 when iniquity shall have an end.” He then proceeded 
 to the act of excommunicating the following person- 
 ages : — King Charles II., the Duke of York, the Duke 
 of Rothes, the Duke of Monmouth, the Duke of Lauder- 
 dale, and Sir George Mackenzie, the king’s advocate. 
 The form of the excommunication was as follows : — 
 u I, being a minister of Jesus Christ, and having autho- 
 rity and power from him, do, in his name, and by his 
 Spirit, excommunicate, cast out of the true church, and 
 deliver up to Satan, Charles II., king, &c., upon these 
 grounds: I. His high mocking of God; 2. His great 
 perjury ; 3. His rescinding all laws for establishing the 
 Reformation ; 4. His commanding armies to destroy 
 the Lord’s people ; 5. His being an enemy to true Pro- 
 testants; 6. His granting remissions and pardons for 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS CARGILL. 125 
 
 murderers ; 7. His adulteries.” In the same fashion he 
 dealt with the other five, according to their respective 
 offences. 
 
 The next Sabbath, when he was preaching at Fallow 
 Hill, in the parish of Livingstone, he said in the preface, 
 “ I know I am and will be condemned by many for 
 excommunicating these wicked men ; but condemn me 
 ■who will, I know I am approved of God, and am per- 
 suaded that what I have done on earth is ratified in 
 heaven. For if ever I knew 7 the mind of God, and was 
 clear in my call to any piece of my work, it was that. 
 And I shall give you two signs that ye may know that 
 I am in no delusion. First, If some of these men do 
 not find that sentence binding upon them ere they go 
 off the stage, and be obliged to confess it ; and secondly, 
 If they die the ordinary death of men ; — then God hath 
 not spoken by me.” 
 
 A certain author remarks, 44 In whatever light this 
 event may be regarded, the following details respecting 
 it may, perhaps, be interesting to the reader: — When 
 Rothes found himself dying, he sent for some of his 
 lady’s ministers ; for the Duchess of Rothes w 7 as a Pres- 
 byterian. Accordingly, he had the assistance of John 
 Carstairs and George Johnstone, both Presbyterian 
 clergymen. They spoke with plainness and firmness to 
 the dying duke. They described w r ith freedom the 
 wickedness he had done. Rothes said to Carstairs, 
 ‘We all thought little of what that man Cargill did, in 
 excommunicating us ; but I find that sentence binding 
 upon me now , — and it ivill bind to eternity/ 
 
 “Johnstone w T as asked to pray. While he prayed 
 several noblemen and prelates were listening in a neigh- 
 bouring apartment. A nobleman said to one of the 
 bishops, 4 That must be a Presbyterian minister who is 
 praying. Deil ane o’ you can pray as they do ; no, 
 though it were to keep a soul from hell/ 
 
 44 Some of the noblemen w 7 ere much affected. The 
 Duke of Hamilton said, 4 We banish those men from 
 us ; yet w r hen we come to die we call for them. This is 
 
126 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 melancholy work/” — The death of some of the rest of 
 the excommunicated persons, if we may credit what is 
 said, was equally lamentable. 
 
 The projected excommunication was known only to 
 one person besides the excommunicator himself ; so that 
 others could not be implicated, as if it were a matter of 
 conspiracy on the part of a number. The individual 
 cognizant of the matter was one Walter Smith, whom 
 Mr Cargill made his confidant. Whatever merit or 
 demerit was in the case, nothing could be attributed to 
 the general party with which he stood connected in 
 church-fellowship. It is said, when he began the work, 
 some of his friends feared that he would be shot on the 
 spot. The landlord in whose house he lodged the night 
 previous, sprang to his feet, and casting away his coat, 
 fled from the meeting, fearing he might be implicated 
 in what the Royalists would deem to be a treasonable 
 deed, and consequently would pursue to the death all 
 and sundry who witnessed the proceedings, and who 
 countenanced, in a conventicle, a man who should dare 
 such things. But the deed was done, and it is now 
 left to every one who thinks it worth his while, at this 
 distance of time, to form his own judgment respecting it. 
 
 We may here mention some striking incidents that 
 befell Mr Cargill, and some of those hairbreadth escapes 
 he made from the hand of the enemy. The writer of 
 the brief sketch of his life, in noticing some of these 
 things, says, 44 That in October 1665 the enemy made 
 search for him in the city ; but he being informed, took 
 horse and rode out of the town. At a narrow pass of 
 the way he met a good number of musketeers. As he 
 passed them, turning to a way on the right hand, one 
 of them asked him, 6 Sir, what o’clock is it ? 9 He 
 answered, 4 It is six/ Another of them, knowing his 
 voice, said, 4 This is the man we are seeking/ On 
 hearing this, he put spurs to his horse and escaped.” 
 
 44 For about three years he resided in the house of 
 Margaret Craig, a very godly woman, where he lectured 
 morning and evening to such as came to him. And 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 12 
 
 though they searched strictly for him here, yet Provi- 
 dence so ordered it, that he was either casually or pur- 
 posely absent. The Lord was often so gracious as to give 
 him some notice of the approaching hazard. Thus, one 
 Sabbath, going to Woodside to preach, as he was about 
 to mount his horse, having one foot in the stirrup, he 
 turned about to his man and said, ‘ I must not go 
 yonder to-day;* and in a little a party of the enemy 
 came thither in quest of him ; but missing the mark 
 they aimed at, they fell upon the people, and appre- 
 hended several of them. 
 
 “ Another of his remarkable escapes was on a search 
 made for him in the city, where they came to his cham- 
 ber, but found him not ; he being, providentially, that 
 night in another house. But what is most remarkable, 
 being one day preaching privately in the house of a Mr 
 Callender, they came and beset the house, and the 
 people put him and another into a window, closing the 
 window up with books. Had they removed but one of 
 the books, they would certainly have found him. But 
 the Lord ordered that they did it not ; for as one of the 
 soldiers was about to take up one of them, the maid 
 cried to the commander that he w r as going to take 
 her master’s books, and he was ordered to let them be. 
 So narrowly did he escape this danger.” 
 
 Many wmnderful things of this sort occurred in those 
 times, when the people of God were exposed to dangers 
 on all sides, both in the house and by the way. That 
 there is a special providence exercised over those who 
 place themselves under the divine guardianship, there 
 can be no doubt Every person may see this even in 
 his own little history. Things have occurred in which 
 the immediate hand of God was precise and pointed. 
 We are not speaking of any miraculous interference, 
 either private or public, — although even in this respect 
 the great Supreme can do as he lists ; but of those 
 strange turns of providence, which indeed bear the as- 
 pect of the miraculous, and yet are only wonderful and 
 out of the common way, which are granted to special 
 
128 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and believing prayer. It will not do to laugh at the 
 sudden interpositions which often take us by surprise in 
 the day of our perplexity ; and when a deliverance has 
 been afforded so striking as to arrest the attention of all, 
 and to evoke the exclamation, “ See, the finger of God 
 is there ! " It is in the day of peril, and especially when 
 God's people are subjected to persecution for his name's 
 sake, that they may expect the obvious interposition of 
 divine providence. The historians of the persecuting 
 period abound with narratives of remarkable incidents 
 occurring in the times of the sufferers. In the fields, 
 in caves, in the mossy trenches, in the willow bushes by 
 the pools on the streams, among the standing corn, and 
 the brackens on the hill side, and in the snow-white 
 mist, deliverances as wonderful as any tale of romance 
 has ever conceived, have been experienced. Had it not 
 been for the attestations of veritable history, we might 
 be ready to call in question many of these strange nar- 
 ratives ; the facts, however, are too well authenticated 
 to admit of any thing like incredulity in the case. 
 
 Mr Cargill lived nearly twenty years under the frown 
 of persecution, and finished his course nobly and like a 
 truly Christian man, to the great joy and rich edifica- 
 tion of all who witnessed the last scene. When he 
 came to the place of execution, he stood with his back 
 to the ladder and began to address the multitudes, but 
 was twice interrupted by the beating of the drum ; — a 
 device on which the persecutors fell in order to drown 
 the voice of the speaker. This practice was now re- 
 sorted to, because it was found that the speeches de- 
 livered by the martyrs from the scaffold made a deep 
 impression on the popular mind. These addresses 
 opened the eyes of the spectators to discern the real 
 state of the question, and produced convictions that 
 became ineffaceable. Hence multitudes, instead of 
 being deterred by means of the frightful executions 
 which they beheld, were emboldened to confess the 
 truth, and to throw in their lot with the suffering people 
 of God ; and thus were signally defeated the schemes of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 129 
 
 the persecutors, who imagined that the revolting exhi- 
 bitions of public executions would overawe those who 
 had any leanings towards the covenanting cause. That 
 this was to a certain, and even to a great extent, accom- 
 plished, need not be denied ; but as little can it be 
 disputed that goodly numbers were roused to due con- 
 sideration, and at length became converts ; and it was to 
 prevent such a consummation that the beating of drums 
 was resorted to. 
 
 There was something overwhelmingly grand and 
 irresistible in moral effect, in witnessing a man like the 
 venerable Cargill, with a conviction of the rectitude of 
 his cause, and a heart filled with the peace of God, with 
 a heaven-lit countenance, and a faith maintaining an un- 
 assailable assurance of his salvation, standing solemnly 
 and unawed on the scaffold, and within a single step 
 of eternity, expressing his entire confidence in God, and 
 addressing for the last time a vast company of sinners 
 on the great subject of the Christian faith ; to which the 
 circumstances in which he was placed imparted a pro- 
 digious emphasis. No sermon at the conventicles, no 
 twenty sermons, could have had half the weight and 
 authority in their utterance on any audience, as had the 
 dying speeches and last testimony of the martyrs. The 
 moral grandeur of the spectacle was overpowering, and 
 men and women retired from the scene with deep 
 searchings of heart. The blood of the martyrs is the 
 seed of the church ; or at least, it moistens the true seed, 
 and makes it grow. Thus does God confound the 
 schemes of the wicked, and bring their devices to nought; 
 for “he is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in work- 
 ing/' The public executions of the Scottish witnesses, 
 in the streets of our populous cities, w T ere signally detri- 
 mental to the interests of the ruling faction. Every 
 display of this kind inflicted a still deeper w T ound on 
 their cause. Every death on the scaffolds and in the 
 fields administered another and another blow to the 
 fabric they had reared, and at last made it topple to 
 the ground. Could the blood of the martyrs have 
 
130 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 cemented the stones of their edifice, it might have 
 endured to this day; but it operated as untempered 
 mortar, and instead of producing adhesion, introduced 
 decay, sapped the foundation, and the whole fell pros- 
 trate in the dust. And what a fall ! The building of 
 nearly thirty years, constructed at such a cost of suffer- 
 ing and of principle, dissolved in a day ! “ In one hour 
 
 is thy judgment come/' 
 
 After the second interruption by the beating of the 
 drums, Mr Cargill, as his biographer informs us, “ began 
 to exhort the people, and to show his comfort in laying 
 down his life under the assurance of a blessed eternity, 
 expressing himself in these words : — c Now I am as 
 sure of my interest in Christ and peace with God, as 
 all within this Bible and the Spirit of God can make 
 me. And I am fully persuaded that this is the very way 
 for which I suffer, and that He will return gloriously to 
 Scotland ; but it will be terrifying to many. Therefore, I 
 entreat you, be not discouraged at the way of Christ and 
 the cause for which I am to lay down my life and step 
 into eternity, where my soul shall be as full of him as 
 it can desire to be. And now, this is the sweetest and 
 most glorious day that ever mine eyes did see. Enemies 
 are now enraged against the way and people of God, 
 but ere long they shall be enraged against one another 
 to their own confusion/ Here the drums beat a third 
 time. Then setting his foot on the ladder, he said, 
 6 The Lord knows, I go on this ladder with less fear and 
 perturbation of mind than ever I entered the pulpit to 
 preach/ When up, he sat down and said, c Now I am 
 near the getting of the crown, which shall be sure ; for 
 which I bless the Lord, and desire all of you to bless 
 him, that he hath brought me here, and made me 
 triumph over devils, men, and sin. They shall wound 
 me no more. I forgive all men the wrongs they have 
 done me ; and I pray that the sufferers may be kept 
 from sin and helped to know their duty/ 
 
 “ Then having prayed a little within himself, he 
 lifted up the napkin, and said: c Farewell all relations 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 131 
 
 and friends in Christ ; farewell acquaintances and earthly 
 enjoyments; farewell reading and preaching, praying and 
 believing, wanderings, reproach, and sufferings. Wel- 
 come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; into thy hands I 
 commit my spirit/ Having then prayed a little more, 
 the executioner turned him over while praying ; and so 
 he finished his course, and the ministry that he had 
 received of the Lord Jesus.” 
 
 Thus fell a great man of God, and a great and suc- 
 cessful conventicle preacher. He sealed his testimony 
 •with his blood, and loved not his life unto the death. 
 His character, given by Sir Robert Hamilton who 
 knew him well, is as follows : — 
 
 u He was affectionate, affable, and tender-hearted, 
 to all such as he thought had any thing of the image of 
 God in them ; sober and temperate in his diet, saying 
 commonly, 4 It was well won that was won off the flesh ; 9 
 generous, liberal, and most charitable to the poor ; a 
 great hater of covetousness ; a frequent visitor of the 
 sick ; much alone, loving to be retired ; but when 
 about his Master’s public work, laying hold of every 
 opportunity to edify ; in conversation still dropping 
 what might minister grace to the hearers ; his coun- 
 tenance was edifying to beholders ; often sighing wfith 
 deep groans ; preaching in season and out of season, 
 upon all hazards ; ever the same in judgment and 
 Practice. From his youth he w r as much given to the 
 duty of secret prayer for whole nights together; wherein 
 it was observed, that, both in secret and in families, he 
 always sat straight upon his knees, with his hands 
 lifted up ; and in this posture, as some took notice, he 
 died with the rope about his neck.” 
 
 When his sentence of condemnation was announced 
 by sound of trumpet, he said : “ This is a weary sound ; 
 but the sound of the last trumpet will be a joyful sound 
 to me, and all that will be found having on Christ’s 
 righteousness.” 
 
 He was one of the ministers present at the battle of 
 Both well Bridge, where he was wounded severely in 
 
132 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the head. He was taken by the enemy, and expected 
 nothing hut instant death ; but even here was he de- 
 livered. One of the soldiers asked his name. “ My 
 name,” said he, “ is Donald Cargill/* Another asked 
 if he was a minister ; and on his answering that he 
 was, they instantly let him go. These soldiers were, 
 perhaps, influenced by something like patriotic senti- 
 ments, and probably by some conviction of the justness 
 of the covenanting cause ; for it is well known that there 
 were occasionally some few among the military who 
 seemed to sympathise with the sufferers, and instead of 
 injuring them when they were in their power, rather 
 aided their escape ; at any rate, the great Master whom 
 they served overruled the matter, that our worthy suf- 
 fered no further injury on the present occasion. 
 
 He retired to a place of safety, where he received 
 the treatment necessary in his circumstances. When 
 his friends were dressing his wounds, he was afraid to 
 ask their opinion of his case, thinking that the injury 
 he had received might prove mortal. It was his desire, 
 in submission to the divine will, to live, and to serve 
 the cause in which he was embarked. He knew that 
 the suffering party needed his help ; and though he 
 was willing to depart, yet his feelings were much akin 
 to those of Paul when he said : “ Nevertheless, to abide 
 in the flesh is more needful for you.” He did recovei^ 
 and for the space of nearly two years laboured inces- 
 santly in the good work by night and by day, travelling 
 in storm and sunshine, willing to spend and to be spent 
 in the service of his Lord. 
 
 But this was not the only occasion on which he re- 
 ceived wounds and severe personal injuries. The 
 scuffle at Queensferry had well nigh proved fatal to 
 him, when Henry Hall of Haughhead was taken pri- 
 soner. In the confusion Mr Cargill was sorely wounded ; 
 but having made his escape, he hid himself in a private 
 house, in the outskirts of the town. He lay here 
 pained and bleeding till found by a woman, who bound 
 up his head and conducted him to the house of one 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 133 
 
 ames Punton in Carlaurie. He lay in the barn till 
 night, and was then taken to a friend’s house. 
 
 A very interesting story is related of him in reference 
 to his mode of ministerial treatment in the case of a 
 poor woman who was labouring under great mental 
 depression and spiritual distress : “ After continuing 
 long in this state, she cried out for Mr Cargill, who 
 came, but for several visits was obliged to leave her as 
 he found her, to his no small grief. However, after 
 setting apart some days on her behalf, he came again, 
 but finding her still rejecting all comfort, still crying 
 out that she had no interest in the mercy of God or 
 merits of Christ, but had sinned the unpardonable sin, 
 he, looking in her face for a considerable time, took 
 out his Bible, and naming her, said : c I have this day 
 a commission from my Lord and Master, to renew the 
 marriage-contract betwixt you and him ; and if ye will 
 not consent, I am to require your subscription on this 
 Bible that you are willing to quit all right, interest in, 
 or pretence unto him and then be offered pen and ink 
 for that purpose. She was silent for some time, but at 
 last exclaimed : ‘ Oh, salvation is come to this house ! 
 I take him, I take him on his own terms, as he is 
 offered to me by his faithful ambassador/ From that 
 time her bonds were loosed/’ 
 
 The year 1(381, in which Mr Cargill suffered martyr- 
 dom, was distinguished for the introduction of what is 
 called the Test Act. There were three acts, the en- 
 forcement of which greatly aggrieved the nonconfor- 
 mist party. These were the bond, the cess, and the test. 
 The bond enforced an entire abstinence from conventicle 
 preachings. Gentlemen were bound for their families, 
 their servants, and their tenants ; and this inflicted a great 
 hardship on the country in general. It may, perhaps, 
 not be unacceptable to the reader to give here a copy of 
 the bond which was enacted in 1678. 
 
 “ We, , faithfully bind and oblige ourselves, that 
 
 we, our wives, bairns, and servants respective, shall no 
 ways be present at any conventicles or disorderly meet- 
 
134 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ings in time coming, but shall live orderly in obedience 
 to the law, under the pains and penalties contained in 
 the Acts of Parliament made thereagainst : As also, we 
 bind and oblige us, that our hail tenants and cottars 
 respective shall likewise abstain and refrain from said 
 conventicles, and other illegal meetings not authorised 
 by the law, and that they shall live orderly and in obedi- 
 ence to the same : And farther, that we nor they shall 
 not reset, supply, nor commune with forfeited persons, 
 intercommuned ministers, vagrant preachers, but shall 
 do our utmost endeavours to apprehend their persons ; 
 and in case our said tenants, cottars, or their foresaids, 
 shall contravene, we shall take and apprehend any person 
 or persons guilty thereof, and present them to the judge 
 ordinary, that they may be fined or imprisoned therefor, 
 as is provided by Acts of Parliament made thereanent ; 
 otherwise we shall remove them and their families off 
 our ground ; and if we shall fail herein, we shall be 
 liable to such pains and penalties as the said delinquents 
 have incurred by law.” 
 
 This affords a specimen of the style in which these 
 precious documents were concocted, and shows the 
 intolerable tyranny to which the land was subjected. 
 In this we see the reason why the lady of St John’s 
 Kirk wished to remove the conventicle to Holm’s Com- 
 mon. 
 
 The cess was a tax levied for the support of an army 
 to suppress conventicles. It must be obvious that no 
 consistent Nonconformist could submit to an imposition 
 of this kind, for it was tantamount in his estimation to 
 the suppression of the gospel itself. It was not to be 
 thought that people could gracefully pay money to hire 
 soldiers to kill them, and to equip dragoons to chase 
 them through moor and moss to the shedding of their 
 blood, for convening to worship God contrary to the 
 mind of their despotic rulers. 
 
 The test was another act of abuse which was equally 
 execrated, of which we shall here give a brief account 
 in the words of Dr Hetherington : — “ On the 31st of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — CARGILL. 135 
 
 August (1681), was passed the crowning act of this 
 slavish parliament, — the infamous Test Act. The as- 
 sumed object of this act was for the security of the Pro- 
 testant religion against “ Popery and fanaticism and 
 for that purpose it contained an oath which w r as to be 
 taken by all persons occupying places of trust and public 
 employment, with the exception of Papists. The two 
 main propositions of the oath were, an avowal of belief 
 in, and adherence to, the first Confession of Faith, drawn 
 up by the early Reformers ; and.an acknowledgment “ that 
 the king is the only supreme governor of this realm, 
 over all persons, and in all cases, as w r ell ecclesiastical as 
 civil.” It contained also a distinct renunciation of the 
 covenants, and a bond not to attempt any change in the 
 government of either church or state, as by law estab- 
 lished ; which of necessity implied the entire and final 
 abandonment of every Presbyterian principle. 
 
 “It is manifestly impossible for any man, of candid, 
 upright, and honourable mind, to take an oath contain- 
 ing propositions directly opposed to each other, and in- 
 ferring duties, the performance of which, according to 
 the literal meaning of the terms, was absolutely im- 
 practicable. But the making of oaths had been so long 
 a customary expedient of the Scottish administration, 
 that but few public men retained any regard for the 
 sacred obligation which they implied ; and it was more 
 consistent with the dark and treacherous policy of 
 the Duke of York, to employ men totally devoid of 
 conscientious scruples, and prepared for any extreme 
 which tyranny could devise, than to retain such as 
 had some regard for truth, integrity, and religious prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 u An immediate contest accordingly arose, between 
 the unscrupulous minions of despotism and those who 
 had still some attachment to religious and civil liberty. 
 Some refused the test at once, and were immediately 
 cast into prison. The Duke of Hamilton hesitated, but 
 subsequently took the oath. The Earl of Queensberry 
 took it with an explanation, but such a one as was not 
 
 K 
 
136 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 calculated to give offence, declaring that lie did not hold 
 himself bound to oppose alterations in the church and 
 state, in case it should seem good to his majesty to 
 make them. A considerable number of the prelatic 
 clergy refused to take the test ; and some of them carried 
 their opposition so far as to leave their situations rather 
 than be guilty of what amounted to perjury. No one 
 prelate, how r ever, carried his opposition so far; although 
 one, the Bishop of Aberdeen, exhibited considerable 
 reluctance to take an oath so full of absurdity, and so 
 capable of evil. Paterson, Bishop of Edinburgh, framed 
 an evasive explanation of the test, which had the effect 
 of reconciling the greater part of the prelatic clergy who 
 had at first refused ; and the adherents of Popery had 
 no difficulty in taking an oath which some of them 
 might know to be intended to strengthen their party, 
 and from which they all knew r that they could very 
 easily procure absolution.” 
 
 Such Avere the hardships to which both parties were 
 reduced ; and the absurdity and profanity of the acts 
 proved that they were the issue of an insane and un- 
 principled faction, that was disposed to domineer over 
 all, both friend and foe, in as far as it suited their own 
 selfish projects. No wonder that the spirit of such a 
 man as Cargill arose, — the spirit of patriotism, of freedom, 
 and of Christianity, — against the bigoted tyrant that sat 
 on the throne, and against the miserable junto that 
 fawned at his feet. The noble spirit that swelled in the 
 bosom of this great man, and which rose with burning 
 expression to his lips, w as the spirit which emancipated 
 the nation in the great Be volution of 1688. 
 
 Alexander Peden, a household name, especially 
 among the inhabitants of the moorlands, comes next 
 under our notice. Pie was a native of the parish of 
 Sorn, in Ayrshire, and after passing through the usual 
 course of training for the pulpit, became minister of 
 Glenluce, in Galloway. In his charge in this parish 
 he continued only about three years, wdien he was 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 1 37 
 
 ejected, with the rest of the nonconforming brethren, by 
 the Act of Glasgow. On the last Sabbath of his in- 
 cumbency in Glenluce, he preached from the text, 
 “ Therefore watch, and remember that for the space of 
 three years I ceased not to warn every man,” &c. His 
 audience was melted into tears, and great was the wail- 
 ing among the parishioners on account of the loss of 
 their beloved pastor, — one who was dear to them as their 
 own lives. When he stepped out of the pulpit and closed 
 the door, he knocked on it with his Bible, and repeated 
 the following words three times : “ I arrest thee in my 
 Master’s name, that none ever enter thee, hut such as 
 come in by the door, as I have done.” And it is 
 affirmed that none did enter it till after the Revolution. 
 
 For about a quarter of a century, with the exception 
 of the years he was confined to the Bass, Mr Peden 
 wandered from place to place under the pressure of the 
 persecution. • At one time we find him in Ireland, and 
 again we find him in what he termed “The bluidy land,” 
 — among its dreary wastes and mountainous solitudes, 
 going everywhere preaching the gospel, and upholding 
 the standard of Zion in the day of conflict. 
 
 He associated with the conventicle preachers, and few 
 were held in higher estimation among the people. There 
 was something awfully solemn in his preaching, which, 
 from the peculiar turn of some of his expressions, was 
 supposed to partake of the character of the prophetic. 
 His homely and affectionate manners greatly endeared 
 him to the populace among whom he sojourned. The 
 lowly cottages of the moorlands were the places of his 
 resort, and where he was always welcome, — the inmates 
 deeming themselves peculiarly honoured, in having under 
 their roof a man so holy and so devoted to his Master’s 
 cause. 
 
 It is not much of Mr Peden's preaching that we have 
 on record, but what we have gives us a distinct idea of 
 its individuality; for it was certainly in some respects 
 different from the majority of his brethren, who delivered 
 their message with such fervour and efficiency at the 
 
138 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 conventicles. The peculiar structure of Mr Peden’s 
 mind is plainly discernible from his mode of preaching. 
 The sudden starts, the episodes, the apostrophes, the 
 elevations, the depressions, and his striking figures illus- 
 trative of his train of thought, — all indicate that Mr 
 Peden, as a preacher, stood alone among his brethren. 
 Iiis manner was remarkably popular; yet few would think 
 of imitating it as a model of oratory, because what in him 
 seemed befitting, in others would appear ridiculous. 
 
 But whatever were the peculiarities of Mr Peden s 
 preaching, as judged by the modern standard of that 
 art, his sermons were greedily listened to; and the effects 
 produced by them were equal, if not superior to those of 
 his brethren who laboured in the same perilous vocation. 
 His earnest prayers and heavenly fervour brought down 
 an unction from above, which always seemed to accom- 
 pany his ministrations, and produced impressions of 
 deep seriousness even on light and frivolous minds. 
 And not unfrequently did the stout-hearted bow down 
 under the weight of his appeals, and lie subdued at the 
 feet of the Saviour, and many a tale of this kind was 
 rehearsed long after his head was in the grave. 
 
 But chiefly were the people of God benefited by his 
 ministry. They caught a portion of the spirituality of 
 his heart, and were always refreshed by every opening 
 of his mouth; and they ran far and near to hearken to 
 his voice. The people of the desert counted him as 
 their man. He was one of themselves. He sat familiarly 
 at their hearths, he expounded the Scriptures in family 
 worship, and with the “ big ha’ Bible” resting on his knee, 
 he poured into their ears and into their hearts a stream of 
 heavenly sweetness ; thus preparing them to enter with 
 him into the spirit of that prayer which, on his bended 
 knees, on the clay-cold floor of the cottage, he sent up on 
 the wings of faith and holy ardour to the sanctuary 
 above, for God's church in tribulation : and as he prayed 
 he was refreshed, and the hearts of all were refreshed 
 with him. Everything about him breathed of heaven ; 
 for few men had caught more of the spirit of his Mas- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 139 
 
 ter, and few were more welcome to the hearth of the 
 peasants, than he. Every breath seemed to be a prayer; 
 he lived in it as his element, and he was constantly 
 exhorting others to engage in the exercise. It was his 
 frequent saying, that it was only “ praying persons that 
 would get through the storm,” and who would he 
 enabled to keep their garments clean in that defiling 
 time. He was a simple-hearted, guileless man, — one of 
 the Nathanaels of his time, who lived in filial confidence 
 on God, and experienced not a few very remarkable 
 interpositions of his providence on his behalf. 
 
 Mr Peden was a light in the lonely wilderness ; and 
 he has left to this day a luminous streak on his path. 
 He was a burning and a shining light, that God had 
 kindled up to guide the feet of many into the way of 
 peace. His torch never flickered, never emitted a pale 
 and sickly flame, no dubious or fitful glare; hut it blazed 
 with a bright and steady effulgence, and shone clearer 
 and clearer till it was quenched in the night of death. 
 His wanderings we shall afterwards trace, and notice the 
 localities he so often frequented. In the meantime, we 
 shall here, in pursuance of our general design, present 
 the reader w T ith a specimen of his conventicle preaching. 
 
 The discourse from which we shall make our selection 
 was preached at Glenluce, from which parish he had 
 been ejected ; and it is easy to conceive the strong 
 yearnings of heart he must have felt toward his old 
 parishioners, who had no stated minister among them, 
 not even a curate, and who were w 7 holly dependent on 
 the occasional ministrations of the men who maintained 
 the gospel at the conventicles. The text is, u But when 
 the husbandmen saw the son, they said among them- 
 selves, This is the heir ; come let us kill him, and let us 
 seize on his inheritance — 
 
 “ This that I have read unto you is Scotland’s sin. 
 This day, if our king and nobles had our Lord Jesus 
 Christ amongst them at Edinburgh, what would they 
 do with him ? They would even give him a gibbet, or 
 worse, if they could devise it ; for which he shall deal 
 
140 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 with them ere long, [[even] with our king, nobles, and 
 a part of the unfaithful ministers, that he will take 
 vengeance on ere long, as well as on prelates and malig- 
 nants, — all shall go together ere it be long now. 
 
 “ In the next place, there is fruit called for from these 
 husbandmen. Ye will say, c What fruit is this?' Ye 
 see it is fruit in season. This fruit is called for in 
 thee, O Scotland, this day. This fruit, sirs, is not such 
 fruit as ye pay your rents with, — as corn, hay, or the 
 like, that your hearts love well ; no, sirs, it is fruit in 
 season. I will tell you, sirs, the duties that God would 
 have taken off your hand thirty or forty years ago in 
 Scotland, whether preaching or praying, or any other 
 spiritual duty, he will not take off your hand to-day in 
 Scotland ; I say, he will not take off your hand, nor 
 mine either, now when so much of the saints’ blood 
 hath gone to seal those truths which we are now bound 
 to own in Scotland, and in all these covenanted lands. \ 
 
 “Now, O ye people of God in Scotland, there are 
 some of you looking me in the face to-day, I appeal to 
 your consciences whether this he true or not ? Well, 
 w hat fruit is this that is called for ? Why, it is faith and 
 repentance, love to God and obedience to his revealed 
 will : w 7 hich many of you, yea, the most part of you, are 
 as great strangers to as if ye had never heard the ever- 
 lasting gospel preached unto you. Now, people of God, 
 what are you doing, when such dreadful wrath is at 
 hand in Scotland this day ? He is not worth his room 
 in Scotland this day that prays not the half of his time, 
 to see if he can prevent the dreadful w 7 rath that is at the 
 door coming on our poor mother land. Oh, sirs, you 
 must pray ploughing, harrowing, shearing, and at all 
 your other labours, — yea, w 7 hen ye are eating and drink- 
 ing, going out and coming in, and at all your other 
 employments ; for there w r as never more need of them 
 than now. O the noble life we might have of com- 
 munion with God ! Oh, sirs, it is He that makes heaven 
 pleasant ; it is communion with God that makes heaven. 
 Will ye long to be there, 0 people of God ? 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 141 
 
 44 Now, the words of the text declare, that he would 
 have fruit from you in this country-side, — and from thee, 
 O Glenluce ! He sent thee first a crumb, then he sent 
 thee many a faithful turn of his servants while they were 
 on the mountains. Now he hath sent me unto thee 
 this day, to bid thee pay him his fruit. And little hath he 
 gotten from thee, O Glenluce ; for which he shall make 
 many waste places in thee, O Scotland ! But I will tell 
 you what is for you, O persecuted sufferers : crowns, 
 crowns of glory ye shall wear ere long ; and a remnant 
 of you shall be preserved in all those sad days that are 
 coming on thee, O Britain and Ireland. 
 
 46 Now, sirs, I have news to tell you : there are many 
 of you had need to be making your testament, for some 
 of you will not have long time to live in the world. 
 Peace with God will be a good testament ere long, sirs ; 
 for Scotland shall be drowned in blood. And then, in 
 that fearful day of wrath that is coming on these harlot, 
 apostate lands, for treachery, and coven ant-breaking w r ith 
 God, the testimony of a good conscience will be a good 
 feast when a bloody sword may be at your breast. Then 
 peace with God will help to make a good testament in 
 that day. 6 Follow peace with all men ; and holiness, 
 without which no man shall see the Lord/ What kind 
 of holiness is this, sirs? I will tell you what it is : it is 
 not such a measure of holiness as Abraham, Moses, 
 David, or any of those great worthies had. No, poor 
 folk, God will take less off your hand. It is holiness in 
 design that is the thing God will approve of from you. 
 It is not the stock of grace that ye have received that 
 will do your turn, but it is the thing ye have the expec- 
 tation of, and are longing for. Ye may want many 
 things, but ye may not want holiness. Friends, ye may 
 be blind, lame, dumb, poor and contemptible in the 
 world, and want many things, and yet come to heaven ; 
 but if ye want holiness ye shall never come there. 
 Therefore, take heed of these things, I entreat you, in 
 such a day as this. 
 
 44 Now, sirs, there are many of you come here to-day 
 
142 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 out of different places, and ye are all come here profess- 
 ing to be the worshippers of the living God, and be- 
 lieving folk ; but I am now to lay bye five or six sorts of 
 folk, that are in reality but dead folk. And, — 
 
 “ First, They are dead folk that are ignorant of the 
 saving way and device of salvation, through the cove- 
 nant of redemption made betwixt the Father and the 
 Son from all eternity. Ye are all dead folk that are 
 such. Ye are all ignorant of the case of the work of 
 God in Scotland ; — ye are all dead folk. And I had 
 rather have one of yonder sufferers, that is bred in 
 Christ’s school in and through Clydesdale, than have a 
 hundred of you to join with me ; for ye have no weight 
 with God, no grace, — ye are not scholars at Christ's 
 school, and therefore ye are but dead folk. 
 
 “ A second sort of dead folk are ye who are fair, 
 blossoming professors, but inwardly ye are as whited 
 tombs, and are as rotten as dead graves, and have no- 
 thing but a profession, and know not what the work of 
 regeneration is. Ye are but dead folk, and we must 
 here lay you bye. 
 
 “ A third sort of dead folk are ye who are plunging 
 in the world. Ye have no god but the world ; and 
 that bears most sway in your hearts. Ye are but dead 
 folks, sirs, and we must lay you bye. Oh, ye say, ‘ We 
 must now labour for our living. Would ye have us let 
 our handy- work alone?’ But oh, worldly miser and 
 fool that thou art, hath not Christ said, c Seek ye first 
 the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all 
 other things shall be added unto you ’? Oh, sirs, will 
 ye trust God and give him credit ? and he will help 
 you at your work. Friends, if ye would own that 
 covenant with him, and make him your own, I will 
 tell you what he would do for you : he would plough 
 your land, sow your corn, shear your corn, sell your 
 corn, and bring home your money. I will tell you, 
 friends, what he will do : he will even, as it were, rock 
 the cradle, if it were necessary, for you. He will con- 
 descend as low as ye desire him ; — but ye must at once 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 143 
 
 close with him, and that upon his own terms, and make 
 a surrender of your hearts unto him. 
 
 “ A fourth sort of persons that we must lay bye as 
 dead folk, are your graceless and profane folk, both old 
 and young. Ye abuse your time that ye should serve 
 God in. Ye meet together, housefuls of you, danc- 
 ing and leaping through one another, young men and 
 young women of you, with your graceless, wanton mirth ; 
 and ye think that ye have liberty to do this. Oh, sirs, 
 is this a time for such a w r ork, when God is threatening 
 to lay poor Scotland waste and desolate ? Ye should 
 rather be mourning, and crying to God for shelter in 
 such a storm and sad days as he is about to bring on 
 these apostate, backsliding, covenant- breaking lands. 
 
 <c A fifth sort of dead folk, are you that have gone 
 with the storm, and have still complied, and given 
 your consent to the banishing of Christ out of poor 
 Scotland, by your testing and bonding against him. 
 What are ye doing, sirs, if he marvellously prevent it 
 not ? 1 fear black Popery, ere it be long, will come. 
 
 The pope is coming back, to seek his own power that 
 he left in Scotland long ago ; — and ye are helping him 
 well to it. I will tell you more of it, sirs : if the Lord 
 had not gotten three or four sacrifices of the blood of 
 the saints in Scotland, we had all been bowing to stocks 
 and stones this day, and to black idolatry. At Pent- 
 land, Bothwell, and Airsmoss the blood of the saints 
 hath run in through and out through, giving a testimony 
 against all the usurpations that have been made upon 
 Christ's crown in Scotland ; — a circumstance that speaks 
 good news to us this day, and to the posterity following. 
 The generations that are yet to arise shall partake of 
 the benefits of the poor suffering remnant in Scotland. 
 
 “ Now, old folk, what are you doing? I fear the 
 storm may lay you bye. And ye young folk, what are 
 ye doing ? Will ye venture life and fortune to close 
 with Christ, young men and young women in Scot- 
 land ? And I will tell you news of it, as to the young 
 men and women who have followed him in Scotland 
 
144 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 in the stormy blast, and have laid down their lives for 
 him ; — your eyes shall see them on thrones, and crowns 
 on their heads, and clothed with robes of glory, having 
 harps and palms in their hands. And ye that are 
 young folk in this country-side, if he call you to it, if 
 ye will venture to follow him in this storm, and abide 
 by his back, and stick by his persecuted truth in Scot- 
 land this day, he shall set you on thrones, and ye 
 shall give in your judgment and sentence with him, 
 when he shall judge the bloody King, bloody Council 
 and Parliament, and the bloody Duke of York, and 
 our profane, wicked nobles and gentlemen, and grace- 
 less ministers in Scotland, who are all dyed with the 
 blood of the saints. Oh, my heart trembles within me 
 to think what is coming on the backsliding and soul- 
 murdering ministers of Scotland ! The children of the 
 saints that shall outlive the captivity in the days that 
 are coming, shall be ready to meet such ministers and 
 stone them ; — as ye have it : c Thou shalt not live, for 
 thou speakest lies in the name of the Lord/ Therefore 
 take heed what ye are doing ; for there are as sad days 
 coming as ever were in these lands, namely, in thee, apos- 
 tate Scotland, for thy perjury and apostasy. We have all 
 cause to be afraid that He is about to transmit his vine- 
 yard to another nation, to better husbandmen, who will 
 give him his fruit better than we in Scotland have done. 
 
 Now, ye that are the people of God, I know ye 
 will think this hard news ; but yet I have this to tell 
 you, that although we have provoked him to remove 
 his candlestick to another land, and he is threatening to 
 do so for a while ; yet though there be wrath in his 
 face, there is love in his heart, and he will return to 
 thee, O Scotland ; and there shall be as glorious days 
 in thee, O Scotland, as ever was in the world, in spite 
 of all his adversaries, — both King, Council, and Parlia- 
 ment, and profane magistrates and prelates ; yea, 
 and all the defections of the people of God shall not 
 keep him away from making a visit to his poor, perse- 
 cuted friends in Scotland.” 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS— PEDEN. 
 
 145 
 
 Mr Peden had joined with the party that proceeded 
 to Pentland, and accompanied them to the river Clyde, 
 where he left them. After various wanderings and a 
 succession of troublous years, he w r as confined in the 
 Bass, where he was detained for a long time a prisoner, 
 till, with sixty other sufferers in the same cause, he was 
 sentenced by the Council to he banished to America. 
 "When the sentence was passed, he is said to have 
 expressed his conviction, “ that the ship w r as not yet 
 built that should carry him to that distant country.” 
 And accordingly it happened, when the ship reached 
 London, that he, with the entire party, was set at 
 liberty. He plodded his way back to Scotland, having 
 received, w r hen in London, sundry presents from friends, 
 w T hich assisted them in their progress homewards. He 
 returned a short time before the battle of Bothw’ell 
 Bridge ; the discomfiture at w hich w as to him, as it w r as 
 to thousands, a matter of deep distress. 
 
 Wodrow mentions, that among those who w r ere 
 shipped wfith Mr Peden to London, was a young man 
 of the name of Alexander Anderson. He was only 
 fifteen years of age, but had rendered himself obnoxi- 
 ous to the rulers, on account of his nonconformity and 
 decided piety. He left the following testimony behind 
 him, as given by the historian : — u He takes notice,” 
 says Wodrow, “that he is the youngest prisoner in 
 Scotland, and that the Lord had opened his eyes, and 
 revealed his Son in his heart, since he came under the 
 cross ; and that he had much difficulty to part with his 
 friends and relations, yet he had now found fellowship 
 with Christ did much more than balance the w orth of the 
 company of his dearest relations ; that though he be so 
 very young as could not be admitted as a witness 
 among men, yet hopes that Christ hath taken him to 
 be a witness to his cause. He makes an apology that 
 he, who is but a child, should leave any thing of this 
 kind behind him, but says that he w r as constrained to 
 it, to testify that God perfects strength out of the mouth 
 of babes. He leaves his commendation to the cross of 
 
146 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Christ, and blesses the Lord for carrying him through 
 temptations, and enabling him, one of the lambs of his 
 flock, to stand before great men and judges; and closes 
 with his good wishes to all the friends of Christ.” 
 This is a very pleasing testimony from so young a 
 person ; and it is interesting to remark, that not a few 
 of the youth of both sexes suffered even to the death in 
 those times. George AVood at the age of sixteen, and 
 Andrew Hislop at the age of seventeen, were both shot 
 in the fields ; and several young females were publicly 
 executed. 
 
 We shall now take a survey of the wide field of 
 Peden’s wanderings, and notice a few of the more strik- 
 ing incidents which befell him in his sojournings in the 
 wilderness. There was scarcely a locality in the south 
 and west which Peden had not traversed, seeking con- 
 cealment and an opportunity to preach the Word of 
 God. We shall at present, however, confine our at- 
 tention more particularly to the moorlands that lie to 
 the north of the upper ward of Nithsdale, — a theatre 
 that was more especially trodden by the busy actors in 
 the great drama of the Scottish persecution, both on the 
 part of the persecutors and the persecuted. It was here, 
 in a great measure, that the contending parties found a 
 field wide enough on which to wrestle, and where the 
 struggle was the fiercest, and on which the marks of 
 conflict are more indelibly stereotyped. It is here, 
 more emphatically, that “ graves of martyr warriors 
 are in the desert heath.” 
 
 The dreary deserts of Kyle were the retreat of the 
 weary wanderers, who hid themselves in the heart of 
 the solitudes, and there bade defiance to all the vigi- 
 lance of the foe ; for few of the troopers durst venture 
 where they could go with confidence. The rugged 
 surface of the waste, the dark moss-hag, the dense 
 thicket, and the bosky ravine, whose shelving sides 
 contained the caves that furnished a secure retreat in 
 those dismal times, were all of them resorted to, where 
 their foes could follow them only at their peril. It was 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 14 ' 
 
 here, where the fugitives were numerous, that Peden 
 and his fellow-labourers gathered the conventicles at 
 which they presided. And never were places more 
 adapted to the purpose than those ; for here “ the earth 
 helped the woman,” and here were opened fountains 
 in the midst of the desert. 
 
 In traversing the moorlands toward the head of the 
 Water of Kyle, and from the height above Glenw r harry 
 Cleuch, on the mossy foot-path to Auchtitinch, w T e have 
 seated ourselves on the stony bench by the wayside, — a 
 seat placed there for the weary traveller, — and, wiping 
 the dripping perspiration from our brow, and inhaling 
 the refreshing breeze that streamed along the fragrant 
 heath, we have imagined that even here, on this self- 
 same stone, may have rested the venerable Peden, in 
 his toilsome wanderings through the waste, with his 
 head uncovered, and his bonnet elevated in his hand, 
 lifting up his heart in prayer to the God of his life, in 
 behalf of the suffering remnant who were, many of 
 them at that very moment perchance, concealed in the 
 heathy wastes, and in the deep trenches formed by the 
 w ater- courses in the moor. Here the heights of Cairn- 
 table, and Wardlaw, the hill of the Warder, and the 
 elevation around the “ Muirkirk of Kyle," present 
 themselves to the view. The deep Yalley of Glenmuir, 
 celebrated in the song of the moorland poet, — its stillness 
 broken only by the murmuring of the brook that 
 struggles through it, and the bleating of the fleecy 
 charge of the solitary shepherds, — stretches itself along 
 the base of the rugged hills, on whose sloping sides in 
 the high days of summer met the assembly of worship- 
 pers, in perfect security from the intrusion of the foe. 
 The old Castle of Kyle, standing in dreary loneliness, but 
 now a ruin, may have been the receptacle of many a 
 company of devout hearts praying together, while they 
 sought a shelter from the cold blast that swept along 
 the waste, — chilling alike the hearts of men and flocks as 
 they passed along the inhospitable wilds. 
 
 The solitudes of Ayrsmoss were frequently resorted 
 
148 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 to by Mr Peden and his fellow-sufferers. Whole days 
 and nights were spent in this desolate moor by the 
 worthies who were compelled to flee before the troopers ; 
 who, though they durst not venture on horseback, yet, 
 dismounting, they tried to thread the rugged surface on 
 foot in quest of the poor fugitives who were cowering 
 in mossy ruts and deep hags. This moss, of several 
 miles in length and breadth, is in many places utterly 
 impassable, on account of the sinking peat ground and 
 black mud, that would instantly swallow up man and 
 horse in the attempt to pass along the swampy spaces ; 
 and it is withal infested with adders, that crawl among 
 the tufted heath and burrow in the soft moss. These 
 reptiles sometimes inflict a deadly bite, — to avoid which 
 it was as much the care of those who fled to this waste 
 as it was to avoid the lance of the troopers. Into this 
 dreadful moss the oppressed people were sometimes 
 driven by their persecutors, like the down of the heath 
 before the blast. Of this we shall here give a specimen 
 of what happened in this same moss, by one who was 
 himself pursued by those human blood-hounds, the 
 dragoons. In this instance Mr Peden formed one of 
 the party subjected to this sore chasing. 
 
 “ We all went to bed,” says the narrator, “and slept 
 soundly ; but I dreamed three times over all that befell 
 us the next day. In the morning the servants went to 
 work in the fields, and I went with them. About nine 
 o'clock in the forenoon, we saw a troop of dragoons 
 coming at the gallop. We ran every one as Providence 
 directed. The watchful providence of God, which was 
 ever kind to me, led me as by the hand to a moss more 
 than a mile from where we were working ; to which 
 moss (Ayrsmoss) Mr Peden and those who were with 
 him in the house had fled for shelter ; which I knew 
 nothing of. The way to it was very steep and ascend- 
 ing ground. Two of the dragoons pursued me very hard, 
 but spying another man, in their pursuit of me, him they 
 pursued off at the right hand of my way. They fired 
 at him ; but it pleased the Lord he escaped at that 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 149 
 
 time. Then other two men came in chase of me, and I 
 was sore put to it for my life. The day was very hot, 
 and the way mountainous ; yet the Lord was very kind 
 to me, and enabled me to run. I had many thoughts 
 of turning this way or that way, and yet I was over- 
 powered beyond my inclination to keep on in the way 
 to that moss where Mr Peden was, at the edge of which 
 there was a bog or morass, about seven or eight yards 
 broad, at which I at last came. And here the Lord was 
 a present help in the time of need to me; for just as I 
 was drawing myself out of the bog by the heather of 
 the moss, two of the dragoons came to the other side of 
 the bog, and called to me, c Stand, dog, and be shot/ I 
 was got out of the bog to my knees upon the moss, when 
 they fired upon me ; but God directed the ball by my 
 left ear, so close that it carried off some of my hair. 
 Finding that I had escaped that shot, I ran into the 
 moss, kind Providence leading me where Mr Peden, 
 with about twenty more of the persecuted people, was. 
 I was so out-run that it was some time before I could 
 speak. 
 
 a We stayed there for some time, till there came an- 
 other troop to join the first troop, and they were about 
 to dismount their horses, and to take the moss on foot 
 to search us out. We seeing this, drew off, and travel- 
 led many miles. They seeing this, horsed again, and 
 pursued us bv the edge of the moss ; but we always kept 
 ourselves on such ground where horses could not pass. 
 They who knew the ground said that it was above thirty 
 miles that we had run that day, the enemy still pursu- 
 ing us. We got no manner of refreshment but moss 
 water all that day, till dark night, when each of us got 
 a drink of milk. Mr Peden left those that were with 
 him and w^ent one way ; and I left them and went an- 
 other way. I lay all night far from any house, among 
 heath. To-morrow, the 29 th, when I awoke out of as 
 sound a sleep as ever I got in all my life, I saw about 
 two hundred foot and horse searching all the country 
 round Mr Crawford's house, far and near ; and seeing 
 
150 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 no way of escape for me unobserved by the enemy, I 
 kept close among the heath ; and so kind and conde- 
 scending was the Lord to me, that not one of the enemy 
 came within a quarter of a mile where I lay ; so tender 
 was he of me, that he pitied my weak mind and fatigued 
 body, and laid no more on me than I was able to bear. 
 Glory and praise to him for evermore ! ” 
 
 Such is a specimen of those chasings among the mosses 
 and on the hills, which were matters of every-day oc- 
 currence in those distressful times ; and we have little 
 notion of what these worthy people endured, unless we 
 just look steadily at such graphic descriptions as are 
 given by the parties themselves. 
 
 It was on the edge of this extensive moss where Came- 
 ron fell, and where the through-stone commemorates the 
 worthies who lost their lives along with him, in the con- 
 flict with Earlshall and his dragoons. Mr Peden often 
 paid a visit to this dreary spot ; and he used to sit on 
 the grave-stone and ruminate on the woful times that 
 had gone over them, and converse with his compan- 
 ions on the fate of his bosom friend “ Pitchie,” as the 
 martyr was familiarly called. Many a sorrowful hour 
 did he pass here, and many a tear did he shed on the 
 lettering of the rude grave-stone, as he read its mourn- 
 ful inscription ; and then he would lift up his eyes to 
 heaven and devoutly exclaim, “ Oh, to be wi* Pitchie ! ” 
 But in the midst of his sorrowful mournings his heart 
 was full of comfort ; for he possessed the peace of God, and 
 entertained the full confidence that the Lord would re- 
 turn to Scotland, and build up his church as in the for- 
 mer days ; and thus he was fortified for further en- 
 durance. 
 
 4< Upon the wild and lone Ayrsraoss 
 Sank down the twilight grey; 
 
 In storms and clouds the evening closed 
 Upon that cheerless day. 
 
 But Peden went away refreshed, 
 
 For peace and joy were given, 
 
 And Cameron’s grave had proved to him 
 The very gate of heaven.” 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 151 
 
 Priesthill was another place of resort to Peden, where 
 he found himself more than at home in the bosom of 
 the family of John Brown, the godly carrier, who was 
 shot by Claverhouse’s own hand on the brown bent 
 before his own door, on the first morning of summer in 
 the year 1685, the killing time, when so many of our 
 Scottish martyrs watered the desert with their blood. 
 It is said that Mr Peden, with a sort of prophetic fore- 
 sight, when he wedded John Brown to his second wife, 
 Isabel Weir, warned the pious couple of a bloody 
 morning that might likely befall them, in the days when 
 the bravest of Zion's sons were suddenly slain on the 
 lonely heath by the blood-thirsty troopers that scoured 
 moor and mountain in their fell purpose of murder, like 
 the sportsman intent on his game. 
 
 Every space of the desert had been trodden by Mr 
 Peden. He knew every hiding-place, he was acquainted 
 with every hut in the solitudes ; and if there was a dark 
 cave, or a wooded ravine, or an inaccessible height, or 
 a moorland trench, he knew them all, and had been 
 their tenant, either alone, or in company with his friends. 
 The necessity of the case compelled the wanderers to 
 acquaint themselves with all such retreats, that without 
 difficulty they might betake themselves to a hiding-place 
 when the bloodhounds of the persecution were let loose 
 on their track. And many a happy hour they spent in 
 hallowed fellowship, when driven from the habitations 
 of men ; for they always found that when farthest from 
 men they were nearest God, and when there was less of 
 earth there was more of heaven, and that just as the 
 storm raged without there was calm within. 
 
 Mr Peden in his wanderings often made a descent on 
 Douglas Water. The wilds around the now beautiful 
 vale of Douglas were frequented by the Nonconformists, 
 ■whose hiding-places in this locality are still pointed out 
 by the descendants of those who then suffered, and who 
 cling with pertinacy to their memory. Earnsallach 
 cave was well known as the retreat of James Gavin, 
 already mentioned ; and there was many a worthy person 
 
 L 
 
152 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 in this district who suffered not a little for the cause 
 of the covenant. The wilds around Douglas afforded 
 in those days of trial a shelter from the rough blast of 
 persecution which they could not now afford. And, 
 indeed, this may be affirmed in regard to many places 
 which were then securities, but wffiich in our days are 
 all open and exposed, by means of the clearance of the 
 thickets, the bridging of the streams, and the intersect- 
 ing of the glens and moors with roads, so that places 
 which were inaccessible then are easy of entrance now. 
 
 Mr Peden had many friends in Douglas and its 
 vicinity, who deemed it an honour to entertain him, and 
 even to venture their lives for his. There was one J ames 
 Brown, in Paddock Holm, with whom he took sweet coun- 
 sel, and who probably accompanied him occasionally in 
 his wanderings, and shared with him in his privations. 
 He sometimes preached in the house of this good man 
 to the people of the upper parts of Douglasdale, where 
 he experienced so much hospitality. The descendants 
 of the Covenanters are still to be found in this locality, 
 and a congregation of what is conventionally termed 
 Cameronians still exists here. It was in the vicinity of 
 Douglas that, in the beginning of the last century, the 
 covenants were renewed at a place called Auchensaugh, 
 in a hollow on the ridge or rising ground that stretches 
 forward to the Douglas woods. From this spot a 
 splendid view of a large space of country is obtained, 
 east and west, and south and north. On a fine summer 
 day, when the air is clear and balmy, there are few 
 points in the locality more charming, while all around 
 were places of concealment in the days of the covenant, 
 but which could be places of concealment no longer. 
 The majestic Lowther heights close by Leadhills, the 
 wilds of Crawford Moor, the dark hills around Muirkirk, 
 the upland marshes of Duneaton, the moors of Lesma- 
 hago, the heights of Tinto and Coulter Fells, all visible 
 in the distance, furnish a spacious scene, and a scene 
 crowded with incidents, historical and traditionary, 
 which, in no trivial degree, interest one who knows 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 153 
 
 the localities, and who is acquainted with their topo- 
 graphy. 
 
 W e have often thought that the intermingled scenery, 
 the wild, the glorious, and the sweet, in the midst of 
 which the wanderers of the covenant had their habita- 
 tion, must of itself have purified and elevated their 
 minds, and wrought in them a taste for the sublime and 
 beautiful in nature. God had spread before their eyes 
 a mirror in which was reflected his glorious image, the 
 beauty, the majesty, and the loveliness of which, they 
 could not fail to see, and from which they might inhale 
 draughts of delight unutterable. He has decorated the 
 face of the world to be admired, and to contribute to 
 human happiness. 44 Some may, perhaps, doubt,” says Dr 
 Hitchcock, 44 whether it can have been one of the objects 
 of divine benevolence and wisdom, in arranging the 
 surface of this world, so to construct and adorn it as to 
 gratify a taste for fine scenery. But I cannot doubt it. 
 I see not else why nature every where is fitted up in a 
 lavish manner with all the elements of the sublime and 
 beautiful, nor why there are powers in the human soul 
 so intensely gratified in contact with those elements, 
 unless they were expressly adapted for one another by 
 the Creator. Surely natural scenery does afford to the 
 unsophisticated soul one of the richest and purest sources 
 of enjoyment to be found on earth. If this be doubted 
 by any one, it must be because he has never been placed 
 in circumstances to call into exercise his natural love of 
 the beautiful and the sublime in creation. Let me per- 
 suade such a one, at least in imagination, to break away 
 from the slavish routine of business or pleasure, and in 
 the height of balmy summer to accompany me to a few 
 spots, where his soul will swell with new and strong 
 emotions, if his natural sensibilities to the grand and 
 beautiful have not become thoroughly dead within him.” 
 
 But Mr Peden in his wanderings is also to be found 
 among the grim hills of Morton, in Nithsdale, and 
 where the heights of Durisdeer and Closeburn meet. 
 We find him at a place called Gilchristland Shiel, 
 
154 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 preaching in a farm house, where no intrusion of the 
 military at the time was anticipated. During the 
 service, however, and when all were absorbed in the 
 particular work for which the little company had con- 
 vened, the gentle bleating of a sheep was heard at the 
 door, next in the passage, a little louder, and then 
 louder still, till a shepherd rose to drive the intruder 
 away; and when he was chasing it a short distance from 
 the house, he beheld a party of soldiers cautiously 
 approaching the place. He ran in to give the alarm, 
 and in a brief space the entire company had separated, 
 and Mr Peden made his way unseen by the troopers to 
 a cave at the foot of a steep hill, the mouth of which 
 was not discernible save to those who were fully 
 acquainted with it. This cave, capable of containing 
 several persons at once, had its mouth concealed by a 
 pendent bush of heather, which grew from the upper 
 part of the aperture ; and this, again, was met by a 
 feathery bracken bush, that, fan-like, sprang from the 
 floor of the entrance, and formed a screen so complete 
 that perfect security was afforded to the occupants 
 within. It is affirmed that Mr Peden, in this conceal- 
 ment, saw the soldiers pass up the glen, through the 
 thin veil that hid the mouth of his cave, without trepi- 
 dation, and safe under the guardianship of the Lord of 
 the hill, beneath the rocky awning of which he had 
 ensconced himself. This precise spot was known, till 
 within the last thirty or forty years, to the shepherds 
 who frequented the district ; but its mouth is now 
 entirely concealed by means of the debris that has been 
 washed down from the sides of the mountain. In this 
 locality the heights wear a dark and frowning aspect. 
 They are covered in many places with shaggy heath and 
 loose stones, and are of a very uninviting appearance. 
 Yet in their deep recesses companies of God’s hidden 
 ones convened, both for shelter and for divine service. 
 
 The hills of Durisdeer, westward, break upon the 
 view ; in the bosom of which was shot the good Daniel 
 M ‘Michael, by Dalziel of Kirkmichael, in the winter 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 155 
 
 of 1685. The death of this martyr was a scene deeply 
 affecting. He died in the attitude of prayer, and his 
 blood was shed at the base of the green heights of 
 Dalveen, at the mouth of the romantic pass which 
 has long been the admiration of travellers. A monu- 
 ment is now erected on the very spot where the earth 
 received his blood from the hands of his murderers, and 
 the grave-stone in the church-yard of Durisdeer marks 
 the place where his body was laid. 
 
 It was in this same district, traversed by Mr Peden, 
 at Mitchelslacks, that a small company of Covenanters 
 made their escape in the face of the troopers who were 
 stationed before the door to apprehend them. They 
 were at an entertainment within, at the hospitable 
 board of Harkness, the master of the house, when the 
 soldiers suddenly stationed themselves in the close. 
 The friends seeing the predicament in which they were 
 placed, rose hastily to their feet, and, in a compact body, 
 rushed from the entrance in the face of the enemy, with 
 such boldness and impetuosity that the horsemen in- 
 stinctively gave way, and opened a passage for them 
 straight through their line ! The daring act confounded 
 the dragoons, so that they looked on powerlessly till the 
 poor fugitives had placed themselves beyond their reach; 
 and the soldiers lost their prey. This story, with all its 
 attendant circumstances, is told to this day, with a feel- 
 ing of patriotic exultation, by the people of the locality, 
 who speak of it with as much familiarity as if it had hap- 
 pened only yesterday. Many other things of interest are 
 told as having happened in this locality in those adven- 
 turous times, when men were at their wit’s end how 
 to plan and how to act, — to plan skilfully and to act 
 promptly. There are tales of Elias Wilson in the cave, 
 tales of the black M ‘Michael, of Adam Clark of Glen- 
 im, of Thomas Harkness, of Muncie the informer, and 
 of others, all fraught with thrilling interest, and all 
 having occurred in this section of the country in which 
 Peden held the conventicle above specified. 
 
 Coming over the hills more westerly, and nearer the 
 
156 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 banks of the Nith, we can trace the footsteps of our 
 worthy, and follow him into the bosom of a more narrow 
 locality in the immediate vicinity of Sanquharburgli, as 
 the town was anciently called. The hills and moors 
 around this old town afforded Peden, and others of 
 his class, an occasional retreat, and that of considerable 
 security. Glendyne, a deep and dark gorge, to the east 
 of this burgh, and beyond the town common, is well 
 known for Peden’s cave. In ancient times the mouth 
 of this wonderful defile was thickly wooded ; and it was 
 here, in its deep recesses, that Mr Peden had his hiding- 
 place, by the side of the murmuring brook that gurgled 
 through the pass. It was to this place, among the 
 underwood, as tradition says, that he betook himself 
 when hard pressed by his enemies. All such places of 
 concealment were cold and cheerless retreats, especially 
 in the night season. But yet these holy men, of whom 
 the world was not worthy, were thankful for such places ; 
 and, though alone, they were not solitary, for God was 
 with them. A few years ago, an old-fashioned sword, 
 all covered with rust, was found in this cave, apparently 
 belonging to the times of which we are speaking. 
 
 The farm houses in the immediate vicinity of Glen- 
 dyne were always ready to receive our worthy, when- 
 ever he might happen to present himself. The house 
 Auchengrouth, the residence of Andrew Clark, was a 
 frequent resort to Mr Peden. Within this hospitable 
 domicile many an outcast found entertainment and 
 a safe retreat for a season. Andrew Clark was a sturdy 
 Covenanter, and contended zealously for presbytery 
 against prelacy. He had, it is said, nine sons, all 
 stalworth men and true, who followed with a becoming 
 zeal the footsteps of their father ; and several of them 
 occupied farms in the district, whose houses were 
 equally open to the reception of the weary outcast, or 
 to the intercommuned, with whom it was a capital 
 crime even to speak. The Clarks were marked men, 
 and had, some of them, their own share of suffering 
 in those trying times ; and one of the family died for 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 157 
 
 his principles on the scaffold, in Edinburgh. Another 
 narrowly escaped a bloody death on the brown bent 
 before his father’s door, when he was caught by James 
 Douglas of Drumlanrig, and was saved by the pleading 
 of an old woman who lived in a hut at Howet’s burn- 
 foot, whose husband had been a soldier in the foreign 
 wars, and had rendered certain important services to 
 some of the family of Drumlanrig. The youth was on 
 his knees in the act of prayer, expecting every moment 
 when a whizzing ball would be sent through his body, 
 when all at once he was released ; and the tears of the 
 weeping group that stood around him were dried up. 
 
 It was on the grey heights of Auchengrouth, imme- 
 diately behind the dwelling-house, where Mr Peden, 
 v 7 ith a small company, was screened from the pursuers 
 by a seasonable mist that gathered on the brow of the 
 hill. The incident is recorded by Patrick Walker in 
 the following words : — “ After this, in Auchengrouth 
 moors, in Nithsdale, Captain John Mathisonand others 
 being with him, they were alarmed with the report that 
 the enemies were coming fast upon them ; so they 
 designed to put him into some hole and cover him with 
 heather. But he not being able to run hard, by reason 
 of age, he desired them to forbear a little, until he 
 prayed, when he said: ‘Lord, we are ever needing at 
 thy hand ; and if we had not thy command to call 
 upon thee in the day of our trouble, and thy promise of 
 answering us in the day of our distress, we w T ot not what 
 would become of us. If thou hast any more work for 
 us in thy world, allow us the lap of thy cloak this day 
 again ; and if this be the day of our going off the 
 stage, let us walk honestly off, and comfortably through, 
 and our souls shall sing forth thy praises to eternity, for 
 what thou hast done to us, and for us/ When ended, 
 he ran alone a little, and came quickly back, saying : 
 ‘ Lads, the bitterest of this blast is over; we will be no 
 more troubled with them to-day/ Foot and horse 
 came the length of Andrew Clark’s in Auchengrouth, 
 where they were covered with a dark mist. When 
 
158 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 they saw it, they roared like fleshly devils, as they were, 
 crying out, 6 There's the confounded mist again ; we 
 cannot get these damned Whigs pursued for it.’ I had 
 these accounts from the same Captain John Mathison." 
 
 As Andrew Clark's house was at the extremity of the 
 moors, near the base of the mountains, about three miles 
 from the burgh of Sanquhar, it was much frequented 
 by the persecuted people. It occupied an elevation, 
 from which the approach of an enemy could easily he 
 descried ; and many a timely flight w r as no doubt achieved, 
 when the horsemen were seen in the distance wending 
 their way cautiously through the soft moorlands, or steal- 
 ing around the base of the hills. The escape was easy 
 into the deep gorge of the magnificent Glendyne, or 
 into the vale of the Menich, whose gorgeous scenery 
 has been the admiration of all who have passed along 
 the charming glen. Travellers in the Holy Land have 
 assured us that the road from Sanquhar to Leadhills, in 
 Scotland, bears the strongest resemblance to the route 
 from Jericho to Jerusalem; with this difference, that no 
 thieves are to be found in its quiet retreat. This soli- 
 tary glen once contained a church, in the ancient British 
 times, as the names of certain places plainly indicate ; so 
 that the people of a forgotten age worshipped, in the 
 bosom of those mighty mountains, where no human 
 habitation now is, “ the God of salvation." 
 
 There was lately discovered, near the residence of 
 honest Andrew Clark, a small silver spoon, with the 
 initials A. C. 
 
 Auchengrouth, which signifies “ the field of curds," 
 is in the immediate neighbourhood of Auchentagart, “the 
 field of the priest." This Auchentagart was a house 
 which also opened its doors to the wanderers, and conse- 
 quently invited to its hearth many of the outcasts, who, in 
 the day of Zion's tribulation, were not allowed a home of 
 their own. It is said that on one occasion a company of 
 nonconformist friends had taken shelter in the house 
 of Auchentagart, and were there partaking of a meal, 
 when a company of horsemen from the town of San- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 159 
 
 quhar presented themselves suddenly before the door. 
 The men within were taken by surprise, but like the 
 worthies in the kitchen of Mitchelslacks, they instantly 
 rose to their feet, and clinging close together, issued 
 from the door, waving their bonnets in the faces of the 
 horses, and so scared the animals, that, wheeling round 
 with their riders, they scampered in confusion through 
 the close, while the party made their escape amidst the 
 inaccurate firing of the troopers. 
 
 It was in those moors, somewhere in the neighbour- 
 hood of Glendyne, that Mr Peden concealed himself 
 from the troopers, in the trench of a rivulet, beneath the 
 overhanging turf, when the foot of one of the horses, 
 sinking through the sod, grazed the head of the vener- 
 able man, who had stretched himself at full length 
 below its coverlet, and pressed his bonnet into the clay 
 bed on which he lay, without in the least injuring his 
 person. When the danger was over, the good man 
 arose, and wended his way to his hiding-place, there to 
 give thanks to the great Preserver of his life. 
 
 The cottagers in those moorlands were refreshed with 
 the visits of such men as Mr Peden ; who, if they re- 
 ceived hospitality, administered in return the gospel of 
 God. These visits kept alive among the people some- 
 thing like a sense of true religion. It does not appear 
 that any thing like an open conventicle, on any great 
 scale, was kept in those moors ; for being so exposed to 
 the raids of the military, it was impossible that any 
 such meeting could be held, especially in the day time. 
 In the night smaller meetings were certainly kept, at a 
 suitable hour, and in a suitable place, and that with no 
 small success. Mr Renwick visited those places about 
 Sanquhar, and the wilds on the north side of Kirk- 
 connel ; and no doubt there were other Conventiclers 
 whose names are not mentioned. None, however, w r as 
 better known in these localities than Peden, and none 
 whose presence wasmore welcome at the peasant’s hearth. 
 All these hills were familiar to him, and all their secret 
 retreats and lonely dells had been visited in his wander- 
 
160 
 
 A YOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ings, and many a weary hour did he spend in the 
 bracken covert on the mountain’s side, where he 
 could lie concealed and notice the movements of the 
 soldiers. In such a place a little party of wanderers 
 often spent many a hallowed day in quietude and con- 
 fidence, under the bright shining of the sun in the 
 balmy days of summer. But it was chiefly when the 
 snow lay deep on the moorlands, when a little company 
 was convened in a cottage on the waste, that the greatest 
 security was felt. In such a case there was no travers- 
 ing of the desert, no company of horsemen could ride 
 abroad, they were besieged in their garrisons by the 
 storm, where they spent their time in rioting and 
 drunkenness. It was then that a respite to the perse- 
 cuted who frequented the solitudes was afforded. The 
 farm houses in the uplands, where the storms were most 
 severe, were generally well provided with fuel, in the 
 form of peats, which were carefully prepared in the 
 summer months, and piled up in huge stacks at the 
 end of the domicile, so that there w T as no want of a 
 rousing fire in the spense , or in the midst of the kitchen 
 floor, while the dense volume of blue smoke discharged 
 itself through a wide aperture in the roof. The chimney 
 top was generally twisted with rough ropes of straw, 
 and sometimes formed in a bending posture with its 
 back to the prevailing wind, like a culverin on the 
 summit of an old feudal tower. Nor was food awant- 
 ing : the ark was filled with good oatmeal, and the 
 barrel with salted meat. So that happen what might of 
 a storm, black or white, the inmates were pretty com- 
 fortable on the whole; and when a company of cove- 
 nanting friends happened to be secluded in such a place 
 in the dreary depths of winter, when the drifting snow 
 was streaming along the heath, many a happy week was 
 spent in hallowed intercourse. Peden was no stranger 
 to circumstances of this sort ; and it was remarked, that 
 the more the peasantry dealt out their hospitalities in 
 this way to the flock of Christ, and for his sake, the 
 more was their substance increased. The Lord blessed 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 1G1 
 
 them for the sake of his servants whom they thus enter- 
 tained in the day of their necessity. 
 
 It was different, however, with those in the cold 
 dripping caves. Many caught their death through the 
 inclemency of the weather, and the insufficiency of food 
 and scanty clothing ; but though they fell not by the 
 shot of the trooper in the wild, nor by the hand of the 
 executioner on the scaffold, yet they died martyrs, and 
 obtained the martyr's crown. 
 
 Mr Peden had not a few companions who shared with 
 him in his w r anderings and privations in the different 
 localities where he sojourned, — men who were of a kin- 
 dred spirit, men who loved him as a precious servant of 
 Jesus Christ, men who were content to go where he 
 w r ent, and to share as he shared. But there was one 
 in particular, Samuel Clark, w r ho belonged to Glenluce, 
 and who sat under Mr Peden’s early ministry in that 
 place. This worthy man cherished an uncommon at- 
 tachment to Mr Peden, and accompanied him in his 
 flight from place to place. He regarded him with a 
 singular veneration, and looked on him as perhaps the 
 greatest man in Scotland. His concern for him seemed 
 to absorb every other consideration, and he often ex- 
 posed himself to great danger for his sake. On one 
 occasion, he travelled all the way from Glenluce to 
 Sorn, to find out his dear minister ; and that was no 
 small undertaking in those days of peril. It is said of 
 him, that at one time, when he was pursued by the 
 troopers, he cowered down under the covert of a whin 
 bush, and, taking off his bonnet, prayed to the great 
 Preserver of his life in the following strain : — “ O thou 
 who didst shield thy servant Peden in the day of his 
 distress, when he called upon thee, and didst throw over 
 him, and me, thy unworthy follower, the misty covering 
 which hid us from the face of our pursuers ; hide me 
 now in the hollow of thy hand from mine enemies, who 
 are hunting for my life.” 
 
 On another occasion, this devoted admirer of Mr Peden, 
 being chased by the military, hid himself in a mossy 
 
162 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 trench on the hill of Cairnsmuir. A soldier observed 
 one of his legs obtruding from the heathy covering, and 
 touching him gently, whispered in his ear, u Creep farther 
 in, for your limbs are seen/’ This worthy man survived 
 the persecuting period, and died in the year 1730. 
 
 It is a curious fact, that some of our wandering 
 worthies occasionally w^ore a mask, for the purpose of 
 avoiding detection. We have seen the identical visor 
 that Mr Peden wore. It is still retained in good pre- 
 servation by the descendants of his brothers family in 
 Ayrshire. There is, besides, the wig that he wore when 
 he was preaching ; a small sort of rapier, in the selfsame 
 leathern sheath that he carried in his own hand ; and 
 there is also a strong metal tobacco-box, which he kept 
 in his pocket. All sorts of precautions were necessary 
 in those times. Spies and informers were to be found 
 in every locality; and not a few 7 of them were deserters 
 from the ranks of the Nonconformists, w 7 ho w r ere better 
 acquainted than any other with the persons and the 
 haunts of the intercommuned, for the capture of whom 
 a goodly price was sometimes offered, though not always 
 duly paid. But the great body of the spies belonged 
 originally to the enemy's party, and were hired for the 
 purpose of gaining all requisite information, and lead- 
 ing on the soldiers to the very spot where they were 
 sure to find their prey. These persons generally assumed 
 the guise of pedlars, w r ho went with their wares into the 
 most retired corners, where, without suspicion, they 
 were readily received. They communicated all the news 
 of the country; and this, before newspapers were in cir- 
 culation among the peasantry, made them very accept- 
 able guests at the cotter's “ ingle nuik” and in the liallen 
 of the farmer’s kitchen. In this way they wormed 
 themselves into the good graces of the simple-hearted 
 people of the upland parts, who were often ready to ask 
 what w r as doing beyond the hills/’ Having thus 
 seated themselves in their favourable opinion, they 
 gleaned from them in turn all that suited their purpose ; 
 and then, like the bee laden w 7 ith its gatherings among 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 103 
 
 the heather-hells in the distant moors, they returned to 
 deposit in the ears of their employers what they had 
 expiscated in their sojournings. Peden, who had 
 rendered himself peculiarly obnoxious to the ruling 
 party, by his persistency as a conventicle preacher, w r as, 
 no doubt, often dogged by persons of this infamous 
 occupation, and this led him to the adoption of such 
 means as might prevent his detection, and hence the 
 use of the visor. 
 
 There is scarcely a district in the south-west where 
 Mr Peden was not to be found at one time or another; 
 and though we have not included Galloway in the scene 
 of his peregrinations, still he was no stranger in the 
 mountainous part of that locality. It is our intention, 
 however, to reserve what we have to say in reference to 
 this district till we come to notice the sojournings of 
 the youthful Benwick. 
 
 To the specimens which we have already given of 
 Mr Peden’s preaching, we shall add the following from 
 the text, “ But we trusted that it had been he which 
 should have redeemed Israel — 
 
 “ Where is the church of God in Scotland, sirs, at this 
 day ? It is not amongst the great clergy. I will tell you, 
 sirs, where the church of God is : it is wherever a praying 
 young man or young woman is at a dyke side in Scot- 
 land ; there the church is. A praying party will ruin 
 them yet, sirs. A praying party shall go through the 
 storm. But many of you in this country side know not 
 these things. The weight of the broken church of 
 God in Scotland never troubles you. The loss of a cow, 
 or two or three of your beasts, or an ill market day, 
 goes nearer your hearts than all the troubles of the 
 church of God in Scotland. Well, then, thou poor 
 creature that wilt resolve to follow Him, pray fast ; for 
 if there were but one of you, he will be the second ; and 
 if there were but two of you, he will be the third. You 
 need not fear that ye shall want company ; our Lord 
 will be your company himself, he will be as condescend- 
 ing to you as you please ; yea, he will be so to you that 
 
164 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 resolve to follow him in this stormy blast that is blow- 
 ing upon the poor church in Scotland at this clay. 
 
 “ But there are some of you that are come here to- 
 day, who, the next day when ye cannot get a meeting 
 of this kind, will run away to your hirelings again. 
 Take heed, sirs, do not mock God ; these indulged 
 ministers will lead you away from Christ, as well as the 
 curate. Oh the busy days’ labours the devil is getting 
 from many of the ministers in Scotland in our days ! 
 About thirty-six years ago our Lord had a numerous 
 train of ministers and professors in Scotland ; but one 
 blast blew six hundred of oar ministers from him at 
 once, and they never returned back unto him again. 
 Yea, many lords, lairds, and ladies, followed him then ; 
 but the wind of the storm blew the ladies’ gallantries in 
 their eyes and ears both, and put them both deaf and 
 blind, and they never saw to follow Christ since, nor to 
 hear his pleasant voice. The lords, lairds, and ladies, 
 were all blown over the precipice. Alas, for the apos- 
 tasy of nobles, gentlemen, ministers, and professors, in 
 Scotland! Scotland shall run in streams of blood! 
 yea, many of the saints’ blood shall be shed in it ere 
 long (1682) ; but yet the blood of the saints shall be 
 the seed of a glorious church in Scotland. Oh, sirs, 
 what are ye doing in this country side ? Christ’s fol- 
 lowers in and through Clydesdale yonder have ven- 
 tured fair for God, and have given a testimony. They 
 burnt the test and the acts of the cursed parliament. 
 There was a poor widow woman in that country side, 
 as I came through, that was worth many of you. She 
 was asked how she did in these evil times ? c I do 
 very well/ says she ; ‘ I get more good of one verse of 
 the Bible now, than I did of it all, langsyne. He hath 
 cast me the keys of the pantry door, and bidden me 
 take my fill.’ Was not that a Christian indeed? Oh, 
 sirs, I would have ye take heed what ye are doing, when 
 the blood of the saints is running so plentifully. 
 
 “ Now, sirs, the observation I would have you take 
 home with you is this : Oh, people of God, it is still 
 
TITE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS PEDEN. 
 
 165 
 
 the man or woman that God hath done saving good to 
 that will follow him in a storm. Ye know this Mary 
 Magdalene, that is spoken of in this chapter, was’one 
 whom he had cast a legion of devils out of in a morn- 
 ing ; and I trow she never forgot that good turn till she 
 arrived in glory. Think ye not but it was a sore heart 
 to her that morning when she missed and got an empty 
 grave. Oh, what would ye have thought to have seen 
 this poor woman running through the bands of soldiers ? 
 But that was not the thing that troubled her ; neither 
 the Roman guard that was about the grave, nor the 
 heavy stone that was upon its mouth, nor the charges 
 under the pain of death that they should not touch the 
 grave. No, no, sirs; love to God goes beyond all 
 that. He was her Lord, and she could not think to 
 want him. 
 
 “ The note that I would have you take home with 
 you is this : If ye have gotten good of Christ, then ye 
 would go through hell at the nearest to be at him. 
 Oh, sirs, they that have suffered for Christ in Scotland, 
 know this best to-day. They got a stormy, rough sea, 
 indeed, but a choice and pleasant shore, and the 
 Captain of their salvation there to welcome them heart- 
 ily home. Oh, sirs, Christ had a number of noble 
 worthies in Scotland not long ago, that set the trumpet 
 to their mouth, and gave fair warning in his name. 
 He had a Welsh, a Well wood, a Cameron, and a Car- 
 gill, a noble party of them, proclaiming his name in 
 Scotland. Oh, sirs, if ye could be permitted to see and 
 speak with them, they would tell you it is nothing to 
 suffer for Christ. They are now all shining so brightly 
 in glory that they would frighten you, were you to be- 
 hold them with their white robes and glorious crowns 
 on their heads, and palms in their hands. Follow fast, 
 if he call you to suffer for his name. But what shall I 
 say ? — the most part of yoti know nothing of this. Ye 
 that are lying in black nature, could not think to abide 
 in heaven, though ye were in it. No ; ye would give a 
 thousand worlds, if ye had them, to be out of it again. 
 
166 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 “Well, sirs, I’ll tell you news: Happy are they 
 who have got cleanly through the storm, since the year 
 sixty ! Happy are they that have got through Pent- 
 land, Bothwell, and Ayrsmoss ! Happy they that 
 have died on scaffolds, gibbets, or on the seas ! Oh, 
 the blood of the saints will be the seed of the church in 
 after ages in Scotland ! And I will tell you more, sirs : 
 Take heed what thoughts ye have of the sufferers, look 
 that ye have not the thoughts that they suffered wrong. 
 Entertain not jealous or hard thoughts of the people of 
 God, or of their case in their hard suffering. For their 
 part, they have got through the storm, and have passed 
 through Jordan at ebb water, and are got well over ; 
 but ye ministers and professors in Scotland, that are 
 yet to go through the storm, as well as the profane 
 party, ye shall get a stormy sea, and find Jordan’s 
 waters increasing and hard to be got through. 
 
 “ But I come to the words. I trow our Lord w 7 as 
 glad, so to speak, to hear this discourse between these 
 two men, his disciples. Many ask the way that they 
 know full well. Think not that our Lord was ignorant 
 of this discourse before he came to them ; no, but he 
 asks, to try their zeal. I trow unbelief was very strong 
 in them ; as it is with many professors in Scotland at 
 this day. 4 We thought/ said they, 4 that it had been 
 he that should have redeemed Israel/ I trow many in 
 Scotland are beginning to question the work of refor- 
 mation, and the covenants which we swore with up- 
 lifted hands, whether it was the work of God, yea or 
 not. And the next thing ye will question is, whether 
 the work of God be real or not in your own bosom. 
 Take heed to your atheism, people of God. Your 
 atheism and unbelief will do you an ill turn. They 
 will put you to question the work of God in your own 
 hearts ; and that questioning wfill not be good company 
 in a storm that ye are likely to meet with ere long in 
 these lands. Well, sirs, there is many a plough going 
 this day in our Lord's acres in Scotland ; but ere long 
 he will loose some of them, and cut their cords, and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 167 
 
 lay them bye a while. ‘ The Lord is righteous ; he hath 
 cut asunder the cords of the wicked/ 
 
 “ Now, sirs, what is it that has carried through the 
 sufferers for Christ these twenty years in Scotland ? 
 It is the fellowship of his sufferings. It is the filling 
 up of Christ’s sufferings in Scotland, according to the 
 ancient decree of heaven. For my part I ask no more, 
 if he bids me go. He bade many, from 1660 to the 
 year of Pentland engagement, go forth to scaffolds and 
 gibbets for him ; and they sought no more but his com- 
 mission, they went, and he carried them well through. 
 Then in 1666, at Pentland, he bade so many go to the 
 fields and die for him, and so many to scaffolds and 
 lay down their lives for him ; they sought no more but 
 his commission, they went, and he carried them well 
 through. Again in 1679, at Bothwell, he bade so 
 many go to the fields and scaffolds and die for him ; 
 they sought no more but his commission, and went. 
 He bade so many go to the seas and be meat for the 
 fishes for him ; they sought no more but his commis- 
 sion, and went. And afterwards, in the year 1680, at 
 Airsmoss, he bade so many go to the fields and scaf- 
 folds for him ; they sought no more but his commis- 
 sion, and went. 
 
 w This cup of suffering hath come all the way down 
 from Abel to this year 1682 in Scotland. Our Lord 
 hath held this cup to all the martyrs' heads, wherever he 
 hath had a church in the world ; and it will go to all the 
 lips of all the martyrs that are to suffer for Christ, even 
 to the sounding of the last trumpet. But yet, people 
 of God, it is but the brim that the saints taste of. But 
 he ye patient in believing ; for God shall make the 
 wicked, his enemies and your persecutors in Scotland, 
 wring out the bitter dregs of this cup to all eternity, 
 and to spue, and fall, and rise no more. Believe it, 
 our Master will set up this cup, and close it, and swal- 
 low up time in eternity, and blow that great trumpet; 
 and then heaven and earth shall go into a red flame at 
 once. Oh, believers, long for that noble day, for it will 
 
 M 
 
168 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 put an end to all your sad and suffering days ! I re- 
 member a passage of a great emperor’s life. When he 
 went over seas to battle, and saw the numerous multi- 
 tudes of his enemies, their numbers being far superior 
 to his, he said to his general, 4 What shall we do ? for 
 their number is far greater than ours/ The general 
 answered, 4 We will fight under our enemies’ colours, 
 and vanquish them/ And so they did. And so let the 
 noble witnesses in Scotland that suffer for Christ fight 
 valiantly and courageously under their persecutor 
 shadow ; and so they shall vanquish them. Indeed, 
 our noble captain of salvation, Jesus Christ, hath 
 vanquished these bloody persecutors in Scotland, these 
 twenty-two years, more by the patient sufferings of the 
 saints, and hath overcome and triumphed more glori- 
 ously over them, than if he had thrashed all down in 
 a moment. Yea, the patient suffering of the saints, 
 with their blood running, declares his glory much more 
 abroad in the world, and especially in these lands. I 
 remember as I came through the country, that there 
 was a poor widow woman, whose husband fell at Both- 
 well. The bloody soldiers came to plunder her house, 
 telling her they would take all she had. 4 We will leave 
 thee nothing/ said they, ‘either to put in thee or on thee/ 
 4 1 care not/ said she; 4 1 will not want as long as God 
 is in the heavens/ That was a believer indeed. 
 
 44 Now for this Mary Magdalene that we spoke of 
 before, what was she before Christ and she met? For 
 as well as he loved her, we read in the narrative, that 
 before Christ and she met, she had been guilty of very 
 gross sin. 
 
 44 Now, the note doctrinally that we would have you 
 to observe is this : That for as bad as this woman was, 
 ye may see that Christ sets his love on her, and would 
 not want her. Now, ye see she follows him in a great 
 storm. I would have you take this home with you, 
 That free grace is no broker of persons — Christ will not 
 cast away the worst of you that are the saints, and that 
 will follow him in a storm. He has done you as good 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 169 
 
 a turn as he did to Mary Magdalene. Although ye have 
 not been as really possessed of the devil as she was, yet ye 
 have had some domineering idol and grievous lust, he 
 hath raised within you, that hath sadly oppressed you, 
 that Christ hath helped you to cast out and subdue. 
 
 u But what think ye now of our great folk in Scot- 
 land, at this time, — our lords, lairds, and ladies ? The 
 storm soon beat them from Christ’s back. I tell you 
 what our great folk in Scotland are like. They are like 
 so many ladies going to sea in a boat in a calm day, for 
 their pleasure; and as long as the sea is calm, and they 
 see the land, and are in no fear of hazard, they bid the 
 boatmen row out ; but whenever the wind begins to 
 blow a little, and the waves begin a little to swell and 
 rise, and they begin to lose sight of the land, then they 
 cry out, ‘ Make haste unto the shore again ! * So our 
 great folk, both nobles, gentlemen, ministers, and pro- 
 fessors, and all ranks in Scotland, all followed our Lord 
 at his back when the wind was fair, but whenever the 
 storm began to blow in his face, all for the most part 
 quitted his back, and made in for the next shore again. 
 
 u But persecuted people of God, if ye will but wait on 
 a while patiently, God will be even with all these blades 
 ere long. Oh, sirs, there are few Uriahs now in our 
 day. Worthy Uriah would not sleep in his bed when 
 the ark and people of God were in the open field. There 
 are few so now in our days ; and so will be seen of it 
 ere all be done. I’ll tell you, sirs, ease is never good 
 for the church and people of God ; for they thrive still 
 best under the saddest persecution ; — it hath been the 
 experience of the church and people of God in all ages. 
 Worthy David did a bad turn one morning with his 
 ease : it had been better for him that he had been in the 
 fields all night. He not only committed adultery and 
 murder that morning, but thought to have fathered his 
 ill-begotten child upon worthy Uriah ; — one ill turn 
 makes still way for another. And so it is with our great 
 clergy folk this day, — vile apostates as they are. I 
 warrant it is the way of many of the great folk ; — for all 
 
170 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 the evil turns that they do, they father them all upon the 
 Bible, and make it still their warrant. The clergy and 
 council do this, even when they condemn the saints of 
 God, and take their lives for owning the cause and 
 covenants of Jesus Christ, and for owning the kingly 
 government in Scotland, which miserable apostates have 
 taken from him, and are consenting that it should be 
 taken from him in this day in these lands. 
 
 “ I say, they will cast up the Bible in so doing, and say 
 they have their warrant from it, — both council, prelate, 
 and indulged do so : but they deceive themselves, and 
 mock the Lord in so doing ; for which he will be avenged 
 on them ere long. But I’ll tell you, sirs, how they do 
 with the Bible, — even as a ship carpenter does with the 
 great planks when they build a ship. They put them 
 into the fire, and bow them to the use they intend them 
 for. But do ye not so ; but let the Bible stand regis- 
 tered as God hath placed it ; and for your warrant see 
 the last chapter of the Revelation, at the close : * He 
 that addeth or diminisheth/ See what sentence the 
 Spirit of God puts upon them. Oh that sad defection 
 ■which the want of the right observation of these things 
 hath occasioned in Scotland since the sad storm began 
 to blow upon the poor church ! Oh the many vile 
 hypocrites the church of Scotland hath brought forth l 
 They are mothers bairns, but not Father's bairns. I trow 
 if any of us had our mother dying, it were unkind for 
 us to run away and leave her. Were it not more kindly 
 for us to stay and hold up her head when a-dying.” 
 
 The savour of Mr Peden’s name still diffuses a fra- 
 grance over the desert. His soul-stirring discourses 
 lived long in the hearts of those who heard him. The 
 uncommon spirituality of his manner impressed the 
 most light-minded of his audiences, and many a stub- 
 born heart was subdued and brought to the feet of the 
 Redeemer. 
 
 Mr Peden had a dash of the poetic in his tempera- 
 ment, and he could draw bold and striking comparisons. 
 As he harangued the conventicle in the wilds, he could 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 171 
 
 borrow from the surrounding scenery the most appro- 
 priate imagery whereby to illustrate his subject. This 
 seems to have been done with uncommon readiness ; for 
 he was under no restraint in his utterance, rarely fetter- 
 ing himself with notes from which to speak, but, throw- 
 ing himself abroad on his subject, could dash away in 
 his peculiar manner. This accounts for the somewhat 
 discursiveness of his preaching, in which he sometimes 
 indulged. His mind was of a peculiar cast ; it was 
 original, but erratic. He sometimes stopped abruptly in 
 his course, and then darted away to the right or to the 
 left, as if he had broken loose from his subject and gone 
 in quest of a totally new topic. But the people knew 
 him and expected this, — it was not displeasing to them ; 
 for his luminous thoughts, though not given out in the 
 line of continuity, like flashes of lightning from the dark 
 cloud, startled and roused hundreds at once, and left 
 their burning impress on the heart. Peden was an 
 original ; and had he not been so, he could not have left 
 an impression so ineffaceable on the hearts of the upland 
 people as it is this day. There was even a majesty 
 about his preaching, that did not appear so conspicu- 
 ous in some of his conventicle brethren. Some of his 
 illustrative imagery would do no discredit even to our 
 esteemed modern poets. The blast that blew away the 
 six hundred ministers, and flounced the ladies’ robes in 
 their faces ; the ladies in their pleasure-boat on the calm 
 sea ; the carpenter bending his planks to clothe the ribs 
 of his ship, and many other of his appropriate similes, 
 plainly show that there was within him the elements of 
 the poet, and of a strong imaginative propensity. 
 
 The striking way in which he enforced the topics on 
 which he dilated, must have wielded a prodigious power 
 over the popular mind. For instance, in the discourse 
 from which we made our last extract, he says : — “ And 
 now, people of God in Scotland, there is another thing 
 that I have to tell you, and it is this : I would have 
 you to get preservatives, for ye walk in a pestilential 
 air, and ye are nearer hazard than ye are aware of. If 
 
172 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 any of you were going through a city where the plague 
 was raging hotly, you would seek for something to put 
 into your mouth and nose, — a preservative to keep you 
 from being infected with the contagion ; so there will 
 be need of this in Scotland ere long, sirs. I know ye 
 count me but a fool for saying these things, but I must 
 tell you this in the name of the Lord, who sent me unto 
 you this day to tell you these things, that ere it be long 
 the living will not be able to bury the dead in thee, oh 
 Scotland/* 
 
 Again he says : “ There are many little sloops going 
 through Scotland. Take heed, people of God, that ye 
 go not aboard of them, for they will sink you. There 
 are likewise many cross winds to blow you from Christ's 
 shore ; but if you would wait patiently, persecuted people 
 of God, the Lord is about to let loose a northern blast 
 on these blades, that will raise them off their creeks, 
 and loose their plough that is ploughing in the Lord's 
 acre in Scotland/’ 
 
 In another place he remarks : “ I trow there are 
 many of you in this age that are like young folk that 
 run fast together and marry, but never take any account 
 how they will keep house, but presently go to poverty 
 and beggary. I trow it falls out so with many of you 
 that are professors in this generation. Ye take up your 
 religion and ye wot not how, and ye cannot give an 
 account how ye came by it. I will tell you, sirs, ye 
 will abide no longer by Christ than till a storm blows, 
 and then ye will quit him and deny his cause/' 
 
 In the following sentences he expresses his strong 
 conviction of the return of Christ to his church in 
 Scotland : 46 Oh pray fast ; but I will tell you, though 
 you should pray none, yet the church of Christ in Scot- 
 land shall be delivered. The groaning of the saints, 
 the sighing of the prisoner, the innocent blood of his 
 people, the cries of many widows and fatherless in Scot- 
 land, will put him upon arising. The trampling of his 
 glory, and the rending off his crown violently from his 
 head, will put him upon arising/' 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS PEDEN. 173 
 
 In another place he says : “ Now, sirs, there was a 
 great number that went out of Egypt with the church, 
 a mixed multitude followed to the Red Sea. Wherefore 
 was it ? It was because they had seen many miracles in 
 Egypt. But they went not over Jordan ; they fell in the 
 wilderness, and died for their sins. Their hearts were 
 not right with God; as is the case with many in this 
 generation. I warrant you our Lord had a thick num- 
 ber at his back in Scotland about thirty or forty years 
 ago, of ministers and professors, when the day was 
 fair ; but when the storm began to blow, they became 
 very few. The ministers left him and fled into the in- 
 dulgence, under the enemy’s wings, for shelter ; and 
 many professors followed them, for ease, and love to the 
 back and to the belly. But wait on, people of God, a 
 little, and God shall rouse them up ere long. But I 
 fear when God comes to call the roll of Scotland, he 
 shall find many blanks, — dead ministers, dead profes- 
 sors, and dead men and women, though going upon 
 their feet.” 
 
 Mr Peden was no mean man, — he was no ranter ; he 
 could discourse to purpose, he could open his mouth 
 eloquently, he could use the style of a poet. The 
 roughness of the moorland preacher is, indeed, to be 
 seen about him ; but though he wanted the polish, he 
 had all the preciousness of the gem. The rude exterior 
 coating was perhaps necessary to suit the times, in 
 which a finer burnishing w r ould not have served the 
 purpose. 
 
 The following is a description of the style and manner 
 of MrPeden’s preaching, by one w ho often heard his voice 
 in the desert : “ Although every act of worship that Mr 
 Peden engaged in was full of divine flights and useful 
 digressions, yet they carried along with them a divine 
 stamp, and every opening of his mouth seemed for the 
 most part to be dictated by the Spirit of God ; and 
 such was the weighty and convincing majesty that ac- 
 companied what he spoke, that it obliged the hearers 
 both to love and fear him. I observed that every time he 
 
174 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 spoke, -whether conversing, reading, praying, or preach- 
 ing, between every sentence he paused a little, as if 
 he had been hearkening what the Lord would say unto 
 him, or listening to some secret whisper. And some- 
 times he would start, as if he had seen some surpris- 
 ing sight ; at which he would cry out to the commenda- 
 tion of God in Christ, to the commendation of the divine 
 love, and to the commendation of his grace in the souls 
 of his people, in their conviction, conversion, and up- 
 holding in Christ Jesus/' 
 
 The year in which the discourse was delivered from 
 which we have taken the above extracts (1 682) was that 
 of the Lanark Declaration, and that in w hich a commis- 
 sion was given to Claverhouse and his troopers to scour 
 the hills and glens of upper Galloway, and to enforce the 
 test on all, great and small ; which caused no small con- 
 fusion and distress throughout the districts he invaded. 
 So fierce and impetuous w r as he in executing this com- 
 mission, that his zeal drew from the Council a willing 
 vote of thanks. He must have done his work well, 
 when he received such a boon ; and his doing well 
 implied the endurance of ill on the part of the injured 
 peasantry. A military licence w r as given to plunder, fine, 
 and imprison, all who were suspected of being rebels ; and 
 to pronounce sentence, and to order immediate execu- 
 tion, with or without the concurrence of the magistrates. 
 u These military judges,” says Hetherington, “ received 
 most efficient aid from the curates, who furnished them 
 with the lists of suspected persons, and procured in- 
 formers of the lowest and vilest of the populace to 
 hear witness against them. The mode in which the 
 curates prepared these lists sufficiently proves the cha- 
 racter of the men. If any person did not attend upon 
 their ministry, if he spoke in terms of respect and 
 pity of the sufferers, if he was overheard reading the 
 Bible in private, or conducting family worship in his 
 own house ; any person guilty of any of these practices 
 was immediately suspected of being a stanch Presby- 
 terian, and information lodged against him by the curate. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 175 
 
 Such was the manner in which these wolves devoured 
 their flocks.” 
 
 Though we are not giving here any thing like a 
 formal life of Mr Peden, but only a few circumstances 
 connected with his preaching, yet we may present a few 
 incidents of his history that may he entertaining to the 
 reader, before we close our notice of him. It is to be 
 expected, in reference to a person in Mr Peden’s situa- 
 tion, that not a few striking circumstances might befall. 
 Like the rest of his brethren who upheld the conven- 
 ticles, he was exposed to constant hazard, and to great 
 and manifold privations. In thus suffering for the 
 cause of Christ, we may expect that the great Master 
 might not unfrequently interfere in behalf of his ser- 
 vants, and grant deliverances beyond human expecta- 
 tion ; and not only deliverances, but communications 
 suggestive of a certain line of conduct to be pursued, or 
 imparting certain presentiments of coming events ; — we 
 say this is not improbable, nay, that it is even highly 
 probable, the great Head of the Church may see fit to 
 afford special displays of his grace, and special interpo- 
 sitions of his providence toward his people in perplex- 
 ity, and conscientiously suffering in his cause. 
 
 Mr Peden had the name of a prophet among many 
 of the more warm-hearted of his followers; and as many 
 sagacious things which he uttered came at length to be 
 verified, the idea formed of him became more and more 
 confirmed. We do not think that the good man laid 
 any substantial claim to the prophetic character ; and 
 we believe that the way in which he announced certain 
 things became greatly altered in their telling. How 
 often has the word may been substituted for will or 
 shall ? For instance, when, on one occasion, he asked 
 shelter in the house of a man near Mauchline, and was 
 refused, he is represented as saying, “ Weel, weel, 
 poor man, you will not let me have shelter under your 
 roof; but that same house will be your judgment and 
 ruin yet.” Now, how probable is it that he may have 
 said, “ That same house may he your ruin yet.” And 
 
176 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 when the accident of the falling in of the gahle of the 
 house befell, and killed the man and his son, how 
 readily would the event be shown up in the light of a 
 prediction, and will substituted for may . In the self- 
 same way the words which he uttered on the occasion 
 of the marriage of John Brown of Priesthill to Isabel 
 Weir, in the year 1682, may be explained. After the 
 wedding, he said to the bride, “ Isabel, you have got 
 a good man to be your husband; but you will not en- 
 joy him long. Prize his company, and keep linen by 
 you to be his winding sheet ; for you will need it when 
 you are not looking for it, and it will be a bloody one.” 
 Now, if the word may be read for will , which is three 
 times used in the passage, all will be plain. Peden 
 knew that John Brown’s piety, which shone like a light 
 in a dark place, could not be overlooked by the perse- 
 cutors, and therefore nothing was more probable than 
 that the saint of Priesthill w T ould one day fall by 
 the hand of the enemy. He did fall, about three years 
 after this ; and hence the event in the popular mind 
 made the saying a prophecy. 
 
 We say all this is highly likely ; although it is not 
 improbable that, in the fervency of utterance, or in the 
 moment of excitement, the very words imputed may on 
 some occasions have been expressed; for it is in some 
 respect in keeping with the style of that time, when 
 men’s spirits were chafed, and their inward promptings 
 led them to give vent to the denunciatory in language 
 in imitation of the speech of the ancient prophets. 
 
 M'Gavin, in his notes to the Lives of the Scots W orthies, 
 makes a few remarks in reference to Mr Peden on this 
 particular point. “ Mr Peden,” he says, “ was a man of 
 prayer, of natural sagacity, of spiritual discernment, and 
 a great observer of the ways of Providence. He could fore- 
 see what would be the result of certain measures, and 
 what calamities foolish and wicked men would bring 
 upon themselves and others ; and when such things came 
 to pass as he had foretold, his too credulous friends 
 ascribed it to the gift of prophecy. The author picked 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — PEDEN. 
 
 177 
 
 up reports of these things about thirty years after Mr 
 Peden’s death ; but missing circumstances, as no doubt 
 Howie has also done, and a wrong way and manner of 
 narrating in matters so delicate, gives them a very dif- 
 ferent form and appearance. Sagacious foresight was 
 made to have the appearance of a prophetic spirit. At 
 the same time, I am not so wedded to my opinion on 
 this subject, as not to admit, that men who lived in such 
 intimate daily communion with God, as Mr Peden did, 
 may have had presentiments of things, with regard to 
 themselves and the church, of which Christians of a 
 lesser growth can form no conception. When they were 
 so happy, in the midst of all their sufferings, as to have 
 much freedom in prayer, — or what they called great near- 
 ness to God, — filling their mouths with arguments for 
 favour to themselves, their friends, and the church at 
 large, they rose from their knees with a comfortable 
 persuasion that they would receive the things which they 
 had asked. No doubt in many instances they did so ; 
 and often, perhaps, they received far better than they 
 asked, of a very different kind. But had they given out 
 their expected answers of prayer with the assurance of 
 divine predictions, or counted for certain on receiving 
 those very things they had prayed for, they would often 
 have been grievously disappointed.” 
 
 The very fact, however, that Mr Peden was held up 
 in the light of a prophet, showed his deep sagacity and 
 strong mental penetration. It demonstrated that he was 
 a man of superior intellect and shrewd forecastings, 
 being able to calculate with great precision the upshot 
 of current events, and to point out their exact landing- 
 place. 
 
 Mr Peden was a man of great sensibility and benevo- 
 lence of disposition ; and though for six and twenty years 
 he was buffeted by the storms both of persecuting fac- 
 tions and tempestuous weather, and exposed to all 
 manner of privations, and heart-withering abuse, he 
 was not obdurated, he still retained his native kindliness, 
 and felt as warmly for other sufferers as for himself. 
 
178 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Indeed it was toward the sufferers that his heart went 
 forth in its strongest tendencies. When he was in Ire- 
 land, and on one occasion seated at a plentiful enter- 
 tainment, his heart wandered away to the weary and 
 hungry sufferers on the Scottish hills ; and while asking 
 a blessing, he put his hand beneath the bread, and hold- 
 ing it up with much affection and tears, he said, “ Lord, 
 there is a well- covered table, and plenty of bread, but 
 vdiat comes of the poor, young, kindly, honest lad Ren- 
 wick, that shames us all, in staying and holding up his 
 fainting mother’s head, now, when of all the children she 
 has brought forth there is none who will avowedly take 
 her by the hand. And the poor, cold, hungry lads upon 
 the hills, for the honour of thy cause, let them not starve. 
 Thou causedst a ravenous beast, greedy of flesh itself, 
 feed Elijah, and thou didst feed thy people in the wilder- 
 ness with angels’ food, and didst bless a few loaves and 
 small fishes, and madest them sufficient for many ; and 
 hadst experience of want, weariness, cold, and hunger, 
 and enemies daily hunting for thy life, while in the 
 world ; — look to them and provide for them. We’ll all 
 get the black stone for leaving him and them.” 
 
 It is affecting to see him, after avoiding a keen pur- 
 suit, sitting by a crystal well on the mountain’s side, 
 oppressed with fatigue and hunger, and asking at a few 
 of the friends that accompanied him, if any could find 
 in the corners of their pockets a few crumbs of dry 
 bread, to satisfy the cravings of nature. And when a 
 small morsel was produced, he, with a grateful heart, 
 sought the divine blessing, and lifting up his bonnet, 
 prayed, “ Oh thou that didst bless the few loaves and 
 fishes, and madest them sufficient for many, bless this 
 v r ater and these crumbs to us. But very lately we 
 thought we should never have needed any more of 
 these creature comforts.” 
 
 The statement of his interview with Mr Renwick, a 
 little before he died, is very affecting, and equally 
 creditable to both. The account which Mr Renwick 
 gave of himself, and the fervent prayer he poured out, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SHIELDS. 179 
 
 deeply affected the good old man, who expressed his 
 warmest regards for him, and prayed that the divine 
 blessing might rest upon him, and fully sustain him in 
 the arduous work he had undertaken. 
 
 He had a cave not far from his brother’s house in 
 which he concealed himself. He was now sickly, and 
 death was dealing closely with him, and he was for the 
 most part confined to his cold, cheerless cavern, — a very 
 unsuitable chamber for a dying man. One morning 
 early, he crept feebly from his hiding-place, and pre- 
 sented himself at the door of the dwelling-house. His 
 brother’s wife was startled at the pale and death-like 
 object that stood before her, and eagerly asked his rea- 
 son for leaving the cave, when the enemy might be ex- 
 pected at any moment. “ Alas, sir, what will become 
 of you ? you must go back to the cave again.” He said 
 his cave had been discovered, but that within forty-eight 
 hours he would be beyond all earthly sorrows. His 
 presentiments were verified ; for in a few hours the 
 soldiers came and examined the cave, and not finding 
 him, searched the places about the house, turned over 
 the unthreshed corn in the bam to find him, and 
 stabbed the beds with their swords, but happily did not 
 enter the place where he lay. In two days after this he 
 died, and entered into the joy of his Lord. He was 
 buried in the laird of Auchinleck’s aisle, and six weeks 
 afterwards the body was disinterred, and buried at the 
 gallows-foot in Cumnock, where his dust now reposes, 
 in hope of the blessed resurrection. 
 
 We have now done with the excellent and talented 
 Peden. His harp has long since been hung on the 
 willows. Its music has ceased, although the lonely 
 shepherd, as he reposes on the mountain’s breast, still 
 opines that he occasionally hears something of its mourn- 
 ful tones yet lingering on the breeze, and anon dying 
 away in the solitary glens. 
 
 Alexander Shields, whom, chiefly on account of his 
 connection with Mr Renwick, we introduce here, was 
 
180 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT, 
 
 born in the year 1660. Ilis father was James Shields 
 of Haughhead in the Merse. He was educated in the 
 University of Edinburgh, and was afterwards amanu- 
 ensis to Dr Owen, or some other of the English divines 
 in London. It was while resident here that some of 
 the Scots ministers in that city urged him to receive 
 licence from them to preach the gospel, as they had 
 found him duly qualified for that important calling. 
 He complied with their solicitations, and returned to 
 Scotland to preach among his countrymen. On his 
 return to his native land he endured a vast deal of 
 annoyance and persecution, and was chargeable with 
 certain vacilations, which caused him much mental dis- 
 tress. But as it is not a regular history of his life that 
 we are giving here, any more than that of the preceding 
 worthies, we may simply say, that having passed through 
 a variety of fortune, and finally escaping the hands of 
 the persecutors, from whom he received much ill-usage, 
 he fled straight to Mr Renwick, who, single-handed, 
 was upholding the standard of the gospel in the wild 
 places of the country. It was in December 1686 that 
 he joined himself to Mr Renwick and his party, at a 
 conventicle held in the wood of Earlston, on the banks 
 of the Ken, in Galloway. He was there assumed by 
 the party as one of their number, having given full 
 satisfaction in espousing all and every part of their 
 testimony. When he had continued a while with Mr 
 Renwick, he was sent to Holland by the united societies, 
 in order to superintend the printing of their “ Informa- 
 tory Vindication.” 
 
 On his return he preached in the fields, following the 
 footsteps of his friend Mr Renwick. They were both 
 young men, much about the same age, and actuated by 
 the same spirit, while they were engaged in the same 
 cause. It appears that Mr Shields preached w T ith much 
 acceptance in the wilds, and was the chief support and 
 comfort of Mr Renwick, of whose life he wrote an inte- 
 resting account. The two youths loved like David and 
 Jonathan; they were lovely in their lives, though in 
 
TIIE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SHIELDS. 181 
 
 their deaths they were far divided. The one suffered 
 martyrdom in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh, and the 
 other died in a foreign land. 
 
 Alexander Shields was an accomplished scholar, and 
 had received an excellent education. u He was,” says 
 one, “of a lively genius and penetrating wit, and soon 
 commenced Master of Arts, and that with no small 
 success. He went over, among others, to Holland, for 
 the further improvement of his studies ; where he con- 
 tinued some short time, and then returned to his native 
 country.” We shall here introduce a brief extract from 
 one of his field preachings. In enumerating certain 
 discouragements to duty, he says : — “ Another thing 
 which is matter of discouragement in the way of our 
 duty, and that is, though we get access, though with 
 much difficulty, to go about our duty, yet we find little 
 success in this. This is very discouraging. The Lord 
 hides his face, and does not countenance and shine 
 upon the meetings of his people as sometimes he hath 
 done. He is not so soon found and felt in his ordi- 
 nances as formerly. Oh, the Comforter that should 
 relieve our souls is far from us ; and is not this very sad ? 
 Again, another discouragement that we meet with in the 
 way of our duty is, the providences and dispensations of 
 the weather. The Lord seems to cross and contradict 
 us in going about the same. The providences and dis- 
 pensations, whether cross or favourable, are not a rule 
 of duty, and should not make us leave off duty, however 
 cross they should be ; yet we should not pass the same 
 lightly or unconcernedly, but search out the meaning 
 and language thereof unto us. This bad w T eather of 
 cold and snow we are trysted with, though it should 
 not hinder us from our duty, yet it is for our trial, and 
 should be humbling to us. The last time that I was 
 with you, not far from this place, we got such a cold, 
 stormy day as this is ; which we might look upon as a 
 presage of what w r e have met with since. It was like 
 the small drops before the storm ; for since, w r e have been 
 trysted with a sad stroke. We have lost a famous 
 
182 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 standard-bearer, Mr James Renwick, who was with us 
 that day; whose voice used to cry to you among these 
 hills, and now his blood is crying to the heavens for 
 vengeance against the most part of this generation, 
 ministers and professors. He was as the voice of one 
 crying in the wilderness, who preached the gospel freely 
 and faithfully unto you. And now, after this day so 
 stormy, we fear a sadder stroke, — even the removal of 
 those left behind, if we be not humble and improve this 
 day's work. Some of you are come from far, and are 
 cold and weary; yet be not discouraged, compose your 
 spirits, set seriously about your duty, and that will warm 
 your hearts. I will tell you of two things ; if you had 
 them, they would help to warm your hearts and en- 
 courage in this stormy day. 
 
 “ First, The love of God shed abroad in your hearts, 
 the sense of his love filling your souls, would warm your 
 hearts. The communications of his love, the manifes- 
 tations of his presence, and the light of his countenance 
 lifted up on you, would encourage you, notwithstanding 
 this stormy day ; — the warm rays and beams of his love 
 so inflaming your hearts as to make you forget the 
 coldness of the day. 
 
 “ Secondly, Love in vigorous exercise unto Him 
 w r ould so inflame your hearts, and make you so instant 
 about your duty, as not to regard cold very much. But, 
 alas ! love is cold among you. Oh, if ye saw him, ye 
 could not but love him ! If ye had a taste of his bounty, 
 and a view of his beauty, your hearts would be ravished 
 with it. Oh, labour for love to him ; and let it appear 
 that you have it. Be zealous for his honour and glory ; 
 for without zeal you can never go right about your 
 duty, nor will you be able to go through these trials, 
 nor endure afflictions that are coming. Zeal keeps all 
 the graces of the Spirit in exercise, and is as oil to the 
 wheels of the soul, to make it run sweetly after the 
 Lord. If you want zeal, you may question your growth 
 of grace in the soul, you may suspect the reality thereof. 
 It is true, your zeal should be according to your know- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SHIELDS. 183 
 
 ledge, and we should look well that it pass not its due 
 bounds. Yet zeal without knowledge speaks out the 
 lightness of the head ; so knowledge without zeal argues 
 the rottenness of the heart, whereof many give demon- 
 strations this day. Zeal this day is much condemned 
 by the generality; yea, it is flouted and houted at, as 
 ridiculous, by the most part. They say ministers should 
 preach faith and repentance, and people should hear. 
 But never a word of zeal for Christs cause and interest, 
 against all the wrongs and indignities done him by this 
 blasphemous, absolute power, arrogated by a monster of 
 tyranny and perfidy, and a vassal of Antichrist, — a power 
 which is the alone incommunicable prerogative of 
 Jehovah, whose will is a law. Yet this is encroached 
 upon by that tyrant ; and by virtue of this encroachment 
 he grants that antichristian toleration that is so ap- 
 plauded by the most part of ministers and professors. 
 Thus to separate faith and repentance from zeal, is quite 
 an inverting of the order which the Lord hath put among 
 the graces of his Spirit. And what he hath joined 
 together let no man put asunder. For ministers cannot 
 preach, nor people practise, faith aright without zeal, 
 seeing the Scripture hath joined them together; “for 
 with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and 
 with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.” A 
 confession of Christ with the mouth cannot be without 
 zeal, especially in a time of suffering, when his truths 
 are controverted, and his people persecuted for their 
 adherence thereunto, and is called for as well as believing 
 in him with the heart ; and ministers cannot preach 
 repentance, nor people practise it aright, without zeal. 
 The Scripture puts them together : “ Be zealous, there- 
 fore, and repent.” Ministers should preach against, and 
 give the people warning of the sins that they should 
 repent of, otherwise they cannot exercise repentance for 
 the same ; for where repentance for sin is, there will be 
 a holy zeal and indignation against the same. Few of 
 us can say, “ The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up, 
 and the reproaches of them that reproached thee are fallen 
 
 N 
 
184 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 on me.” O that we had zeal in exercise! We have 
 many things to evidence the want of the same, though 
 our Lord had not been wounded and wronged, as he is 
 Mediator, and King, and Head of his church, by the 
 wicked supremacy. And now he is wounded and 
 w T ronged, as he is the God of the whole earth, by this 
 blasphemous toleration. But, alas! where is our sorrow 
 for it, and zeal against it? We have a noble cause 
 deposited in our hands, even that which concerns the 
 prerogatives of Christ, and privileges of his church, and 
 liberties of mankind ; which, before we abandon and let 
 go, we should quit our hearts’ blood. We have a noble 
 testimony to contend and suffer for ; yea, it is the 
 noblest testimony that any church in the world hath 
 this day to contend for, — it concerns no less than the 
 kingly glory of Christ ; which truth he will signally own, 
 and make glorious in the earth, when he returns to 
 bring down his enemies, — to deliver his church and 
 people. 
 
 “ Although the testimony of the Church of France, 
 and in the valleys of Piedmont, and Hungary, be great 
 and weighty, and well worth the contending and suf- 
 fering for, yet our testimony for the kingly office of 
 Christ is more noble ; and he will give it a glorious 
 decision when he comes to visit his people with his 
 salvation. It is true, though the testimony for the 
 prophetical and priestly offices of Christ be noble and 
 well worth the contending and suffering for, yet, in 
 some respects, the testimony for his kingly office is 
 more noble and glorious. And though our testimony 
 be so noble, yet there is not one part of it but what is 
 opposed and contradicted, not only by the enemies, but 
 also by the ministers and professors in general. But we 
 dare confidently affirm, and take heaven and earth to 
 witness, that we hold and maintain nothing but what 
 is consonant and agreeable to the Word of God, and 
 the covenanted principles of the Church of Scotland.” 
 
 It is affecting to notice the distressful circumstances 
 in which the field conventiclers were often placed, not 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SHIELDS. 185 
 
 merely in reference to their exposure to the inroads of 
 the military, who chased and shot them at their plea- 
 sure, but also in reference to the weather, as is plainly 
 intimated in the preceding extract. A congregation of 
 conventiclers seated on the bleak mountain’s side, or 
 in the heart of the morass, in the depth of winter, 
 subjected to the buffe tings of the weather, to the splash- 
 ing rains, to the cold blasts of sleet and snow, with 
 nothing to shelter them from the searching winds that 
 pierced through and through the shivering frame, was 
 indeed a sight well calculated to excite commiseration. 
 The circumstance of a company of poor, conscientious 
 worshippers, impelled by a strong sense of duty, in the 
 most inclement seasons of the year, met for religious 
 exercises, commands our admiration; while, at the same 
 time, it shows the extreme hardships to wdiich they 
 were reduced. The preacher, alluding to such a case, 
 says : “ This bad weather of cold and snow we are 
 trysted with, though it should not hinder us from our 
 duty, yet it is for our trial, and should be humbling to 
 us. The last time I was with you, not far from this 
 place, we got such a cold stormy day as this ; which we 
 might look upon as a presage of what we have met 
 with since.” This exposure to all sorts of weather, on 
 the misty hills and among the hazy marshes, the people 
 sitting on the turf literally soaked with water, and 
 having their feet bathed in the spongy moss, listening 
 for hours to the fervid words of the preacher, induced 
 diseases that brought multitudes to their graves. No 
 constitution, however robust, could long resist the de- 
 leterious effects of such an exposure. The pining 
 sickness, the debilitated frame, the burning fevers, the 
 agues, the consumptions, the rheumatisms, and the 
 other nameless diseases, caught at winter conventicles, 
 were far more prevalent and severe than we have any 
 conception of. And all this was patiently, nay, even 
 thankfully, submitted to, by the honest, the warm- 
 hearted, and confiding people, who followed the Lord 
 in that dark and weary time. 
 
180 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 It is easy for us, who enjoy our quiet homes, and our 
 comfortable churches, to look at the poetry and romance 
 of the history of that persecuted people who loved not 
 their lives unto the death ; but it was neither poetry 
 nor romance to them; it was all a stern reality, a most 
 painful subjection. It has been said, that u there is 
 poetry where aught is pure and surely, if this is just, 
 then they had the poetry ; for they had the purity, the 
 purity of aim, the purity of heart, and the purity of life. 
 They had the heavenliness, and they had the com- 
 munion, which fill the soul with joy, joy far more 
 ecstatic than ever poet knew in the most ravishing 
 moments of his most brilliant imaginings. They had 
 the elevation of soul that not even the loftiest of our 
 most accomplished romances could ever reach. They 
 knew God ; and on the pinions of faith and love they 
 were borne aloft to the very sublimities of heaven. 
 
 We may weave out of their story an enchanting 
 poem, that may thrill the inmost soul, and awaken all 
 the sensibilities of our nature, and we may look hack 
 and say : “ Oh, the times ! ” But what furnishes the 
 tale? — what inspirits the poem ? It is the sufferings of 
 the men, it is the scorching fires through which they 
 had to pass. 
 
 From a sentence in the above extract, it is plain that 
 Mr Shields maintained the standard of the gospel in 
 the fields after the martyrdom of Mr Ren wick. “ We 
 have lost,” he says, “ a famous standard-bearer, Mr 
 Renwick, who was with us that day ; whose voice used 
 to cry to you among these hills.” He endeavoured to 
 supply, so far as was in his power, the place of his dear 
 associate, and went everywhere preaching the word, 
 —in season and out of season, either by night or by day, 
 wherever he could find an audience. 
 
 We shall here give another short extract, from a 
 sermon of his on the text, 64 Knowing the terror of 
 the Lord, we persuade men:” — “ Now, sirs, I dare not 
 hut be plain with you as to your souls’ case and condi- 
 tion ; knowing the terrors of the Lord, we desire and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — SHIELDS. 187 
 
 persuade you to close with Christ. There is no escap- 
 ing if ye neglect this great salvation offer. We cannot 
 promise you another offer of it in time. Oh, sirs, take 
 a look of precious Christ, that is here offered unto you, 
 and give in your answer, and obey his call; or else we 
 must denounce wrath and everlasting woe against you. 
 And here, in his name, we call on you to give in your 
 answer. Now take these few considerations to persuade 
 you unto it : — 
 
 44 First, Consider that it is a greater sin than can be 
 mentioned, to neglect this offer — it is a Christ-murder- 
 ing sin, it is an opening up afresh his wounds again. 
 4 How shall they escape that neglect so great a salva- 
 tion V Oh, sirs, it is a sin against the law, and a sin 
 against the gospel, which in a large sense includes the 
 law. Ye in the west of Scotland are guilty of this, in 
 neglecting and undervaluing Christ in the gospel. 
 
 44 Secondly, If ye consider how little price ye can pro- 
 duce, for it is not over dear, it is on easy terms. 4 Be- 
 lieve, and ye shall be saved ; and take it, and ye shall 
 have it ; open your mouths, and I will fill them abun- 
 dantly. Are not these easy conditions that heaven and 
 glory may be had upon ? Oh, then, make no excuses, 
 but close the bargain with all your hearts, and let all 
 your other lovers be gone, and embrace him only in this 
 gospel, lest ye perish for ever and ever. 
 
 44 Thirdly, Consider the misery of this neglect. It is 
 unavoidable. Oh, sirs, Scotland’s hell will be a hot hell, 
 and especially to professors that had the offer of the gos- 
 pel, and the offer of salvation on such easy terms. Oh, sirs, 
 where will you flee to hide yourselves in that day, ye that 
 have been gospel proof, and that will not be moved for all 
 that we can say unto you ? Oh, ye professors in Scotland, 
 that will not embrace this offer, ye are in as great haz- 
 ard of losing heaven and happiness as the wicked ene- 
 mies. You that are not doubting of your condition, 
 ye are in a sad case ; and ye who cannot read, ye are in 
 a sad case. Ye say ye cannot get leisure to read your 
 Bibles ; but can ye take leisure to damn your souls ? 
 
188 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and yet you will not take more pains to read them, and 
 to pray to God for the saving knowledge of them, — ye 
 are in eternal hazard of losing your immortal souls. 
 Now ye have had a day of the gospel in great hazard, 
 and amongst enemies, and ye know not if ever ye shall 
 have another day of it. Oh study the improvement of 
 the same, that it be not a lost da y, or rather, a day of 
 accusation against you. 
 
 “Now, I shall add no more, hut only give you a short 
 word of advice, and that is, — Seek the Lord in his ordi- 
 nances. He is a Lamb and a Lion. He is a Lamb, 
 speaking forth his meekness to penitent sinners that 
 come and accept of him upon his own terms; but he is a 
 Lion also, and that speaks forth his power, and strength, 
 and boldness. If ye refuse him in his lamb-like meek- 
 ness, in the offers and still small voice of the gospel, then 
 ye shall be caught in the terrible paws of the Lion of the 
 tribe of Judah. And who dare rouse him up, or offend 
 him ? Now t , oh take and embrace him ; and if ye will 
 not, he will come and say, 6 Go take these rebels, that 
 would not that I should reign over them, and kill them 
 before mine eyes/ Then, oh rebels, come under his yoke, 
 for there are many rebels to our Lord in this land that 
 will not consent unto his kingly government, both popish 
 and prelatic ; and also many professors that have not 
 given their consent to his reigning in and over them. 
 
 <c Now what shall we say to you ? We here, in his 
 name, from the terrors of the Lord, desire and persuade 
 you to be reconciled to Christ, lest he come forth against 
 you, and there will be none to plead for you, nor to 
 excuse you in that great day of accounts, when we must 
 all appear before the great God ; and then ye must an- 
 swer for what instructions ye have had, and for this 
 day among the rest. Oh, therefore, study to be found 
 in him. Amen/ 
 
 On the cessation of the persecution, Mr Shields joined 
 the Revolution Church, and was settled minister in St 
 Andrews. He was afterwards sent with some others to 
 the Darien settlement in America ; and on the dissolu- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 189 
 
 tion of that settlement he went to Jamaica, where, after 
 a short sickness, he died. 
 
 He was the author of several works. He wrote the 
 Life of Mr Eenwick, with whose history, in his brief and 
 eventful course, he was well acquainted. 
 
 He wrote Naphtali, a book in which he gives much 
 useful information on the public questions, and the 
 struggles of the times. The tradition in the uplands of 
 Nithsdale is, that a portion of this work was written 
 in the house of old Blagannoch in the moors. Nothing 
 is more likely, as it was only in such a place that he 
 could find any leisure for composition. And then, in 
 the house of the Laings he lived as in garrison, for they 
 were valorous and right trusty men, whose prowess was 
 the safeguard of all who enjoyed their hospitality. 
 
 James Eenwick closes our list of conventicle preach- 
 ers. The voice of those that cried in the wilderness 
 was not, indeed, silenced when Mr Eenwick obtained 
 the martyr’s crown, for there were others who, during 
 the time that intervened between his death and the 
 Eevolution, continued still to preach in the deserts ; but 
 then there was none, with the exception of Alexander 
 Shields, that seemed to make an impression. None of 
 name arose after him; and therefore it is with him that 
 we terminate our review of the conventicle orators. 
 
 James Eenwick was a native of the parish of Glen- 
 cairn, in Dumfries-shire, and was born in 1662 . His 
 father was Andrew Eenwick, a weaver; and his mother 
 was Elizabeth Corsan. She was a Christian matron, and 
 her husband a God-fearing man. He was educated at 
 the University of Edinburgh, where he displayed no 
 ordinary talent, and made uncommon proficiency in his 
 learning. It was on his witnessing the martyrdom of 
 the good Cargill in the Grassmarket, that Mr Eenwick 
 resolved on uniting himself to the persecuted party. 
 He accordingly became one of their members, and 
 warmly advocated their principles. The united societies 
 agreed on sending him to Holland, to he taught in 
 
190 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 divinity by the faithful ministers there, and to receive at 
 their hands a regular licence to preach the gospel. He 
 returned to Scotland in 1683, to commence his ministerial 
 labours among the persecuted remnant. His reception 
 by the household of John Brown of Priesthill, where the 
 societies met that contributed to send him to Holland, 
 is most graphically given by the author of the sketch 
 of u The Godly Carrier/' “One night,’ " says that writer, 
 “ one night in the beginning of winter, John Brown 
 had gone to a neighbour's house. The family at home 
 were preparing the wool of their flocks for hoden grey 
 cloth, to sell at Lourie's fair in Hamilton. The shep- 
 herd carded the black and white wool together for the 
 women to spin. Janet and the herd- boy were teasing 
 for the carder ; the gudewife sat nursing her first-born 
 son at one side of the fire; when the dog, which lay at 
 full length at the other, started up and ran to the door, 
 barking at the approach of a stranger. Isabel thought 
 it would be her husband returned, and was about to 
 rise to meet him. Janet and the herd were almost as 
 soon at the door as the dog, and calling to him, ‘Whisht, 
 collie, whisht ; ye mauna speak to the unca man/ 
 The herd caught the dog in his arms, and returned 
 with him into the house, while Janet followed, leading 
 a stranger, — first looking to her mother for encourage- 
 ment, and then to her guest. She led him to her 
 father's chair with a courtesy that seemed to give rise 
 to strong emotions in his heart. 
 
 “ The stranger was young in years, of a little stature, 
 and fine fair countenance; but he was pale with fatigue 
 and sickness. His shoes were w r orn out ; a shepherd’s 
 plaid hung round him, seemingly for disguise, for by 
 his dress and speech he seemed to be of superior rank. 
 While the servants gazed on him, the gudewife did not 
 know whether she should welcome him as a sufferer, or 
 consider him as a spy ; so she left Janet to perform the 
 kind offices he required, while she lulled her boy to 
 sleep by singing a verse of an old song. 
 
 “ While the gudewife sang, the stranger's face 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 191 
 
 brightened up, and he more cheerfully accepted the 
 child's endearing attentions, who placed him in the 
 warmest corner, helped him off with his dreeping plaid, 
 imitating all the kind offices she had seen her mother 
 perform to her father, to the no small amusement of 
 the rest of the family. On the stranger it had a dif- 
 ferent effect. He hurst into tears, and cried : ‘ May 
 the blessing of him that is ready to perish rest upon 
 you, my dear bairn. Surely God has heard my cry, 
 and provided me a place to rest my head for a night. 
 u O that I had in the wilderness a lodging-place of way- 
 faring men, that I might leave my people, and go from 
 them ! for they be an assembly of treacherous men/" 
 Just as he had finished, John Brown entered. He 
 gazed at him, and, with great deference, bade him 
 welcome to his house. c Do you know me ? ' said the 
 stranger. 6 1 think I do,' said John Brown. c It was 
 in this house that the societies met that contributed to 
 send you to Holland ; and now, I fear, they have not 
 received you as they ought/ ; Their reproach has not 
 broken my heart,' said Mr Renwick, (for he it w r as, 
 though he was not named before the family;) c but the 
 excessive travelling, night wanderings, unseasonable 
 sleep, frequent preaching in all weathers, especially in 
 the night, has so debilitated me, that I am unfit often 
 for my work. The reproach of those who called me to 
 the ministry, I look upon as a device of the enemy to 
 stop the Lord’s w r ork ; but blessed be his grace that has 
 kept me from mixing anger or scorn of them with my 
 sorrow. Some have declared that I will never be 
 honoured of the Lord to do his poor remnant good. 
 But one thing I know, and may say, that the Lord has 
 done me good. Oh, let none fear a suffering lot. 
 Enemies think themselves satisfied that we are put to 
 wander in mosses and upon mountains; but even amidst 
 the storms of these tw r o last nights, I cannot express 
 what sweet times I have had when I had no covering 
 but the dark curtains of night. Yea, in the silent 
 watch my soul was led out to admire the deep and in- 
 
192 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 expressible ocean of joy wherein the whole family of 
 heaven swim. Each star led me to wonder what He 
 must be who is the Star of Jacob, of whom all stars 
 borrow their shining. Indeed, if I may term it, I am 
 much obliged to enemies; — they have covered me many 
 a table in the wilderness, and have made me friends 
 where I never expected them/ 
 
 “ When he ceased speaking, every one of the family 
 strove to do him kindness. The shepherd brought him 
 clean hose and shoes, the herd his new night- cap, the 
 lasses left their wheels and washed his feet, the gude- 
 wife prepared him a warm supper, while little Janet, 
 worn out, was fast asleep at his side. 
 
 “ In those days hospitality was with many, in re- 
 ality what it ought to be, — purely exercised for God's 
 glory, and without display of grandeur. The motives 
 were like silver tried, — it was at the risk of all, even life ; 
 hence the joy of such pure intercourse was sweet beyond 
 description. 4 As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth the face 
 of a man his friend/ Renwick and Priesthill talked of 
 the sufferings of the church, — her testimony, her cove- 
 nanted cause, and her ultimate triumph. Mr Renwick 
 remained another night with them, and was greatly 
 bettered in his health/' 
 
 After this Mr Renwdck proceeded boldly to unfurl 
 the standard of his party in the moors and solitudes, 
 where occasionally were gathered around him great 
 multitudes of deeply-interested hearers, on whose hearts 
 his doctrine distilled as the dew of heaven. “ His first 
 public meeting/' says one, “ was in a moss at Darmead ; 
 where, for their information, and his own vindication, 
 he thought it expedient not only to let them know how 
 he w r as called to the ministry, and what he adhered to, 
 but also to unbosom himself about the then puzzling 
 questions of the time, and his reasons for so doing, and 
 in the end telling them on what grounds he stood, and 
 resolved to stand upon ; which he resolved, — the Lord 
 assisting him, — to seal with his blood." 
 
 Mr Renwick's preaching was exceedingly acceptable 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 193 
 
 to the people of the wilderness, on account of the great 
 essential truths which he proclaimed. If he lifted the 
 standard of his predecessors with regard to the public 
 questions of the times, he did it equally as regards the 
 gospel itself. If, in his ministrations, grievances were 
 hinted at, and public matters attended to, they were so 
 merely in subserviency to the main thing, — the salvation 
 of the soul. This was the great and emphatic theme on 
 which he insisted, and on which he expended his 
 strength in “crying in the wilderness.” To abstract 
 the people from the defections of the times, was much ; 
 but it was more still to lead them to the Saviour. Car- 
 gill used to say of himself, that he dealt chiefly in “ the 
 main things;” and precisely the same may be affirmed 
 of Mr Renwick. A goodly number of his sermons have 
 been preserved: — which were chiefly taken from his 
 mouth as they were uttered at the conventicles. With 
 this disadvantage, nevertheless, we find them full of 
 great gospel statements, which went warm to the heart 
 of his auditory. Before proceeding further with gene- 
 ral remarks, or tracing the wanderings of Mr Renwick 
 in the upland wilds, we shall present the reader with 
 a few specimens of his discourses. And first, before we 
 furnish any extracts from his sermons, we shall give at 
 the outset the substance of a letter written by him to 
 the Society of Strangers at Lewarden, in Friesland. 
 “ Let us yet come,” he says, “ a little nearer, and take 
 a look of him as he is our Saviour, in his condescendency, 
 love, power, faithfulness, and other properties. Oh how 
 condescending is he ! — though he be that high and lofty 
 one, the Fathers equal, yet he stooped so low as to take 
 upon him the nature of man, and all the sinless infir- 
 mities that attend it. He became flesh of our flesh, and 
 bone of our bone, and that in the lowly condition of a 
 servant. He suits the creatures’ affection, as if it were 
 of some worth, and seeks men and women to match 
 v r ith him. Oh how lovely is he ! it is a strong love that 
 he beareth to the seed of Abraham. Doth not this 
 shine in all that he hath done ? He emptied himself, 
 
194 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 that they might become full ; he made himself poor, 
 though maker and possessor of heaven and earth, that 
 they might become rich. He fulfilled the law for them, 
 that he might purchase to them life and happiness. He 
 made himself a sacrifice to the death, that he might 
 satisfy offended justice, and make reconciliation for 
 them. Oh such a death ! — so cursed, so shameful, so 
 painful, and so lingering. But above all, he had the full 
 weight of the wrath of God to bear, which all the 
 strength of angels and men could not have endured ; but 
 he, being God, could not fall under it. Oh what manner 
 of love is this ! In effect, he did not care what he 
 suffered, — let justice charge home upon him with all its 
 rigour and severity, — seeing he was to gain his point, and 
 purchase a great part of mankind from Satan to himself, 
 from sin to holiness, from misery to happiness : so that 
 man, however unworthy, base, sinful, and miserable, 
 yet is the centre of his love. Oh how powerful is he ! 
 he is mighty to save to the uttermost. All the strong- 
 hold of the soul cannot hold out against him, — his power 
 is irresistible ; by this he can do what he will, and by 
 his love he will do what we need. And, again, he is so 
 faithful, that what he saith he doeth ; he will not retract 
 one promise that has gone out of his mouth, neither will 
 he fail in fulfilling all his threatenings. 
 
 “ Much might be said of these things, but not the 
 thousandth part of the truth can be told. When we 
 win to the house above, atid see him as he is, we 
 will be ashamed of all our babblings about him. They 
 that have been most ravished with his love, and most 
 eloquent to speak forth the praises of his comeliness and 
 properties, will see that they have been but at best babes 
 learning to speak. Oh, what shall I say ? He is the 
 wonderful, matchless, glorious, and inestimable jewel, 
 and incomparable pearl of great price. Oh who would 
 not choice him ! Let a man look through heaven and 
 earth, and seek a portion where he will, he shall not find 
 the like of Christ. Oh, then, let us be altogether his : 
 our affections, let them be his ; the travail of our souls, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 195 
 
 let it be his ; and let us be fully surrendered, and en- 
 tirely consecrated to him.” 
 
 This, though not a sermon, shows plainly how he 
 preached. We shall now give an extract from a dis- 
 course on the text, <c Tell me, O thou whom my soul 
 loveth, where thou feedest, and where thou makest thy 
 flock to rest at noon:” — “Love him, and ye shall not 
 come short of your enjoyment of him hereafter. It is 
 true, faith is that which, as an instrument, apprehends 
 Christ, and engrafts us in him, yet it w r orketh by love, 
 and love accompanieth faith, as the sunbeams do the 
 sun. Oh what shall I say ? Love him ! love him ! ye 
 cannot bestow your love so well ; turn others to the door 
 and take in this beloved. Here I make offer of him 
 unto you, here I present him unto you. c Lift up your 
 heads, O ye doors, that the King of glory may come in/ 
 I present a glorious conqueror this night to be your guest. 
 Oh cast ye open the two foldings of the door of your 
 hearts ; to wit, the assent of the mind, and the consent of 
 the will, that ye may receive him ; cast ye open the hearty 
 consent of faith and love, that he may take up his abode 
 with you. Oh, what say ye to it ? Friends, will ye close 
 with Christ ? I obtest you by his own excellency, I 
 obtest you by his love and sufferings, I obtest you by 
 the joys of heaven and the torments of hell, that ye may 
 close with him. Ye thirty and forty year old sinners, 
 will ye close with him ? Ye have rejected and despised 
 many offers of the gospel; and after all these slights and 
 affronts, he is as willing to be embraced by you this 
 night as when he first offered himself unto you. Ye 
 young folks, will ye close with him ? he would have a 
 match made up with you, — what shall I say ? All of you 
 come , whatever ye have been or are; none of you shall be 
 cast out. 6 Whosoever will, let him take of the water of 
 life freely/ 
 
 “ Seeing it is the duty of people to set their love upon 
 Christ, I exhort you to give some testimonies of your 
 love. Think ye that ye love him ? Will ye then show 
 that ? I would expostulate for some testimonies of your 
 
196 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 love. When Peter confessed that he loved Christ, our 
 Lord desires him to show that by feeding his lambs and 
 sheep. It is true, ye cannot show your love that way, 
 for ye are not called to that office ; but ye ought to show 
 it in the way that is competent for you in your stations. 
 So, as I was saying before, I expostulate with you for 
 some testimonies of your love. 
 
 “ Make a free and full resignation of yourselves and 
 your all to Christ, that ye may say with the spouse, 
 u I am my beloveds Oh, ye should not prig with him 
 about any thing. Some prig with him about their hearts, 
 and will have a part thereof in their darling idols, which 
 they cannot think to quit. Some prig with him about 
 their time, and w T ill make religion hut their by-work. 
 If their worldly employments be throng, they will neglect 
 the worship of God in their families, and prayers in 
 secret. Others, if they keep any family worship, it is 
 in the evening ; ordinarily they are impatient, and haste 
 to an end in it, and neglect it in the morning altogether. 
 Oh, what a sad prigging is this ! Some prig with him 
 about their relations ; they will not quit these when he 
 calls them to suffer for his sake ; hut will tempt them, 
 or will insinuate upon them to comply, and deny his 
 cause. Some prig with him about their possessions ; and 
 if yielding to this or that iniquity will keep their houses 
 and lands, they will not quit them. And some will 
 prig with him about their lives ; and if the swearing of 
 a sinful oath, the subscribing to an iniquitous bond, or 
 denying of his cause, will save their lives, they will not 
 lose them. Oh, what sad prigging is this ! Oh, be 
 ashamed of it. Will ye lay all at his feet, and count it 
 your honour and joy that he dispose of the same as 
 he pleaseth ? 
 
 “ Give this testimony of your love to Christ, — rejoice 
 in him when present, and keep his room empty when 
 absent. I say, rejoice in him when present. I need 
 not press you much to do this, for in his presence there 
 is great joy: though the enjoyment of him here be im- 
 perfect, yet it brings exceeding gladness with it ; there- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 197 
 
 fore saith the psalmist, 4 Thou has put gladness in my 
 heart, more than when corn and wine are increased/ 
 But when he is absent, see that ye keep his room empty 
 for him. When he sees it meet at any time, for your 
 correction, trial, and instruction, to withdraw himself, 
 or hide his face, then idols or other lovers will readily 
 present themselves, and seek to possess his room. But 
 be chaste and true to your beloved, as the spouse who, 
 in his absence, could not rest contented, but used all 
 means and diligence until she found him.” 
 
 The following is from a discourse on the words, 44 His 
 mouth is most sweet, yea, he is altogether lovely. This 
 is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of 
 Jerusalem — 
 
 44 The second property of Christ’s love is, that it is a 
 strong love ; which appears from what he hath done for 
 sinners. He hath done great things for sinners. He 
 took upon himself all the sinless infirmities of human 
 nature, — not sinful nature. Yea, he endured a shame- 
 ful and lingering death, besides a burden of wrath 
 that he had waded through, — such a flood of wrath as 
 would have drowned all the sons and daughters of Adam 
 to all eternity. Thus 4 He who knew no sin became a 
 curse for us, that w r e might be made the righteousness of 
 God in him. Oh, greater love hath no man than this, 
 that a man lay down his life for his friends/ Oh, my 
 friends, if ye will follow Christ through all the steps of 
 his humiliation, ye may see that the love of Christ is 
 strong love, which makes him undergo such things for 
 sinners. 
 
 44 He gives great things to sinners, whereby he shows 
 the strength of his love to them ; for he gives grace and 
 glory, and no good thing will he withhold from them 
 that walk uprightly : for he saith, 4 Father, I will that 
 they also whom thou hast given me, he with me where 
 I am, that they may behold my glory which thou hast 
 given me/ Christ gives the believer union with him- 
 self, and communion in glory with the Father, even a 
 share of that glory which the Father giveth him, he 
 
198 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 givetli them ; and he gives them a crown of righteous- 
 ness which shall never fade away ; and he gives them to 
 drink of the rivers of his pleasures, that are at his right 
 hand, for evermore. Oh, my friends, Christ doth not 
 prig with his spouse ; he will keep nothing back from 
 her that he sees to be for her profit. 
 
 Oh but his love be strong ! and he requires no more 
 for all that he hath done, and all that he hath given, 
 but that he see the travail of his soul. He will think 
 but little of all that he hath done, if we will but accept 
 of his love, and lay our love upon him. Yea, so may 
 be said of him as was said of Jacob ; — the seven years 
 that he served for Rachel seemed but a few days, for 
 the love that he bare unto her. Oh, his love is so 
 strong, that although thou shouldst run away from him 
 never so fast, yet his love will overtake thee and bring 
 thee back again. Paul ran very fast in opposition to 
 his love, when he was going to Damascus to persecute 
 the church. But Christ's love overtook him suddenly. 
 Manasseh, he ran very fast away from Christ when he 
 made the streets of Jerusalem to run with innocent 
 blood, and set up an abomination in the house of God, 
 and used witchcraft ; and yet Christ’s love overtook 
 him, and brought him back again from the pit. If 
 thou be one of those that the Father hath given to the 
 Son, though thou shouldst run to the brink of hell, he 
 will bring thee back again from thence. 
 
 “ Christ’s love is pure and sincere love : ‘ Herein is love, 
 not that we loved him, but that he loved us ;’ — not for 
 any advantage that he can have by us, for he is infi- 
 nite in all perfections without us ; therefore we can 
 neither enrich him, nor add any more glory to him. 
 We may well magnify his power; that is all we can do, 
 and all the advantage is our own. Christ’s love is not a 
 base love ; he loves us not for his good or advantage, 
 but for our real good and advantage. It is pure and 
 sincere love, for all the advantage is our own. 
 
 “ Christ’s love is an enriching love, for those upon whom 
 his love is bestowed are no more poor ; for how can 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 199 
 
 they be poor who have Christ for their riches ? for saith 
 the apostle, 4 All things are yours, and ye are Christ’s, 
 and Christ is God’s/ If ye have this love bestowed on 
 you, then all other things are made to serve you for your 
 good, — ye shall lack nothing. 
 
 “ Christ’s love is a free love. He gives his love 
 freely, without any reward, and so it is free love ; for 
 the offer is alike to all . If ye will but take it off his 
 hand, he makes open proclamation of it to you all, say- 
 ing, 4 Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the 
 waters/ Oh, my friends, all other love is infinitely be- 
 neath this : 4 He took not on him the nature of angels, 
 but the seed of Abraham/ Oh, my friends, God hath 
 made us the centre of his love, and therefore, I be- 
 seech you, do not despise his love ; he came not to 
 redeem any of the fallen angels, but the seed of Abra- 
 ham.” 
 
 Again he says : 44 Your eternal enjoyment of God 
 shall be your element, which ye shall for ever delight in, 
 and this will be to praise and admire his love; ‘for 
 eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered 
 into the heart of man to conceive, the things that the 
 Lord hath prepared for them that love him/ Oh, then, 
 sirs, what think ye of Christ ? Will ye not, at this 
 time , say that he is your beloved, and your friend ? 
 We cannot reckon over to you all the several acts of 
 friendship that Christ perform eth for his friends ; only 
 we recommend to you the reading of his blessed Word, 
 and then ye will see the several acts of friendship that 
 Christ performeth for his friends, and that he hath per- 
 formed to us, and for us : and thus we may say, Happy 
 are all those that take him for their friend. 
 
 44 Oh, give your consent to become his friends, and 
 accept of him for your friend. I leave this offer at your 
 door ; he is willing to befriend you, if you will come 
 into an estate of friendship with him. Oh come, come 
 and take his offer off his hand. Say not that ye have 
 continued so long in sin, that ye know not if he will 
 befriend you now ; for if ye will come to him, he 
 
 O 
 
200 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 will yet befriend you. Therefore, for the Lord’s sake, 
 put not away such an offer, but take it in the 'present 
 time; for ye know not if ever ye shall have an offer 
 again. And if ye will not take his offer off his hand 
 this day , I will be a witness against you in the great 
 day of judgment, that this day the Sun of righteousness 
 offered himself to be your friend, and ye have made 
 light of the offer. Yea, the hills and mountains about 
 us shall be witnesses that ye had Christ in your offer 
 such a day> in such & place; therefore, my dear friends, 
 say that he is your beloved, and that he is your friend.” 
 The following is an additional example of the strong 
 and urgent manner in which he dealt with sinners to 
 embrace the Saviour, and in which we see his whole 
 soul going forth in its earnestness for the salvation of 
 his hearers : — u Consider your own condition without 
 him ; that ye are lost and undone, limbs of Satan, chil- 
 dren of wrath, hell to be your dwelling-place, and devils 
 and damned souls to be your company eternally, and 
 v'here sin shall be your eternal torment. This is your 
 condition without Jesus Christ. What think ye of the 
 eternal exclusion from the presence and comfort of God ? 
 and what think ye of hell, — where there is nothing but 
 utter darkness, weeping, and wailing for evermore, — to 
 be your dwelling-place ? and what think ye of devils 
 to be your continual company ? and what think ye of 
 sin to be your continual life, — always blaspheming the 
 glorious name of God ? and what think ye of your con- 
 dition, to be in continual torment, always weeping and 
 gnashing your teeth ? and all this, I say, is abiding 
 you w 7 ho will not embrace Jesus Christ, whatever your 
 profession be. For, believe me, a profession will not save 
 you from this eternal misery, if ye receive not Jesus 
 Christ. And whatever your sufferings be here, yet ye 
 shall suffer this hereafter, if ye receive not Jesus Christ. 
 My heart bleeds for many sufferers in Scotland, w 7 ho 
 shall suffer everlasting torment in hell, because they 
 vdli not embrace and receive Jesus Christ, this gracious 
 and free Saviour, who is now in your offer. Oh receive 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 201 
 
 and embrace Jesus Christ ! otherwise, be ye who ye 
 will, and do what ye will, God’s justice shall pursue 
 you, and he shall have war against you without cessa- 
 tion, — .for there shall be no discharge in that war. The 
 great warriors of the earth are all lying with their 
 weapons broken under their heads ; but here is a war 
 that hath no end. Oh, ye who will not receive Jesus 
 Christ, ye will see that ye have made a bad choice, when 
 ye pass through the dark gates of hell, to the inner 
 chambers thereof. 
 
 44 To move you, further consider, that if ye will take 
 him, ye shall have him, and all his ; ye shall drink of 
 the living waters of life ; your feet shall be established 
 on the sea of glass about the throne; ye shall have his 
 name, and bear his image, and wear a crown of pure 
 gold upon your heads, and follow the Lamb with palms 
 in your hands, saying, 4 Hallelujah !’ and 4 Glory, and 
 honour, and power, unto the Lord our God ! 9 ye shall 
 have the fine white linen garments of Christ’s righteous- 
 ness to wear in heaven, in clothing, eternally ; ye shall 
 have the glorious cloud of witnesses, angels, and the 
 spirits of just men made perfect, for your continual 
 company ; and ye shall have a life of love and joy, ever 
 loving him that is altogether lovely. Oh, then, come 
 and take Jesus Christ. Would ye make a happy choice ? 
 then take him, embrace and receive him, old and young, 
 man and woman, lad and lass. Now Christ is in your 
 offer ; you are all invited to come to him. And now 
 I charge you all, as ye respect the glory of God, and 
 as ye desire this happy condition that I have spoken 
 of to you, slight not this offer. Now the golden chain 
 of salvation is letten down to you. Oh, grip, — grip it 
 fast, before it be taken up again. Go not away fools, 
 lest ye never be at such a market-day again. 
 
 44 What shall I say to persuade you ? — let the excel- 
 lency and glory of his great name do it. Be entreated 
 to do it. And here I obtest you by what he hath 
 purchased for sinners, and by what he hath suffered, 
 come and embrace him. I obtest you by the blood 
 
202 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 he hath shed on the cross, I obtest you by the drops 
 of blood that he shed in the garden, and by all the joys 
 that are above the clouds in heaven, that ye put not 
 this offer away. And I obtest you by all the torments 
 of hell, that ye put not this offer away. And I obtest 
 you by the glory of heaven, and by the crowns which 
 believers put on his head, that ye slight not this offer. 
 
 u Here I take every man and woman to witness 
 against one another, that ye had Christ in your offer ; 
 and I shall be a witness against all of you that have 
 not received Christ this night . Yea, though he should 
 never be glorified in such a sort by me, yet I will be a 
 witness against you. And here, before the throne of 
 grace, I declare in his name, that I have made an offer 
 of him unto you : and, therefore, your blood shall be 
 upon your own heads, if ye perish ; and I shall be free 
 of the same.” 
 
 In another place he says to the same effect : — “ If ye 
 would be rightly concerned, ye must once come and be 
 a right son or daughter of the church, and member 
 of Jesus Christ; — until then, ye cannot have a fellow- 
 feeling of the body. Come, then, and Christ will give 
 you a fellow-feeling with the sufferings of the church. 
 Come and embrace himself, and he will set the stamp 
 of natural children upon you. Without him ye can do 
 nothing ; without him ye cannot be concerned with the 
 sufferings of his name and members. Refuse not, and 
 reject not his offers when he calls you to himself. It is 
 hard to wot if some of you shall have an offer again ; — 
 note is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation. 
 He is now spreading his net; and will ye not come about 
 the net’s mouth, that a catch of you may be gotten ? 
 He is proclaiming unto you that he hath invincible 
 power, though managed by apparent weakness. Oh, 
 find ye any of this irresistible power of Christ ? Oh, 
 come unto him who is the joy of heaven, and it shall 
 be a joyful night in heaven. He will have a good 
 report of you through heaven, if he shall have it to say 
 that some poor lad or lass hath put a crown upon his 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — REN WICK. 203 
 
 head in such a place. But oh, how sad shall it be if 
 Christ shall have it to say, c I gave offer of myself to 
 a people like stocks and stones, but they would not 
 hear / 99 
 
 It is easy to conceive the absorption of mind with 
 which an audience must have listened to such burning 
 words ; to such energetic and impassioned appeals to 
 the heart and conscience; and all this accompanied 
 w T ith the plaintive earnestness of a voice which fell 
 with sweet and subduing cadence on the hearts of his 
 hearers. The field of Mr Renwick’s preaching, like 
 that of Mr Peden and the others, was chiefly the wild 
 and desolate parts of the country. He frequented the 
 higher parts of Galloway, and gathered conventicles 
 among the mountains, preaching in the night-time as 
 often as in the day. The night meetings were, no 
 doubt, chiefly held in houses ; but they were frequently 
 held in the open air, and that even in inclement 
 weather, the people sitting in the rain and wind, and 
 frequently on the snow wreathes, when the drift was 
 smoking around them. The water of Ken, the banks 
 of the Dee, and the solitudes of Carsphairn, were all 
 visited by him, in holding the interdicted conventicle. 
 In the pursuit of his high vocation, he was often sub- 
 jected to incredible hardships from cold and hunger, 
 and want of accommodation. A specimen of the pri- 
 vations he endured in the desert is given by Alexander 
 Shields ; who states, that 6< he found no place of rest but 
 in the remotest recesses in the wilderness, exposed to 
 the cold blasts of winter storms, in the open fields, or in 
 some shepherd’s summer shielings in the mountains, 
 used in summer, but lying waste in winter, which yet 
 were the best chambers he could find ; where he made 
 some fire of sticks or heath, and got meat with great 
 difficulty out of places from a distance, and mostly from 
 children, who durst not let their parents know of it. 
 Here he, and they that were with him, did sometimes 
 remain several days and nights, not daring to look out, 
 both from the hazard of being seen, and from the 
 
204 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 boisterousness of the storm.” In another place he re- 
 marks, that Mr Ren wick and his friends were made 
 “ to lie days and nights, in crowding numbers, in caves 
 and holes under ground, without room to sit or stand, 
 without air, without refreshment or hope of relief, save 
 what w T as had from heaven, — the murderous pursuers 
 coming over and by the mouth of the hole, while they 
 were at their duty, praying or praising, undiscovered ; 
 and when forced from thence, he hath often been com- 
 pelled, wet and cold, hungry and weary, in great hazard, 
 to run barefooted many miles together for another 
 subterraneous shelter.” 
 
 So hotly was he sometimes chased by the enemy, that 
 he had scarcely leisure to breathe. Mr Shields remarks, 
 that sometimes these pursuits u continued whole days 
 and nights, without intermission, for miles together, 
 without so much as a possibility of escaping the sight 
 of his pursuers.” He was frequently so exhausted and 
 worn out by sickness, through means of his incessant 
 labours and exposure to the weather, that he could 
 scarcely sit even on horseback to be conveyed to and 
 from the place where he was to preach. And when he 
 had finished his day’s work, so feeble was he that he 
 had to be lifted into the saddle and supported by two 
 men, one on each side, till, having passed over the rough 
 moorland, he reached his lodgings, wdien he tumbled 
 into bed in a state of utter exhaustion. And yet when 
 he was preaching to the conventicle he was all life and 
 energy, and every way like a person in robust health. 
 In his Master’s work he forgot his own weakness, and 
 he grudged not to expend the last dregs of his strength 
 in advocating a cause for the which he counted not his 
 life dear unto him. And this was the man against 
 whom the whole military were let loose to chase as a 
 partridge in the wilderness. 
 
 When in Galloway he made many a wonderful escape 
 from the enemy, and had places of concealment not easy 
 to be discovered. He sometimes hid himself under the 
 projecting covert of a scar, close by the side of the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 205 
 
 mountain stream, or among the dense willows by the 
 moorland brook. But one of the coziest of his retreats 
 was at the farm-house of Castle Maddie. The worthy 
 master of the house, in rearing his peat- stack close to 
 the end of the house, formed, in the very heart of it, a 
 commodious chamber, into which an opening was made 
 through the wall from the inside, and which was care- 
 fully closed up with peats when any one happened to be 
 there in concealment. When Mr Renwick chanced to 
 reside here, and w r hen the place was visited by the 
 dragoons, he forthwith retreated into this hiding-place, 
 where he lay in perfect security. But it was not often 
 that he had so safe a chamber, or one half so comfortable. 
 
 We find him preaching to a conventicle on the Dee, 
 in Galloway, and that in the very face of the troopers ; 
 but it w r as when the river w 7 as rolling in full flood be- 
 tween him and his foes. In such a case the horse- 
 men durst not take the stream, and fired across it ; but 
 their balls fell short of the mark, and the worshippers 
 continued till the end of the service in defiance of 
 their enemies, w 7 ho stood eyeing them in impotent rage. 
 When all was over, the assembly moved off, and left the 
 soldiers to retire to their garrison. Mr Renwick betook 
 himself quietly to a place of safety, to be ready for the 
 next conventicle, appointed to meet in some secret place 
 among the hills. 
 
 Lagg and Claverhouse at this time were traversing 
 Gallow 7 ay in quest of Mr Renwick and his followers, 
 w T hom they shot or mercilessly maltreated wherever they 
 found them. Two garrisons were stationed in the wilds 
 of Carsphairn, for the purpose of hunting down the 
 Covenanters, who sw r armed in those desert places. Lagg 
 had a house at Garry horn, in Carsphairn ; and the bed 
 in which he slept is there till this day. He was a 
 brutal, cruel sort of man, whom no scruples of con- 
 science or feelings of humanity deterred from deeds of 
 outrage and of bloodshed. His name was long a terror 
 in that locality. Nor was his associate, Claverhouse, 
 less sanguinary. He delighted in deeds of blood, and 
 
206 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 of rapine, and of low pilfering ; as can be easily proved 
 from the accredited historians of the times. These 
 went hand in hand in their ruthless raids against the 
 poor outlawed wanderers, and especially against their 
 leaders, — the conventicle preachers. This part of Gallo- 
 way which Mr Ren wick traversed was extremely soli- 
 tary. Dark, frowning mountains, covered with granite 
 fragments, and tall shaggy heath, extensive morasses, 
 and thickly wooded ravines, generally characterize wide 
 districts of these upland wastes. And yet there are 
 beauteous scenes, and lovely haunts, and pleasant woods. 
 There, on the banks of the Ken, towards its source, are 
 majestic mountains, some of them covered with velvet 
 green to their very summits, and presenting the most 
 enchanting scenery. The lofty Cairnsmoor, and the 
 precipitous Altry, raise their head far above the neigh- 
 bouring hills ; and in the hollows on their lofty sides the 
 secluded conventicle met. The Fauns of Altry was a 
 favourite resort in those days, from which the enemy 
 could be descried at a great distance, and a timely re- 
 treat effected. 
 
 It was on the Water of Douch, that flows through the 
 wilds of Carsphairn to join the Ken on its way to the 
 lochs of Kenmuir, that Mr Renwick kept the conven- 
 ticle at which the child of Alexander Williamson of 
 Cruffel, on the Yochan. was baptized ; the whole cir- 
 cumstances connected with which are detailed in the 
 “ Traditions of the Covenanters.” Mr Renwick is said 
 sometimes to have baptized at a conventicle thirty chil- 
 dren in a row, the people having gathered in from all 
 quarters, bringing their children from afar. 
 
 Lagg was always on the alert ; and Claverhouse, like 
 an evil spirit, glided with incredible speed over moor 
 and mountain, and surprised the conventiclers, however 
 wary, and chased them with his troopers, shooting and 
 capturing men and women without distinction. The 
 whole country between Carsphairn and Sanquhar, and 
 between Carsphairn and New Cumnock, along the mag- 
 nificent defile of the Afton, was constantly traversed by 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 207 
 
 the soldiers, who were ever and anon intercepting the 
 wayfarers who were pursuing the tracks along the 
 wastes ; and many a prisoner was made where flight 
 w r as impracticable. 
 
 But amidst all this confusion and turmoil, Mr Ren- 
 wick persisted in preaching in season and out of season ; 
 and wherever he could collect a meeting, by night or 
 by day, in storm or in sunshine, he was ready to publish 
 the gospel of the grace of God. Before leaving the 
 scene of Mr Renwick’s labours in the wilderness, we 
 shall here add a few brief specimens more of that preach- 
 ing of his which was so acceptable to the crowds which 
 met at the conventicles. 
 
 In one of his rich discourses, he says, “ Then let me 
 invite you to come and take Christ. Oh, come, and ye 
 shall be welcome to him. Would ye have a pleasant 
 life, and a desirable life ? Oh, then, come to Christ. 
 Let this offer be embraced by those that are upsitten pro- 
 fessors ; and let not this call be delayed or slighted, 
 that Christ is inviting backsliders to return to him. 
 Oh come to him, and seek love, and seek sincerity of 
 heart from him. 
 
 “ But there be many that may object, and have this 
 excuse, and say, ‘Christ is a matchless person for beauty 
 and excellency ; and withal he is matchlessly holy, and 
 I am but a poor worm, and cannot come to him/ It is 
 just like a prince wooing a poor woman clothed in rags, 
 and when she gets the news, she cannot embrace them 
 nor come to him, she is so unlike him ; but when once 
 the marriage is over, and he hath given her his jewels, 
 she then resembles him. Oh, then, will ye come to 
 Christ ? and let not this be your excuse, but come ; he 
 will make no obstacles of his mercy ; therefore come 
 over all your jealousies, for he is willing to clothe you 
 with a change of raiment, and to take away your filthy 
 rags. Therefore let me leave this with you with this 
 charge, — Remember that Christ is offered to you to-day; 
 therefore, if ye refuse him, look how ye will answer him 
 at the great day.” 
 
208 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 In another sermon he says, “ Is he not crying, 6 Be- 
 hold me! behold me!’ and holding out his arms, and 
 bidding all come? and every one that will, let him 
 come. And he is begging upon his knees, as it were, that 
 you would come unto him, and partake of his rich sal- 
 vation. 
 
 “ But, possibly, some will say, 6 I am a poor sinner ; 
 will he accept of me, that is so vile and polluted ? ’ In 
 answer to this, I will tell thee, in his name, that it is 
 such that he is seeking ; and although thou be black like 
 the tents of Kedar, yet thou shalt be made comely like 
 the curtains of Solomon. It is not the penitent only, 
 but the impenitent that he invites to come ; the greater 
 thy sin be, the greater necessity hast thou of him. And 
 I promise you, in his name, that ye shall not be the un- 
 welcomer to him that your sin is so great ; for we never hear 
 that Christ upbraided any heinous sinners for coming to 
 him. But on the contrary, his serious entreaties are used, 
 and he heartily regrets that sinners will not come to him 
 that they might have life. This made him weep over 
 Jerusalem, and say, ‘ How often would I have gathered 
 you, as a hen gathereth her chickens, and ye would 
 not!’ Therefore let not this be your excuse. Let not 
 the greatness of your sins hold you away; for although 
 ye had all the sins that all within this place are guilty 
 of, yet I, in his name, promise you ye shall be welcome 
 to him, and that this shall not keep you away. Come, 
 and regret your case to him ; for it is only he that can 
 help you out of that condition. Seek a heart to repent, 
 and grace to believe in his name, and that he that is 
 God, that justifieth the ungodly, may justify you/’ 
 
 On the duty of serving God, he has these strong re- 
 marks : — “ Observe,” he says, u that it cannot but be a 
 great injury against God, and procure a curse, when 
 people employ not their best things in his service. This 
 is clear from the words, c Cursed be the deceiver which 
 hath in his flock a male, and vovveth and sacrificeth 
 unto the Lord a corrupt thing.’ So men that employ 
 not their best things in the Lord’s service, believe it, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS RENWICK. 209 
 
 they are chargeable with this. He calls for your best 
 things in his service, and not that you should spend that 
 upon your lusts. Ye are called to employ the best of 
 your time in his service ; and many of you give him but 
 the refuse of your time, or at best, he gets but your by- 
 time for his service. But ye should give him the best 
 of your time and strength, and your hearts ; — all should 
 be employed in his service. Do not say, that ye do the 
 best that ye can ; for I am persuaded that there is none 
 of you but may do more for him than ye do. And do 
 not say that ye improve the talent that he hath given 
 you to trade with ; for ye but misimprove it, and the best 
 of you, we fear, come short of improving it : for if ye 
 improved it, ye should find it increase upon your hand, 
 and you would more appear like his children. But 
 because people do not improve their time and their 
 abilities to lay them out for God, it procures a curse. 
 For though our obligations go far beyond our duties that 
 we do, yet when we do not lay out all our abilities for 
 him, and do not bestow our love, our affections, and our 
 .time, and all that we have, for him, but bestow them 
 upon other things, we procure his curse. 
 
 “ Young folks, set to the work, and be entreated to 
 give up yourselves to his service, and employ your best 
 things for him, now when your desires are fresh and 
 quick. Oh, will ye bestow them on precious Christ ! 
 You have a brave prize put in your hand if ye set aright 
 to the work ; ye may see Zion’s King come back, and 
 the crown set upon his head again.” 
 
 On the necessity of being found within the kingdom 
 of God, he says : — “ Seeing that the gate is very strait 
 and narrow that leads to the kingdom of heaven, then 
 w hat shall become of many of you, that never came the 
 length that hypocrites have come ? Oh what will ye 
 say, and how will ye meet with God, when he comes to 
 count with you for a preached gospel ? and what will 
 ye think of a Mediator that was offered to you, whom 
 ye slighted and despised ; when the heaven and the 
 earth shall melt away, and great men, and mean men. 
 
210 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 shall howl and cry, and all the tribes of the earth shall 
 wail because of him ? Oh! this will be the portion of 
 hypocrites, from God. 
 
 “ It is of use for trial, for all of you to try yourselves, 
 and ponder in your hearts, and say, 6 Oh, soul, whether 
 art thou in the kingdom of heaven, or not ? 9 Oh be 
 exhorted to this, whatever he thy state, oh man and 
 woman ! It is safe for thee to try thy state, to search 
 thy state : and if matters he right betwixt God and thy 
 soul, it will be thy peace; and if not, thou mayst possibly 
 get it righted. And for my part, I count him the best 
 Christian that is most accurate in this searching and 
 communing with his own heart ; for if ye neglect this, 
 ye may come to lose the sight of your interest in Christ, 
 if ever ye had it. Do not satisfy yourselves with being 
 near the kingdom of God, hut go into it. And for this 
 end break the bargain and peace with your lusts and 
 idols ; and make up peace with God through Christ our 
 peace-maker, and ye shall find great advantage in the 
 exchange : for the wicked have peace but with sin and 
 sinful men, but the godly have peace with God. Oh # 
 will ye quit all other things, and seek to be interested 
 in Him ? for it is to be feared that many here have pro- 
 claimed peace with sin, and some idol or other. Oh 
 break the bargain, and make peace with Christ ! Make 
 choice of him ; for he can give you that which no other 
 lover can give you. Oh break that peace with your 
 lusts and idols, and make peace with him. Remember 
 he offers himself freely to you this day. Choose, there- 
 fore, what ye will do. Oh seek for the fulness of the 
 Spirit of Christ, and rest upon nothing but upon him- 
 self alone; and seek to be in the kingdom of God, by 
 the thorough work of conversion upon your souls. 
 
 Ci And now, to all that are in the kingdom, I pro- 
 claim peace in the name of God, whatever troubles they 
 are under here : so enter into the kingdom through 
 Christ only, for that is the way to it. But as for you 
 who will not come to him, and enter into the kingdom 
 through Christ only, who is the way to it, I do, in like 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — RENWICK. 211 
 
 manner, proclaim war with that soul from God, what- 
 ever ye be in profession. O friends, lay it to heart, and 
 choose ye whether it be better to have heaven's peace, 
 and the devil and the world's feud ; or to have the devil 
 and the world's peace, and feud with God for ever ! 
 And now to him who is purchaser of true peace, be 
 glory and praise for ever. Amen.” 
 
 There was no preacher in his day so popular as Mr 
 Ren wick. He seems to have had a soft and melliflu- 
 ous voice, which fell with ineffable sweetness on the 
 ear. His eloquence flowed “ in gentle streams,” and 
 came with a great and subduing power upon his audi- 
 ence. There was nothing vehement in his action, nor 
 boisterous in his manner ; but everything calm and dig- 
 nified, and suited to the solemnity of the subject. The 
 continuous and majestic flow of his oratory, which pro- 
 ceeded from the urgency and earnestness of his spirit, 
 like the still but irresistible current of a mighty river, 
 swept all before it, and carried his hearers onward to 
 the precise point he wished to conduct them. The 
 crowds that listened to him in the desert, were often 
 melted to tears by the heavenliness of his manner and 
 his doctrine. So persuasive and. animating was he 
 in his preaching, that the holy fervour and resolution 
 of his auditors were often roused to so high a pitch 
 that they could have endured martyrdom on the spot. 
 One who heard him preach, declared that the effect of 
 his discourse on him and his fellow-worshippers was 
 such, that “ they could,” he says, “ have been glad to 
 have endured any kind of death, to have been home at 
 the uninterrupted enjoyment of that glorious Redeemer 
 who was so livelily and clearly offered to them that 
 day.” 
 
 We shall here quote the following remarks on the 
 style of Mr Renwick's preaching, from a sketch given 
 by an individual who was personally acquainted with 
 him, and who often heard him preach : — “ The latter 
 end of this year, I heard that great man of God, Mr 
 James Renwdck, preach on Song iii. 9, 10 ; when he 
 
212 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 treated greatly on the covenant of redemption agreed on 
 between God the Father and God the Son, his equal, 
 in favour of the elect ; as also on the covenant of grace 
 established with believers in Christ. Oh this was a great 
 and sweet day of the gospel ! for he handled and pressed 
 the privileges of the covenant of grace with seraphic- 
 like enlargement, to the great edification of the hearers. 
 Sweet and charming were the offers which he made of 
 Christ to all sorts of sinners. There was onetthing that day 
 that was very remarkable to me, — for though it was rain 
 from morning to night, and we wet as if we had been 
 drenched in water, yet not one of us fell sick. And 
 though there was a tent fixed for him, he would not go 
 into it, but stood without, in the rain, and preached ; 
 which example had a great influence on the people to 
 patience, when they saw his sympathy with them. And 
 though he was the only minister that keeped closest to 
 his text, and had the best method for the judgment and 
 memory of any that ever I heard, yet now, when he 
 preached, the people crowded close together because of 
 the rain, he digressed a little, and cried, with a pleasant, 
 melting voice, 6 My dear friends, be not disturbed be- 
 cause of the rain. For to have a covenant-interest in 
 Christ, the true Solomon, and in the benefits of his 
 blessed purchase, is well worth the enduring all tem- 
 poral, elementary storms that can fall on us. And 
 this Solomon, who is here pointed at, endured a far 
 other kind of storm for his people, even a storm of un- 
 mixt wrath. And oh, what would poor damned repro- 
 bates in hell give for this day’s offer of sweet and lovely 
 Christ ! and oh, how welcome would our suffering 
 friends in prison and banishment make this day’s offer 
 of Christ ! And I, for my own part,’ said he, 4 as the 
 Lord will keep me, shall bear my equal share in this 
 rain, in sympathy with you.’ And he returned to his 
 sweet subject again, and offered us grace and reconcilia- 
 tion with God, through Christ, by his Spirit. 
 
 “ Words would fail me to express my own frame, and 
 the frame of many others; only this I may say, we would 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — REN WICK. 213 
 
 have been glad to have endured any kind of death, to 
 have been home at the uninterrupted enjoyment of that 
 glorious Redeemer who was so livelily and clearly offered 
 to us that day. But now, with a grieved heart, I must 
 bid a final farewell, while in time, to this worthy minis- 
 ter and highly honoured martyr ; for within two months 
 after this he was apprehended, and executed at Edin- 
 burgh, February 17, 1688. He was born in 1662, of 
 parents both eminently godly. His mother’s name was 
 Elizabeth Corsan; with whom I was well acquainted. 
 He was the only man that I ever knew that had an 
 unstained integrity. He was a lively and faithful minis- 
 ter of Christ, and a worthy Christian, — such as none 
 who were acquaint with him could say any other but 
 this, that he was a beloved Jedidiah of the Lord. I 
 never knew a man more richly endowed with grace, 
 more equal in his temper, more equal in his spiritual 
 frame, and more equal in walk and conversation. Many 
 times when I have been thinking of the great Mr Knox, 
 Mr Welsh, Mr Davidson, Mr Bruce, Mr Rutherford, 
 Mr Durham, and others of the worthy reformers, I 
 have thought that the great Mr James Ren wick was as 
 true and genuine a son and successor to these great 
 men as any that ever the Lord raised up in this land 
 to contend for truth, and preach the gospel to lost 
 sinners. He seemed to come upsides to them in sound- 
 ness of principles, in uprightness of practice, in meek- 
 ness, in prudence, in zeal for the glory of God, in giving 
 testimony for truth, and against sin and defection ; so 
 that, though he was the Joseph who was sorely shot at 
 and grieved, yet he was the Caleb that followed the 
 Lord fully. 
 
 “ When I speak of him as a man, — none more comely 
 in features, none more prudent, none more brave and 
 heroic in spirit ; and yet none more meek, none more 
 humane and condescending. He was every way so 
 rational, as well as religious, that there was reason to 
 think that the powers of his reason were as much 
 strengthened and sanctified as any man’s I ever heard of. 
 
214 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 When I speak of him as a Christian, — none more meek, 
 and yet none more prudently bold against those who 
 were bold to sin ; and yet none more pudently conde- 
 scending, none more frequent and fervent in religious 
 duties, — such as prayer, converse, meditation, self-exami- 
 nation, preaching, prefacing, lecturing, baptizing, and 
 catechising : none more methodical in teaching and 
 instructing, accompanied with a sweet, charming elo- 
 quence in holding forth Christ as the only remedy for 
 lost sinners : none more hated of the world, and yet 
 none more strengthened and upheld by the everlasting 
 arms of the great Jehovah, to be steadfast and abound 
 in the way of the Lord to the death ; wherefore he 
 might justly be called ‘Antipas/ Christ’s faithful martyr. 
 And as I lived then to know him to be so of a truth, 
 so, by the good hand of God, I yet live, thirty-six years 
 after him, to testify that no man upon just grounds had 
 any thing to lay to his charge. When all the critical 
 and straitening circumstances, when that period is 
 well considered, save that he was liable to natural and 
 sinful infirmities, as all mere men are when in this life, — 
 and yet he was as little guilty in this way as any I ever 
 yet knew, or heard of, — he was the liveliest and most 
 engaging preacher to close with Christ, of any I ever 
 heard. His converse was pious, prudent, and meek ; 
 his reasoning and debating was the same, carrying alongst 
 with it a full evidence of the truth of what he asserted. 
 And for steadfastness in the way of the Lord, few came 
 his length. He learned the truth and counted the cost, 
 and so sealed it with his blood. Of all men that ever 
 I knew, I would be in the least danger of committing a 
 hyperbole when speaking to his commendation. And 
 yet I speak not this to praise man, but for the glory and 
 honour of God in Christ, who makes men to differ so 
 much from others, and in some periods of the church 
 more than others.” 
 
 Mr Ren wick upheld the standard of the gospel in 
 the fields for more than five years, but was at last 
 apprehended and lodged in jail. As soon as he 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS RENWICK. 215 
 
 found himself alone in his dreary cell, and fully in the 
 power of his enemies, who had so long thirsted for his 
 blood, he turned his face toward the wall and poured 
 out his heart before his heavenly Father in solemn 
 prayer. His exercise in prison was every way becoming 
 a Christian, and one who was in a short time to suffer 
 martyrdom for Jesus Christ. One day he said in the 
 hearing of his mother, u Since my examination I can 
 hardly pray/* This went to the good womans heart 
 like a dart; but he soon relieved her anxieties by stating 
 that he was so ravished with heavenly joy, and so full 
 of the consolations of God, that he could do nothing but 
 praise. What a reward was this that Christ granted 
 to his faithful witness, and what a testimony of his ap- 
 probation. 
 
 Several of his friends besides his mother were admitted 
 to see him, with whom he conversed in the most affec- 
 tionate manner, and with all earnestness exhorted them 
 to be reconciled to God, and to remain steadfast in his 
 ways to the end. When they expressed their deep 
 sorrow at their being about to be deprived of him, at a 
 time when his services were so much needed, he said 
 that they had more need to bless the Lord that “ he 
 was now to be taken away from those reproaches which 
 had broken his heart, and which could not be otherwise 
 wiped off, even though he should get his life without 
 yielding in the least.” This statement shows, in the 
 most impressive and affecting manner, how heavy were 
 the reproaches which were cast upon him by his ene- 
 mies, and which nothing could wipe away from his 
 name, as he supposed, but the shedding of his blood. 
 Presbyterians and Prelatists alike reviled him ; and their 
 calumnies were not to be refuted, as he conceived, by 
 any thing short of his martyrdom. Oh, how often must 
 that sensitive heart have been crushed with grief, — with 
 a grief expressed to none but to his God, — when he 
 longed for death to clear him from the obloquies so 
 liberally heaped upon him by his foes, and those from 
 whom better things might have been expected ! 
 
216 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 On his trial, it is said that Somerville, the chamber- 
 lain of Douglas, when he saw Mr Renwick turn about 
 and direct his speech to his judges, ran away, saying 
 that he trembled to think of taking away the life of such 
 a pious-looking man, though they should take the whole 
 of his estate. 
 
 u Since I came to prison/' he says, u the Lord has 
 been wonderfully kind to me ; he has made his word 
 to give me light, life, joy, courage, and strength ; yea, it 
 has dropped with sweet-smelling myrrh unto me. Oh 
 what can I say to the Lord's praise ! it was but little 
 that I knew of him before I came to prison ; but I have 
 found sensibly much of his divine strength, much of the 
 joy of his Spirit, and much assurance from his word and 
 Spirit of my salvation. 
 
 “ I may say this to his praise, that I have found his 
 cross sweet and lovely to me ; for I have had many joy- 
 ful hours, and not a frightful thought, since I came to 
 prison. I am now longing for the joyful hour of my 
 dissolution, and there is nothing in the world I am sorry 
 to leave but you ; but I go to better company, and so I 
 must take my leave of you all. Farewell, beloved suf- 
 ferers and folio vvers of the Lamb ; farewell, Christian 
 intimates ; farewell, Christian and comfortable mother 
 and sisters ; farewell sweet societies and desirable general 
 meetings ; farewell night wanderings in cold and weari- 
 ness for Christ ; farewell sweet Bible and preachings of 
 the gospel ; farewell sun, moon, and stars, and all sub- 
 lunary things ; farewell conflicts with a body of sin and 
 death. Welcome scaffold for precious Christ ; welcome 
 heavenly Jerusalem ; welcome innumerable company of 
 angels, and general assembly and church of the first- 
 born ; welcome crown of glory, white robes, and songs 
 of Moses and the Lamb ; and above all, welcome, 0 
 thou blessed Trinity and one God. Ob, Eternal One ! I 
 commit my soul into thy eternal rest/' 
 
 On the morning of his execution, his mother and 
 his sisters were permitted to hold their last interview 
 with him on earth. Before they parted, they partook 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — REN WICK. 217 
 
 of a little refreshment together ; and in giving thanks 
 for what God in his providence had set before them, he 
 uttered the following words : — 44 Oh Lord, now hast 
 thou brought me within two hours of eternity. And 
 this is no matter of terror to me, more than if I were to 
 go to lie down on a bed of roses. Nay, through thy 
 grace, to thy praise, I may say I never had the fear 
 of death since I came within this prison. But from the 
 place I was taken in, I could have gone away com- 
 posedly to the scaffold.” 
 
 Perceiving his mother weeping, he bade her remember 
 that they who loved any thing better than Christ, were 
 not worthy of him. 44 If ye love me,” he said, “ rejoice 
 that I am going to my Father, and to obtain the enjoy- 
 ment of what 4 eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
 hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive/” 
 
 At length hearing the drum beat to assemble the 
 guard to lead him from the prison, his heart was filled 
 with a joy unspeakable, and he cried out in a trans- 
 port : “ Yonder the welcome warning to my mar- 
 riage ; the Bridegroom is come, and I am ready, I am 
 ready.” He then took his last farewell of his mother 
 and sisters, the objects dearest to him on earth, and 
 said, " that ere all was done they should see matte| of 
 praise in that day’s mercy.” 
 
 When he was on the scaffold, and the napkin tied 
 about his face, he said to his friend that attended him : 
 “ Farewell ; be diligent in your duty, and make your 
 peace with God through Christ. There is a great trial 
 coming. As to the remnant I leave, I have committed 
 them to God. Tell them from me not to weary, nor to 
 be discouraged in maintaining the testimony. Let 
 them not quit nor forego one of these despised truths. 
 Keep your ground, and the Lord will provide you 
 teachers and ministers ; and when he comes, he will 
 make these despised truths glorious upon earth.” 
 
 He was then turned over, with these words in his 
 mouth : 44 Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit; for 
 thou hast redeemed me, Lord God of truth.” 
 
218 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Thus died Mr James Ren wick, on the third day after 
 he had completed the six-and-twentieth year of his age ; 
 a young man, but a matured Christian ; a young minis- 
 ter, but a renowned martyr of Jesus Christ, for whose 
 sake he loved not his life unto the death. “ His 
 righteous soul from insult springing,” winged its way, 
 under the guidance of guardian angels, to the imme- 
 diate presence of God and of the Lamb. His trials 
 and privations, and wandering in moorlands and on 
 mountains, in the prosecution of his Masters work, all 
 terminated in the heavenly blessedness. Heaven was 
 the place to which he constantly looked forward as the 
 consummation of his happiness ; and many were the 
 sweet hours of absorbing meditation, on the beatitudes 
 of eternity, which he spent in the lonely caves, and in 
 dreary deserts ; and as he mused, the fire burned, and 
 he longed to be away to his Father’s house ; and hence 
 the unutterable joy he felt as the time of his release 
 drew near, — the time when he was to be admitted as an 
 inhabitant in that great house in which there are many 
 mansions. 
 
 Mr Ren wick found, when he came to grapple with 
 the last enemy, that his aspect was not half so terrible 
 as when contemplated in the obscurity of the distance. 
 But nothing can unsting death, save an interest in the 
 blessed propitiation ; for no circumstances without this 
 can make death happy. 
 
 We have thus so far accomplished our design in 
 noticing the conventicle preachers, and in presenting a 
 few extracts from their sermons. Our object in doing 
 this, as was stated at the commencement of this work, 
 is to bring into view the precise doctrine and themes of 
 preaching on which the leaders of the conventicles 
 dwelt, and which were so signally owned by the divine 
 Spirit, in the great revivals and numerous conversions 
 which took place in the solitudes, when the church had 
 her dwelling in the wilderness. 
 
 The extracts which we have furnished are almost 
 
TH E CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — REN WICK. 219 
 
 entirely destitute of what may he termed the artistic. 
 The composition is of the most homely cast ; no atten- 
 tion whatever being paid to the rounding of periods, no 
 rhetorical neatness, no grammatical accuracy. And, 
 indeed, how could it be otherwise ? The men had no 
 learned leisure, and no opportunity of composing ser- 
 mons with any degree of care. The most of them were 
 spoken extempore, and were partially arrested, in the 
 flow of their fervid utterance, by short-hand writers on 
 the spot, whether on the face of the open moor, or in 
 the crowded house-conventicle. It is not as specimens 
 of cultivated oratory, therefore, that the portions of 
 them have been quoted in this volume, — it is for a far 
 different purpose ; it is to show how the men thought, 
 and how 7 they uttered their sentiments on divine truth ; 
 it is for the purpose of showing the kind of teaching 
 which w r as communicated in the deserts, and to satisfy 
 ourselves with regard to the particular aspects of 
 Christian doctrine w r hich they exhibited, and which 
 was the means of conversions so numerous, and per- 
 petuated through so long a course of years. All criti- 
 cism, then, is out of place, it is a mere impertinence, — 
 the thing is too sacred for its intermeddling. The 
 preachers had a nobler aim than merely to furnish any 
 thing like finished productions, which might indeed 
 entertain but not convert their hearers. That they had 
 eloquence cannot be disputed, — the testimony of com- 
 petent judges, who listened to them, amply confirms 
 this ; but then it was heavenly eloquence, it was a 
 purely spiritual oratory that flowed from their lips. 
 The thunder of Cameron’s eloquence shook like an 
 earthquake the masses of the people w T ho crowded to the 
 desert ; and the mellifluous flow of the gentle Renwick’s 
 delivery bathed in tears the thousands who hearkened 
 to his voice, and charmed their hearts away to heaven. 
 
 The abuse which, in modern times especially, has 
 been heaped upon them, and the ridicule which, gene- 
 rally speaking, has been cast on their preaching, is 
 altogether unmerited, and below the dignity of honour- 
 
220 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 able minds. They have been represented as giddy 
 enthusiasts, — weak-headed, ignorant, ranting orators ; 
 whose object was to exasperate the popular temper by 
 inflammatory harangues. They have been held up as 
 factious declaimers, fit only to stimulate the worst 
 passion of a mob to deeds of ferocity. To read the 
 caricatures that have been given of them, we would be 
 led to suppose that they were verging on insanity, or 
 persons vulgar and illiterate, whose religion consisted 
 mainly in the whinings of superstition, and whose ex- 
 istence in the country was a positive pest. But they 
 were not what they have been thus represented. They 
 were not demagogues, or the leaders of a seditious 
 faction, traversing the country in its breadth and length 
 for the purpose of exciting and fostering a popular dis- 
 satisfaction with the laws of the land. They were not 
 persons employed in political intrigues, as the hireling 
 agents of a party who wished to embroil the nation in 
 civil war. Nor were they mere patriots, pleading the 
 people’s cause against a dominant and unprincipled 
 faction, that had infringed the social compact, and 
 invaded the liberties, the lives, and the property, of the 
 subjects. They were indeed patriots, but much more 
 than patriots, — -they were Christians, and ministers of 
 the gospel of Jesus Christ; whose chief ambition it was 
 to make men spiritually free, and denizens of the king- 
 dom above. Not that they reckoned the advocacy of 
 the civil and religious rights of the people a matter of 
 inferior moment. No ; the declarations which, at the 
 risk of their life, they had a hand in publishing, are a 
 full proof of this : for these declarations embody the 
 great principle of patriotism, and of civil immunities, as 
 well as religion. But then they went far beyond, and 
 high above this ; they stretched their views forward to 
 eternity, and their leading design was to bring sinners 
 to the Saviour. For this end they laboured night and 
 flay, — in peril, in want, and in weariness, preaching in 
 season and out of season, — testifying the gospel of the 
 grace of God. Their whole heart was in this great 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS RENWICK. 221 
 
 work, and they counted not their own lives dear unto 
 them, that they might finish their course with joy, and 
 the ministry they had received of the Lord Jesus. 
 
 But it is chiefly with their doctrine here that we have 
 to do, or the peculiar instrument by which they accom- 
 plished so much spiritual good in the wilderness. Now 
 we find that it was the gospel which they preached, and 
 preached fearlessly, in all its blessed plenitude and em- 
 phasis ; and they went straight down into the heart, and 
 grappled with the conscience of every individual sinner 
 before them. It was the essential and pertinent truth 
 of God which they displayed so liberally and so broadly 
 to the view of their auditors. It was the great central 
 truth — Christ crucified for the sins of the human race 
 — they exhibited. This was laid at the foundation of 
 all their ministrations. They seemed, with an edify- 
 ing uniformity, to adhere to the advice which the 
 venerable Mr Archibald gave to Mr Blackader, when 
 he was first introduced to the parish of Troqueer; which 
 was, “ That the first duty of the pulpit is to preach the 
 gospel, to make the Christian atoriement a prominent 
 topic in all its instructions. As the herald of grace, it 
 becomes a divine ambassador to proclaim the doctrines 
 of grace, to publish the free offers of salvation, and to 
 make the example of Christ to be distinctly recognised 
 in his earthly representative. Without this, he has mis- 
 taken his errand, and is unworthy to bear the seal and 
 commission of his heavenly Master.” This was a wise 
 advice ; and it was acted on. It is most obvious, that 
 the Christian propitiation is the grand central doctrine 
 around which ministers are to work, because it subor- 
 dinates to itself every other subject, and all cluster 
 around it, and hang upon it. It is the grand stand- 
 point of the gospel ministry, which must never be 
 foregone, nor left in the shade. It must never be 
 ignored, nor allowed for a moment to be without its 
 due prominence. The work arm of that preacher is 
 utterly broken, or at least emphatically weakened, who 
 does not exhibit this glorious topic in all “ its might 
 
222 
 
 A VOTCE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and mastery and in its essential interest, as the grand 
 foundation laid in the moral government of God, on 
 which alone he can be just and the justifier of the 
 ungodly. 
 
 The ministrations of those great men, therefore, had 
 all a reference to that satisfaction for human sin which 
 the Lord made by his obedience unto the death. Though 
 they very fully exhibited Christ as a Saviour personally, 
 they also exhibited him as a Saviour doctrinally. They 
 did not make a severance between the person of Christ 
 and work of Christ. They did not disjoin, in this 
 respect, what God had united. They were of the same 
 mind with the apostle Paul, when he said, “ I deter- 
 mined not to know any thing among you save Jesus 
 Christ , and him crucified.” We are to remember that 
 it is on Christ as our propitiation that our faith is to lay 
 hold, that we may be saved. While we hold up the 
 person and character of Christ to admiration, we should 
 never forget that without which , excellent and glorious 
 as he is in himself, he could not have saved us. It is 
 Christ crucified that ministers are to preach, — a propitia- 
 tory victim for the sins of the world. The atonement 
 is the gospel ; it is the good news of a vicarious sacrifice, 
 — an all-sufficient expiation for mans sin. Men may 
 raise disputes about the extent of the atonement, but 
 there can be no dispute about the fact of the atonement, 
 and no dispute about the necessity of the atonement, and 
 as little dispute about the availableness of the atonement 
 to all who choose to possess themselves of its provisions. 
 The blessings of that salvation which came through the 
 propitiation of our Lord Jesus Christ are presented to 
 the acceptance of all without distinction and without 
 difference ; and this was the theme on which the con- 
 venticle preachers mainly enlarged, and enforced with 
 such singular energy and earnestness. And though we 
 desiderate a fuller mention and a wider expansion on 
 their part of the fundamental doctrine of the glorious 
 propitiation, still it was the ground-work of all their 
 preaching, the firm and broad basis on which they 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 223 
 
 invited sinners to the Saviour. None knew better than 
 they that it was only through the finished work of 
 Christ that men could be saved, or that God could he 
 just in justifying the ungodly. Hence the urgency with 
 which they called on men to be reconciled to God, and 
 to submit instantly, and on the spot. They invited all 
 within the reach of their voice, be they who they might, 
 or what they might, to come to the Saviour, able, and 
 ready, and all-sufficient, to save all and every one, with- 
 out exception, who should repent and believe the gospel. 
 
 It is true that they were by no means unexceptionable 
 in their occasional statements, for they laid no claim to 
 infallibility ; still, considering all circumstances, their 
 preaching partook of a remarkable share of scriptur- 
 alness. The spirituality of their discourses, and the 
 heavenliness of their manner, and their fervent and 
 incessant prayerfulness for the influences of the Spirit 
 of all grace, told with prodigious effect on the solemn 
 congregations in the moorlands. They found they had 
 a firm footing on w T hich to rest, and a position from 
 which none could dislodge them, when they took their 
 stand on the Saviour's great work, and exhibited his 
 death for men, as the great objective truth toward which 
 the faith of sinners was to be directed. They were not 
 afraid to hold forth Jesus Christ and his salvation for 
 the common benefit, and to call on all men every where 
 to repent. Nor did they falter in their utterance of 
 this great truth, “ That God is not willing that any 
 should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” 
 It was by the earnest exhibition of these astounding 
 facts that their preaching, in the hand of the Spirit of 
 God, became so effective, and that so many hearts were 
 melted by the demonstrative truth so wonderfully ac- 
 companied with the blessing from on high. The great 
 staple doctrine of salvation through a crucified Redeemer 
 was the burden of all their sermons ; and if they con- 
 tended for Christ’s crown , they contended also for 
 Christ’s cross . They never thought of preaching a 
 sermon without Christ the subject. He was the be- 
 
224 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ginning and the end. It was in his cause that they 
 were suffering hardship, and this perpetually reminded 
 them of him, and so when they preached, they preached 
 of him. It vras not a mere complimentary notice they 
 took of him by incidentally mentioning his name ; no, 
 their sentiment was, “ God forbid that I should glory 
 save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 
 We find the same mode of preaching prevalent among 
 the ministers prior to the conventicle period. The great 
 William Guthrie of Fenwick, who died shortly after the 
 ejection, was a man of a kindred spirit, and who gave a 
 tone to the preaching of his time. He was a man of 
 great warmth of heart, of deep piety, of good insight 
 into the gospel, and by far the most popular preacher 
 of his time. The themes in which the conventicle 
 preachers delighted were those on which he dwelt. We 
 shall here give a short specimen of his manner from his 
 book, 44 The Christian's Great Interest,” — a publication 
 which made no little noise in the west of Scotland about 
 a hundred and ninety years ago, and which was to be 
 found in almost every cottage in the west for genera- 
 tions after. In one part of his work he says : — 44 This 
 closing with God’s device, or believing in Christ, is 
 commended every where in the Scripture by the Lord 
 as the condition of the new covenant, giving a title and 
 right to all the spiritual blessings of the covenant ; for it 
 is upon the matter, the receiving of Christ. This is 
 commanded whilst God bids men come and buy, — that 
 is, appropriate all, by closing with that device : 6 Come 
 unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
 will give you rest.' The weary are commanded to come 
 unto him thus for their rest : 4 This is his commandment, 
 that we should believe on the name of his Son, Jesus 
 Christ/ This is enough to prove that it is a duty 
 incumbent. But further, it is such a duty as only gives 
 title and right to a sonship ; for only they who receive 
 him are privileged to be sons: 4 But as many as received 
 him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, 
 even to them that believe on his name/ 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 225 
 
 “ It appears to be the necessary duty of all thus to 
 close with Christ : no less than this doth give an oppor- 
 tunity for God offering himself to be our God in Christ ; 
 and no less than this doth answer our profession, as w 7 e 
 are in covenant with him, as members of his visible 
 church. The Lord offereth to be our God in Christ ; if 
 w 7 e do not close with the offer, laying aside all thoughts 
 of other ways by which v 7 e may obtain happiness, w r e 
 give no opportunity to him. He saith, 4 This is my 
 beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye him/ 
 If we close not with the offer w r e give no answer to God. 
 Moreover, we are all baptised in the name of the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins ; now, unless we 
 close w 7 ith Christ, as we said, we falsify that profession. 
 Therefore, since this is the thing which doth answer 
 God's offer in the gospel, and maketh good our profes- 
 sion, as members of his church, it is a necessary duty 
 lying upon us. 
 
 “ Whatsoever a man hath else, if he do not thus close 
 with God's device concerning Jesus Christ, and do not re- 
 ceive him, it doth not avail either as to the accepting of 
 his person or of his performances, or as to the saving of 
 his soul. Men are accepted only in Christ, the beloved, to 
 the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made 
 us accepted in the beloved. Abel and his offering are 
 accepted by faith. Without faith it is impossible to 
 please him ; and he that believetli not is condemned 
 already, and shall not see life, but the wrath of God 
 abideth on him. For want of this, no external title 
 doth avail ; the children of the kingdom are cast out, 
 if this be wanting. The people of Israel are like other 
 heathens, in regard of a graceless state, lying open to 
 the wrath of God. If men do not believe that he who 
 was slain at Jerusalem, who was called Christ Jesus, 
 and witnessed unto by the prophets, and declared to 
 be the Son of God by many mighty works ; I say, if 
 men do not believe that he is the way, and close not 
 w 7 ith him as the only way, they shall die in their sins : 
 
 ‘ I said therefore unto you, that ye shall die in your 
 
226 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 sins ; for if ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in 
 your sins/ 
 
 “ We say, then, that it is a most necessary duty thus 
 to close with Christ Jesus, as the blessed relief ap- 
 pointed for sinners. Every one who is come to the 
 years of understanding, and heareth this gospel, is 
 obliged to take to heart his own lost condition, and God’s 
 gracious offer of peace and salvation through Christ 
 Jesus, and speedily to flee from the wrath to come, by 
 accepting and closing with this offer, heartily acqui- 
 escing therein, as a satisfying way for the saving of lost 
 sinners. And that all may be the more encouraged to 
 set about this duty, when they hear him praying them 
 to be reconciled unto him, let them remember that 
 peace and salvation are offered to the people in universal 
 terms, to all without exception . If any man will, he 
 shall be welcome. If any thirst, although after that 
 which will never profit, yet they shall be welcome here, 
 on the above-mentioned condition : 4 Ho, every one 
 that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath 
 no money; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy wine 
 and milk without money and without price. Where- 
 fore do ye spend money for that which is not bread ? and 
 your labour for that which satisfieth not? Hearken 
 diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and 
 let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your 
 ear, and come unto me : hear, and your soul shall live ; 
 and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, 
 even the sure mercies of David/ 
 
 u All are commanded to believe: 4 This is his com- 
 mandment, that we should believe on the name of his 
 Son, Jesus Christ/ The promises are to all who are 
 externally called by the gospel. God excludes none , if they 
 do not exclude themselves : 4 The promise is to you, and to 
 your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as 
 the Lord our God shall call/ So that if any have a 
 mind for the thing, they may come forward, 4 he will in 
 no wise cast them out/ being 4 able to save to the uttermost 
 all that come unto God by him/ And those who have 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS REN WICK. 227 
 
 long delayed to take this matter to heart had now the 
 more need to look to it, lest what belongs to their peace 
 be hid from their eyes. But all these words will not 
 take effect with people, until God pour out his Spirit 
 from on high, to cause men approach to God in Christ ; 
 yet we must still press men's duty upon them, and 
 entreat and charge them, by the appearing of the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, and their reckoning to him in that day, 
 that they give the Lord no rest, until he send out that 
 Spirit, which he will give to them who ask him, — and 
 cause them to know what belongs to their peace, and 
 bring them to their duty." Thus speaks the excellent 
 Guthrie. 
 
 In going back to the divines of a generation or two 
 prior to this, w r e find the same leading ideas on divine 
 truth, and nearly the same mode in the presentation of 
 it. And here we might furnish a variety of names. 
 There is only one, however, from whom we shall quote 
 a few sentences, that utter almost the identical language 
 of the conventicle preachers. The individual we refer 
 to is the famous Andrew Gray, minister of the Barony 
 Church of Glasgow\ The extract is from a sermon 
 on the text, “ How shall we escape, if w r e neglect so 
 great salvation ? " — 
 
 “Now is the cord of this great salvation let down 
 unto you. Is there none of you that will take a grip of 
 it ? Oh, will ye flighter after it ? Will ye make this a 
 rejoicing day in heaven, that is a fasting day to you ? 
 And the way to make it so, is to embrace the great sal- 
 vation. Now what say ye to it, old men ? Let me 
 speak to you, and ask your thoughts of the great salva- 
 tion. Grey hairs shall be a crown of glory, if they be 
 found in the way of righteousness. Old men, speak 
 your minds, that young men may not have your bad 
 example. What say ye of this great salvation ? is it not 
 a most glorious salvation, is it not a most excellent 
 salvation that is in your offer ? I entreat you, speak your 
 minds. Tell Christ that ye are content to take the great 
 salvation. Otherwise, whoever he be that will not par- 
 
228 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 take of this gospel salvation, I, in the name and autho- 
 rity of Christ our maker, denounce eternal and irrevo- 
 cable war against him. Put on your harness ; ye shall 
 not boast when ye put it off again. The wrath and 
 fury of God shall come upon you to the uttermost, if ye 
 embrace not this great salvation/' 
 
 Again he says : “ Now are ye convinced, old men, 
 that Christ is waiting for your answer ? I entreat you 
 before you go hence to speak your minds. What think 
 ye of the great salvation ? Is it not a lovely salvation ? 
 is it not lovely now ? What say ye to it ? I am to go 
 away, and the offer is to be taken up at this time, and 
 it is hard to say if ever ye shall have another offer 
 again. I would only say this to you, and be sure of 
 it, though I should never be a partaker of this great 
 salvation, yet I shall be a witness against you that are 
 not partakers of it. I tell and declare unto you, I 
 shall be a witness against you, if you embrace not this 
 great salvation. Now, old men, are ye persuaded to 
 embrace it? Let me obtest you by the beauty of Christ, 
 come and partake of the great salvation, ye that are 
 travelling on the borders of eternity. Now, if ye will 
 give no more, will ye give this, — will ye go home and 
 think upon it ? I shall not be uncharitable, nor enter 
 to judge your thoughts. I fear there will be many 
 declared and found guilty among us, that we have 
 declared unto heaven we will not embrace this great 
 salvation, but have trodden the blood of the Son of 
 God under foot. Now, I entreat every one of you, 
 ask at yourselves, if ye be the persons that will pre- 
 sume in your hearts to do so. Now I shall leave it with 
 you, let it not be a witness against you. I shall 
 leave it with this, Oh, come away, old men, young men, 
 young women, old women, and maids, come and 
 embrace this precious gospel salvation. Ye may say, 
 
 ‘ Ye bid us come, but we cannot come/ I desire no 
 more of you but to come with this, ‘Lord, I am con- 
 tent to come, but I cannot come/ Come once to that ; 
 for if once ye be content to receive it, it will not be long 
 
THE CONVENTICLE PREACHERS — REN WICK. 229 
 
 before ye be able to receive it. Now, shall Christ depart, 
 and will none of you say ye are content to take him ? 
 Will ye charge your own consciences with this, — c Am 
 I content to take Christ and the great salvation?’ Oh 
 blest, blest, blest, be He that is the author of this great 
 salvation ! and blest be he that gets any of the ends of 
 the cords of the great salvation, that he sink not under 
 the wrath and fury of the Lord ! Come and embrace 
 this great salvation ; and again I say, come and embrace 
 it : for what can ye have if ye want it, and what can ye 
 want if ye have it ? I shall say no more, but close with 
 that word, 6 Behold the Lord hath proclaimed unto the 
 end of the world/ — to those that are afar off. What hath 
 he proclaimed ? c Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, 
 thy salvation cometh. behold it cometh/ I say unto 
 you that are at the ends of the world, Salvation is 
 brought near unto you. Stout-hearted and far from 
 righteousness, the great salvation is brought near unto 
 you, and will ye send it away ? Oh consider what you 
 are doing ! And to Him that can persuade you to em- 
 brace this great salvation, we desire to give praise.” 
 
 In closing our notices of the conventicle preachers, we 
 may here observe, that their successors, as well as their 
 predecessors, indulged in the same strain of doctrine. 
 And here we shall give a quotation from one of the 
 standard books of a branch of the Church of Christ in 
 the land, which claims a more particular relationship 
 to our persecuted ancestry, we mean the Reformed Pres- 
 byterian Church, conventionally denominated “ Came- 
 ronian,” from Cameron, one of the leading conventiclers. 
 The extract is from their “Act and Testimony an 
 edition printed in 1818 : — 
 
 “They (the Presbytery) declare, that as God the 
 Father, out of his unbounded love, has, on the footing 
 of the infinite sufficiency of the death and sacrifice of 
 Christ, made a free and generous gift and grant of 
 him as an all-sufficient Saviour unto sinners of mankind 
 lost, as such, in the Word ; so the ministers and ambas- 
 sadors of Christ, according as they are expressly autho- 
 
230 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 rized and commanded by him, are to publish this gospel, 
 these glad tidings of great joy, to all the world, where- 
 ever they may be called or cast in the providence of 
 God ; and to make a full, free, and gracious offer of 
 Christ, and of his whole salvation, to sinners, without 
 distinction ; assuring them of God’s mercy and grace 
 through Christ, in whom he proclaims himself well 
 pleased ; of Christ’s omnipotence and ability to save to 
 the uttermost all that come unto God by him ; and that 
 there are no impediments, bars, or hinderances from 
 without, betwixt Jesus Christ, as held forth in the offer 
 of the gospel, and sinners lost, why they, even every one 
 of them, may not receive and appropriate him as the 
 Lord their righteousness. And the above free and 
 generous gift of Christ and him crucified, by God the 
 Father, as a full and all-sufficient Saviour unto lost and 
 ruined sinners, together with the command of Christ, 
 
 6 Go and preach the gospel to every creature/ the Pres- 
 bytery view as the grand and prime foundation both of 
 the ministerial offer, and of faith in Jesus Christ for/life 
 and salvation.” 
 
 Scarcely any thing more can be required in reference 
 to liberality and broadness of basis than is presented in 
 the preceding extract ; and less than this we cannot do 
 with, unless we wish to enervate the gospel, and to shear 
 it of all its point and cogency. 
 
 So much, then, for the Conventicle Preachers. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 “ Thou wentest after me in the wilderness, in a land that was not 
 sown.” — J EREMIAH. 
 
 Before we produce any traditionary notices regarding 
 the conventicle hearers, we shall make a few preliminary 
 remarks. From what we have already seen of the con- 
 venticle preachers, we may easily draw our conclusions 
 respecting the conventicle hearers. As were the leaders, 
 so were the followers. The leaders were men of God; 
 and the people who went out after them into the wilder- 
 ness were religious persons. The perilous circumstances 
 in which the conventicle hearers were placed, in meeting 
 in the moors at the risk of their lives to worship God, 
 is a pretty sure indication of the sterling worth of their 
 character; for had they not been sincerely godly, it is 
 not at all likely that they would have ventured so far 
 in imperiling all, and even life itself, in maintaining the 
 profession o? their faith. The Conventiclers who were 
 banished to the wilds of Scotland for their consistent 
 attachment to their principles, were a race of the most 
 blameless men the world ever saw. Their integrity was 
 unimpeachable. The purity of their lives was universally 
 
 Q 
 
232 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 noticeable, and the sanctity of fheir deportment operated 
 as a constant and irksome criticism on the unhallowed 
 character of their persecutors. Their light shone before 
 men, just as the mirror receives on its polished bosom 
 the flashing beams of the glorious sun, and reflects them 
 with the same dazzling brightness on surrounding ob- 
 jects. Even their bitterest enemies never expected to 
 see in them any thing inconsistent with real godliness, 
 though they failed not to asperse them to the utmost of 
 their power. In their secret convictions they honoured 
 the men, although, from political and selfish motives, 
 they laboured to extirpate them from the earth, and to 
 cover their name with infamy. It would be saying 
 comparatively little in their behalf, to affirm that they 
 were neither thieves, nor liars, nor profane persons, nor 
 Sabbath-breakers, nor anarchists, — men may be all this, 
 and much more than this, and yet want the great essen- 
 tials of the Christian character ; but the Covenanters 
 were men devoted to God, men who lived in close com- 
 munion with him, and in the hallowed observance of 
 all his institutions. They feared God, and his honour 
 was that which lay nearest to their heart. The love 
 of the Saviour was their grand motive principle ; and 
 whatsoever they did, they did it from the supreme con- 
 viction that it was his will, and to his glory. John 
 Brown of Priesthill may be considered as the type of 
 the class to which he belonged. He was a specimen of 
 the party ; he was not a solitary example, — there were 
 thousands like him, although they were not drawn out 
 to the public view so prominently as he happened to be 
 from the circumstance of his martyrdom. He stood 
 forth conspicuously, but he stood not alone ; there were 
 hundreds and hundreds around him whose characters 
 were as fair as his, and whose Christianity was as real. He 
 was a rare man, but there were multitudes equally rare. 
 If he deserved the epithet of “ The godly carrier,” we 
 could point to crowds who equally deserved the same epi- 
 thet in their different occupations. They were Christian 
 men all, and the world took notice of them that they 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 233 
 
 belonged to Jesus. They had felt the power of the 
 gospel, and they followed it into the wilderness ; and 
 there the Master of assemblies met with them, and 
 blessed them, and hallowed them the more : and so they 
 appeared the more conspicuously saintly, and the more 
 truly Godlike. They were a dew from the Lord in the 
 midst of the land ; and their devout example and holy 
 tempers often produced the happiest effects on the world 
 around them ; and many were moved in their hearts, 
 and said, “ We will go with you, for we have heard that 
 God is with you.” 
 
 The persecution was to them a refining furnace, it 
 made their name bright and their character illustrious ; 
 so that they became shining images of the Saviour, 
 whose example they imitated, and for whose cause they 
 were subjected to tribulation. Well may Scotland boast 
 of her worthies ; they were an honour to her church, and 
 a credit to the land that gave them birth. The sanctity 
 of their life, like sweet odours on the breeze, has been 
 wafted to our times, and embalms their memorial with 
 a fragrance that shall never wholly evaporate. And 
 who can tell how much of the existent piety that is to 
 be found at this day in the lonely parts of the country, 
 w r here they sojourned, is owing to their former example. 
 There were, no doubt, degrees of worth among them, — 
 some were inferior to others both in knowledge and in 
 piety; but take them as a whole, and their like will not 
 easily be found. They were the salt of the nation, and 
 preserved the great mass from putrefaction ; and had it 
 not been for them, true religion throughout the com- 
 munity would have been in a very low and sickly 
 condition. 
 
 But why did they go to the wilderness, following con- 
 venticle preachers, and leave the parish churches ? The 
 answer is, They could not find the gospel there. With 
 a few exceptions, the parochial incumbents were curates, 
 a set of ignorant and unprincipled men, who had neither 
 official talent nor personal piety. They were thrust in 
 on the reclaiming parishes by military power, wholly to 
 
234 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 serve a political purpose, and riot to preach the gospel ; 
 and the noble-minded peasantry, who had enjoyed the 
 wholesome and scriptural teaching of the ejected minis- 
 ters, would not submit to the ministry of the mere crea- 
 tures of a persecuting faction. The general character 
 of the curates was as much a disgrace to the Christian 
 profession, as their crudities in teaching were a disgrace 
 to the ministerial office. Bishop Burnet says, 44 They 
 were the worst preachers I ever heard ; they were ignor- 
 ant to a reproach, and many of them were openly vicious. 
 They were a disgrace to their orders and sacred functions, 
 and, indeed, were the dregs and refuse of the northern 
 parts. Those of them who rose above contempt or 
 scandal, were men of such violent tempers that they 
 were as much hated as the others w T ere despised.” 
 
 These statements are amply confirmed by the following 
 assertions of Wodrow : — 44 They were mostly young men 
 from the northern shires, raw, and without any stock of 
 reading or gifts. These were brought west in a year or 
 two, after they had gone through their philosophy in the 
 college, and having nothing to subsist upon, were greedily 
 gaping after benefices. To such the common people 
 were ready to ascribe all the characters of JeroboanTs 
 priests ; and it must be owned great numbers of them 
 were as void of morality and gravity as they were of 
 learning and experience, and scarce had the very ap- 
 pearance of religion and devotion. They came into 
 parishes much with the same views a herd hath when 
 he contracts to feed cattle ; and such plenty of them 
 came from the north at this time, that it is said a 
 gentleman of that country cursed the Presbyterian 
 ministers heartily; 4 for/ said he, 4 since they have been 
 turned out, we cannot have a lad to keep our cows !’ 
 
 44 Before the reintroduction of prelacy last year, every 
 parish in Scotland had a minister, every village a school, 
 every family, and in most places each person, had a 
 Bible. The children were all taught to read, and fur- 
 nished with the holy Scriptures, either at their parents’ 
 or the parish charge. Every minister professed and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 235 
 
 obliged himself to adhere to the Protestant reformed re- 
 ligion, and owned the Westminster Confession, framed 
 by the divines of both nations, and were regulated by 
 our excellent acts of Assemblies. Most part of minis- 
 ters did preach thrice a week, and lecture once ; to say 
 nothing of catechising, and other pastoral duties, wherein 
 they abounded according to the proportion of their 
 ability and faithfulness. None of them were scandal- 
 ous, insufficient, or negligent, as far as could be noticed, 
 while presbyteries continued in their power. A minister 
 could not be easy himself without some seals of his 
 ministry, and evidences of the divine approbation in the 
 souls of his people ; of which there were in that period 
 not a few. One might have lived a good while in many 
 congregations, and rode through much of Scotland, 
 without hearing an oath. You could scarce have 
 lodged in a house where God was not worshipped, by 
 singing, reading the W ord, and prayer ; and the public- 
 houses were ready to complain their trade was broken, 
 every body now was become so sober. 
 
 66 As soon as the prelates and their curates were 
 thrust in, one would have met with the plain reverse of 
 all this ; which was the heavier, that it resembled king 
 Saul’s change, — a bad spirit after a good. When the 
 curates entered their pulpits, it was by an order from 
 the bishop, without any call from, yea, contrary to, the 
 inclinations of the people. Their personal character 
 was black, and no wonder their entertainment was 
 coarse and cold. In some places they were welcomed 
 with tears in abundance, and entreaties to be gone ; in 
 others, with reasonings and arguments which confounded 
 them ; and some entertained them with threats, affronts, 
 and indignities, too many here to be repeated. The 
 bell's tongue in some places was stolen away, that the 
 parishioners might have an excuse for not coming to 
 church. The doors of the church in other places were 
 barricaded, and they made to enter by the window 
 literally. The laxer of the gentry easily engaged them 
 to join in their drinking cabals; which, with all iniquity, 
 
236 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 did now fearfully abound, and sadly exposed them ; and 
 in some places the people, fretted with the dismal 
 change, gathered together and violently opposed their 
 settlement, and received them with showers of stones. 
 This was not, indeed, the practice of the religious and 
 more judicious ; such irregularities were committed by 
 the more ignorant vulgar ; yet they were so many evi- 
 dences of the regard they were like to have from the 
 body of their parishioners. Such who were really 
 serious mourned in secret, as doves in the valleys, and 
 from principle could never countenance them ; and 
 others dealt with them as hath been said. 
 
 “ The longer they continued and the better they were 
 known, the more were they loathed for their dreadful 
 immoralities. If that party were to be dealt with in 
 their own coin, a black list might be given of scandals — - 
 unheard of except among popes and Romish priests— 
 about this time breaking out among them ; but I do 
 not love to rake into this unpleasant subject. Some of 
 them, alas ! too many, were heard swearing very rudely 
 in the open streets. And this was but of a piece with 
 the doctrine taught in their pulpits, — that to swear by 
 faith, conscience, and the like, were innocent ways of 
 speaking. And they used to adduce Bishop Andrews 
 as of these sentiments. Instances were sadly common 
 of their staggering in the streets, and wallowing in the 
 gutters, even in their canonical habits : and this needs 
 be no surprise, when many were witnesses to Bishop 
 Wish art’s preaching publicly, that he was not to be 
 reckoned a drunkard who was now and then overtaken 
 with wine or strong liquor, but he only who made a 
 trade of following after strong drink.” 
 
 All this contrasted fearfully with the excellent char- 
 acter, the superior intelligence, and the exemplary 
 diligence, of the presbyterian ministers, to whom the 
 people were so fondly attached. No wonder that the 
 people sought at the conventicles that gospel which they 
 could not find in the parish churches, and preached by 
 those who were, in the full sense of the expression, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 237 
 
 “men of God,” — men whom God countenanced, and 
 whose ministrations were so remarkably blessed. The 
 parish churches in many places were literally deserted, 
 and the curates had to preach to a mere handful. It is 
 recorded of one of the curates in one of the upland 
 parishes, that on entering the pulpit he found the church 
 deserted ; which greatly exasperated him, and in his 
 chagrin he broke out in the following words : — u Black 
 be my fa’, but they're a’ aff to the hill folk thegether. 
 Sorrow gin I dinna tell, an' theyTl be a’ shot or hangit 
 be Yule.” 
 
 From what has been stated, it will easily appear that 
 the religious principles which formed characters so pre- 
 eminently excellent must have been of the right stamp. 
 A man's character is shaped by his principles, — he takes 
 the hue of what he believes and approves of. We 
 know what these men professed. The tenets by which 
 they were guided were drawn from the word of God. 
 Their minds were imbued with heavenly things, and it 
 was the Christianity of the New Testament to which 
 they clung ; and their faith in the gospel of Christ was 
 that which filled their hearts with joy. These things 
 were their peculiar inheritance, which they cherished and 
 fostered in the deep secrecy of their hearts. It was the 
 religion of the Reformation for which they contended, 
 and for the establishment of which their forefathers 
 struggled even unto the death, conquering the most 
 formidable opposition, till popery was chased away like 
 the foul bird of night by the bright dawn of a splendid 
 morning. 
 
 Their principles, politically and constitutionally sound, 
 were yet opposed to the practices of the ruling powers, who 
 attempted to set their prerogative above the laws. The 
 object of Charles was to construct an absolute despot- 
 ism, to claim supremacy in all things civil and religi- 
 ous, however bitterly and conscientiously the subjects 
 might reclaim. The design of the king was to introduce 
 Popery in order more fully to effectuate his projects* 
 Prelacy was to be made the stepping-stone to Popery, 
 
238 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and to prepare the way for the full and triumphant in- 
 troduction of Antichrist. Popery is one vast conspi- 
 racy against the rights and liberties of human nature, — 
 it is a confederacy against the world’s interests. This 
 Popery our forefathers had renounced, and in their 
 covenants they had sworn to oppose it till their life’s 
 end. They suffered for this their honest adherence to 
 the principles avowed by the whole nation, and from 
 which their persecutors had resiled. It is to their 
 efforts that we owe the Revolution in 1688, and all the 
 privileges that we at this day enjoy; and little reck 
 they who asperse the character and the principles of 
 these worthy men, what they do. They were a confe- 
 deracy of patriots as well as an assembly of Christian 
 men. The blood of Bruce and of Wallace flowed in 
 their veins ; their love of freedom was strong and un- 
 quenchable : and this, combined with the spirit of the 
 ancient confessors for the truth, made them valiant for 
 God and their country alike. 
 
 “If it be asked,” says Dr M c Crie, u What were the 
 grounds of all this suffering ? we would reply, in ge- 
 neral, that the main cause in which our martyrs 
 suffered and died, was that of the covenanted Reforma- 
 tion. In other words, they died for approving of the 
 various steps of reformation which the church and 
 nation of Scotland had been led to take during both 
 the first and second reforming periods, and particularly 
 between the years 1638 and 1650. They died for their 
 adherence not only to the Protestant religion, but to 
 Presbyterianism in opposition to Prelacy and Independ- 
 ency. They died for their adherence to the Confession 
 of Faith, and the other Westminster standards, as the 
 standards of that uniformity agreed upon and sworn 
 to by Scotland, England, and Ireland. They died for 
 maintaining the continued obligation of the national 
 covenant and the solemn league, and for condemning 
 the sad defections from these attainments, and the glar- 
 ing violations of these engagements, with which all 
 ranks and classes were chargeable. These were the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 239 
 
 main and real grounds on which they endured so much, 
 in the forms of torture, banishment, imprisonment, and 
 death. It is plain, that had they not held these prin- 
 ciples, or had they been less faithful in maintaining 
 them, they would never have writhed under the rack, 
 nor dyed the scaffolds and the fields with their blood. 
 Of all the martyrs during the period of the persecution, 
 from the first to the last — from the coroneted head of 
 Argyle, down to the courageous and devoted Ren wick — 
 from the lyart veteran, down to the mere child, who was 
 hardly capable of understanding the points of quarrel, 
 though he could deeply feel the injustice of his perse- 
 cutors — not one suffered without owning this cause. 
 Here there was no wavering, no faltering, no symp- 
 tom of disunion or disagreement among the band of 
 sufferers. With one mind and one mouth they bore 
 their testimony to the same work, and gloried in sealing 
 it wdth their blood.” 
 
 Again he says : “ It should never be forgotten that 
 the overthrow of the Reformation at the period of the 
 restoration of Charles, with the scenes of bloody perse- 
 cution which followed, are to be traced to the act of 
 supremacy, by which the king was declared supreme in 
 all matters and causes, ecclesiastical as well as civil. 
 Against this Erastian usurpation the Presbyterians pro- 
 tested from the beginning ; and as the whole series 
 of persecuting measures afterwards adopted by the 
 government, proceeded on the impious assumption of 
 the powers of Christ, it is easy to see how the whole 
 conten dings of the faithful party in the land were re- 
 duced to the point of asserting his sole headship over 
 his church. This became with them ‘the word of 
 Christ's patience and nobly did they keep it in the 
 hour of temptation. They justly deemed it worthy of 
 all the sufferings they could endure ; and they shrank 
 from uttering the slightest word which might compro- 
 mise the truth, or indicate the least relaxation of their 
 testimony in its behalf.” 
 
 With regard to their station in society, the convent- 
 
240 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 icle hearers occasionally embraced some of all ranks in 
 the land. Lairds, and gentlemen, and their ladies, 
 were sometimes, in different parts of the country, to be 
 found at the interdicted meetings. As the laws, how- 
 ever, became more stringent, the hearers of this class 
 became more rare, till scarcely any dared to venture to 
 hear the gospel in the fields. Still there were not a 
 few in the middle and upper classes who strongly sym- 
 pathised with the conventiclers, and who secretly served 
 them, though they durst not avow their preference. It 
 is well known that ladies, and persons of the better 
 sort, used to creep out under shade of night, and sit at 
 the conventicle, enveloped in darkness, and listen to the 
 voice of the preacher, when none could recognise them ; 
 and others of the same class have been known to steal 
 out in the drifting snow, and sit muffled in their mantles 
 during the protracted services of a conventicle meeting. 
 
 The great body of the conventicle hearers, however, 
 consisted of the lower orders, — the orders among whom 
 is chiefly to be found a spirit of independence. It may be 
 said, they had less to risk in following the conventicles ; 
 but still they risked their all : that all may not have 
 been much, but still it was their all ; and those who 
 possessed a thousand-fold, risked no more. The com- 
 mon people did what those in the ranks above them 
 wanted the manliness to do. It was not every one who 
 possessed the independence of being a stated conventicle 
 hearer ; it was not every one who had the daring, it was 
 not every one who had the Christian greatness, to be- 
 take himself to the wilderness in obedience to the call of 
 conscience and of the Saviour, and in the face of con- 
 stant hazards. It is said of the common people in the 
 days of our Lord, that they heard him gladly. And 
 it was just so when the church retired into the 
 Scottish solitudes, — it was “the common people” who 
 crowded the conventicles, and who were found flow- 
 ing like streams through the glens and moors, in 
 thronging companies, with eager step to join the as- 
 sembly congregated around the tent in the bosom of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 241 
 
 the heath. It was the moorland shepherds, the cotters 
 in the desert, and the crofters in the upland districts, 
 that mainly furnished the conventicle with an audience. 
 But then there were, besides the resident population, a 
 goodly host of devoted Nonconformists who had fled 
 from the low counties to the mountainous parts for 
 security, where they could conceal themselves in 
 mosses, and glens, and bosky ravines, from the fierce 
 pursuit of the foe. These swelled the religious meet- 
 ings in the moors ; for they arose, every company, out 
 of their hiding-place, and convened wherever the sound 
 of the gospel was to be heard, along with their brethren 
 who formed the camp in the glen, around which the 
 manna was falling, fresh and sweet from heaven, — the 
 manna which, unlike that in the wilderness of old, fell 
 chiefly on the Lord's- day, and on which day it was no 
 sin to gather it. 
 
 The peasantry of the south and west of Scotland were 
 the conventiclers, for they had the pre-eminence of their 
 brethren who dwelt in the other counties north and 
 east, the great proportion of whom cared for none of 
 these things, and fell, without much reluctance, under 
 the dominance of the Prelacy. The poor and the indus- 
 trious classes were the main feeders of the conventicles, 
 and flocked in crowds to the mountains, to maintain 
 with their ministers the standard of the gospel. It was 
 the people of the huts and of the hamlets, it was the 
 “ cottage patriarchs,” it was poor men without name 
 and without influence, except what arose from weight 
 of character, that formed the staple of what constituted 
 the church in the wilderness. And a more noble-minded 
 peasantry Scotland never saw, nor a peasantry more 
 attached to a nation's interest, or more devoted to the 
 cause of religion. Men, women, and children, were all 
 animated with the same spirit, — a spirit of intrepidity, 
 patriotism, and piety. It was this broad basis of the 
 social column that supported the cause of truth and 
 righteousness, that had been so injuriously assailed by 
 the arm of tyranny. It was, as we have said, the hinds. 
 
242 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the labourers, the craftsmen, all in lowly state, hut 
 men who dared to be free, — who had the Christianity to 
 despise the impious interference which the rulers sought 
 to interpose between God and their conscience. These 
 were the men whose true nobility put to the blush the 
 craven spirit of those who stood next above them in the 
 social scale, and who, because they had something of 
 this world’s pelf to lose, easily accommodated their 
 Christian profession to their worldly convenience. 
 
 The ill usage to which these worthy men were sub- 
 jected, on account of their nonconformity, and their per- 
 sistency in attending conventicle worship, w r as of no 
 common kind. Their name was abused ; they were 
 held up in the light of common felons ; every thing that 
 was bad was imputed to them ; they were regarded as 
 the disturbers of social order, and as men whose love of 
 mischief led them to combine against the laws, and to 
 refuse all subjection whatever to civil authority. And 
 though the best men in the land, and the stanchest 
 patriots, yet they w r ere driven into the exile of the soli- 
 tudes as common pests, and there hunted to death, as if 
 for sport, by the military, whom the authorities had 
 licensed to plunder, and maim, and kill at will. Hun- 
 dreds on hundreds were shot in cold blood by the 
 troopers, who were incessantly on the pursuit, and who 
 afforded them no rest by night nor day. They had to 
 resign their comparatively comfortable huts in the depth 
 of winter, for the cold, damp, and cheerless caves in 
 the steep sides of the ravine, or for the lonely shieling 
 on the hill, or for the covert in the heart of the thicket. 
 Many days and nights together were they exposed on 
 the mountain’s side, enduring without a murmur the 
 inclemency of the weather, to avoid the fury of the per- 
 secutor. They were in hunger, in cold, in nakedness, 
 in weariness, and sickness, and in constant alarms, not 
 knowing when the enemy might come upon them, even 
 in the moments of their most fancied security. They 
 were deprived of every thing earthly, — of home, and 
 family, and kindred, and property, and liberty, and of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 243 
 
 every thing that a man would like to call his own ; so 
 that their privations in desert places became almost in- 
 tolerable. They were intercommuned ; that is, none 
 were allowed to converse with them, or supply them 
 with food, clothing, necessaries of life, or to accommo- 
 date them for a moment in their houses, under the 
 severest penalties. 
 
 And yet their sufferings never wore out their patience. 
 They maintained the same unconquerable adherence to 
 the cause they had espoused. And surely if any thing 
 could have overborne human endurance, it was the 
 treatment to which they were subjected. Everywhere 
 throughout the wide field of the persecution was their 
 blood made to run like water. The mosses and the 
 moors of the west of Scotland were “ flowered with 
 martyrs.” The mountain rills were tinged with their 
 blood; the pure snow was stained with it ; and by it the 
 bloom of the heather hells was more deeply crimsoned 
 o’er. The “ booted apostles,” as the troopers were called, 
 rode everywhere on their raids of capture and slaughter. 
 It was their trade for many a dismal year, and they were 
 almost as well acquainted with the retreats of the wil- 
 derness as were the persecuted themselves ; and this 
 the more especially, as they were led on by spies, who 
 made it their business to acquaint themselves with every 
 place in every locality. In this way the wanderers had 
 no rest, night nor day, and every hour their life hung 
 in doubt before their eyes. And had this state of things 
 lasted for a few months, or even for a year or two, it 
 might have been borne with, but when it continued a 
 whole generation long, the case was different. Its ten- 
 dency was to u wear out the saints of the Most High,” 
 and thoroughly to crush their fortitude. And when 
 the fury of the storm had risen to its utmost height, and 
 threatened universal desolation, the trees of God, — those 
 stately cedars which he had planted by his own right 
 hand, — instead of being found prostrate on the ground, 
 under the fearful crashing of the tempest, were standing 
 fair and erect ; and instead of being weakened in their 
 
244 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 hold, had seized on the soil with a more tenacious grasp. 
 The raving w r inds had rocked them in their arms, the 
 scathing lightning had passed among their branches, and 
 run along their trunks, and buried its angry bolts deep 
 at their roots, but still they stood, in defiance of all the 
 wrath of the elements. They lost their lives, it is true, 
 — but they lost not their principles ; and though the 
 ordeal through which they passed was terrible, yet they 
 were nothing daunted, — nothing could induce them to 
 yield. Neither the gibbet, nor the rack, nor the boot- 
 kins, nor the shooting on the hills, nor imprisonment, 
 nor banishment, nor the spoiling of their goods, nor 
 privation, nor any imaginable torture, could induce 
 them to act a recreant part. Even women and chil- 
 dren flinched not from their purpose, though torture 
 and death were placed immediately before them. Little 
 boys have been half roasted over the fire, or had their 
 eyes bandaged, and were placed upon their knees on the 
 turf before their mothers’ door, while the dragoons stood 
 before them with their loaded muskets, and actually fired 
 a volley over their heads, that in the extreme of terror 
 they might extort a confession, — but all in vain. The 
 youth of seventeen could outbrave his murderers with 
 undaunted countenance, while he made bare his breast 
 to receive the fell shot. In illustration of this, we may 
 here adduce the case of Andrew Hislop. When the 
 troopers were standing in a line, and ready to fire, they 
 requested Hislop to draw down his bonnet over his 
 eyes. But the undismayed youth, to whom strength was 
 communicated in that hour of trial, replied that he had 
 done nothing of which he needed to be ashamed, and 
 that therefore he could look his murderers undauntedly 
 in the face ; and then holding up his Bible in his hand, 
 he warned them that they should answer for the deed 
 they were about to commit, on that great day when 
 men should be judged by what was contained in that 
 book. But the warning was not heeded, and the deadly 
 shot issuing from the three muskets of the troopers, 
 entered his body, and he fell on the turf dead at their feet. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 245 
 
 Can the annals of Grecian or Roman bravery fur- 
 nish an instance of heroism surpassing this of the simple 
 Scottish boy in his native moorlands, with his plaid 
 about his shoulders, and his Bible in his hand, meeting 
 death without a shrink, and outbraving all the terrors 
 of his persecutors, and stepping into eternity like a con- 
 queror leaving the field in triumph, having routed all 
 the power of the enemy? No; the heroism of the 
 world can furnish nothing like this. The daring of 
 Claverhouse was cowardice compared with the valour 
 of this plain peasant lad, in passively enduring the 
 outrage committed on his life. His fortitude rose to the 
 high heaven itself ; he stood towering in the greatness 
 of his faith, and yet softened and gentle as a little 
 child. The dignity of his bearing and the majesty of his 
 aspect — for his countenance was heaven- lit, like the face 
 of the proto-martyr Stephen — was such that his enemies 
 were awe-struck in his presence, and recoiled as from a 
 sight too godlike for them to gaze on. But the circum- 
 stantial account of the martyrdom of this youth, we 
 have already given in a former publication, “ The Ban- 
 ner of the Covenant,” from which we have quoted 
 these few sentences. 
 
 Even females of a young and delicate age could out- 
 face death in its sternest form without a shudder. The 
 execution of Isobel Alison and Marion Harvey, two 
 pious young females, and the drowning of the youthful 
 Margaret Wilson in the sea near Wigton in Galloway, 
 are a proof of this. Margaret Wilson, along with Mar- 
 garet M 4 Lauchlin, an aged woman, was drowned on the 
 same day on which Andrew Hislop was shot in Esk- 
 dale moor, and on which three men were murdered at 
 Polmadie; — “a very black and remarkable day,” says 
 Wodrow, “ for blood in several places.” The persecu- 
 tion, though continuous, did nevertheless now and then 
 put forth a series of more desperate efforts, like the fitful 
 gusts that burst occasionally from the bosom of the 
 roaring tempest. It is astonishing to think how many 
 young persons suffered in those times, so that the con- 
 
246 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 tendings of the worthies were not confined to persons of 
 mature life or old age. The same feeling pervaded the 
 general community of the nonconformist brotherhood. 
 There was no seeking to evade the difficulties that lay 
 before them by any sort of dubious compromise. If 
 they sought to avoid suffering, it was by flight, — when 
 they were persecuted in one place, they fled to another; 
 but they preferred suffering a thousand times rather 
 than feel the upbraidings of an ill conscience in resil- 
 ing, or stepping aside in the smallest degree from the 
 truth. Their lives were precious to them, and they 
 perhaps loved their safety as much as other men ; and 
 friends were as dear to them as friends could be to others, 
 — wife, and children, and home, were as much cherished 
 by them as they could be by any other class of men on 
 the earth. It was not because they were regardless of 
 their social relationships, or because they were ambitious 
 of martyrdom, — to acquire a name among the witnesses 
 of this, and of other lands, that they loved not their 
 lives unto the death ; no, it was at the call of the Sav- 
 iour, whom they followed into the wilderness, and for 
 whom, and to abide by whom, they had suffered the loss 
 of all things. The shootings that took place in the 
 moorlands, and exactly before their eyes, nothing 
 daunted them. The cruel slaughter of John Brown of 
 Priesthill did not deter his family, nor the families in 
 the district, from an adherence to the cause in which 
 our cottage patriarchs lost their lives ; no, they were 
 just the more strengthened for endurance in the day of 
 trial. And the same was the result of all the like oc- 
 currences throughout the land ; the spirit of a true 
 moral heroism became just so much the more prevalent 
 and indomitable. Cowardice was a thing unknown ; it 
 was never expected that through mere timidity a fol- 
 lower of the covenant would become recreant to the 
 cause, and, to save himself, expose his principles. 
 
 We have already noticed their appreciation of the 
 gospel,— the high relish they cherished for the ordinances 
 of religion. And we have seen, in the first part of this 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 247 
 
 work, how faithfully and pungently the conventicle 
 preachers delivered their message to the great throngs 
 that convened in the solitudes. The copious influences 
 that descended from on high were so sweet and so 
 refreshing, that the spiritually-minded were drawn 
 out to these meetings by a strong impulsive craving, 
 — as a person ready to faint with thirst runs to the 
 cooling fountain or the refreshing rill. Hence no sacri- 
 fice was reckoned too great, and no toil and risk too 
 much, to gratify the hallowed longing after the 
 heavenly communion which was experienced in the 
 congregation of the saints. The Holy Spirit, the Com- 
 forter, was with them, and spoke more joy to their hearts 
 than all that their adversaries could speak of terror to 
 their ears. In the conventicle they were at home ; it 
 was to them the house of God, it was the gate of 
 heaven, the court of fellowship, the secret chamber of 
 sanctity. The happiness which these men, of whom 
 the world was not worthy, enjoyed, is almost inde- 
 scribable. Their enemies thought, that by banishing 
 them to the solitudes, as the outcasts of society, and as 
 the offscourings of all things, they would become as lonely 
 as the dreary wastes themselves, and as destitute of all 
 things ; but they greatly miscalculated the matter, for the 
 farther they were driven from men, the nearer were they 
 drawn to God. In the conventicle meetings, so copious 
 was the spiritual influence that descended on the wor- 
 shippers, that some of them avowed that their happi- 
 ness was so great, and their mind so elevated to heavenly 
 things, that they longed exceedingly to depart and to 
 be with Christ, and that they would have been heartily 
 content with a bloody winding-sheet on the brown bent, 
 and would there and then have welcomed the shot of 
 the dragoons gliding through their body, and allowing 
 the soul to escape to the celestial blessedness. It might 
 be in the dashing rains, or in the drifting snow, shroud- 
 ing the wilderness in the winding-sheet of winter ; or it 
 might be in the bright sunshine, in the high days of 
 summer, when the hills were fragrant with the bloora- 
 
 R 
 
248 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ing heath, and peopled with millions of busy bees, the 
 booming of whose tiny wings filled the desert with the 
 music of ten thousand times ten thousand iEolian harps 
 of all tunes and cadences ; it might be at any time or 
 season, but whenever it was, they were happy. They 
 might be hungry, shivering in the cold, overpowered 
 with weariness, and in constant apprehension of an 
 onslaught from the military; but with all this they were 
 at peace, and enjoyed their heavenly repast at that table 
 spread for them in the waste. And often were they 
 forced to eat their meal in haste, with their loins girded, 
 and their staves in their hands, like the Israelites when 
 about to flee from Egypt; for verily they knew not the 
 moment when the heavenly provender was to be with- 
 drawn, and all the guests driven from the table, and 
 scattered like the leaves of the wood before the whirl- 
 ing blast. These forecastings made them devour their 
 repasts with greater avidity, and with a keener relish. 
 Some of those who survived the persecution declared, 
 that, on account of the great happiness which they ex- 
 perienced during the times of peril, they would be will- 
 ing to undergo again the self-same trials to enjoy the 
 self-same happiness. The great Lord, in whose cause 
 they suffered, furnished them with consolations from on 
 high as the days of their tribulation required. It is 
 easy to suffer when the heart is sustained by grace, and 
 the mind kept in perfect peace ; when the conscience is 
 serene, and when the glorious Sun of righteousness 
 shines bright and warm without a cloud. 
 
 They went after the great Master of assemblies “ in 
 the wilderness, in a land that was not sown/' It was 
 in the literal sense a “ land that was not sown ” for the 
 Scottish wilds are productive mainly of brown bent and 
 shaggy heath, that never were turned up by the plough 
 or the mattock, and into the bosom of which the seed 
 corn was never cast by human hand, except here and 
 there, in the little patch of garden ground around the 
 shepherd’s lonely hut, and whose product, for the most 
 part, was equally the property of the timid hare and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 249 
 
 of the members of the household. But though the 
 wilderness was a place of sterility as far as cereal pro- 
 duce is concerned, it was not so in a spiritual sense. 
 It was a fertile land, in which was sown the seed which 
 thousands garnered in their hearts, and which produced 
 in some sixty, and in some an hundred fold : for u the 
 desert rejoiced and blossomed as the rose, it blossomed 
 abundantly, and rejoiced even with joy and singing ; 
 the glory of Lebanon was given to it, the excellency 
 of Carmel and Sharon/' Much precious fruit was 
 gathered in, over the face of these wilds ; and the seed 
 which was then cast abroad is even now springing up. 
 
 They were loyal men and patriots ; and all that they 
 asked from the ruling party was the full and unre- 
 strained liberty to worship the God of their fathers 
 according to the dictates of their own conscience. But 
 they came armed to conventicles ! True ; but that arose 
 from the necessity of the case. They were liable at all 
 times to be attacked by the troopers who paraded the 
 desert with their instruments of murder, and w T ho 
 slaughtered and shot the harmless worshippers just as 
 it pleased them ; for they had a military licence to deal 
 in this way without responsibility. Was it unlawful, 
 then, to repel the aggressors ? was it unnatural to 
 defend themselves ? was it human to sit still, and, with 
 all duteous resignation, to see aged men, and helpless 
 females, and little children, assaulted by a ruthless 
 soldiery, to the shedding of their blood or to the cap- 
 ture of their persons, without a single effort to ward off 
 the mischief ? We- say, w T as it human ? was it Chris- 
 tian ? It was neither the one nor the other. “ If thou 
 forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and 
 those that are ready to be slain ; if thou sayest, Behold, 
 we knew it not ; doth not he that pondereth the heart 
 consider it ? and he that keepeth thy soul, doth not he 
 know it ? and shall not he render to every man accord- 
 ing to his works ?” It was rather in obedience to the 
 fundamental law of self-preservation, and to the strong 
 inward promptings to flee to the rescue of the injured. 
 
250 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 They carried arms to the conventicle, hut who furnished 
 the occasion ? It was the rulers, who had violated the 
 social compact, and had committed treason against the 
 majesty of the law ; and therefore, in all due loyalty to 
 the constitution, their aggressions on the rights of the 
 subjects were to be withstood. The meekness of Chris- 
 tianity, surely, does not forbid a man to defend himself, 
 or to ward off mischief from his neighbour. The in- 
 eradicable instincts of our nature are up in arms at once 
 whenever the assailant lifts the hand to smite, and those 
 who choose may sit still and calmly take the measure 
 that is dealt out to them ; but our forefathers at the 
 conventicles had no idea of resigning a whole congre- 
 gation to become a bloody sacrifice to a company of 
 butchering dragoons, who, under colour of the law, 
 w ere sent out to murder. The moss hags of Drumclog 
 would have been the smeary graves of the brave men 
 w ho so nobly defeated Claverhouse and his band, had 
 they come to the conventicle without weapons of defence. 
 And few would have left the wilds of Airsmoss if 
 Earlshall and his men had not met with a suitable 
 resistance. It was the mere necessity of self-defence 
 that armed the conventiclers at the time when arms were 
 more especially in request ; and had it not been the inso- 
 lent invasion of armed soldiers, the Covenanters would 
 never have thought of lifting a weapon in their life. 
 And when they were forced to carry arms, they never 
 were know T n to be the aggressors, — they merely defended 
 themselves; and if none had been in the habit of 
 assailing them, not a single sw’ord, not a spear, would 
 have been found among all the thousands of their 
 Israel. 
 
 They were still loyal men and patriots, notwithstanding 
 all that some have said of their w arlike attitudes. But 
 let none assail them in their principles and character, 
 or defensive position ; for they were the only true men 
 in the land, the only leal-hearted citizens, in whose veins 
 flowed the blood of an ancestry renowned for their love 
 of country, and national independence, all the world 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 251 
 
 over. And let us remember this, that they were the 
 men, and theirs were the principles, that eventually 
 achieved what is now termed “ the happy Revolution/' 
 But for them and their struggles we might at this day 
 have been the serfs of an intolerant despotism, and the 
 drivelling devotees of an execrable superstition. All 
 that we possess of liberty, civil and religious, we owe to 
 them. Their covenants were the great charters of free- 
 dom for the time being. It is true, that they were far 
 from seeing things so clearly as we now- a- days perceive 
 them ; there were not a few things wrong, and even in- 
 tolerant among themselves, which all the suffering they 
 endured in their persecution did not purge out ; but still 
 they were the men, the heroes, the Christians, the truly 
 independent, whose memorial is to be had in honour, 
 and will doubtless continue embalmed in the hearts of 
 a grateful posterity to the latest generations. Their 
 faults and their failings were more attributable to the 
 times than to themselves. 
 
 Their love of liberty was inextinguishable, and they 
 counted no sacrifice too dear to maintain it ; even their 
 own lives were not counted dear unto them. The lofty 
 hills of their native districts, and the pathless moorlands, 
 which erst were trodden by the feet of ancient Celtic 
 races, who roamed free and unfettered over the wide 
 localities, and bade defiance to Piet and Roman alike, 
 were the spacious theatre on which they maintained 
 their noble freedom and manly independence. The 
 condition of the districts was favourable to this ; and 
 they could easily conceal themselves in the primeval 
 thickets and dark gorges of the hills, or they could 
 defend themselves from the frowning steeps, or in the 
 midst of the impassable morass. Every thing wa3 
 favourable to freedom in the mountainous localities. 
 This spirit, which their adversaries sought to extinguish, 
 burned with greater ardour just in proportion to the 
 efforts made to subdue it ; so that at the termination of 
 the persecution it was found that their principles were 
 more widely spread than at any former period, and the 
 
252 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 number ready to avow the same was surprisingly great, 
 and even appallingly so to their persecutors. 
 
 There is one edifying thing to which we shall merely 
 advert before we finish these remarks ; and that is, the 
 manner in which they conducted themselves in their 
 private intercourse. When they met incidentally in 
 small companies or in larger, their behaviour was always 
 as becometh saints. If they met in caves or in thickets, 
 on the brow of the mountain or in the cotter’s hut, they 
 never parted without praying together, and raising to 
 heaven the hallowed song of praise. They seemed to 
 live in prayer and in reading the holy Scriptures. Many 
 a day was spent in this exercise ; and sweet and instruc- 
 tive were the hours that passed away in this sacred 
 fellowship. They conversed on Zion’s troubles, and the 
 distresses to which they were subjected. All this was 
 natural to men in their circumstances ; and they would 
 have been more than men, or less than men, if they did 
 not sometimes give vent to their imbittered feelings; 
 and this they did honestly and without hypocrisy : for 
 saints as they were, they were still men, men on earth, 
 and felt as such. And were they wrong ? But though 
 they spoke thus because they felt thus, (and who can 
 blame them ?) still the main topics of their social con- 
 verse were spiritual things. It was the gospel of their 
 salvation on which they delighted to converse ; it was 
 the love of God to their souls, and the surpassing grace 
 that sent the Son to be the propitiation for their sins, 
 that occupied the main portion of their conversation in 
 the cave, or before the shepherd’s hearth in the lonely 
 winter evenings; — not lonely, to be sure, to them when 
 thus engaged, for the time flew quickly by, and the 
 morrow sometimes dawned in at the little dingy window 
 of the hut before they thought of parting, and parting 
 with an earnest longing thus to meet again. In the 
 pleasantness of such an intercourse all their personal 
 distresses were forgotten, and they felt, — as the good 
 Priesthill expressed it, when he had retired from such 
 an intercourse with a few friends in the ravine where 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 253 
 
 most of the night had been spent, — they felt “ as if they 
 were on the wing to another world." Their affections 
 were elevated from earth to heaven, and they learned 
 from the fellowship of the saints below what must be 
 the blessedness of the fellowship above. Every such 
 meeting rendered them more and more unearthly ; more 
 ready for a sudden martyrdom in the moors, or a more 
 public execution on the scaffold. It is not easy for us 
 to conceive the fervent affection they cherished among 
 themselves. They saw in each other the image of the 
 Saviour ; they were sufferers in the same cause, and were 
 sustained by the same grace, and animated by the same 
 hopes. 
 
 But with all this, were they perfect men ? Who 
 claims perfection for them ? They are perfect now, 
 but they were not then. They never laid claim to 
 perfection, nor do we put in the claim for them. They 
 were men, and even though saintly, still they were 
 men ; and therefore faulty and sinful like others, though 
 by no means in the same degree. They were men to 
 be admired for their sanctity, but by no means to be 
 worshipped for their immaculacy. They had their in- 
 firmities like others ; which partly they saw and partly 
 they saw not. We, at this distance, can judge of them 
 better, perhaps, than they could judge of themselves ; 
 and we can detect things in their opinions of which we 
 cannot altogether approve, and we can discern things in 
 their management which we would not at all wish to 
 imitate. But does this detract from the real worth of 
 the men? Future generations may come to see in us 
 many things disapprovable which we hold in high esti- 
 mation. We are to be followers of others only in so far 
 as they are followers of Christ himself, and no farther. 
 We must beware of idolizing a pious ancestry, however 
 much they may have served the cause of religion in 
 their day, or however much they may have suffered 
 in that same cause. Their maxims were not infallible, 
 and their example is not in every respect to be fol- 
 lowed. We are to “call no man on earth master. 
 
254 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 We must judge and act for ourselves, and not as others 
 judged and acted before us ; we must proceed on due 
 inquiry, and as individually responsible in the sight of 
 God. 
 
 It is a thing worthy of remark, and deeply to he pon- 
 dered, that all our Scottish martyrs died in great peace, 
 and not a few with joy unspeakable and full of glory. All 
 seemed to depart in the full assurance of their salva- 
 tion, and in the entire confidence of the rectitude of 
 their cause. And they, whether they suffered on the 
 scaffold or were suddenly shot in the fields, or whether 
 they died calmly on their beds in consequence of 
 diseases caught in their weary wanderings in the in- 
 hospitable deserts, all died in the same peace and faith 
 in Jesus Christ. 
 
 Such were the conventicle hearers, — such were the 
 men who were formed on the model of the preachers 
 who instructed them at the conventicles, and whose 
 example they imitated with the deepest veneration. 
 We have said these few things as introductory to a num- 
 ber of traditionary notices which we are now about to 
 present to the reader. Some of the following traditions 
 have already appeared in the form of fugitive papers 
 in monthly periodicals, which we have here collected 
 and embodied in a more tangible shape. The others 
 appear for the first time, and have been gathered fresh 
 from the various localities in which the incidents oc- 
 curred. With regard to some of those formerly pub- 
 lished in the periodicals referred to, additional informa- 
 tion has been obtained, and wrought into the story, and 
 incidental remarks and historical allusions have been 
 made. The Second Part of this volume is constructed 
 entirely on the plan of “ The Traditions of the Cove- 
 nanters,” now called the “ Traditions of the Persecuted,” 
 and it will be found, it is hoped, equally interesting, if 
 not more so. 
 
 We now proceed to give, in the order in which we 
 have arranged them, the various traditions which we 
 have collected respecting some of those who endured so 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GODWIN. 
 
 255 
 
 much in the persecuting times. And the first we shall 
 present to the reader is a Covenanter of the name of 
 William Godwin. 
 
 William Godwin was the son of a worthy man, a 
 shepherd in the parish of Moffat. When he was about 
 sixteen years of age he accompanied his father to 
 Edinburgh on a droving excursion. Every thing about 
 the city was new to William, who felt himself in the 
 midst of a world of wonders, and he wandered from 
 place to place, attracted by one thing after another, till 
 he strayed so far from his father’s side that he stood on 
 the shore of Leith. The ships in the harbour were 
 a matter of great curiosity, and he could not sufficiently 
 satisfy himself in gazing on the scene before him. At 
 length he was observed by two persons, who perceiv- 
 ing that he was a country lad, and therefore the more 
 easily to be decoyed, persuaded him to enter on hoard 
 of a ship, that he might see some things worth the 
 narrating to his friends at home. William was beyond 
 measure delighted when he felt himself for the first 
 time on the surface of the yielding ocean, but he had 
 now got on an element from which he was not des- 
 tined soon to return. He was, in short, carried out to 
 sea, and away from his father and his home for the space 
 of no less than twenty years. How his parents sus- 
 tained his loss is not said, but it is easy to conceive the 
 distress into which a pious and affectionate family must 
 have been plunged at such an untoward incident, for 
 no one knew what had befallen William, and the sus- 
 picion that he was now afloat on the wide ocean never 
 perhaps entered their minds. Many, no doubt, were the 
 earnest prayers which were presented on the behalf ot 
 their lost child by his affectionate and anxious parents. 
 
 William’s youthful mind had been deeply imbued 
 with the precious truths of the gospel, and though he 
 found his new situation far from being as favourable to 
 religious feeling as the quietude of his native glens, and 
 the solitude of the mountain s side, where he lay by his 
 
2 56 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 fleecy charge, reading the holy Scriptures, and commit- 
 ting many of their precious portions to memory, yet he 
 did not neglect his religious duties, nor lay aside his 
 serious habits, so far as he could manage to conduct 
 himself in the unpropitious situation in which he was 
 placed. He grew to manhood, and possessed a power- 
 ful and robust frame, and he discharged with assiduity 
 and approbation the duties which were devolved on 
 him. Various were the incidents which befell him dur- 
 ing the years of his sailor-life, one of which is parti- 
 cularly mentioned. It was on the occasion of the board- 
 ing of a vessel during the conflict with the enemy, that 
 a large pike, in the hands of an athletic man, was 
 thrust violently at him, with a view to pierce him through 
 the heart; but the Bible which he carried in his side 
 pocket received the point of the weapon, and prevented 
 it from running into his body. The incident struck 
 him forcibly at the time, and was never forgotten by 
 him so long as he lived. He thought he saw in this 
 the special hand of Providence, and the probable answer 
 to the prayers of his parents. In many dangers he was 
 protected and shielded in traversing the tempestuous 
 ocean during so long a period ; and he had occasion to 
 offer many a grateful acknowledgment to the Preserver 
 of his life : for they who go down to the sea in ships, 
 and see the wonders of God in the great deep, are ex- 
 posed to many dangers from which those who dwell 
 quietly on the land are exempted. 
 
 How he got free from the sea-faring line is not said, 
 hut he returned at the age of thirty-five to his native 
 mountains, and earnestly sought his father’s home ; but 
 whether his parents were alive tradition does not inform 
 us. It was in the heat of the persecution when he 
 visited the glens of his nativity, and found everywhere 
 the pious peasantry chased by the troopers on the heath, 
 and no rest afforded them even in the dreariest solitudes. 
 He had been educated by his worthy father not only in 
 the simple doctrines of Christianity, but also in the 
 general principles for which the Covenanters suffered ; 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GODWIN. 257 
 
 and therefore he cast in his lot with them. He again 
 followed the life of a shepherd ; for no occupation was 
 so dear to him, and no other could in a similar manner 
 recall the associations of his earlier days. He was a man 
 not only of a powerful frame, but also of a powerful 
 mind, and of great courage ; and the threatenings of the 
 foe did not terrify him, and more especially as he was 
 called to face danger in a good cause. The considera- 
 tions which pressed heavily on more timid minds had 
 no influence on him, and he was prepared, both by 
 natural fortitude and the strengthening of divine grace, 
 to meet any emergency. 
 
 It was soon known in the district that William God- 
 win, who had been so long absent from his home, was 
 a Covenanter; and therefore the persecutors lost no time 
 in searching him out. In order to secure himself he 
 saw it necessary to seek a retreat in some secluded lo- 
 cality ; and he found at the extremity of a solitary glen 
 a hiding-place which exactly suited him ; and the more 
 because it was difficult of approach, and dangerous 
 to any who might venture to assail him with a hostile 
 intent. This place was his frequent resort when the 
 searchings of the enemy were apprehended ; but even 
 this seclusion, in those days of espionage and treachery, 
 did not insure absolute safety : and what place could 
 insure such safety, when, like the intrusion of evil 
 spirits, whom no place can exclude, and from whom no 
 secrecy can screen, the military, conducted by insidious 
 informers, were found prying into every place, and 
 searching every corner of wood, and glen, and wilder- 
 ness, as well as every house and shieling, however 
 lonely or remote ? One misty morning as he was issuing 
 from his retreat in the glen, and suspecting no harm, he 
 was surrounded by a band of soldiers, who, as if they 
 had dropped by magic from the hazy covering, con- 
 fronted him unexpectedly and in a moment. Whether 
 they did not know him at first, or whether some inci- 
 dent occurred to divert their attention, William escaped 
 from their presence and concealed himself in the o’bscu- 
 
258 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 rifcy of the thick mist. The commander of the party, 
 however, observed the movement, and, grasping his 
 musket, fired after the fugitive. William felt as if he 
 had received a forcible blow on the head ; which, how- 
 ever, did not bring him to the ground, and not being 
 otherwise endamaged, he flew with all possible speed, 
 and got beyond the pursuit of the enemy, and their 
 balls being shot at random in the bewildering mist, did 
 not hit their object. When he had removed to some 
 distance, he sat down out of breath to recover himself ; 
 and taking off his bonnet to wipe the perspiration from 
 his brow, he discovered, to his surprise, that there was 
 lodged in the leaves of his Bible — which he had de- 
 posited in the crown of his bonnet before putting it on 
 his head when he left his hiding-place — a musket ball, 
 which had caused the stunning blow which he had felt 
 immediately after the firing. This was now the second 
 time that his life had been saved by means of his Bible; 
 and the circumstance deeply impressed him with a sense 
 of the providential care of Him who renders “ us im- 
 mortal till our work be done.” 
 
 On another occasion he was apprehended and carried 
 before the authorities in Annandale. The gentleman 
 before whom he happened to be examined was very 
 strict and searching in his inquiries into his past life, 
 and obtained from him a minute account of his sea- 
 faring history. He was greatly entertained with the 
 statement of the various incidents that had befallen him, 
 and more especially with the bravery he displayed in 
 the different actions in which he had been engaged, 
 and he felt greatly inclined to favour him and to acquit 
 him, even though an obnoxious Covenanter. In this he 
 succeeded, as sometimes happened in those trying and 
 precarious times ; and William found his way home, 
 with the injunction to conduct himself as warily as pos- 
 sible, as a second dismissal might not perhaps be so 
 easily obtained. 
 
 His deliverance at another time, when he was in the 
 hands of his enemies, was somewhat remarkable. He 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS GODWIN. 
 
 259 
 
 was assiduous in attending the prayer-meetings and 
 conventicles that were held in his neighbourhood, and 
 lost no opportunity of benefiting himself by these means 
 of grace, which were opened as wells in the desert, and 
 at which the weary flock of Christ often drank and 
 were refreshed in the dreary days of Zion’s desolation. 
 He had been at one of these meetings, and was return- 
 ing with a few friends in a stormy evening. The wind 
 blew high and with fitful gusts from the bosom of an 
 approaching thunder-cloud. He had thrown his plaid 
 over his head, and gathered it round his face, to shield 
 him from the pelting rain ; and with his head bent 
 toward the ground, he pushed on his way against the 
 blast. In this position he was not aware of the danger 
 that was near him, for a company of horsemen was 
 close at hand, and he was seized on the spot, and inter- 
 rogated as a suspected person. He could not deny that 
 he had been at a conventicle or prayer-meeting, and he 
 acknowledged himself an adherent of the cause they 
 were persecuting. There is every likelihood that the 
 soldiers knew who he was, and that they were led under 
 the conduct of a spy. In those days, when the troopers 
 were invested with the power of military execution, the 
 period between a man’s apprehension and execution 
 was usually brief, and on this occasion they w T ere deter- 
 mined to shoot our worthy on the spot. By this time 
 the storm was gathering to its height, and the peals of 
 thunder were sounding thick on the summits of the 
 mountains ; the flaring of the lightning became more and 
 more frequent and vivid ; the flocks on the mountains 
 were gathering in groups as if for mutual protection, 
 and warblers among the leafy bushes in the glen were 
 mute ; the hare was crouching in her lair, and the shep- 
 herd’s dog was cowering at his feet; the hot thunder- bolts 
 were breaking here and there on the pointed rocks on 
 the beetling brow of the mountains. The lightning 
 glanced terribly along the polished armour of the 
 troopers, as if in warning not to perpetrate the fatal 
 deed which was meditated ; but the intimation was dis- 
 
260 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 regarded, and poor Godwin was to suffer. As the 
 troopers were preparing for the execution, and handling 
 their muskets to be in readiness to pour their deadly con- 
 tents into the body of the unoffending victim, a flash of 
 lightning, from the dark cloud which o’ercanopied the 
 party, smote one of the soldiers who was more daring 
 than his fellows, and he fell lifeless on the bent. The 
 appalling visitation terrified the troopers, and they 
 desisted from the murder of their captive. The tremor 
 which seized them rendered them utterly powerless, 
 and they withdrew with all speed from the ominous 
 spot, utterly oblivious of the object they had in view, 
 and they stayed not till they found a place of shelter. 
 Godwin, with the few friends, remained on the spot 
 beside the lifeless body of the soldier, and saw their 
 own safety in the sudden flight of their captors. Thus 
 was a worthy man rescued from immediate death, when 
 in the very grasp of his enemies, Providence interfering 
 in his favour, by employing the ordinary occurrence of a 
 thunder storm to accomplish his deliverance. What 
 became of him after this is not said ; but had any other 
 striking incident befallen him, it is not likely that tradi- 
 tion would have lost it. 
 
 As the scene of the preceding anecdotes is in Annan- 
 dale, we shall here give another that has a reference to 
 the same locality. 
 
 Frank Johnstone, a native of Annandale, was a fine 
 young man, with a strong leaning to the principles of 
 the Covenanters. He lived in the upper part of the 
 beautiful strath of the Annan, bordering on the wilds 
 where meet the upland terminations of the counties of 
 Peebles, Dumfries, and Lanark. In the dreary wastes 
 of these conterminous shires, hundreds of the wan- 
 derers found a place of refuge. The rugged heights, the 
 deep ravines, the dense thickets, and impassable morasses 
 of this district, w r ere to these worthies what the massive 
 walls of a castle are to those within the hold when 
 assailed by the invading foe ; and though much priva- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — JOHNSTONE. 261 
 
 tion was here endured, yet the idea of comparative 
 security greatly abated their solicitude. A stranger, in 
 passing through these dismal wilds, had no conception 
 of the numbers of a concealed population that were 
 invisible in the deserts around him ; for they moved not 
 from their hiding-places during the day, for fear ot 
 detection, and it was not till the sable screen of night 
 w T as spread over them, that they durst stir from their 
 concealment. 
 
 Owing to a dispute with his friends, it is said, Frank 
 Johnstone left his home and travelled southward. After 
 having been several years absent from his native place, 
 and having experienced a variety of fortune, he returned 
 to the north. As he was approaching the vale of the 
 Annan, and resting in a retired place by the way-side, 
 he drew his Bible from his pocket, and began to read a 
 portion of the word of God. As he was thus employed, 
 and dreading little harm, the trampling of horses was 
 heard just at hand. This was a party of troopers who 
 were advancing in their raids towards the middle of An- 
 nandale. On seeing who they were, he hastily thrust 
 his Bible into his pocket, and awaited their arrival. The 
 soldiers seeing a sedate- looking young man sitting alone 
 in a musing attitude, began to question him, and from 
 questioning proceeded to search his person ; and finding 
 a Bible, instantly concluded that he was a serious per- 
 son, and consequently to be identified with the noncon- 
 forming party, which they were in the habit of searching 
 after. He was instantly apprehended, and forced to 
 accompany the troopers on their march. During his 
 absence from home, he had met with an accident in one 
 of his ancles, which prevented him from walking with 
 that celerity which was necessary to enable him to keep 
 up with the horsemen, at however slow a pace they might 
 see fit to move; and therefore he was placed behind one 
 of the soldiers and carried along. 
 
 The troopers moved toward Lochmaben, on their 
 route to Dumfries. The heights between Lochmaben 
 and Dumfries, that stretch along the eastern margin of 
 
262 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the great plain of Locher Moss, that erst embraced an 
 arm of the sea, are a fine range of hills, — from which one 
 of the most spacious prospects in the south of Scotland 
 is obtained. To the east lies the rich vale of the Annan, 
 stretching all the way from Moffat to the Solway Firth ; 
 and in the back ground, the extensive wastes of Eskdale 
 Moor, — a field of great covenanting interest ; to the 
 south, the ocean, and the English hills rising blue and 
 peaked in the far distance ; to the west, the rugged 
 heights of Galloway ; and on the north is to be seen 
 the uplands of Nithsdale, in the utmost distance of 
 which tower the majestic Lowther Hills, that take the 
 precedency of all the congregated mountains in the 
 vicinity, and on the southern slope of which, and in 
 the deep bottom of many thousand feet’s descent, lies 
 the wonderful defile of Enterkin, — that terrific pass 
 celebrated for the famous rescue which took place in the 
 year eighty -four. Thus the lofty ridge over which the 
 troopers had to pass, brings before the eye a landscape 
 with which few scenes can compare. 
 
 As they were advancing over the high grounds 
 toward the ancient peel of Torthorwald — the tower of 
 Thor, in the wood, as the name signifies — -an incident 
 befell which easily released Frank Johnstone from the 
 grasp of his enemies. As the party were on the highest 
 pinnacle of the range, and passing along the edge of a 
 steep descent, which conducted to a glen beneath, the 
 sides of which were covered with a close thicket, the 
 horse on which our worthy was seated behind the 
 dragoon stumbled, and slid over the brink of the de- 
 clivity. In this predicament, the riders were thrown 
 off, and the soldier, trying to recover his war steed, was 
 paying little attention to his prisoner, when Frank, 
 perceiving his opportunity, plunged into the thicket, 
 and was soon concealed from view. The troopers being 
 taken by surprise, and unwilling to lose their prisoner, 
 discharged their fire-arms among the hushes ; but in vain, 
 for the glen was deep and well screened, and the fugitive 
 succeeded in making his escape. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — JOHNSTONE. 263 
 
 After this deliverance, Johnstone made his way to a 
 place called the Boreland of Dryfe. He had probably 
 some acquaintances here on whom he thought he could 
 rely ; and to this place he came, on his way farther 
 north. As he was approaching the house, however, 
 he was met by a company of dragoons, who were just 
 leaving the place ; and as no person whom they might 
 happen to encounter, could be allowed to pass without 
 interrogation, they laid hold on him. After a strict 
 examination, he was found to belong to what they 
 denominated “ the rebel party,” and therefore he was 
 to be treated accordingly. An inferior officer, vrho 
 happened to command the party, and who possessed, as 
 it appears, a very great hatred to the Covenanters, deter- 
 mined to shoot him on the spot. The day was drawing 
 to a close, and the twilight was accompanied by a thick 
 fog, which began to gather on the sides of the hills, and 
 on the face of the watery moors, and threatened to en- 
 velop the party in a perplexing mist, of which the 
 troopers in general were so much afraid ; for even the 
 redoubted Clavers himself sometimes trembled when he 
 was overtaken in the lone and distant wilds with the 
 bewildering haze, which led to so many perils and disas- 
 ters, far from human habitations. 
 
 On this occasion the mist stole on with noiseless step, 
 and the trooper, eager for the perpetration of the murder, 
 commanded his men to prepare for the execution of his 
 purpose. The soldiers, however, were in no great haste ; 
 and one of them happening to pass close to the intended 
 victim, said, in a whisper, “Now is your time; flee 
 tow T ard the moor.” The hint was instantly taken, and 
 Johnstone, wheeling round, fled at his utmost speed, till 
 the mist and the dusk covered him from the view. The 
 commander ordered the men to pursue ; and they tra- 
 versed the moor backward and forward, without mak- 
 ing any discovery ; and our worthy ensconced himself 
 among the tall heather, close to the ground. When 
 they were wearied with the fruitless search, the petty 
 officer, who was greatly incensed, let loose a keen- scented 
 
 S 
 
264 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 hound to trace him out. The animal tracked the foot 
 of the fugitive, and came on straight to the spot where 
 he was lying ; and Johnstone now perceiving that dis- 
 covery was certain, roused all his energies, and with a 
 desperate grasp seized the dog by the throat ; and so 
 energetic was his hold, that he succeeded in strangling 
 him before his barking revealed the secret of his hiding- 
 place. In this way he remained undiscovered, and 
 after the soldiers withdrew he sought a more conveni- 
 ent retreat. 
 
 After this he endured many harassings in his wan- 
 derings, when he retreated to the wilds among his native 
 mountains, seeking that obscurity in which his safety 
 consisted. What became of him ultimately is uncertain ; 
 for the tradition of his being shot by the troopers at a 
 romantic place called the Saddle of the Yoke, is not 
 given with such precision as may justly be relied on. 
 The circumstance, however, is not at all unlikely, con- 
 sidering the unbounded licence given to the soldiers to 
 shoot without scruple every suspected person whom 
 they might meet. u The killing time,” as it was called, 
 and which befell chiefly in the years eighty-four and 
 eighty-five , when so many were murdered in the moors 
 and mountains, may easily be supposed to include the 
 slaughter of Frank Johnstone. Scores of worthies fell 
 during those two years, of whom no note was taken, 
 and whose names and the circumstances of whose death 
 have never been transmitted to us. The numerous 
 graves to be met with in desert places, of which no 
 account can be given further than that they are resting- 
 places of martyrs who fell by the murderous shot of the 
 moss-troopers, plainly indicate the great number of 
 military executions that were perpetrated in the wilds. 
 It may be that not a few of these graves were those of 
 the sufferers who had died of sickness caught through 
 means of the privations to which they were subjected, 
 and whose bodies were buried in the open fields w T hen 
 they could not be conveyed to the church-yards, owing 
 to the vigilance of the military. 
 
THE CONVENTTCLE HEARERS — JOHNSTONE. 265 
 
 The following incidents are connected with the same 
 locality, and refer to a native of the same district, 
 namely, to James Hope, who resided in a place called 
 Hunter Heck. James was inclined to follow the per- 
 secuted party ; but his father, in order to keep his place 
 with the laird, acted with the ruling faction, and did 
 things which he afterwards had deep cause to regret. 
 The following instance is given : — 
 
 There is a most beautiful and romantic glen in the 
 neighbourhood, near the top of which religious meet- 
 ings were sometimes kept. The place was well known 
 to the elder Hope, who had learned that a few friends 
 in concealment intended to hold a small conventicle 
 with as much secrecy as possible. In order to ingra- 
 tiate himself with his master, he lodged information ; 
 and on the day appointed for the meeting, a few 
 soldiers were sent to dismiss the party; some of whom, 
 in making their escape, were killed. This circumstance 
 sat heavy on the man's mind, who justly considered 
 himself as the cause of their death. He made mention 
 of it on his death-bed, expressing the deepest remorse 
 and sorrow for the deed, and exhorted his son to cleave 
 to his principles, and to follow the persecuted cause 
 with a good conscience. This confirmed young Hope 
 in his determination, and with less scruple he avowed 
 the choice he had made. 
 
 His mother, however, abode by her husband’s former 
 views, and remonstrated with her son on what she deemed 
 the impropriety of his conduct, and even threatened to 
 tell the laird if he did not desist from his practices. 
 This threatening she actually put in execution; — not 
 with the intent of bringing any real mischief on her 
 son, but simply with a view that the laird might ad- 
 minister such a reproof as she expected might have 
 some weight. Instead of this, however, the laird em- 
 ployed the soldiers to look after him as a young rebel, 
 whom it was proper to curb at the commencement of 
 his career. He was accordingly apprehended, some- 
 where among the mountains in the district, by a few 
 
2G6 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 soldiers, in the dusk of a winter’s evening. It appears 
 that the soldiers had been at a considerable distance 
 from the garrison, and were afraid lest they should lose 
 their way in the murkiness of a cloudy night. Having 
 secured their prisoner, they moved onward along the 
 uneven surface of the mosses, and the steep sides of 
 the hills, until they were enveloped in total darkness. 
 They were now nearly at a stand, and entirely at a loss 
 what to do. At length they espied a glimmering light 
 at some distance before them, and supposing it might 
 he a house where either a guide or shelter might be 
 found, they proceeded to the spot. Two of the men 
 went before, and Hope, with the other, (for it appears 
 there were only three soldiers sent out on the occasion), 
 came up more tardily behind. As they were plodding 
 their way together, Hope said to him : “ What benefit 
 can you derive from seizing me, a person who has done 
 neither you nor the party to which you belong any 
 harm ? you could easily let me go, and the darkness of 
 the night would be a sufficient excuse.” On this the 
 soldier drew himself up, and hurriedly grasping his mus- 
 ket, retreated a step or two, when instantly the piece 
 went off with a startling report, and the man fell pros- 
 trate on the heath. Hope was confounded at the 
 occurrence, and thinking that the shot had been aimed 
 at him, was happy to find himself unscathed. On his 
 examining the matter, however, he found that the sol- 
 dier had been wounded by his own gun; that the 
 trigger, on his stepping back, had caught part of his 
 clothes, and that the shot had grazed his head and 
 stunned him, and thrown him on the ground ; and 
 hence what v r as intended for the prisoner w 7 as directed 
 to a different quarter. This, however, afforded him 
 ample opportunity of escaping ; and knowing the loca- 
 lity better than his captors, he soon found a place of 
 concealment. After this he sojourned in different 
 parts of the country, where he rendered himself emi- 
 nently useful by his pious conversation and Christian 
 example. What became of him ultimately is not said, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HISLOP. 
 
 2G7 
 
 but probably he survived the persecution ; for had he 
 suffered martyrdom, tradition would have retained the 
 memory of the circumstance. 
 
 We now turn to a different part of the wide arena of 
 the persecution, to notice some striking incidents that 
 befell more especially in the western localities. 
 
 Robert Hislop wonned on the braes of Scar, in 
 Nithsdale. The valley of the Scar is very beautiful and 
 picturesque. It lies on the south of the parish of 
 Sanquhar, and is separated from the sweet vale of the 
 Nith by a ridge of lofty mountains. The most strik- 
 ing feature on the Scar side of this chain, is a high 
 rocky escarpment called Glenwhargen Craig. This 
 craggy steep rises abruptly to the height of several 
 hundred feet, and presents a bold and imposing aspect. 
 The craig is the wonder of all travellers who happen to 
 wend their way along the lonely stream of the Scar, that 
 sparkles and dances in the bright beams of the sun in the 
 pleasant days of summer. Very few scenes will more 
 richly repay a visit from the tourist than this. This hoary 
 craig — with its thunder-battered brow, and all its scars, 
 time-worn and weather-beaten — looks proudly abroad 
 over an extensive scene, and waves majestically its 
 misty mantle above the lesser heights that are congre- 
 gated in its vicinity. Glenwhargen Craig — when, in 
 the end of autumn or in the early spring, the mist fills 
 the valleys, and rising up on the breasts of the hills, 
 leaves the summits bare — furnishes one of the finest 
 objects that can meet the eye. The rounded top of the 
 rock — seen from a distance leaning forward on the 
 snow-white mist, tumbling like the billows of the sea 
 below — presents a form like the hulk of a ship plough- 
 ing the illusory ocean ; while all the scene around 
 appears like the vast main studded with innumerable 
 islands, the green tops of the hills swelling above the 
 misty flood. Few sights can surpass this in grandeur ; 
 — the whole country round and round, as far as the eye 
 can reach, apparently submerged in deep water, whose 
 
268 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 gradual subsidence, like the waters of the deluge, leaves 
 the highest parts of the mountains bare, and shows 
 them gilded in the morning sun. But the traveller 
 must descend into the deep himself, and sinking gra- 
 dually into the valley, is enveloped in the haze, — and the 
 scene vanishes in a moment. So is it with sublunary 
 things. The half, and far more, is an illusion ; and we 
 amuse ourselves with things that seem to be, and in 
 an instant they vanish, like the gilded clouds of the 
 morning; — which, at the gates of the orient, appear like 
 massive columns of burning gold, all solid and weighty 
 like that precious metal ; but when the warm beams of 
 the sun are poured down upon them, instantly they 
 begin to dissolve, and in a brief space all is gone, and 
 the sky is left clear and blue, without a speck. 
 
 It is not said in what part of the Scar Robert Hislop had 
 his residence ; but it is most likely to have been in the 
 upper part of the valley, for it is known that persons 
 of that name have dwelt there for some generations 
 past. Whether he was an ancestor of these Hislops 
 we know not, but he was a sturdy Nonconformist, and 
 they were all strictly religious persons. The news were 
 circulated among those who were in the habit of attend- 
 ing conventicles that the venerable Peden was to preach 
 in the wilds near the source of the Water of Deuch, in 
 the parish of Carsphairn ; and Robert Hislop resolved 
 to be present with the rest who might happen to con- 
 vene in the heart of that dreary solitude. His route 
 lay along the Scar toward the head of the Ken. The 
 Scar, in the upland portion of its strath, is extremely 
 uninviting. It is a moorish waste, without any thing of 
 the beauty and grandeur of the neighbouring scenery. 
 The view is dull and melancholy, and few would retire 
 to its seclusion unless from necessity. But then it was 
 to such places precisely that the wanderers betook them- 
 selves in the day of their peril. It was not the beauti- 
 ful and romantic in landscape that they were seeking, 
 but a place of concealment, where they might worship 
 God, and screen themselves from the murderous foe. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HISLOP. 
 
 269 
 
 But if the vale of the Scar is, in this part, of dreary 
 aspect, the contiguous vale of the silvery Ken is of a 
 very different description. The magnificent hills near 
 its source, all clad in smooth velvet green, gilded by 
 the garish beams of the sun, and shooting their summits 
 straight up into the sky, and standing in a cluster, 
 guarding the infant stream as it timidly creeps from its 
 cradle in the bosom of the heights, and ventures in its 
 struggling course onward toward the moorlands be- 
 neath, and, gathering on its track the rills that gurgle 
 from the glenlets on either side, becomes a strong and 
 beautiful river ; — all form a scene well w r orth the travel 
 of many a painful mile to visit, and w 7 hich leaves an 
 impression not easily effaceable. 
 
 Hislop, on his way to the conventicle, came to a place 
 called Fingland, the residence of some of his pious 
 associates, with whom he expected to hold sweet reli- 
 gious intercourse. When he arrived at this place he 
 was informed that the conventicle meeting was post- 
 poned, inasmuch as certain spies had lodged information 
 ■with the garrison at Carsphairn that such a meeting had 
 been projected. Hislop was in no small degree dis- 
 appointed ; but the loss was partially made up by means 
 of the intercourse he had with his friends, and the 
 refreshment he received in spiritual fellowship ; for these 
 worthies never met without edifying one another, and 
 strengthening one another in the day of their trial. 
 From Fingland Hislop passed over the heights that lie 
 between the head of the Ken and the source of the 
 Afton, with the intention of proceeding to Daleccles, 
 the residence of certain covenanting brethren with whom 
 he wished to confer, and to see how it fared with them 
 in those precarious times, when every man's life hung 
 in doubt before his eyes, who was known to belong to 
 the covenanting party. In order the more effectually 
 to avoid the track of the troopers between Carsphairn 
 and New Cumnock, he ascended the hills and kept on 
 the unfrequented wastes, where he expected to meet 
 with no interruption. As he was proceeding quietly 
 
270 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and securely along the pathless heath, and enjoying the 
 satisfaction of his own solitary cogitations, all at once a 
 party of troopers appeared on the opposite side of a 
 ravine, through which gurgles what is called the Connel 
 Burn. 
 
 The dragoons perceiving a man in what they deemed 
 suspicious circumstances, spurred on their horses with a 
 view to get round by the plain ground below, and to 
 seize him on the other side. Hislop perceived the 
 movement, and betook himself to flight. The pursuit 
 was hot, and the fugitive sped in the direction of the 
 defile of the Afton, if haply he might find a hiding- 
 place in some of its glens or thickets. And in this he was 
 not disappointed, for he found a dense hazel bush, into 
 the heart of which he crept, and crouched behind the 
 screen of its leafy branches till the troopers advanced to 
 the spot. When they came up, they passed so close to 
 the bush that he saw them distinctly, and heard their 
 conversation ; of which in all likelihood he himself was 
 the subject. As they neared the bush one of them 
 struck it forcibly with what was in his hand, and shed 
 its leaves on the ground. This was ominous enough; 
 but had he dismounted and grasped the brown nuts 
 that were hanging in rich clusters on its pliant branches, 
 a discovery was certain. The soldiers, however, delayed 
 not, but marched hastily on in quest of their object ; but 
 that object they had now left unwittingly behind them. 
 Hislop, with a palpitating heart, saw the men pass by, 
 and kept himself close in his concealment till they had 
 crossed the stream of the Afton, and were clean out of 
 sight in the eager pursuit. 
 
 Mr Peden, to attend whose conventicle Hislop had 
 come from his place on the Scar, had proceeded the 
 length of tbe Water of Nith, and learning that the 
 troopers were, in motion, and on the strict search, with- 
 drew to a place called Laneside, where he remained in 
 concealment for a few days, till the pursuit for the time 
 was over. Mr Peden had many a retreat, for he was 
 well known in the cottages and farm-houses all over the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HISLOP. 
 
 271 
 
 western districts. He had traversed all these localities 
 for many a weary year, and had preached in glen, and 
 moor, and hut ; and had been the means of great spiri- 
 tual benefit, first and last, to thousands. He was evi- 
 dently the man of the peasantry, and possessed a strong 
 and original mind. Mr Peden’s name is to this day 
 stereotyped on all the wild localities of the west. 
 
 After remaining a brief space at Laneside, a conven- 
 ticle was announced, and an attempt was made once 
 more to convene the friends of the cause in that part of 
 the wilderness, — for wilderness in those days it must 
 have been. Accordingly the meeting was held, and 
 held without interruption ; and no fewer than a dozen 
 of children, it is said, were baptized. The long and 
 hazardous journey which Hislop had undertaken, to 
 attend the institutions of grace, did not wholly end in 
 disappointment. He obtained his object, only at a 
 different place. We know nothing more of Hislop. 
 
 We cannot, however, leave the romantic Afton with- 
 out a more particular notice both of its scenery and of 
 certain incidents connected with it. The defile of the 
 Afton stretches from New Cumnock southward to 
 meet the Galloway mountains at the head of the Ken. 
 It forms one of the most striking scenes in Nithsdale. 
 The hills rise abrupt and lofty on either side of the 
 stream, which empties its waters into the Nith at the 
 village of New Cumnock. The magnificent Black Craig, 
 which springs suddenly from the vale beneath, tosses 
 his head to an enormous height, and frowns on all the 
 lesser hills around him. His massive sides, begirt with 
 strong bars and ribs of rock, as regular in their vertical 
 strata as if formally grooved and chiseled by the human 
 hand, present an august spectacle from the bottom of 
 the gorge, and are the admiration of all who delight in 
 that species of scenery. From the summit of Black Craig 
 a spacious scene presents itself ; all the district of Car- 
 rick, Kyle, and Cunningham, and some of the western 
 islands, lie fully exposed to view ; while to the east and 
 south the beautiful hills of the middle ward of Nithsdale 
 
272 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 swell upon the sight. “ The Stey Amory,” as it is called, 
 is another remarkable feature of this glen ; the rocky 
 front of an eminence, of a stair-form appearance, projects 
 itself like a wedge between the hills near the head of 
 the defile, and arrests the attention of the tourist, who 
 feels an irresistible propensity to make the attempt to 
 climb its rugged brow. 
 
 The valley of the Afton was famous of old for its 
 covenanting residents. Many sought a retreat among 
 its inaccessible heights, and in its dark and precipitous 
 ravines ; hut there were not a few worthy cotters and 
 tenants who had a settled habitation here. There was 
 Campbell of Dalhanna, the laird of that ilk, who fled 
 when the dragoons were approaching his dwelling, and 
 hid himself in a dense thicket of the flowery broom that 
 covered a rising ground in the vicinity of his house. 
 The soldiers closely approached the spot in the pursuit, 
 but missed his hiding-place, till a straggler, coming 
 behind the rest, got his eye on him, and giving his head 
 a significant shake, without speaking a word, passed to 
 join his fellows; and so the honest man escaped. And 
 there was Campbell of Lochbruin, on the east side of 
 the defile, who, when pursued by the troopers on the 
 hill, flung himself into a mossy trench among the 
 heather, and lay still on his back, looking up through 
 the heathy coverlet, till the horsemen came on thunder- 
 ing along the turf, straight to the spot where he lay ; and 
 first one of the animals, and then another, and another, 
 leapt across the trench ; and as he gazed upwards he saw 
 the bright, glittering shoes on their hoofs as they sprang 
 over him in his hiding-place, which might have been to 
 him his grave had not the good hand of his God shielded 
 him. And here, too, was William Good, of Little 
 Mark Lane, and his wife, Ann Campbell ; both a credit 
 to the Christian name. On one occasion, when the 
 soldiers visited the house of this vrorthy man, with a 
 view to apprehend him, Ann concealed him amidst the 
 lumber of the spence , and placed before its door, which 
 opened from the kitchen, a stone trough ; which lulled 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS HISLOP. 
 
 273 
 
 suspicion, and the men never sought to enter; and in 
 this way honest William Good remained undiscovered. 
 There were, doubtless, many in the vale of Afton who 
 maintained nonconformist principles, though tradition 
 has not transmitted their names. Few places were 
 more favourable for concealment than Afton and its 
 hills, and consequently it was much frequented. 
 
 But there was one serious drawback; all the defile 
 of the Afton was a thoroughfare, from the upper parts 
 of Galloway, for the troopers who were constantly 
 passing and repassing from the parts about Carsphairn 
 to the head of Nithsdale. Frequent encounters, there- 
 fore, w r ere to be expected between the military and any 
 straggling party of Covenanters who might happen to 
 pass that way. It was owing to the raids of the sol- 
 diers that the virtuous people who lived in the valley 
 and on the braes of this delightful stream were sub- 
 jected to so much annoyance, and so much harsh treat- 
 ment ; so that their situation was most insecure and 
 perilous, for no man in such a locality could call his 
 house his own. The fear in which the inhabitants of 
 this district constantly lived, is strikingly illustrated by 
 the following story : — 
 
 It was in the dark and stormy month of December, in 
 the persecuting days, that the family of Monthraw were 
 thrown into no little consternation by the incident we 
 are about to notice. Monthraw was, at the time 
 referred to, one of the loneliest places among the hills. 
 It is situated in the heart of the bleak moorlands beyond 
 the source of the Afton, towards the wilds of Gallo- 
 way. Its solitude seems to justify the old adage re- 
 specting it, — 
 
 “ The lone Monthraw, 
 
 Where man never heard 
 His neighbour’s cock craw.” 
 
 And verily it is a solitude; but yet a solitude that has 
 its features of interest, and a solitude which, in time 
 coming, may yet be cultivated, and made an oasis in the 
 desert. 
 
274 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 But to our story. It was a dark night in December; 
 the wind blew a hurricane ; the rain covered the sides 
 of the heathy hills with foam, and the rills and the 
 burns were in high flood. The family of Monthraw 
 had barred the door of their cottage against the storm, 
 and piled on the hearth the brick- like peats, the flame 
 of which sent a cheerful glow through the apartment. 
 They were more than ordinarily happy. The gudeman 
 had, on a previous part of the day, received a consider- 
 able sum of money which was due him, and which he 
 had locked carefully in the drawer. The storm without 
 enhanced the idea of comfort within, and the inmates 
 felt assured that on such a night there was no likelihood 
 of any intrusion from an unwelcome visitant. As they 
 were enjoying the quietude of their little dusky cham- 
 ber, and lifting up their hearts in gratitude to the Giver 
 of all good, they were startled by a rude and hasty 
 knocking at the door. What can this mean ? exclaimed 
 they, in astonishment ; who can be abroad on the lonely 
 moor in this w T ild tempest ? But there was no time 
 for guessing; the knocking was repeated with fury, and 
 a stern voice demanded instant admittance. u Who 
 and what are you?” vociferated the master of the hut, 
 his words scarcely audible in the raving of the tempest. 
 “ Open the door, I demand, or Til burst it in with a 
 crash.” On this the gudeman undid the bar, and in 
 bolted a stalworth dragoon, and stood in his military 
 accoutrements in the middle of the dusky apartment ! 
 The consternation of the household may easily be con- 
 ceived. The troopers had invaded their dwelling, and 
 “ the thing that they had greatly feared had come upon 
 them.” 
 
 “ Tve lost my way in this execrable moor,” said the 
 soldier, “and had it not been for the light that gleamed 
 from the window of your hut, I must have perished on 
 the wild. The storm is terrific, and has rendered my 
 horse almost unmanageable. I never was more thank- 
 ful to meet with a human habitation ; and I mean to 
 make my residence here for the night.” The man spoke 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS HISLOP. 
 
 275 
 
 discreetly, and the fears of the inmates were gradually 
 allayed. “ I wish to sit by your fire during the night/' 
 said he, “ and will put you to as little trouble as may 
 be ; I am so thankful that I have found a shelter from 
 the tearing wind and the splashing rain.” “ We will 
 give you the best accommodation in our power/’ replied 
 the gudewife ; u and we will hang up your dripping 
 clothes before the fire, and have them all dry for you 
 in the morning.” A suitable meal was provided, and 
 every thing that the hospitality of the moorlands could 
 suggest was forthcoming, to render the stranger comfort- 
 able. His weary horse found a corner in the cow-house, 
 and abundance of provender. 
 
 In due time the inmates retired to rest ; and the sol- 
 dier, before stretching himself among the warm bed- 
 clothes, had his pistols loaded and carefully placed on his 
 pillow, and his sword in its ponderous scabbard was laid 
 on the table before the bed. The family fully convinced 
 that the trooper meant no harm, but the contrary, re- 
 signed themselves to sleep with considerable composure. 
 The soldier slept well and soundly in the fore part of the 
 night, but afterwards became restless, and though he 
 could not sleep, felt comfortable among the downy 
 blankets. As he lay ruminating, and the storm had 
 abated, his ear caught a slight noise at the little window 
 on the back part of the room near the bed. The aper- 
 ture called the window had no glass in it ; it was closed 
 with a square board which turned on leathern hinges, 
 either to admit the air or to let out the smoke. As he 
 listened, the noise increased ; and he at last plainly saw, 
 by the flickering light on the hearth, that the board was 
 moving on its hinges, and w r as gradually pushed inwards. 
 “ Who is there?” exclaimed the soldier. No voice re- 
 sponded, and all was quiet again. The trooper was now 
 on the alert. He was convinced it was not the wind, for 
 that had ceased ; but it might be some domestic animal 
 that sought admittance by its accustomed path of en- 
 trance into the house. But whatever it might be, the sol- 
 dier, as he was not inclined to sleep, was resolved to watch 
 
27G 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 the issue. In a short time the window board again began 
 to move, and to move with a persistency which appeared 
 to the soldier to be somewhat suspicious. He again de- 
 manded who was there; but no answer. “Be you who 
 you may,” said the trooper, “ 1 fairly warn you that I will 
 fire if you do not desist.’’ No attention was paid to the 
 warning ; and the soldier, hastily seizing one of his pis- 
 tols, fired. A rustling was heard, and then a heavy fall 
 under the wundow. The household was alarmed at the 
 rousing report of the pistol, and in a moment all were 
 out of bed. They were at a loss what to think, know- 
 ing that they had a soldier sleeping in the house ; and 
 the dragoons were always objects of suspicion, and, for 
 the most part, of terrible dread. Did the man intend to 
 murder the helpless family, — the man to whom they had 
 shown kindness in receiving him under their roof from 
 the storm, — the man who had professed so much thank- 
 fulness for the hospitality shown him ? They knew 
 they were wholly in his pow r er, and they knew not how 
 many of his fellows might be at hand, and ready to 
 pounce on them like beasts of prey. They were terror- 
 struck. The matter, however, was soon explained. The 
 soldier, who saw how naturally they were alarmed, soon 
 composed their fears, by relating the occurrence simply 
 as it stood ; and they retired to rest as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 At length the morning dawned. The storm had 
 passed away, leaving the streamlets flowing brim full, 
 and all the mossy ground soaked in water. The soldier, 
 anxious to know what had really befallen in conse- 
 quence of his firing through the aperture, donned his 
 clothes and hastened to the back of the house ; and to 
 his amazement perceived that he had shot a man, who 
 lay dead in a pool of his own blood. The gudeman of 
 Monthraw at once recognised the person ; but could not 
 divine the cause that had brought him to his house at 
 the dead of night, — and in a night so tempestuous, — 
 when there was no apparent inducement for him to 
 leave his own home and travel so far into the heart of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE IIEARERS — IIISLOP. 
 
 277 
 
 the dreary wilderness. And then, what did he want at 
 the window ? why did he not seek admittance by the 
 door ? what could all this mean ? The mystery, how- 
 ever, was soon unfolded ; for on examining the body, 
 there were found implements of murder, plainly inti- 
 mating that a deadly onslaught on the family at Mon- 
 thraw was meditated, and that the assailant, like a 
 thief, sought an entrance by the narrow aperture, un- 
 suspected. But why all this ? why come to murder an 
 unoffending household ? why should a neighbour, with 
 whom they lived on terms of friendship, venture, with- 
 out seeming provocation, on so nefarious a deed ? The 
 thing was inexplicable. A thought, however, occurred 
 to the gudeman of Monthraw, and a suspicion flashed 
 like lightning through his mind. This was the person 
 from whom he had received the sum of money he had 
 so carefully deposited in his drawer on the day pre- 
 ceding. He was the only individual acquainted with 
 the circumstance ; and he had actually come with the 
 wicked intention of again recovering the sum, and to kill 
 the inmates rather than be defeated in his vile project. 
 In this way the whole mystery was at once cleared up, — 
 there could be no doubt regarding the man's design. 
 He had travelled miles in the dark storm, and he had 
 exposed his life in the perils of the night ; so powerful 
 was the stimulance of his avarice. 
 
 How wonderfully was the shield of the divine pro- 
 tection thrown over the family of Monthraw ! It was 
 in the days of persecution, when the military made their 
 raids among the hills, and in the loneliest places, so that 
 no household could feel secure from their insolent visi- 
 tations. No occurrence was deemed more alarming 
 than the approach of the troopers at an unexpected 
 hour ; and therefore we may easily conceive the con- 
 sternation that must have seized the family at Mon- 
 thraw on the night of the storm. What visitor could 
 be more unacceptable ? And yet, in the person of the 
 gruff dragoon the Lord sent them a guardian, — an 
 armed soldier of the enemy to save their lives ! He who 
 
278 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 knows every occurrence that is to befall, foresaw the 
 plot that was laid for the ruin of that family ; and he 
 ordered all the circumstances that were to result in the 
 counteraction of the contemplated mischief. The house- 
 hold of Monthraw might think that no incident was 
 more to be deprecated than a visit from a fierce dragoon, 
 • — one of a class whose vocation was to shed the blood 
 of God's saints, by special licence, in the moors and 
 wilds of the country. And this is not to he wondered 
 at ; but c< when a man's ways please the Lord, he 
 maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him,” or 
 makes use of them as instruments of defence, instead of 
 implements of destruction. There is no doubt, but for 
 the soldier’s presence in the household of Monthraw, the 
 evil man who had plotted their ruin would easily have 
 effected his purpose, had not this man of war been placed 
 there by Providence to work out a deliverance. It often 
 happens that things which appear to us to wear a calami- 
 tous aspect, are actually blessings in disguise. The 
 storm in the wilds belated the trooper, and drove him 
 from his path ; and the light from the window of the 
 hut, flickering over the wastes, was the star that led the 
 man to a shelter, — to the saving both of his own life and 
 the lives of the people in the cottage. So wonderfully 
 does the Lord work. There is a general providence, that 
 is exercised over all ; yes, but there is also a particular 
 providence, a special interference in behalf of those who 
 trust in the Lord, and who make their prayer unto him : 
 for “ He is the preserver of all men, but especially of 
 them that believe and we have a special promise 
 made to those who make the Most High their refuge, — 
 “ A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at 
 thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee ; only 
 with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of 
 the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, which 
 is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation.” 
 Prayer proceeds on the assumption of such specific in- 
 terpositions ; not miraculous, to be sure, but so arranged 
 by the great Ruler of the universe, and kept by him in 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HISLOP. 
 
 279 
 
 reserve, that he can put them forth without disturbing 
 the general harmony and order of his government. 
 Many of the worthies, in those afflictive times, saw the 
 hand of God as obviously stretched out in their defence 
 as the rod of Moses was seen by the Israelites when the 
 Red Sea was parted hither and thither, and a way of 
 escape opened up, in the dark bosom of the deep waters, 
 from the face of their pursuers. We have heard of one 
 Covenanter meeting another incidentally on the road 
 by the river’s side, and after a friendly salutation, retir- 
 ing together into the heart of a thicket, by the way- side, 
 to engage in prayer ; and while they were thus employed, 
 a party of soldiers passed along the path on which they, 
 a few minutes before, stood engaged in conversation ; 
 and in this way they escaped instant death or capture. 
 We have heard of the renowned Peden praying that the 
 Lord “ would cast the lap of his cloak” over his poor 
 servant, to screen him from his pursuers ; when a volume 
 of mist, blown by a puff of wind from the mouth of a 
 lonely glen, enveloped him in its snow-white mantle. 
 And who can tell what fervent supplications for special 
 protection were poured forth by the cottage patriarch of 
 the lone Monthraw on that same evening on which he 
 experienced so emphatic a deliverance ? Many circum- 
 stances might contribute to this. Their solitary situation, 
 the raving tempest, the sum of money in his charge, and 
 the precariousness of the times, — all these, and other con- 
 siderations, might stimulate to a more than common 
 earnestness in prayer for the vouchsafement of the 
 special guardianship of Him who extends it to those 
 who ask. 
 
 We know that the house of Monthraw was the oc- 
 casional resort of the persecuted people, who sought its 
 obscure retreat as a pretty safe hiding-place, and where, 
 it would appear, they counted on a hearty welcome. 
 Hence, if a cup of cold water, given to a disciple of 
 Christ for his sake, shall not lose its reward, — this 
 worthy household received their reward on the night 
 of the storm. And it is the more striking, that their 
 
 T 
 
280 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 deliverance was not accomplished by a company of 
 Covenanters, under hiding in their abode, but by one of 
 the persecuting party, whom the Lord sent, full armed, as 
 a guardian angel, when least expected and not at all 
 w r ished for. But God is never at loss for instruments 
 to accomplish his purposes ; for “ he maketh even the 
 wrath of man to praise him.” 
 
 We shall, in the meantime, leave the district of 
 Monthraw, and the sweet braes of the Afton, — at the 
 neighbourhood of which we may afterwards have oc- 
 casion to glance, — and turn to notice some things of 
 interest which occurred in a very different part of the 
 country. 
 
 William Lourie, the Covenanter, the subject of the 
 following sketch, was a native of Stow, in the pastoral 
 vale of Gala Water. The hills and glens of the south 
 yielded their own share of witnesses for Christ in the 
 days of the Scottish persecutions. And though they 
 were by no means so productive in this respect as the 
 western shires, yet there were always a few, here and 
 there, who were prepared to maintain the standard in 
 the hour of conflict. The ejected preachers, as they 
 had occasion, held conventicles in those more neglected 
 parts of the country, and stirred the fires of noncon- 
 formist opposition to the prelatic faction that ruled with 
 so oppressive a dominancy. The retreats of Gala 
 Water, and the banks of the Tweed, and the Yarrow, 
 and the Ettrick, — classic streams all, and celebrated in 
 ancient story and feudal song, — contained within their 
 bosom many a patriotic heart, and honestly devoted 
 to the cause of the covenant, and whom circumstances 
 occasionally evoked, and gathered to the side of their 
 brethren who were more conspicuously engaged in the 
 struggle. 
 
 William Lourie was a portioner of the town-head 
 of the village of Stow, and by trade a mason. This 
 humble occupation had been followed by his ancestors 
 for upwards of two hundred years prior to his time ; 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS LOURIE. 
 
 281 
 
 and during all this long period they had been resident 
 in the same locality. The name of Lourie had become 
 a household word, and it was attached to a worthy 
 reputation. William Lourie’s heart yearned over the 
 persecuted cause, and he resolved to attach himself to 
 the suffering party. Our worthy had a warm-hearted 
 associate of the name of David Ancrum, a man of kin- 
 dred temper, whose spirit rose in indignation at the 
 oppressive measures of the government ; and the two 
 friends, being well known for the views they entertain- 
 ed, saw it prudent to withdraw from the vale of the 
 Gala, and to consort with their brethren in the western 
 parts. Their withdrawment to the west happened a 
 short time prior to the rising at Both well Bridge, and 
 having learned the design of the covenanting friends, 
 they, without hesitation, fell in with the project. Ac- 
 cordingly, on the day of conflict, they were found side 
 by side with their warlike brethren, and — 
 
 Fought like lions in the fray ; 
 
 For well they knew a luckless day 
 
 Would send of them but few away 
 
 From that contested field. 
 
 We know the result of the conflict, — many were slain, 
 and many were captured. Among the prisoners, 
 amounting to about twelve hundred, were the two 
 friends, William Lourie and David Ancrum. They 
 were taken to Edinburgh with the rest, and confined 
 in a corner of the Greyfriars’ church-yard, exposed 
 night and day to the weather, and to incredible hard- 
 ships, for months together. The distresses and priva- 
 tions sustained by the poor captives in this state prison, 
 pent up like sheep in the fold, and surrounded by 
 the ravenous wolves, the soldiers, who guarded and 
 plundered them at the same time, is graphically de- 
 scribed by the historian Wodrow, in the following 
 words: — “ They came to Edinburgh, June 24, when I 
 find the council gave orders to the magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh to receive the prisoners taken at the late fight, 
 from the commanding officer, and recommend them to 
 
282 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 their custody ; and that for that end they put them in- 
 to the inner Greyfriars’ church-yard, with convenient 
 guards to wait upon them, who are to have at least 
 twenty-four sentries in the night-time, and eight in the 
 day-time : of which sentries the officers shall keep a 
 particular list, that if any of the prisoners escape, the 
 sentries may assure themselves to cast the dice, and 
 answer body for body for the fugitive, without any ex- 
 ception ; and the officers are to answer for the sentries, 
 and the town for the officers. And if any of the pri- 
 soners escape, the council will require a particular 
 account, and make them answerable for them. And 
 next day the council ordered a hank (that is, a public 
 proclamation) to be beat through the town, discharging 
 any of the inhabitants to come near the place where 
 the prisoners are, save such who come with meat and 
 drink ; which is to be delivered at the gate, to be dis- 
 tributed equally by persons appointed for that effect. 
 
 u When they came to Edinburgh, they were, agree- 
 ably to the council's orders, carried to the Greyfriars* 
 church-yard, except some few who were taken to prison. 
 In that enclosure they continued near five months, for 
 the most part in the open air ; and the two hundred 
 who came from Stirling were quartered with them, 
 A good many, as we shall hear, were liberated upon 
 their taking the bond ; and some few, now and then, 
 were taken up to the Tolbooth. In this open prison 
 their case was lamentable enough. In the day-time 
 the soldiers kept guard in an angle in the church-yard ; 
 and all night the prisoners were made to lie down, 
 without any accommodation almost, upon the cold 
 ground where they stood all day ; and if any of 
 them, in the night-time, had raised their head to ease 
 themselves a little, the cruel soldiers were sure to shoot 
 at them. When sleeping in the night, many of them 
 were robbed of any little money their friends had sent 
 them ; yea, their very shoes and clothes were stolen 
 away from such of them w'ho had beds and couches 
 brought into them by well-disposed people. Their 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — LOURIE, 
 
 283 
 
 allowance — which the Duke of Monmouth caused give 
 them before he left Edinburgh, otherwise, it is probable, 
 they had not been favoured with this small matter — was 
 a barrel of ale, to be distributed among them all, and a 
 loaf of coarse bread to each of them, and that for every 
 day. The ale they should have had was, after his de- 
 parture, very seldom given them ; and this was some 
 wav made up by the water from the common fountain, 
 which was led into them by a conduit. Their bread, 
 by weight, was to be but four ounces, which frequently 
 was not given them in full tale. And this, small as it 
 is, was the only allowance, I can find, that ever the 
 government gave to prisoners during all the time of 
 the persecution I am describing. 
 
 “ Indeed, the good people of Edinburgh were not 
 wanting in supplying them both in meat, money, and 
 other necessaries ; but so ill natured were the soldiers 
 at the gate, that sometimes they would not permit the 
 women (for no men were suffered to get in to them) to 
 enter, but would have obliged them to stand at the 
 entry from morning till night without getting access ; 
 so that some of the prisoners would have been famished 
 had it not been for the daily allowance given them, 
 which was yet very inconsiderable. Great were the 
 difficulties their friends met with before they could get 
 in any food or raiment to them ; and the guards still 
 exacted somewhat for either meat or drink as it came in 
 to them. And to observe by the by, this was not only 
 their case, but common to other prisoners in common 
 prisons ; people were still obliged to gratify the keepers 
 for any access they had to visit or minister to their 
 friends, or even their nearest relations ; and though this 
 be not much noticed, yet it was a most heavy tax 
 upon suffering people, and their relations, to be thus 
 imposed upon, when meanwhile they were not over- 
 stocked with money. They were perfectly open to the 
 weather, and had not the least shelter from the rains, 
 wind, or cold, for some months ; indeed, towards 
 winter, a few weeks before they were brought out of 
 
284 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 this place, some huts made of deals were set up for 
 them ; which was mightily boasted as a great favour. 
 
 u Several other circumstances might be added relative 
 to their difficulties in the church-yard. The soldiers, 
 except some few who were better natured, were ex- 
 tremely rude to them, beating and maltreating them 
 upon the most frivolous occasions. The people who 
 got in to them from the town, pitying their circum- 
 stances, pressed them to take the bond ; and when 
 they did comply, the merciless soldiers mocked and 
 reproached them, and violently upbraided them with 
 deserting the cause they had owned at Bothwell, 
 and seemed to delight in making them uneasy. And, 
 which was yet worse, the ruffians were most rude and 
 indiscreet to the women, relations of the prisoners : yea, 
 sometimes offered to abuse them ; and when the pri- 
 soners resisted and hindered them, the soldiers were 
 sure to get them hardly used, as mutinying and resist- 
 ing them. In the night time, when the soldiers 
 came among the prisoners and stole away their clothes, 
 and the prisoners happened to awake, and endeavoured 
 to hold what was their own, to-morrow they were com- 
 plained of, and hardly dealt with. Many other hard- 
 ships were they under, too many here to be narrated.” 
 The result of Bothwell was very disastrous to the 
 Presbyterians. Not only were so great numbers so mer- 
 cilessly confined in the church-yard with William Lourie 
 and David Ancrum, but multitudes were shot in the 
 fields vrherever they were found by the military. They 
 fell in hundreds, here and there, by these licensed, mur- 
 derers. Wodrow, speaking of the procedure of the 
 council in reference to the affair at Bothwell, says : 
 
 “ We need be the less surprised at the military execu- 
 tions, ravagings of the soldiers, and procedure of the 
 army up and down the country, after Bothwell. The 
 door was cast open to them by the proclamation, June 
 26th, — and I can scarce say it was shut by indemnity, — 
 and they fall frankly to work ; in which they frequently 
 exceed the severe laws of the period. Particularly , 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — LOURIE. 
 
 285 
 
 we shall find Claverhouse raging in the west and south, 
 this and several following years, and committing many 
 grievous oppressions. He could never forget the baffle 
 he met with at Drumclog, and resolved to be avenged for 
 it; and yet we shall meet with some others more bloody 
 and barbarous than he. Every body must see that it is 
 now almost impossible to give any tolerable view to the 
 reader of the spulzies, depredations, and violences, com- 
 mitted by the soldiers under such officers as at this time 
 they had. Multitudes of instances, once flagrant, are 
 now at this distance lost. Not a few of them were never 
 distinctly known, being committed in such circum- 
 stances as upon the matter buried them. And it would 
 swell this section too much should I even insert all the 
 instances I have met with ; therefore I shall only narrate 
 a few I find well vouched and certain. 
 
 “ A great many parties of soldiers were dispersed 
 through all quarters of the west and south ; but I shall 
 almost confine myself here to the severities committed by 
 Claverhouse, and his forces under his command, in the 
 circuit, shall I call it, which he made a very little after 
 the engagement. In a few days after this defeat, I find 
 him, and his soldiers under his command, harassing the 
 shire of Ayr. From that he goes to Galloway, and 
 from thence to Nithsdale and Dumfries. As they 
 perambulate these places, it was their care to inform 
 themselves, in every parish, who had been at Bothwell ; 
 in which the Episcopal incumbents were very useful to 
 them. And, considering that the spoil went to their 
 own pockets, and was never accounted for, we may 
 safely suppose they were well enough disposed to re- 
 ceive informations, diligent to have them, and not over 
 nice in taking them. Thus, multitudes of persons who 
 were no ways concerned in Bothwell, now and after- 
 wards came to much loss and trouble. So miserable a 
 thing is it to lay a poor country open to the covetous 
 and cruel lusts of a profligate army. Upon these infor- 
 mations, such as they were, without any probation, and 
 when there was nobody to oppose them, they attacked 
 
28(5 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the houses of such who, they pretended, had been in 
 the rising. Few or none of the persons themselves 
 found it convenient to wait their coming, but made the 
 best shifts they could. Their families in their absence 
 were fallen upon, and suffered very much. Their rela- 
 tions, yea, every family near by, where the soldiers were 
 pleased to allege the rebels might be, and every thing 
 they inclined to have, was taken away, and great sums 
 extorted for such things as they carried not with them. 
 All this was the harder on the west country, especially 
 the shire of Ayr and adjacent places, that they had been 
 but the last year sufficiently pillaged by the barbarous 
 Highland host. The reader will easily perceive this 
 will make the depredations this year doubly heavy to the 
 country, and like the ripping up of a wound when but 
 lately, and indeed scarcely skinned over. It deserves our 
 notice further, before I come to particulars, that for two 
 years after Bothwell the soldiers never paid any thing 
 for their quarters, but lived at discretion upon the west 
 and south. This, if calculated, would come to a vast 
 sum levied from the country, especially considering the 
 manner of their living upon the substance of others; 
 they were sure to take the best things that were to be 
 had in the place, and, generally speaking, they destroyed 
 as much to the people upon whom they quartered as 
 they did eat up, if not more. Yea, till the Revolution, 
 they never paid anything for transient quarters ; that is, 
 when upon their road, and when not directly allotted 
 for so many days upon such and such houses. This fell 
 very sore upon many places in the west country. I could 
 instance in the town of Kilmarnock, where, for some 
 years after Bothwell, there scarce ever passed a week 
 but there were companies, or troops, lay there for a 
 night or tw r o, in their coming and going, and that as 
 much upon free quarter as they had been in an ene- 
 my’s country. And the little village of Dalmellington, 
 which is the key into Galloway and the south from the 
 west country, suffered this way a great deal more than 
 can be computed.” 
 
TIIE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — LOURIE. 
 
 287 
 
 But there is no end in enumerating the mischief 
 caused in this way by the military. The common sol- 
 diers were robbers because their masters were plunderers. 
 The members of the council, the officers in the army, 
 and the troopers in their raids, were some of them guilty 
 of extortion, and others of theft. Even the redoubted 
 Claverhouse was a poor, mean, pilferer. He took what 
 money he could find in the houses which he visited. 
 In the parish of Carsphairn, as Wodrow informs us, 
 he took from a poor widow woman fifty pounds ; pro- 
 bably pounds Scots, but the smaller the sum the meaner 
 the action. 
 
 But to return to our two worthies, whose situation as 
 prisoners in the Greyfriars’ church-yard suggested these 
 historical recollections. William Lourie and David 
 Ancrum felt all the inconvenience and irritancy of the 
 confinement in this crowded corner of the grave-yard, 
 and were subjected, like the rest, to the ill-usage and 
 pilfering habits of the soldiers who were the guards of 
 the prisoners. This state of things was not to be en- 
 dured any longer than the captives could find the occa- 
 sion of righting themselves ; accordingly the two friends 
 adopted the resolution of making their escape on the 
 first favourable opportunity, even though the soldiers 
 were to answer for the prisoners, and the officers for 
 the soldiers, and the town for the officers, and the 
 council for the town, and the king for the council, and 
 conscience for the king. But however this might be, 
 they resolved, and in their resolution they succeeded ; for 
 they crept noiselessly over the wall at some unguarded 
 point, perhaps when the soldiers had relaxed their vigi- 
 lance, or it might be when the wind and storm had 
 arisen ; but, however it was, they got clear away, and rid 
 themselves of their durance vile. 
 
 They now betook themselves to their wanderings, and 
 sought concealment in the lone retreats of the moun- 
 tainous and moorland parts of the country. They had 
 tasted a little of the severity of the treatment of their per- 
 secutors, and all their efforts for the future were how to 
 
288 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 avoid their cruel grasp. The sufferings which the perse- 
 cuted endured in caves and other hiding-places, in hunger 
 and weariness, were all cheerfully borne, and regarded 
 as little in comparison with the merciless treatment they 
 received at the hands of the soldiers, whose hearts seemed 
 to be steeled against the sympathies of humanity. 
 
 William Lourie and his friend met with many a peril- 
 ous adventure, and many a narrow escape had they from 
 the grasp of their foes ; and it is to be regretted that 
 these incidents have not been retained by tradition in the 
 families descended from them. The following anec- 
 dote, however, is retained. One morning a little boy 
 was sent to their hiding-place with a morning meal ; 
 and having delivered it into their hands, he withdrew 
 to a short distance till they had finished it, and waited 
 to carry back the utensils. As he was sitting apart, not 
 far from the hiding-place, he was surprised by the sud- 
 den appearance of a party of soldiers, who seized him 
 on the supposition that he knew the whereabouts of the 
 fugitives. They questioned him closely, and handled 
 him roughly, with a view to expiscate the requisite in- 
 formation ; but all in vain. The poor boy remained 
 firm, and either would not answer their direct interro- 
 gations, or gave such evasive replies that they could 
 make nothing of them. Neither threatenings nor pro- 
 mises could elicit any thing satisfactory ; and not being 
 able to make any thing of it, they departed, and took 
 the precise road the little fellow wished them to take. 
 This is no solitary instance of firmness in little boys in 
 such circumstances. Wodrow mentions the following 
 cases : — 
 
 “ The soldiers,” he says, w apprehended a poor harm- 
 less youth at his work, and pressed him to declare who 
 of his neighbours were said to be at Both well. The 
 young man either could not or would not inform them. 
 And when he had stood out their threatenings, they 
 came to put him to the torture. Boots and thumbkins 
 were not at hand, and the way they fell to was this : — a 
 small cord was tied about his head, and both ends of it 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — LOURIE. 
 
 289 
 
 were wreathed about the butt of one of their pistols ; then 
 they twisted it about the upper part of his head, with 
 the pistol, so hard that the flesh cut round into the 
 skull. The pain was inexpressible, and his cries were 
 heard at a great distance. They catched a young herd 
 boy in the same parish, and would have him to discover 
 where his master was, whom they alleged to have been 
 at Bothwell. The boy very probably could tell them 
 nothing about his master ; however, they took him and 
 fastened two small cords to his thumbs, and by these 
 hung him up to the balk [[roof ] of the house. The 
 torment he endured was very great; yet they got nothing 
 out of him. But the other youth last spoken of died 
 within a little after he came out of their hands.” 
 
 All this, while it shows the savagism of the soldiery, 
 is indicative of a brave* minded peasantry inhabiting 
 the glens and wilds of our native land, — 
 
 66 Where wives and little children 
 Were steadfast to the death, 
 
 And graves of martyr warriors 
 Are in the desert heath.” 
 
 The little boy who conveyed the breakfast to the 
 fugitives in the hiding-place was William Louries own 
 son, and great grandfather to the gentleman from whom 
 we have received this tradition, — Mr David Lourie of 
 Dunfermline. From this circumstance, it would appear 
 that their place of concealment, at this time, must have 
 been in the neighbourhood of their own dwelling at 
 Stow r . 
 
 On another occasion the two friends, being hotly pur- 
 sued by the troopers, were nearly overpowered, when a 
 seasonable mist, so common in its descent on our 
 Scottish hills and moorlands, intercepted the pursuit, 
 and allowed the fugitives an opportunity of escape. 
 These worthy men survived the persecution, and having 
 spent the remainder of their days in tranquillity, died 
 in peace. 
 
 Robert Lourie, the eldest son of William the Cove- 
 nanter, was married to Isabella Lawson, a native of 
 
290 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Fife. Their family consisted of two daughters and one 
 son. Iler husband died in the prime of life, and she 
 returned to her native district, and, with her son William, 
 took up her residence in Dunfermline. The young man 
 entered into business, and became successful. He was 
 an elder in Ralph Erskine’s church, and was held in 
 high esteem by the religious portion of the community. 
 His descendants are numerous. The late Rev. W. 
 Wilson of Greenock was one of his grandsons. He 
 was a man of high repute as a minister of the gospel; 
 and lately a very handsome monumental tablet has been 
 erected to his memory, to mark the respect for his public 
 and private worth entertained by a few of his surviving 
 friends. The tablet is of red Aberdeen granite, set in 
 polished ashlar, and is adorned by a medallion portrait 
 of the deceased, cut in marble by Mr George Mossman 
 of Glasgow. He was ordained to his charge in Novem- 
 ber 1812, and died on the 10th of March 1831 ; and 
 w r as universally esteemed by all classes of the com- 
 munity. His wit, generosity, and amiability, are en- 
 shrined in the numerous anecdotes of those who had 
 the privilege of knowing one who was the living 
 representative of Chaucer’s portrait of a true minister 
 of the gospel, — 
 
 “ Christ’s love, and his apostles twelve, 
 
 He taught; but first he followed it himselve.” 
 
 We now return to the west, a district more thickly 
 strewed with covenanting anecdotes, and stirring tales 
 of the suffering period, than almost any other in Scot- 
 land. Its mountainous localities, with their mosses, 
 and thickets, and ravines, afforded a more suitable 
 retreat than most other places, and consequently were 
 most frequented by the persecuted people. 
 
 Duncan of Netherton justly deserves a place in our 
 sketches. Netherton is a farm in the immediate 
 vicinity of Ochiltree. Ochiltree, in the ancient British 
 speech, signifies “ the high town,” or “ the town on the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DUNCAN. 
 
 291 
 
 hill.” In the times of persecution, Ochiltree House 
 was the resort of Colonel Douglas, one of the most 
 active agents employed in hunting down the poor Non- 
 conformists. He, and Claverhouse, and Lagg, were 
 constantly scouring the country with their troopers, and 
 searching the most retired corners of the upland districts. 
 Their names were a terror to the poor peasantry, who 
 cowered and shrank away from their hated presence. 
 Duncan, the farmer of Netherton, was fully near Ochil- 
 tree House for personal safety, being a Presbyterian, 
 and therefore obnoxious to the ruling party. But then 
 Duncan was a remarkably quiet and unobtrusive person ; 
 and his sterling integrity, and obliging disposition, ren- 
 dered him a general favourite. He was held in good 
 esteem even by the people who by no means approved 
 of his principles as a Covenanter ; and by them he was 
 frequently shielded from the mischief which was plotted 
 against him. But notwithstanding the screen which was 
 occasionally thrown over him by the popular good-will, 
 the soldiers often visited his house for the purpose of ap- 
 prehending him, and as often did they miss their object. 
 
 The colonel finding that bis efforts to apprehend 
 him proved abortive, thought of entangling him by a 
 stratagem. Accordingly he agreed with a country man 
 to go to Netherton and confer with Duncan respecting 
 the purchase of some corn or hav for the horses of the 
 troopers. It was concerted that the forage should be 
 delivered to the man in the evening dusk, and that at 
 the moment a small party of soldiers were to seize 
 Duncan on the spot, and carry him before the colonel. 
 Accordingly the country man appeared at the appointed 
 hour, in company with a soldier, whom Duncan kindly 
 invited into his house, and, after the fashion of Scotland 
 in the landward parts, set before them an abundant 
 supply of food ; of which, in his hearty and honest 
 manner, he urged them to partake. The presence of 
 the burly soldier, however, somewhat disconcerted him ; 
 but he strove to appear as much at his ease as possible, 
 and succeeded in concealing his suspicions. The kindly 
 
292 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and Christian deportment of Duncan was, unknown to 
 him, producing a rather softening impression on the 
 dragoon, who felt such relentings as were gradually 
 leading him to the determination to have nothing to do 
 with such a harmless and unsuspecting man. Accord- 
 ingly, when the entertainment was over, and when they 
 were just about to depart, the soldier took Duncan by 
 himself, and honestly confessed that he had been sent by 
 Douglas to apprehend him ; but that he could not now 
 find in his heart to execute his commission, and that, 
 therefore, he wished to concoct some plan by which he 
 might effect his escape, and shield himself from the 
 suspicion of conniving at the flight. To this Duncan 
 replied, that he had no desire to escape, and that he was 
 ready to present himself before the commander when- 
 ever he pleased. The soldier was astonished at the 
 daring of the honest farmer, well knowing how the 
 Nonconformists were treated on every occasion when 
 they fell into the hands of the military. 
 
 Without delay, therefore, the worthy gudeman of 
 Netherton, accompanied the soldier to the garrison- 
 house at Ochiltree, and presented himself, without 
 misgiving, before the colonel. Douglas had now at- 
 tained his object. There stood now, in his presence, the 
 man he had often tried to apprehend, but without 
 success. He w r as now entirely in his power ; and he 
 proceeded forthwith to put sundry questions to him 
 respecting his nonconformist practices, and especially 
 his frequenting of conventicles on the lonely Water of 
 Deuch in Carsphairn, a resort of the Covenanters, and 
 his being at similar meetings at several places on the 
 Water of Ayr. The good man stood before the officer 
 with the utmost composure, and in the most frank and 
 honest manner answered his questions. He did not 
 deny that he had been a frequenter of religious meet- 
 ings, where the worship of God was observed, and the 
 gospel was preached ; but that he never in his life at- 
 tended any meeting for treasonable purposes, and never 
 would do so. He stood before the man who had the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DUNCAN. 
 
 293 
 
 entire power over him, — in whose hands he w 7 as for life or 
 death, according to his military licence, — and cleared 
 himself of every imputation that his enemies had laid to 
 his charge. But it was the simplicity of the man's 
 manner, his straight-forward honesty, and his unflinch- 
 ing integrity, that impressed the colonel, as it had 
 impressed the dragoon before him. He felt himself dis- 
 armed of all hostility to this Covenanter in particular, 
 and he stood subdued in his presence ; and it was not the 
 first time that he had felt cowed in the presence of a 
 Covenanter. Douglas could not find it in his heart, on 
 this occasion, to be severe ; and he dismissed him with 
 a caution to avoid those rendezvous of rebellion, called 
 conventicles, for all time coming. 
 
 Duncan left the castle with a thankful heart, and 
 made his w r ay homewards with all speed. During his 
 absence his wife felt the deepest solicitude for her hus- 
 band, fearing he might be detained as a prisoner, and 
 next day be led out to execution. She could not rest 
 at home, and in the dark set out to make inquiries. 
 She went straight towards the garrison to learn from 
 some of the soldiers if any thing serious had befallen. 
 As she proceeded mournfully on her errand, the first 
 person she met with on her murky path was Duncan, 
 who was speeding homeward to assure his family of his 
 safety, and to receive their congratulations. Her heart 
 bounded with excessive joy at the unexpected incident, 
 and rose in high gratefulness to Him w T ho is the guard- 
 ian of our lives, and who “ looseth the prisoners." He 
 who sees the heart and all its cares, and who hears the 
 cry of anguish wrung from the afflicted spirit, looked 
 in pity on this poor woman, and answered her urgent 
 prayer in the day of her distress. It makes our mercies 
 doubly sweet when they come to us in this way ; and 
 when we see the blessing reached directly down to us 
 from the hand of Him whose heart of sympathy yearns 
 over us with the tenderest commiseration. The heart 
 clings closer to the God of our life when we see him 
 interfering so graciously on our behalf. 
 
294 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 This occurrence led Duncan to act a little more 
 cautiously, for he plainly perceived that he was watch- 
 ed ; and he saw, besides, that all his conscious integrity, 
 and honest bearing in the presence of the colonel, or 
 any other of the government officials, would not save 
 him. He now saw that he had to deal with unscrupu- 
 lous men, and that therefore his wisdom lay in looking 
 w r ell to himself, and keeping his eyes all around him, 
 lest evil should come upon him suddenly, and from a 
 quarter he did not expect. He now found that his 
 dwelling-house was rather an insecure retreat, and a 
 place that was exposed to an unwelcome visit from the 
 military at any time ; and the more especially as he was 
 so near the garrison. Another favourable dismissal 
 from Douglas was not to be counted on ; and should 
 Lagg or Claverhouse visit Ochiltree, they might, by 
 their promptings, easily induce the colonel to make a 
 prisoner of a person who was so much suspected. On 
 these considerations, Duncan resolved to seek a hiding- 
 place in some retired corner, to which he might betake 
 himself in the time of danger. Having discovered a 
 suitable place, he got matters so arranged as that he 
 could withdraw to it on any emergency. 
 
 His house was frequently searched, and every thing 
 valuable carried off. This was the custom of the 
 troopers, who, it appears, often visited places on their 
 own account, and to purloin whatever of value they 
 could appropriate. This is not to be wondered at, 
 when their masters did the very same thing, only on a 
 larger scale, and in a more wasteful degree of appro- 
 priation. The redoubted Claverhouse, as we have 
 already seen, was guilty of this meanness, and even 
 robbed poor widows of the small sums of money they 
 might happen to possess. This low and ungentlemanly 
 peculance was chargeable on almost all the troopers, 
 both men and officers, so that they were well denomi- 
 nated locusts , who scrupled not to consume every thing 
 that came in their way. Nor were the men who sat 
 in the council of the nation free from similar charges. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DUNCAN. 
 
 295 
 
 It is well known that they appropriated whole estates 
 to themselves, and often accused innocent gentlemen 
 that they might get their property to share among them- 
 selves. And to such an extent was this carried by 
 those in power that Queensberry actually complained to 
 the king of the grievous injustice and rapacity which 
 were thus exhibited. The soldiers were in the habit of 
 driving away the cattle from the farm-houses, and often 
 did they despoil the poor tenant of his entire stock, 
 reducing him to absolute penury. The honest farmer 
 of Netherton was frequently obliged to drive his cows 
 and horses to some obscure place, to conceal them from 
 the sight of the troopers, who were sure, in certain cases, 
 to sweep them all and wholly away. These were times 
 of equal insecurity both of life and property. No man 
 could call any thing his own ; and the injury was some- 
 times inflicted with the same severity on the Prelatists 
 as on the Presbyterians. The instances of this kind 
 given by the historian Wodrow are instructive. The 
 truth is, the persecutors wanted property, and to obtain 
 this they frequently made an indiscriminate levy on 
 friend and foe. 
 
 On one occasion, on his return from Dalmellington, 
 Duncan made a very narrow escape. He was ascending 
 a height when two dragoons issued from Dunasken Glen, 
 below him, and the mere circumstance of a man being 
 seen on the hill alone was enough to excite their sus- 
 picion, or their love of mischief, and they spurred their 
 horses in the pursuit. They knew that the country 
 people dreaded the sight of an armed soldier, and wished 
 on all occasions to avoid an encounter, and therefore to 
 give chase was a matter of merriment to them, although 
 it often became a serious matter in the end, for some- 
 times life was lost on both sides. 
 
 Before the troopers, however, reached the top of what 
 is called Kilmien Hill, Duncan was down in the bottom, 
 and concealed himself till the men, having lost track of 
 him, took the road to Little Mill. When all danger 
 was over, our worthy crept from his hiding-place, and 
 
 U 
 
296 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 betook himself to the farm-house of Class, the residence 
 of the Duns, who were stanch Presbyterians, and whose 
 story shall be given in its proper place. The Duns 
 were worthy men, and true friends to the cause, and 
 their door was always open to the homeless wanderers 
 who had resigned all for Christ's sake. 
 
 The worthy gudeman of Netherton was relating his 
 escape, and congratulating himself on his having reached, 
 unobserved, the house of his friends, when a little girl 
 came running in haste, exclaiming, “ The soldiers are 
 coming up the croft ! ” so short-lived was the imagined 
 security of those times. It was no uncommon thing, 
 when the military had just left a house at wdiich they 
 had made their search, to see them return after a brief 
 space, and after they had been a while out of sight. 
 By this stratagem they thought to take the people by 
 surprise, when they were off their guard ; and in this 
 way they often gained their object. In the house of 
 Class all was in confusion. What was to be done ? 
 the soldiers were just at hand. To issue from the door 
 and seek safety in flight in the face of the horsemen, 
 would be madness. There was only one method by 
 which concealment might perchance be effected, and 
 that was by retiring to some secret corner within the 
 dwelling. But then, in a small house with few apart- 
 ments, and all these equally exposed, a hiding-place 
 was scarcely to be thought of. Necessity, however, is 
 the mother of invention. u Creep in beneath the lang- 
 settle,” cried the little maid, “ and I'll hap ye o'er wi’ 
 peats.” The langsettle was a seat common in the up- 
 land farm-houses, in the form of a sofa, made of bare 
 wood, and which generally stood behind the “ hallan,” 
 and was the resting- seat of the servants in the cold 
 winter nights, when the fire-place was filled with bleezing 
 peats, which sent a genial warmth through the apart- 
 ment. The hint was enough, and Duncan and his 
 friend did their best to squeeze themselves underneath 
 the seat. The girl then hastily built up the open space 
 in front with the hard dry peats that were piled up in 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DUNCAN. 297 
 
 the ingle nuik for ready fuel, and had just finished her 
 task when the soldiers stood before the door. The two 
 worthies, who lay stretched at full length behind the 
 slender peat wall, expected every moment to be dis- 
 covered, now when they heard the troopers roistering 
 in the apartment. The slightest cough would have 
 indicated their retreat, and then their capture was cer- 
 tain. Unfortunately the place below the langsettle hap- 
 pened to be the usual dormitory of the household dogs, 
 and it was their place of retreat also during the day 
 when their services were not required abroad. Accord- 
 ingly one of the animals proceeded to seek his usual 
 resting-place, and finding the opening closed up with 
 peats, began to scrape away the obstruction, which was 
 no difficult task, as the slender wall was easily pulled 
 down. The peats tumbled on the floor, and opened a 
 space sufficient to show what was within, had any been 
 disposed to stoop down and look. The inmates were 
 in great consternation, and concluded that all w r as over, 
 when one of the troopers observing what had happened, 
 and rightly guessing at what was beneath, but not will- 
 ing to make the discovery known, drove the dog out of 
 the kitchen to prevent further mischief. In a short 
 time the soldiers withdrew without effecting their object, 
 and the two men were screened in their hour of peril, 
 and emerged from their smutty retreat with thankful 
 hearts. The trooper appears to have been one of those 
 that were sometimes found among the soldiers, who pos- 
 sessed a more humane heart than his fellows, and who 
 by no means wished to carry things to an extreme. 
 From such persons the nonconformists sometimes re- 
 ceived substantial benefit. 
 
 The only other anecdote respecting the family of 
 Netherton is the following : — Claverhouse with his men 
 visited the place for the purpose of apprehending the 
 gudeman, who happened to be from home. Duncan’s 
 wife had recently become the mother of an infant, which 
 she held on her knee when the cavalier entered, and in 
 his blustering way put to her a variety of questions 
 
298 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 which she was not disposed to answer. He stormed and 
 threatened, but she remained immoveable. She would 
 answer nothing. He might annoy her as he pleased, 
 but she was determined to keep to her purpose. The 
 trooper, perceiving the helpless infant in the mother’s 
 arms, said that it was his intention to return bringing a 
 curate with him for the purpose of baptising the child. 
 She replied that no curate should ever baptise a child of 
 hers. It is not said whether Claverhouse came again or 
 not, but in departing from Netherton his horse sank to 
 the belly in a bog, and he commissioned one of his men 
 to fetch him a horse from the nearest farm-house where 
 any horses were to be had. This was done on the 
 ommon principle of plunder universally acted on by 
 the military in the defenceless rural districts, where the 
 soldiery ruled according to their will. 
 
 Some time after this, Mr Peden held a conventicle in 
 the parish of Stair, where Duncan’s child, along with 
 thirty others, was baptised. It was customary when a 
 conventicle was kept in any locality, that all the un- 
 baptised children in the district were brought by their 
 parents to the meeting, and there baptised. Duncan’s 
 child was named Bessy, and this Bessy Duncan lived 
 to a great age, and the relater of these anecdotes re- 
 specting this family has seen her when a boy. She 
 died in Ochiltree. 
 
 We shall now turn, for a moment, to the middle parts 
 of Nithsdale, where so many things befell in those trying 
 times, and where so many of the worthies found a place 
 of refuge. The localities around Closeburn were much 
 frequented by the persecuted people, and not a few con- 
 venticles were held in the wilds in the adjoining dis- 
 tricts, and not a few hospitable households opened the 
 door of a friendly reception to the helpless wanderers. 
 The house of Mitchellslacks, in Closeburn, was one of 
 this description, where the persecuted people found a 
 refuge when they durst not be seen in the more open 
 and frequented parts of the country. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HARKNESS. 299 
 
 Mrs Harkness, the gudewife of Mitchellslacks, was 
 a heroine in the cause of the covenant, and became an 
 object of special dislike to the curates and others who 
 were interested in the suppression of Presbyterianism. 
 The curate of Closeburn was famous for his hostility to 
 the wanderers, and used his influence to apprehend 
 them and bring them to punishment ; and we are not to 
 suppose that this worthy household would be exempted 
 from his prelatic interference. Mrs Harkness, as well 
 as her husband, was exposed to many hardships in the 
 maintenance of her principles, and was obliged, like 
 others, to flee for her life, and hide in caves and thickets 
 in the neighbourhood of her residence ; and it was 
 well that such places were to be had, for they afforded 
 an immediate retreat in the day of peril. 
 
 The house of Mitchellslacks was frequently searched 
 for Mrs Harkness, whom the soldiers intended to ap- 
 prehend on the first opportunity. On one occasion they 
 came to the house in quest of her, and having found her 
 at home, with an infant on her knee, they seized her, 
 and at the same time took with them the child, and 
 a maid-servant whom they obliged to accompany her 
 mistress. The party went away driving the two females 
 and the babe as a little band of captives before them. 
 The troopers seem to have been a company under the 
 command of Dalziel of Glenae, whose name is con- 
 nected with the story of the white flag mentioned in the 
 “ Traditions of the Covenanters,” which is as follows : — 
 “It happened on one occasion that Dalziel was passing 
 through Gavin Moor, accompanied, it is said, by a single 
 attendant, a body servant. Gavin Moor is a wild dis- 
 trict in the parish of Closeburn, and was often resorted 
 to, in the times of the covenant, by the wanderers, who 
 found a retreat in its solitudes. As he was proceeding 
 along the waste, wending his way toward his own re- 
 sidence on the water of iE, he came upon a man fast 
 asleep among the brakens, or the long grass, close by 
 the footpath. The horse on which Daiziel rode started, 
 and snorted so loudly, that the man awoke, and, spring- 
 
300 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ing to his feet, found himself in the presence of an 
 enemy. Dalziel recognised him as a fugitive who had 
 sought concealment in the moor. On his being com- 
 manded to surrender himself a prisoner, the man stood 
 on the defensive. Dalziel, unwilling to brook the insult, 
 sprang from his steed, and seizing his ponderous glaive, 
 advanced on the Covenanter, nothing doubting that he 
 would speedily settle the matter by his single arm. In 
 the braggart style of a swaggering dragoon, he exclaimed 
 that he would either make him his captive, or lay his 
 body lifeless on the heath. But he reckoned without 
 his host, for the Covenanter was a powerful man, and 
 one whose arm could wield a sword as dexterously as 
 his vaunting opponent ; and this the assailant soon found 
 to his cost. A man who is obliged to stand up sud- 
 denly in defence of his life, finds himself inspired with a 
 determination and armed with a courage of which, in 
 his calmer moments, he might think himself incapable. 
 At first the contest seemed to be equal, and the issue 
 doubtful ; but the Covenanter, at a happy moment, with 
 a brawny arm and a skilful movement, twirled the 
 sword from Dalziel’s right hand, and bending forward 
 lifted the glittering blade from the ground, and encoun- 
 tered the foe with his own weapon. Dalziel, outwitted 
 by this movement, and fully aware of his danger, im- 
 plored mercy at the hand of the man whose hostility he 
 had unrighteously provoked. The victorious combatant, 
 having no desire to take the life of his persecutor, said 
 that he would spare him on one condition. 4 1 will 
 accede to any condition/ said Dalziel, 4 you may see 
 fit to propose/ 4 The condition is a very simple one/ 
 replied the Covenanter, 4 and one that imposes no hard 
 exaction ; it is merely this, that when, in pursuit of any 
 of the Covenanters, or when you come to surprise any 
 conventicle, you see a white flag elevated on a staff, you 
 cease from the pursuit, and refuse to invade the conven- 
 ticle/ This seemed to Dalziel a trifling imposition 
 when laid in balance with his life, and he agreed to 
 the condition without remonstrance. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS— HARKNESS. 301 
 
 “ On the truce being thus concluded, the brave and 
 humane Covenanter repaired to the hiding-places of his 
 friends to communicate the intelligence. The news of 
 the rencontre, and the terms to which the officer had 
 acceded, were published far and wide among the friends, 
 that any party, when attacked by this commander, might 
 know to exhibit the flag, and thereby escape the 
 threatened mischief. This circumstance, however, was 
 not contemplated by Dalziel at the time ; he imagined 
 that this Covenanter only was likely to employ the 
 signal agreed on, and that he, probably, would be 
 rarely met. The plan, however, was turned to a general 
 use, and was found productive of much good. 
 
 “ Often was Dalziel defeated in his designs by the 
 display of the white flag ; for though the individual to 
 whom the promise was made did not happen to be 
 present, others instructed in the secret did it for him. 
 So frequently was Dalziel encountered with the white 
 handkerchief, that, in the irritation of his spirit, he bit- 
 terly expressed his disappointment, and declared that 
 the Covenanter to whom he plighted his honour was 
 like the devil, so fleet and variable in his movements, 
 that he was to be found in every place where a conven- 
 ticle was kept, — not knowing that the secret was com- 
 municated to others whose interests it equally served. 
 It is affirmed that in no one instance did Dalziel ever 
 infringe his promise, but kept it most scrupulously in 
 every case.” 
 
 Such is the story of the white flag. Mrs Harkness, 
 with the child and servant, were hurried by the troopers 
 in the direction of Glenae. The party in their route 
 had to traverse the dreary wastes of Gavin Moor. It 
 was about the evening dusk when they reached a cot- 
 tage on the skirts of the solitude, into which they en- 
 tered, for the soldiers in their raids among the peasantry 
 could pass no dwelling, however humble in its appear- 
 ance, without intruding themselves to see what could 
 be found in the way of eating, for they seemed always 
 to be hungry, or uncommonly thirsty, so that any thing 
 
302 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 in the shape of victuals or liquids was eagerly devoured 
 by them. Nor were they heedless with regard to the 
 inmates, for if they could find a Covenanter, it was an 
 additional prize. No opportunity, therefore, was 
 allowed to slip of searching the huts in the moorlands, 
 and acting according to their capricious and uproarious 
 manner. During the time the soldiers lingered in the 
 cottage, Mrs Harkness, whose anxiety had now reached 
 its height, quietly placed the infant in the hands of the 
 maid who had accompanied her, and stole to the door. 
 The shadows of the evening were fast closing in, and the 
 obscurity favouring her design, she fled from the house 
 to seek, she knew not where, a hiding-place. In the vici- 
 nity of the spot there was a streamlet, the banks of which 
 were clothed with a dense thicket, and toward this she 
 directed her hasty steps, and found a concealment. It 
 w T as not long ere the soldiers missed their prisoner, and 
 they sallied out in quest of the fugitive. They ran to the 
 thicket, naturally supposing that she had concealed her- 
 self in its coverts, into the heart of which they discharged 
 their fire-arms, if perchance a ball might reach her per- 
 son, and either kill or disable her. Their firing, how- 
 ever, was in vain, for she was beyond the reach of their 
 shot, and hidden in a place where it was not likely they 
 would soon find her. But she had left her babe behind, 
 and this saddened her heart and filled her with many an 
 anxious thought; she did not, however, suppose that the 
 soldiers would injure the child, but trusted they would 
 send him home, to rid themselves of the incumbrance. 
 
 The wily troopers, however, fell upon a scheme to 
 draw her, if possible, from her retreat ; they brought 
 out the infant and made it cry bitterly, thinking that the 
 mother would forthwith spring to its relief. She was 
 all the while within hearing, and her bowels yearned 
 over her sweet babe ; but she knew that her presence 
 would do no good, and, therefore, she remained in con- 
 cealment. In a little the child was carried to the house 
 and committed to the care of the maid, who tended it 
 with a mothers affection. Owing to the darkness of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS— HARKNESS. 303 
 
 the night, or some other reason, the soldiers abode in 
 the cottage till the morning, and Mrs Harkness, we may 
 suppose, cowered down among the bushes till the dawn 
 of day, not being able to find her way to any dwelling 
 in the murky night, and being withal unwilling to leave 
 the neighbourhood of her little boy, respecting whom 
 she felt so much solicitude. The morning at length 
 came, and the troopers prepared to move, carrying with 
 them the maid and the child. Tradition does not say, 
 but it is every way likely that Mrs Harkness would 
 leave her retreat and enter the cottage when the party 
 was gone, and learn from the indwellers all that had 
 befallen during the night. As the soldiers moved on- 
 ward, they met with the chief commander on the moor, 
 who interrogated them respecting the child, who was 
 now crying pitifully in his nurse's arms. When he 
 learned the circumstances, and saw the swollen counte- 
 nance of the poor weeping babe, he was touched with 
 compassion, for he was probably a parent himself, and he 
 instantly released the maid with her charge, who began 
 to retrace her steps with a light heart, and hoped to be 
 able in a short time to replace him in his mothers arms. 
 When she had retreated a little, she was called back by 
 the party, who lingered on the moor, and she turned 
 with a throbbing breast, under the impression that the 
 commander had changed his mind, and that she and 
 her little charge were yet to be carried off as prisoners. 
 She was, however, agreeably disappointed, for instead 
 of being driven away to the garrison, the officer, hearing 
 the child still continuing to cry, had searched his pockets 
 for some candied sugar which he happened to have with 
 him, which he requested the maid to put into the infant's 
 mouth, for the purpose of pleasing him. This little 
 anecdote is current among the peasantry, and is uni- 
 formly regarded by them as a wonderful display of 
 sympathy on the part of a hardened persecutor. We 
 may easily conceive the feelings with which Mrs Hark- 
 ness would receive the nurse and the babe that morning 
 at the cottage, after a night of so much peril, anxiety, 
 
304 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and grief. The Lord brought again their captivity like 
 streams of water in the south. Weeping may endure for 
 a night, hut joy cometh in the morning. These were 
 times of incessant harassings to the conscientious few 
 who kept by their integrity, and who could never count 
 on a single day’s security, nor a night’s uninterrupted 
 repose. Mrs Harkness was on this occasion delivered 
 out of the hand of her enemies, and was permitted to 
 visit her habitation once more in peace. 
 
 At another time, this worthy woman was apprehended 
 and carried before one of the district courts as an avowed 
 and incorrigible Covenanter, and especially as one who 
 had harboured the wanderers. On this occasion she 
 feigned herself a simpleton, and seemed either to under- 
 stand or not to understand what was said, as best suited 
 her. It was proposed that she should take the test. 
 “ Oh, yes,” said she, holding her apron, “give it me here, 
 I will take it home to my little children, who, in these 
 hard times, will be happy to receive any gift which your 
 honours may be pleased to bestow.” This apparent 
 simplicity created a laugh, and the gentlemen who sat 
 on trial began to consider her more an object of pity 
 than a subject against whom to institute a legal process. 
 The laird on whose estate she lived, and who happened 
 to be one of those who sat on the trial, understood the 
 woman, and helped to deepen the impression respecting 
 her mental imbecility, — for even he was in danger if she 
 was convicted, because lairds were made responsible for 
 their tenants, and farmers for their cottars, — and he 
 exclaimed, “ What is the use of citing persons of this 
 description before us? Let her case be dismissed as 
 incompetent, and let her go home.” Some say that 
 this was the laird of Drumlanrig, but this is not at all 
 probable ; it must have been Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, 
 — a man who, it is well known, was favourable to the 
 Covenanters, and who employed every means to screen 
 them, and Mitchellslacks was in the parish of Close- 
 burn. Drumlanrig, on the other hand, was a violent 
 persecutor; he spared none, and no tenant on his lands 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — HARKNESS. 305 
 
 could be permitted to hold covenanting principles, nor 
 act on them. 
 
 The mention of Mrs Harkness suggests the following 
 brief anecdote of Thomas Harkness of Lockerben, a 
 place not far from Mitch ellslacks. The house of Locker- 
 ben, like that of Mitchellslacks, was an asylum to the 
 persecuted, and this subjected the worthy occupant to no 
 small distress. Lockerben is a wild retreat among the 
 hills, and exactly such a spot as was in those times 
 coveted by the poor persecuted people who had no 
 certain dwelling-place. Thomas Harkness, like the 
 rest of his brethren in affliction, was obliged to retire 
 to the mountains to seek an abode in the wilderness. 
 At one time he repaired to his house for a change of 
 linen and a supply of provisions. He had scarcely 
 obtained his object when a company of troopers ap- 
 peared at a short distance from the house ; he retreated 
 by the window in the back part of the house, carrying 
 a musket with him for the purpose of self-defence. As 
 he was fleeing from the place he was observed by the 
 soldiers, who rode hastily forward and fired their shot 
 thick after him. One of the dragoons, mounted on a 
 swifter horse than his fellows, was gaining ground on 
 him, with the intent of pouring the murderous shot into 
 his body, when Harkness wheeled suddenly round, and, 
 levelling his piece, sent the whizzing ball through the 
 fleshy part of his leg. The incident arrested his pursuit, 
 and it seems also the pursuit of the troop. Harkness 
 escaped to the heights, where he concealed himself along 
 with his brethren in suffering. The wounded soldier was 
 conveyed to Lockerben, where he remained till he re- 
 covered. The family of Lockerben were greatly harassed 
 in those times, but they maintained their integrity, 
 and continued to minister, as they had opportunity, to 
 the wants of the destitute witnesses who frequented the 
 wilds in the vicinity. The memory of these worthy 
 people is cherished till this day, and had in honour not 
 only by their posterity but by the inhabitants of the 
 moorlands, who love to recount the holy deeds of the 
 
306 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 faithful remnant who loved not their lives unto the 
 death. Mrs Harkness was a heroine, and yet she was 
 but one of a class; there were scores, and even hundreds, 
 to be found that were animated by the same spirit. The 
 female character in Scotland showed itself to the best 
 advantage in those days of peril, when even men of 
 strong minds quailed and sank before the terrors of the 
 times. The occasional display of female courage was 
 enough to teach the oppressors, if they had possessed 
 even common discernment, that the high spirit of Scot- 
 land was not easily to be crushed. 
 
 “ Tyrants ! 
 
 Thought ye the torture and the stake 
 Could that intrepid spirit break, 
 
 That even in woman's breast withstood 
 The terrors of the fire and flood? ” 
 
 Graham of Threepwood next comes under our notice. 
 Strange incidents befell after the affair of Drumclog, 
 and the following is worthy of being noted. There 
 lived at West Threepwood, in the parish of Galston 
 in Ayrshire, a person of the name of Graham. He had 
 been at Drumclog, and on the evening after the skirmish 
 he concealed himself in a glen not far from the scene of 
 conflict. In this seclusion he met with other two men 
 in the same predicament with himself, to whom he was 
 entirely a stranger, and on this account the greater cau- 
 tion was necessary. But the people of God, in those 
 days, easily recognised one another. Their manner and 
 their spirit were the same, and their heartiness in the 
 great cause could not easily be hid. Graham and the 
 strangers soon became familiar, and every thing like mu- 
 tual suspicion vanished. They were of one heart and 
 of one mind ; they w T ere brethren in the highest sense 
 of the term ; they were brethren in the Lord, and bre- 
 thren in the bond of the covenant. On this account 
 their intercourse was sweet, and the night they spent in 
 the ravine, in heavenly fellowship, was much to be 
 remembered. Oh, how greatly will it delight the people 
 of God in heaven to recount the happy hours of bro- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS GRAHAM. 307 
 
 therly intercourse they spent together in perilous circum- 
 stances, when they jeoparded their lives in the blessed 
 cause of their common Lord, associates in tribulation on 
 earth, and now associates in blessedness in heaven ! 
 
 On parting, Graham invited his two companions to 
 visit him at his residence near Galston, if ever they 
 should happen to be in that part of the country, promis- 
 ing them a hearty welcome, and the best cheer his house 
 could afford. After their separation in the glen, the 
 two worthies, whose names tradition has not preserved, 
 wandered in divers places, hiding from the face of the 
 enemy, who were more than ordinarily exasperated on 
 account of the ignominious defeat they had so signally 
 sustained. It was, therefore, necessary to be more than 
 commonly cautious, as the soldiers were keen in the 
 search, and unsparing in the capture of all suspected 
 persons. After having lurked a while in the moor- 
 lands, and shifting carefully from one retreat to another, 
 they came at length to the neighbourhood of Mauch- 
 line, and being entire strangers in the place, they learned 
 that they were not far from Galston ; and recollecting 
 that it was in that vicinity their friend Graham resided, 
 they resolved on paying him a visit. They had, how- 
 ever, forgotten the precise name of his abode, and this 
 circumstance nearly imperilled their lives. There lived 
 in the same neighbourhood another person of the name 
 of Graham, who kept a public-house, and belonged to 
 the Episcopalian party. When they came near the 
 place, they wandered about till the dusk before they 
 ventured to call. On their way they met a woman with 
 her pitcher at a well, and asked her if she could con- 
 duct them to the house of Graham of Galston. “ Yes,” 
 said she, tC but I fear you are not going to the best of 
 houses, as you seem to be strangers hereabouts. Do you 
 know the man?” “We do,” they replied. “ Well, 
 then, I will take you to the door.” But what was their 
 surprise when, on entering, they found the house full of 
 soldiers carousing, and brawling, and swearing, and 
 bustling about. The wanderers formed an entire con- 
 
308 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 trast in habifc and mien to the uproarious and insolent 
 troopers ; and their grave appearance at once induced 
 the suspicion that they were Covenanters, and they 
 began to question them, and to fasten on them the im- 
 putation of rebels. This the worthy men repelled ; and, 
 though confounded at the circumstances in which they 
 found themselves, they assumed an undaunted bearing, 
 and hinted that had they been rebels it was not likely 
 they would have thrust themselves so unceremoniously 
 and uncalled for into a house filled with military. 
 
 As they were thus defending themselves against their 
 rude assailants, Graham, the landlord, came into the 
 apartment, and at a single glance discovering the mis- 
 take of the poor men, encompassed, like two defenceless 
 lambs, by a band of ravenous wolves, stept forward, and 
 attempted, on the spur of the moment, a somewhat dex- 
 terous and kindly device to extricate them. “ Ho,” 
 exclaimed he, u what, my old friends, good and trusty 
 both, are you here ? how glad am I to see you once more 
 under my roof. Come with me out of the midst of this 
 confusion, and let us have a chat by ourselves for old 
 acquaintanceship. Gentlemen soldiers, excuse me while 
 I show some attention to my worthy cronies.” As soon 
 as the honest landlord had extricated the men, he 
 showed them their mistake ; and having set refreshments 
 before them, and done them all the kindness which the 
 precariousness of the moment admitted, he procured 
 a guide to conduct them to the house of him of Threep- 
 wood. The men stealthily withdrew from the house, 
 and were committed to the care of the woman wdiom 
 they met at the well. No deliverance could be more 
 grateful than this ; they felt as if they had escaped from 
 the very mouth of Pandemonium itself, and as if they 
 had been rescued from the devouring jaws of a fierce 
 lion. The wickedness of these men of blood was enough 
 to astound and stupify the simple and artless men, whose 
 godly sincerity was in entire antagonism to the crooked 
 way of the wicked. Oh, how it sinks the heart of 
 sincere piety to witness the outrageous profanity of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRAHAM. 
 
 309 
 
 daring and desperate characters ! Christianity shrinks 
 and recoils from contact with unhallowed men. 
 
 The^honest woman who was now their conductor was 
 very solicitous about their safety, and besought them to 
 turn into her humble abode, where they were likely to 
 remain in greater security, as the soldiers who had arrived 
 at the inn had doubtless come for the purpose of scour- 
 ing the district, and were sure to visit first the more 
 suspected places. She was a humble woman, and sin- 
 cerely devoted to the cause, but possessed no notoriety 
 as a Covenanter, and was therefore the more likely to be 
 overlooked. The wanderers, however, were anxious to 
 go to Graham’s house ; and it being dark, they were 
 in more favourable circumstances for reaching it with- 
 out discovery. 
 
 The man to whom they were going had suffered much 
 in the persecution ; he had been spoiled of the stocking of 
 his farm more than once, and had, for the most part, 
 been forced to leave his family and live in hiding-places, 
 subjected to manifold privations, that he might main- 
 tain a good conscience ; but he was recompensed for all 
 by the enjoyment of the divine favour through the ever- 
 blessed Mediator. Better to be reduced to absolute 
 penury, to beg our bread from door to door, or to lodge 
 under a hedge, or in the open fields, and to have God for 
 our friend, than to enjoy all worldly wealth and pleasure 
 without God, and without an interest in his salvation. 
 
 The men arrived at Graham’s dwelling, and having 
 obtained admittance, they were soon recognised by their 
 former companion in the ravine, and made heartily 
 welcome to his hearth. Graham’s house, like the 
 houses of many in those times, being a place of retreat 
 for the wanderers, was furnished with means of escape 
 in case of surprise. There was behind the building a 
 thicket affording a perfect concealment for any who 
 might happen to get into it. At the bottom of the wall 
 of the house, next to this place, was a private aperture 
 through which speedy egress could be made into the 
 underwood, so that the dwellers within reposed with 
 
310 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 greater security when they knew of so convenient a 
 place at hand. On the present occasion this hiding- 
 place was found of great avail; for as the night began 
 to wear away, and the grey of the morning to appear, 
 the trampling of the horses of the troopers was heard 
 before the door. On hearing the ominous sound, the 
 strangers, who were in bed, and, no doubt, with their 
 clothes on (for this was a precaution often necessary), 
 sprang to their feet, and being conducted to the hole 
 in the wall, were in a few seconds in the heart of the 
 thicket, and in perfect security. 
 
 After this, Graham found it necessary to give up his 
 farm, and to retire to Garrick, and to seek in its wilds 
 some place of greater security. What became of him 
 ultimately is not known. 
 
 The two wanderers were men belonging to Clydes- 
 dale, and beyond the incident at Threepwood, tradition 
 has retained no trace of them. 
 
 The higher districts of Ayrshire presented a wide 
 scene of suffering in those trying times; and the church- 
 yard of Galston contains the body of a martyr shot by 
 Claverhouse in 1679, the year of Drumclog and Both- 
 well, and in all likelihood Andrew Richmond was 
 present on one of these occasions. Neither history nor 
 tradition has retained the full number of those whom 
 the “bluidy Clavers” with his troopers shot in the 
 fields. At Woodhead, in the neighbourhood of Mauch- 
 line, we find that one Lieutenant Lawder shot William 
 Shillilaw, wdio was found sitting in the field reading 
 the Word of God. This happened in the eighty -jive , — 
 that same terrible year when the blood of the saints in 
 the Scottish moorlands ran like water, and reddened 
 the mossy rills in the wastes. He was buried in the 
 churchyard of Torbolton, and a stone was erected over 
 his grave. These are distressing incidents, and every 
 one of Scotland’s children should make himself familiar 
 with the cause of their sufferings. 
 
 “ If you would know the nature of their crime, 
 
 Then read the story of that killing time.” 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE YOUNGS. 311 
 
 The Youngs of High craig next deserve a place here. 
 The farm of Highcraig, in the parish of Eaglesham, was 
 occupied, in successive generations, by a family of the 
 name of Young for several hundreds of years. The 
 family of this name that tenanted the farm during the 
 times of persecution, was devoted to the covenanting 
 interest. There were two brothers, William and 
 Andrew, stalworth men ; men of sound religious prin- 
 ciples ; and men who had acquired no small renown 
 among their fellows for their opposition to Prelacy, the 
 stepping-stone to Popery, which the ruling party, by 
 the most cruel measures, were labouring with might 
 and main to introduce. For the purpose of obtaining 
 their object, they scrupled not to drive the crimson- 
 coloured car of persecution over the breadth and length 
 of a bleeding land. The Youngs, therefore, belonged 
 to that portion of the noble-minded peasantry who 
 dared to withstand the insolent invasion on the nations 
 rights and privileges, and who were ready to risk all, 
 and even life itself, for the kingly prerogatives of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and for the retention of the gospel 
 in the land. Such men had the independence to be 
 nonconformists, and the daring to attend the forbidden 
 conventicle. 
 
 The Youngs were incessantly harassed by the troop- 
 ers, and were more than once captured by them ; but 
 being favoured by the Earl of Eglinton, to whom their 
 farm appears to have belonged, they were set at liberty. 
 This nobleman admired the principles of these men, 
 and their sterling worth, and honoured them in his 
 heart, and secretly assisted them in the time of their 
 difficulties, though he durst not let his partialities be 
 known, lest he should involve himself, and be brought 
 to trouble on their account; for gentlemen were no 
 more spared than common people, and, indeed, were 
 more readily laid hold on, for the sake of their pro- 
 perty. 
 
 The following incident affords a striking proof of 
 the very high respect which the earl cherished for the 
 
 X 
 
312 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Youngs. On one occasion the troopers paid a visit to 
 Highcraig in the usual way of those times, and ran- 
 sacked the house, and drove away the cattle, and set 
 fire to the cow-house, which the greedy flames instantly 
 consumed, and left a smoldering ruin. This conduct 
 was common with the soldiers, who, in the wantonness 
 of mischief and cruelty, not only banished poor fami- 
 lies from their home, but reduced that home to ashes, 
 that no shelter might be left to them. The burning of 
 Highcraig was a matter of vexation to the earl, and 
 the more so as it was a ruinous concern to the poor 
 tenant, who was otherwise despoiled of his property. 
 The earl privately sent word to William Young to 
 meet him at the dead of night, in a secluded glen at 
 the foot of Balligeoch Hill, as he wished to confer with 
 him on something of importance. William, who had 
 perfect confidence in the earl, did not recoil from the 
 meeting, but hastened to the spot as he had been re- 
 quested. The earl was at the place before him, wait- 
 ing patiently in the dark for his arrival. “ Willie,” 
 said the earl, when they met, “ I am very sorry for 
 what has befallen you ; my heart bleeds for you ; you 
 have been ill used; and I mean to assist you.” He then 
 generously presented him with the sum of twenty 
 pounds, to help in repairing the damage he had sus- 
 tained. The earl bade him reconstruct his out-houses 
 in the best manner he could ; and at the same time 
 stated, that he was not to trouble himself about paying 
 the rent till his own convenience. The nobleman 
 enjoined on him the strictest secrecy, as the least 
 whisper in reference to what he had done, in conferring 
 the present favour, might be attended with very un- 
 pleasant consequences to himself, as the most stringent 
 measures were taken with all those who were found to 
 favour, in any degree, the intercommuned, whatever 
 might be their station in society. The kindly earl 
 had his own reward in the inward approbation of his 
 own mind. He had done a generous action to a worthy 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE YOUNGS. 313 
 
 man in distress, and who was suffering hardship in a 
 good cause, — though it was a cause the earl had not the 
 hardihood to avow. Gentlemen of the disposition of 
 this truly worthy nobleman, were of immense advan- 
 tage in those times to the sufferers, who were often so 
 mercilessly treated. They stood between the two 
 parties, — not avowedly, to be sure, for this they durst 
 not do ; yet covertly they wrought good work, and fre- 
 quently screened the helpless, by the influence they 
 possessed with those in power, when they found them 
 in a favourable mood. They did not, indeed, regard 
 the cause of the nonconformists in the same strong re- 
 ligious light as did William Young and his brother 
 Andrew ; but they could feel for suffering humanity, 
 and they coul‘d compute the injustice which was prac- 
 tised on the men of the covenant, whose conscientious 
 views led them to take the stand they did. All honour 
 to the memory of this good earl, who so generously 
 took under his sheltering wing the worthy family of 
 Highcraig. 
 
 We have said that the two brothers were stal worth 
 men ; they were strong-built, muscular peasants, — men 
 who were not afraid to meet twice their number. It 
 appears that their daring was equal to their prowess, for 
 it was not every foe that could daunt them. Indeed, we 
 may say that fear was almost unknown to the peasantry 
 of those times. They livedin a hardy age, and were de- 
 scended from hardy ancestors. Andrew Young was one 
 day ploughing in the field, and William’s little son was 
 driving the team. As they were pursuing their peace- 
 ful employment, three troopers suddenly presented 
 themselves in the field, and in an instant were by the 
 side of the ploughman. They dismounted, and roughly 
 laid hold on Andrew, who was taken by surprise at the 
 hasty visitation. But resistance was in vain, and the 
 powerful troopers held him in their strong grasp, and 
 bound him on the spot with ropes, preparatory to their 
 carrying him off as their prisoner. Andrew resigned 
 
314 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 himself to his fate, committing himself to the Preserver of 
 his life, who, if he saw fit, could yet devise the means 
 of his escape. In the meantime the presence of the 
 soldiers in the field had been observed, and information 
 was instantly conveyed to William, who hasted to the 
 rescue of his brother, who, as he found, was fully in 
 the power of his enemies. When he reached the spot, 
 he found Andrew bound with strong ropes, and the 
 burly troopers glorying over their exploit, and ready 
 to carry off their victim. William had taken the pre- 
 caution of fetching with him his fire-arms for the pur- 
 pose of rescuing his brother, well knowing the men 
 with whom he had to deal. The appearance of William 
 with his gun in his hand overawed the soldiers, who 
 augured, from his manly bearing, and his stately form, 
 and the firm determination of his aspect, that a conflict 
 might be expected, in which they, probably, might not 
 exactly be the victors. One desperate man was worth 
 three in such a case, and the troopers must have plainly 
 perceived that the daring assailant was fully prepared to 
 sacrifice his life rather than fail in his object. The 
 musket which William carried was an implement not 
 to be despised; and reckless as the troopers generally 
 were, they knew that they sometimes had men to cope 
 with still more energetic than themselves, and, as they 
 suspected, men desperate, because pushed to an extremity. 
 William's powerful voice startled the troopers, and he 
 demanded the instant liberation of his brother. The 
 men perceived his determination, and dreading the 
 power of his arm, and the precision of his aim, let go 
 their grasp. He then ordered his little boy to untie the 
 ropes, and set his uncle free. The boy hesitated, fear- 
 ing lest the soldiers would shoot him if he made the 
 attempt to disengage their prisoner. “ Loose him,” said 
 his father sternly, “ and let me see them dare to touch 
 a hair of your head.” The youth, thus prompted and 
 encouraged, did as he was enjoined, and his uncle stood 
 free and unshackled. And now who would dare to 
 cope with these two mighty countrymen ? What six of the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS THE YOUNGS. 315 
 
 dragoons, had so many been on the spot, durst engage 
 two such men, roused to the full energy of their strength ? 
 The troopers found themselves at fault, and they left 
 the spot, and the brothers remained masters of the 
 field. No blood was shed ; and the soldiers might re- 
 tire the more readily, considering that they could return 
 with greater force, the more effectually to gain their 
 end. This, however, was not done on the present occa- 
 sion, and the ignominy of their defeat was not resented 
 at the time. 
 
 William Young was at the battle of Both well Bridge, 
 and, on the defeat of the covenanting party, fled in the 
 confusion from the disastrous field. He was mounted on 
 a white horse, and pursued his way in company with 
 three companions in arms likewise on horseback. When 
 they had, in their flight, detached themselves from the 
 general body of the fugitives, they were chased by five 
 dragoons, who followed them so keenly that they were 
 losing ground, and in the flight the enemy was almost 
 close upon them. A skirmish ensued, and three of the 
 troopers fell. The remaining two fled back to the main 
 body of the army. Nine others were then sent in the 
 pursuit. As the four men were fleeing at their utmost 
 speed, their progress seemed to be finally intercepted by 
 a deep and pretty wide ditch that crossed their path. It 
 was but the consideration of a moment, and their horses 
 being urged forward, cleared the trench without acci- 
 dent, and stood on firm ground. And now the troopers, 
 spurring their horses with the utmost impetuosity, 
 neared the brink of the ditch ; and not being aware of 
 the circumstance, four of them fell into it and were 
 killed, and the rest retreated. Thus the pursuit termi- 
 nated, and the fugitives escaped beyond the reach of 
 their enemies. 
 
 William Young w r as after this denounced as an out- 
 law, and the troopers paid more frequent visits to his 
 house ; which was often plundered, and his person put in 
 imminent peril. No mercy was shown to the insurgents 
 who appeared at Both well Bridge ; and the soldiers were 
 
316 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 now more fully licensed to kill, maim, or rob all such 
 suspected persons. The field of persecution was now 
 more widely outspread, and more densely thronged with 
 the “ intercommuned to administer to whom, in any 
 way, was now a capital crime. 
 
 After this, it would appear, the Youngs were more 
 closely watched than ever, and the troopers at length 
 succeeded in seizing Andrew, whom, with a number of 
 others, they carried to Glasgow jail, with a view of 
 transporting them to Edinburgh for trial. During the 
 night, however, they succeeded in releasing themselves 
 from their place of confinement, and effectuating their 
 escape. The breaking of the jails, when they were like 
 to burst with prisoners, w r as no uncommon occurrence 
 in those days. The poor people were unrighteously 
 apprehended, and their liberty taken from them ; and, 
 therefore, to seek to escape from the hands of the enemy 
 was obviously their duty. We may here present the 
 reader with a specimen of the manner in which the jails 
 in those days were sometimes broken. The following 
 occurrence befell in a place of confinement in Edin- 
 burgh ; for the common jails were often so crowded that 
 other buildings were used as temporary prisons. “ The 
 window of the apartment in which they were incarce- 
 rated was cross-barred with strong iron bolts, and to 
 remove these was the great matter of solicitude. No 
 human hand could wrench them from their hold in the 
 solid stone, and hence the slow and cautious process of 
 cutting became necessary. Immediately opposite the 
 Tolbooth, the Earl of Linlithgow, the Justice- General, 
 and Colonel to what was called the red regiment, had 
 his lodgings; and hence their operations on the grated 
 window required to be very warily conducted, for the 
 slightest movement was sure to be noticed. Besides 
 this, there was in the street a sentinel, who paced, with a 
 slow and measured step, the pavement directly under- 
 neath the window’ ; so that any noise occasioned by the 
 sawing of the bars was likely to lead to an easy disco- 
 very, and more especially in the stillness of the night. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE YOUNGS. 31 T 
 
 The prisoners, however, were determined to make the 
 attempt ; and having by some means obtained the imple- 
 ments fitted for their purpose, they set to work, and 
 laboured with all assiduity and circumspection. In a 
 short time they succeeded in removing one of the bars ; 
 but the aperture was found to be too small to admit of 
 their egress, and they were obliged to cut other three 
 before a space large enough could be opened at which 
 to make their escape. This work cost them time and 
 pains ; and, indeed, it was so long in being fully accom- 
 plished that the project was well known among their 
 friends, not only in Edinburgh, but also in Glasgow, 
 though the secret never was divulged, nor did the 
 slightest whispering of the matter ever reach the ears 
 of their enemies ; and what was fully as remarkable, 
 the first bar which they removed fell with a loud clang 
 on the pavement from the height of three stories, and 
 yet neither the sentinel nor any one passing along the 
 street, heard the sound. The bolt lay on the pavement 
 all night, from nine o’clock in the evening, without 
 being observed, till a friend of the prisoners, coming to 
 pay them a visit, observed it lying where it fell ; and 
 having conveyed it stealthily to them again, they placed 
 it in the window, to avoid discovery, till they removed 
 the rest. They next proceeded to cut a beam of the 
 floor of the room immediately above them, to assist the 
 escape of the prisoners who were confined there. When 
 all was ready, and they were about to descend by the 
 ropes and other means which they had provided for 
 the purpose, and when the precise hour in which the 
 critical attempt was to be made had come, some of the 
 friends in the town, who had agreed to wait on them at 
 the moment, met at the bottom of the wall immedi- 
 ately under the window, and seized the sentinel, and 
 threatened him with instant death if he uttered one 
 word. The menace was successful, and the poor fellow 
 did not only keep silence at the time, but divulged 
 nothing even when he was relieved from his post ; and 
 this allowed the friends ample time to escape and shift 
 
318 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 for themselves/’ Such is a specimen of the manner in 
 which things were managed in those times, when both 
 ingenuity and desperate effort were combined in order 
 to accomplish a deliverance. Providence helps them 
 that help themselves ; and there is no use of sitting 
 down and whining under difficulties and disadvan- 
 tages when it is in our power to right ourselves in a 
 lawful way. These men set themselves heartily to work, 
 and put forth a legitimate effort; and, under the auspices 
 of Him who sets the prisoners free, they were success- 
 ful. They tied ropes in the window, and to the beams 
 within the jail, and by these they descended in safety, 
 one by one, to the ground ; and no body on the street 
 gave the alarm ; and they dispersed themselves, without 
 observation, in the dark. 
 
 After the escape from the jail in Glasgow, the Youngs 
 were again obliged to shift for themselves in retired 
 places. But all the shifts that could be resorted to did 
 not in every case avail ; the vigilance of the enemy was 
 not easy to be eluded, and Andrew Young was caught 
 once more, and was finally banished to Virginia, where 
 he remained till the Revolution, when he was set free. 
 He left the place of his banishment to return with a 
 glad heart to revisit his native land, in the warm hope 
 of seeing his old friends once more, — his companions in 
 tribulation, and in the patience of Jesus Christ ; but he 
 died on the voyage, and though he reached not his home, 
 he reached the rest above. 
 
 William Young outlived the persecution, having 
 maintained a character of consistency and piety dur- 
 ing that long and dismal period. The Youngs never 
 swerved from their principles, at whatever cost and suf- 
 fering ; and the family enjoyed an honoured name in 
 the days of tranquillity that followed, when the happy 
 Revolution brought back liberty and security to the land. 
 
 The Youngs left Highcraig, where so many gene- 
 rations of the name had resided, and removed to a place 
 called Windhill, in the same parish. The remains of 
 these worthy persons, whose memorial ought not to pass 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS DOUGLAS. 319 
 
 into oblivion, found a resting-place in the church-yard 
 of Eaglesham, where a stone to this day marks the spot. 
 There rest in peace the ashes of the honoured dead, to 
 awake at the sound of the last trumpet, when the Lord 
 himself shall descend to confer on those who have been 
 steadfast unto the death the crown of life. 
 
 The person who communicated the preceding anec- 
 dotes is himself a lineal descendant of the Youngs ; and 
 his father, a venerable Christian man, about the age 
 of ninety years, well remembers all these traditionary 
 incidents of his ancestors. They are treasured up as 
 an imperishable deposit in the memory. They leave 
 an impression which time cannot efface. They are not 
 like the ripples formed on the soft sand of the sea-shore, 
 which the next wave obliterates. They are like the in- 
 durated furrows on the flagstones of the geological for- 
 mations, that remain for all time. 
 
 The old gentleman well remembers his having seen 
 the armour his grandfather, William Young, wore at 
 the battle of Both well Bridge. This consisted of a small 
 sword, a gun, and a broad-sword, — .the implements of 
 warfare that were used in those times. These accoutre- 
 ments, which would be of interest to the antiquary, are 
 now lost, and the family is deprived of a highly valued 
 heirloom. 
 
 In traversing the district over which the persecution 
 raged, we come again to the Water of Scar, — which was 
 noted of old for its worthies, — to gather up some stray 
 notices of the persecuted that are still lingering there. 
 And the person who presents himself to our view in 
 this locality, is — 
 
 Thomas Douglas, the laird of Airtland. This Airt- 
 land is situated on the lower part of the valley of the 
 Scar, in Nithsdale. In the story of Robert Hislop, 
 already given, we took occasion to notice the scenic 
 appearance of the upper portion of this vale, which is 
 distinguished for its wild and rude aspect. But the 
 nether part, in which Airtland is situated, is of a very 
 
320 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 different description. Nothing in the south can exceed 
 it in beauty. Its rich and charming scenery delights 
 every eye ; and the ducal visitors from the halls of 
 Drumlanrig, in the vicinity of which it lies, do not think 
 it unworthy of their notice. Airtland is in the parish 
 of Penpont, the nether part of which forms a portion of 
 what is called the Basin of Closeburn, one of the four 
 remarkable openings for which the strath of the wind- 
 ing Nith is distinguished; and truly there are few 
 streams in Scotland, the vale of which is so delightfully 
 picturesque, and whose diversified scenery appears so 
 charming to the eye of the passing stranger. Pen- 
 pont and its contiguous parishes form a locality not in- 
 ferior in beauty and prospective to any on the long line 
 of this fair stream, from its source in the moorlands 
 of Ayrshire, to where it pours its full flood into the 
 ocean. 
 
 The descendants of a covenanting ancestry are still 
 numerous in this district, and cherish, as may well be 
 supposed, a warm regard for the memory of their per- 
 secuted forefathers. It was in this same parish that the 
 famous Mr Murray, the friend of the venerable Boston 
 of Ettrick, laboured with so much success in the gospel, 
 and whose memorial has been transmitted to the present 
 time with uncommon respect. But what is still more 
 to the purpose, in speaking of the covenanting times, is 
 the fact that the good Samuel Austin was minister of 
 this parish at the time of the Restoration, and was one 
 of those who were banished from their charges at the 
 period of the ejection. This godly man, like the rest 
 of his brethren in the same predicament, was subjected 
 to manifold hardships for his consistency of principle, 
 and honest adherence to the good cause. A strong 
 congregation of the descendants of the Covenanters sub- 
 sists at this day at the Bridge of Scar. 
 
 Owing to the steadfastness of the worthy ministers 
 who occupied the pulpits in the surrounding parishes, the 
 people generally were well instructed in the Reformation 
 principles ; and perhaps there was no district in Scotland 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DOUGLAS. 321 
 
 that furnished a fairer average of covenanting worthies 
 than the middle parts of Nithsdale. No fewer than 
 seven contiguous parishes were blessed with the minis- 
 trations of their respective pastors, all of whom, to a 
 man, renounced their livings rather than submit to 
 prelatic usurpation. The names of these men are pre- 
 served in the pages of the historian, and deserve to be 
 more generally known in the parishes where they once 
 resided. Besides Mr Austin of Penpont, there were 
 James Brotherstones of Glencairn, John Liddersdale of 
 Tynron, Adam Sinclair of Morton, John Carmichael of 
 Sanquhar and Kirkconnel, Alexander Strang of Duris- 
 deer, and Thomas Shiels of Kirkbride. All these men, 
 with one consent, refused to conform to Prelacy, and 
 were therefore numbered among the ejected, and took 
 joyfully the spoiling of their goods. The amount of 
 truly religious persons within the district could not be 
 small, if we may reason from the principles, piety, and 
 activity, of the men who laboured among them in the 
 gospel. This is, no doubt, one cause why the witnesses 
 in the hilly parts of Nithsdale are particularly mentioned 
 in those times. Their numbers, it is true, were greatly 
 swelled by those who retreated from the lower parts, 
 seeking shelter among the mountainous recesses, where 
 they found themselves in comparative safety, and could 
 flee from height to height in evading the ruthless foe. 
 
 Daniel M^Michael is a specimen of the worthies who 
 inhabited this part of Nithsdale. He lived in the parish 
 of Morton, and enjoyed the ministry of the good Adam 
 Sinclair. Plis residence was at Blairfoot, in the farm 
 of Burn, near Morton Castle, — a feudal stronghold 
 anciently occupied by the doughty Douglases. The 
 foundations of the cottage of the saintly man were 
 recently turned up by the plough, and only two solitary 
 trees remain to mark the spot where so much worth 
 once found a place. His story has been already told in 
 the “ Traditions of the Covenanters/' He was shot at 
 the mouth of the renowned pass of Dalveen, and buried 
 in the church-yard of the “ lone Disdeer and his rest- 
 
322 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ing-place is covered with a rude through-stone, bearing 
 the following inscription : — 
 
 44 As Daniel cast was into lions’ den, 
 
 For praying unto God and not to men; 
 
 Thus lions cruelly devoured me, 
 
 For bearing unto truth my testimony. 
 
 I rest in peace till Jesus rend the clouds. 
 
 And judge ’twixt me and those who shed my blood.” 
 
 And there were not a few like Daniel, though martyr- 
 dom has not invested their names with the same no- 
 toriety. 
 
 But to come to the laird of Airtland, whose beautiful 
 residence on the south bank of the romantic Scar 
 afforded a retreat to the fugitives whom the sword of 
 persecution had driven from their home. He was a 
 man of heart and hand in the good cause he had so 
 honestly espoused. He set an example of independence 
 and intrepidity to all the lairds in the wide locality in 
 the midst of which he wonned. His life and his pro- 
 perty were just as valuable to him as life and property 
 were to others, and his liberty was as sweet ; but still, 
 in the matter of conscience and Christianity, all were to 
 be sacrificed when the sacrifice was demanded. He had 
 counted the cost, and was prepared to pay it, even to 
 the full amount of the exaction. There was to be no 
 halting between two opinions, — no hankering between 
 the cause of Christ and worldly interests. He had taken 
 his side, and to that side he meant to adhere, for better 
 and for worse. And none could say that honest Thomas 
 Douglas was any thing else than a credit to the cause 
 in behalf of which he bore witness. His name is not 
 unworthy of a place beside Daniel M^Michael, whose 
 native cottage was Dalzien, on the same stream, and 
 not far from Airtland. It is to be regretted that so 
 little is retained of Thomas Douglas, the incidents of 
 whose history, in those trying times were probably pos- 
 sessed of no common interest, — more especially as he 
 was a laird, and therefore one on whom the heavy hand 
 of persecution was likely to rest with more than ordi- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DOUGLAS. 323 
 
 nary pressure. His dwelling had been frequently visited 
 by the troopers for the purpose of apprehending him. 
 Airtland was a suitable place for the troopers, who 
 rejoiced to invade a house where something was to be 
 had to gratify their rapacity either in the way of eat- 
 ing or pilfering. It was not the meaner abodes of the 
 peasantry that altogether suited them, though even these 
 were not to be passed by ; it was chiefly the abodes of 
 the wealthier farmers and lairds that they coveted, and 
 where they often quartered themselves for weeks or 
 months, as it pleased them. When they devoured all 
 in one place, they forthwith retreated to another, to 
 repeat the same consumption. These were riotous 
 times for lazy and hungry soldiers, who lived on the 
 industry and substance of the peasantry, while they 
 insulted or shot those who had the hardihood to re- 
 monstrate. 
 
 The good laird of Airtland was exactly a subject for 
 these men of restlessness and mischief, and hence fre- 
 quent calls were to be expected from them so long as any 
 thing was to be had. On one occasion, these u booted 
 apostles , 99 as they have been called, came suddenly in 
 sight of Douglas’s mansion when he happened to be 
 within. To issue from the door, was just to advance in 
 the face of the foe, who could not fail to notice him, 
 and to anticipate his flight. In those days the prepar- 
 ing and carding of wool for spinning was performed in 
 the households of the peasantry ; and even the wives of 
 farmers and lairds did not think it below them to en- 
 gage in this occupation. It was then, indeed, their chief 
 work during the long winter evenings, when the family 
 was collected around the blazing hearth after the toils 
 of the day in the fields. When the dragoons appeared, 
 the virtuous gudewife of Airtland was busy smoothing 
 on the bristly cards the snow-white wool, and imparting 
 to it a fine silky gloss, preparatory to her forming it into 
 the sleek and soft yarn, to be woven into warm and downy 
 blankets, or manufactured into comfortable clothing for 
 the household. She was one of those industrious dames 
 
324 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 who laid their hands to the spindle, and applied their 
 fingers to the distaff, thinking no service too mean that 
 might contribute to the benefit of their families. When 
 the laird was at his wit's end, and not knowing where 
 to hide himself, his wife suggested the hasty expedient 
 of disguising himself in her clothes, if peradventure he 
 might escape detection. The plan was instantly put in 
 execution, as not a moment was to be lost ; and in a few 
 minutes Douglas was arrayed from head to foot in female 
 apparel. He then seated himself among the wool, and 
 seizing the cards, applied himself with all diligence to 
 the occupation of his good spouse ; and in this situation 
 he was found when the soldiers entered. 
 
 The uproarious troopers soon filled the floor of the 
 apartment, asking aloud for the laird ; and receiving no 
 satisfactory answer, they proceeded, with their accus- 
 tomed licence, to search the house, and to use all man- 
 ner of freedom in prying into every place they thought 
 fit. When they found themselves unsuccessful, they 
 became irritated, and both acted and spoke in a very 
 unseemly fashion. Airtland, who felt his honest indig- 
 nation rise at the insolence of the unmannerly intruders, 
 exclaimed, in a tone rather harsher than the grating 
 sound of the cards he was plying on his knee, “ I think 
 the devil seems to possess these men ! ” This remark 
 at once convinced the soldiers that the irascible wool- 
 carder was at least no douce Covenanter, as she could so 
 easily mouth the name of their master ; and consequently 
 they made no inquiries. After satisfying themselves 
 with what mischief they could work, they left the worthy 
 laird in his disguise, to return thanks to Him who had 
 so strangely protected him in the presence of his ene- 
 mies. After this Douglas was often sought for, but 
 always contrived to elude his persecutors. He was, 
 however, declared an outlaw ; his property was confis- 
 cated, and his family driven from the place. But he 
 was one of those who took joyfully the spoiling of their 
 goods for the sake of Him in whose cause they suffered 
 hardship. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DOUGLAS. 325 
 
 The mention, in the preceding anecdote, respecting 
 the use of the devil’s name being the means of lulling 
 suspicion on the part of the troopers, suggests a similar 
 occurrence which befell in Ettrick. The heights of 
 Ettrick and the wilds of Yarrow were, in those days, 
 frequented by the wanderers, and consequently infested 
 also by the military, who, like beasts of prey, were 
 found prowling in every direction in quest of fugitives. 
 The ministers of these two parishes — Elliot of Yarrow, 
 and Cunningham of Ettrick — were both nonconformists, 
 and were doubtless followed by many of their parish- 
 ioners. These upland districts were at that time fur- 
 nished with a sound gospel ministry, which could not 
 be without its effect on the rural and simple-hearted 
 population ; and who, attaching themselves to the cause 
 of the covenant, must have been subjected, like others, 
 to the harassings of the persecutors. The remotest soli- 
 tudes in the moorlands and among the wildest moun- 
 tains, were visited by the emissaries of an oppressive 
 government, for the purpose of seeking out the poor 
 people who adhered to their religious principles with 
 such unshaken constancy. Hence the deserts of Yar- 
 row and Ettrick, and wild Eskdale moor, and the 
 higher parts of Tweed and Moffat Water, were traversed 
 in their breadth and length by troopers and informers, 
 who brought terror into every hut and cottage in the 
 solitudes. One of the worthies who inhabited this dis- 
 trict was a man of the name of Biggar, who lived near 
 the head of Ettrick, near Cossar Hill. This good man 
 refused to attend the curate in the parish church ; and 
 his nonconformity being well known, Claverhouse, in 
 scouring that part of the country, was informed of him, 
 and he exerted himself by every means to apprehend 
 him. The honest man being fully aware of the inten- 
 tions of the troopers, kept himself out of their way, and 
 resorted to the hills. Claverhouse, however, was not to 
 be baffled in his object ; and being chagrined at his fre- 
 quent disappointments, rode off with his troop at his 
 back in quest of him. As they marched over the wastes 
 
326 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 they came in sight of a man wandering on the heights 
 between Moffat Water and Ettrick. Biggar, for it 
 was he, considered that if he attempted to flee, the cir- 
 cumstance would betray him ; and being fully aware that 
 none of the soldiers knew him, he threw his plaid across 
 his shoulders, and assuming an air of composure, walked 
 slowly on, apparently heedless of the approach of the 
 horsemen. The commander rode hastily up to him, 
 and striking him smartly on the head with his whip, 
 pronounced him his prisoner. Biggar turned quickly 
 round, and, with an undaunted countenance, exclaimed, 
 “ I think the devil is in the man, — why does he strike 
 me ? ” On this the cavalier turned to his men and said ; 
 “ This is not the person we are in search of,” and then 
 marched on. This tradition was current among the old 
 people in Ettrick. The use of the name of the devil, 
 in this way, expressive of a truth, was the means, it 
 would appear, of saving the life of an innocent man. 
 It cannot be denied that the devil actuated those men, 
 so that in sober truth, and in sorrow, the wanderers 
 might affirm that the devil was in them ; and if their 
 persecutors should happen to take the affirmative in a 
 profane sense, they who made it were not answerable 
 for that. 
 
 It is likely that the Biggar here mentioned was the 
 ancestor, or perhaps the immediate father of the Biggars 
 of Ettrick, James and William, who were so great a 
 comfort to Mr Boston, the latter of whom died at Pen- 
 pont, to which place he had accompanied his minister 
 on a sacramental occasion. “ He died,” says Mr Boston, 
 “ in hopes of eternal life through Jesus Christ. Among 
 his last words were, c Farewell sun, moon, and stars ; 
 farewell dear minister ; and farewell the Bible! ” Of 
 this worthy man Mr Boston gives an admirable charac- 
 ter in his memoirs. 
 
 The mention of Airtland, in the above tradition of the 
 laird of that ilk, suggests a very striking incident which 
 befell here more than a hundred years after the time of 
 Thomas Douglas. There wonned on the Scar a very 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — DOUGLAS. 327 
 
 pious man of the name of Samuel Hislop. His resi- 
 dence was at a place called Dalzien, noted as being the 
 birth-place of Daniel M‘Michael, the martyr, who was 
 shot at the mouth of the Pass of Dalveen, as we have 
 already noticed. Samuel Hislop had been at Minniehive, 
 on a sacramental occasion, and was returning home on 
 a fine summer evening. The weather was sultry, and 
 large masses of highly electrified clouds had congregated 
 on the tops of the western mountains, towards the source 
 of the Scar. These highly surcharged clouds meeting 
 and mingling together, and the thunder bursting from 
 among them, a gush of rain like a cataract descended 
 among the hills, the sides of which were sheeted with 
 foam, and all the mossy streamlets, gorged to the brim, 
 sent the discharge of their impetuous waters in full flood 
 into the Scar. The river rose to an uncommon height, 
 and covered all the plains, broad and narrow, in its 
 course, carrying before it every thing that lay in its way; 
 and even cottages that stood within its flood-mark were 
 overturned by the force of the current, and much deso- 
 lation was accomplished. No person remembered any 
 thing like it ; it resembled a land deluge, and all within 
 its range was submerged in deep water. 
 
 As the storm hovered chiefly over the upper parts of 
 the valley, the people who lived near the foot of the 
 stream were scarcely aware of what was going on till 
 they saw the turbid waters coming roaring down the 
 rocky bed. Samuel Hislop was riding quietly along in 
 the sweet sunshine ; but as he crossed the height which 
 leads down into the valley, he observed the sable clouds 
 afar in the west, and suspected that there might be a 
 heavy rain ; but as there was a bridge which spanned the 
 stream at Airtland, which he meant to cross, he was not 
 afraid of being interrupted in the passage. As he drew 
 near the water, however, he observed, at a little distance 
 above the bridge, the river descending in full sweep, and 
 the breast of the current, elevated to the height of several 
 feet, advancing like a perpendicular wall, — a sight not 
 uncommon in the hilly districts. It rushed along in 
 
328 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 majestic fury, and was just almost touching the bridge 
 when our friend reached the one end ; and fearing the 
 consequences, as the bridge was not very high, he 
 spurred the animal onward, before the water should 
 press against it. But just as he had reached the centre 
 of the arch the whole flood came in full dash against 
 the structure, which began to yield under the feet of the 
 horse; which, feeling his precarious position, sprang 
 nimbly to the side ; and scarcely had he cleared the 
 arch, when the entire bridge, upheaved by the force of 
 the current, was in one instant prostrated in the boiling 
 torrent. This was an escape the gudeman of Dalzien 
 always remembered with gratitude, and recorded it as 
 another instance of the Lord’s kindness to him. u Ac- 
 knowledge him in all thy ways, and he will direct thy 
 paths/’ 
 
 The following sketch refers to incidents which befell 
 not far from this same locality, a locality fertile with 
 many things of covenanting interest. 
 
 Margaret Gracie of Marmollach richly deserves a 
 niche in our covenanting sketches. She was the 
 daughter of a worthy man of the name of George 
 Gracie, who was tenant in Marmollach. This Mar- 
 mollach is in the parish of Tynron, in Nithsdale. This 
 district, in the days of our Scottish persecution, was, 
 like other places, infested with a lawless military, that 
 w r rought so much havoc among the peasantry. The 
 father of Margaret Gracie was connected with the family 
 of Groglin. The laird of Croglin was a worthy man, 
 though he did not avowedly belong to the covenanting 
 party ; but he served their turn so far as was in his 
 power. We have already made particular mention of 
 him in the “ Traditions of the Covenanters,” from which 
 we shall give the following extract : — c< He cherished a 
 strong sympathy with the sufferers, and endeavoured, 
 without risk to himself, to serve them to the utmost of 
 his power. He was a justice of the peace ; and was, 
 therefore, well acquainted with the designs of the party 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRACIE. 
 
 329 
 
 with which he was connected. His leniency to the 
 sufferers was apparent from the methods he adopted to 
 screen them from their enemies. The nonconformists 
 in the parish of Tynron were kept in a condition of 
 comparative safety under his sheltering wings. In the 
 fugitive roll given by Wodrow, there are several persons 
 named who belonged to that parish, and some of them 
 Croglin’s own tenants, who were denounced as rebels, 
 or guilty of reset ; and yet it is believed that not one of 
 them was brought to trouble, owing, it is said, to the 
 good management of Croglin. It was the practice of 
 this benevolent man to communicate, in a way as private 
 and efficient as possible, any knowledge he possessed of 
 the designs of the persecutors respecting the sufferers. 
 It was his custom, when he returned from the meetings 
 which were held in the district, to walk into the kitchen 
 at a certain hour of the night when the domestics had 
 retired to rest, and there, like the man in the wood of 
 Eliock, to convey, by w r ay of soliloquy, to what in the 
 cottages in Scotland is called the crook , or iron chain 
 which is suspended in the inside of the chimney, any 
 information that might be of importance to the Cove- 
 nanters. Having stationed himself before the fire-place, 
 and touched the crook with the end of his staff, he 
 addressed it by the name of Hog ma Drog , — a kind of 
 sobriquet which he employed to save appearances, — and 
 said, Though we must not tell the secrets of our council 
 to any mortal creature, yet as thou art neither flesh nor 
 blood, I may tell thee, Hogma Drog;’ and then patting 
 on the pendent chain gently with his staff, uttered what 
 he wished to communicate respecting the projected 
 movements of the enemy. During this speech to the 
 crook , a male servant was, by agreement, uniformly 
 concealed in a retired corner, where he could hear dis- 
 tinctly every word spoken by his master. This man, a 
 trusty servant, carried, without loss of time, the news to 
 the parties immediately concerned ; who were by this 
 means enabled to avoid the mischief plotted by their 
 enemies. Such men as Croglin were of inestimable ser- 
 
330 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 vice to the oppressed remnant. They stood between the 
 two parties ; and while they ostensibly belonged to the 
 one, they in heart and in principle belonged to the other.” 
 
 The family of Marmollach had attached themselves 
 to the covenanting cause, but owing to their connection 
 with Croglin they enjoyed a considerable degree of 
 shelter ; for the troopers, for a good while, were not so 
 freely introduced into this locality as they were into 
 other places. It was Croglin’s care to manage this. 
 After the battle of Bothwell Bridge, a number of the 
 fugitives took refuge in the south, and not a few found 
 a place of retreat in the parts about Marmollach. This 
 being made known to the family of the Grades, they 
 exerted themselves in their behalf, and supplied their 
 wants as carefully and frequently as possible. But the 
 ministering angel in these cases was Margaret Gracie. 
 She was a young woman of great piety and gentleness of 
 manners, and of a warm heart and kindly disposition. 
 Margaret’s bosom beat high in sympathy with the suf- 
 ferers who w r ere hidden in the thickets and glens around 
 her dwelling-place ; and she deemed it an imperative 
 duty, which she owed for Christ’s sake, and for human- 
 ity’s sake, to minister to the poor outcasts, who were 
 suffering all manner of privations in their adherence to 
 the cause of liberty, civil and religious. Margaret 
 exerted herself to the utmost to serve the sufferers, and 
 even at the plain risk of her own life. On many an 
 errand of mercy did she run through moss and moor in 
 conveying provisions and medicine to the hungry and 
 sickly men who were pining in their hiding-places, far 
 from their friendly homes, and the tender care of dear 
 relatives. Many an encounter had Margaret Gracie 
 with the troopers on the waste, and many a narrow 
 escape did she make. 
 
 While Margaret was assiduously employed in these 
 offices of kindness, an incident befell which caused her 
 great distress. A young man in the neighbourhood 
 sought her hand in marriage. But the person who thus 
 paid his addresses to her was not one whose character 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRACIE. 
 
 331 
 
 she could approve, and therefore she declined having 
 any thing further to do with him. This enraged the 
 youth to such a degree that he even vowed vengeance. 
 His pride was wounded, and his self-conceit could not 
 brook what he arrogantly deemed an insult. In the 
 heat of his passion he* informed the commander of the 
 military in the district that the family of Marmollach 
 were rigid nonconformists, and that they actually held 
 intercourse with the intercommuned ; and that, in an 
 especial manner, a daughter of the household, named 
 Margaret, was incessant in her attention to the rebels 
 from Bothwell, who lay concealed in the locality around. 
 
 The traitor’s name was Welsh ; and no sooner had he 
 done the deed than his conscience smote him ; and 
 remorse so preyed on his spirits that his health became 
 affected, and he was tossed on a bed of mental and 
 bodily agony. In this woful plight he earnestly wished 
 to see Margaret, to confess his fault, and to ask her for- 
 giveness before he died. His request being communi- 
 cated to the virtuous maiden, she hastened, though at 
 no small personal risk, to visit the sufferer, and to ad- 
 minister what consolation was in her power. Accord- 
 ingly she sped her way over hill and moor, and at last 
 stood by the bed of the apparently dying man. He 
 deeply lamented his conduct, and sincerely begged her 
 forgiveness for the base offence he had committed . This, 
 we may easily believe, was granted, and that the injured 
 and honourable daughter of the house of Marmollach 
 would not fail to administer what consolation she could. 
 It is said that this young man eventually recovered, and 
 became a sincere penitent. He renounced his loose and 
 sinful courses and his prelatical notions at the same 
 time, and became a steady and consistent adherent to 
 the persecuted cause. Instances of this kind were not 
 uncommon in those times, and they afford a cheering 
 proof of the power of the truth upon the heart. 
 
 Shortly after this a party of soldiers visited Marmol- 
 lach, and entering the house, found Margaret busy pre- 
 paring the good oaten cakes, — a species of bread highly 
 
332 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 valued by the Scottish peasantry. The commander of 
 the company asserted that she was furnishing food for 
 the rebels that were hiding in the moors around, and 
 questioned her closely on this point ; but could expiscate 
 nothing satisfactory. After behaving in a braggart and 
 somewhat uproarious manner, he ordered the troopers 
 to carry off the cakes and give them to the horses at the 
 door, and in this way to deprive the rebels of the provi- 
 sion which he suspected was designed for them ; and 
 brandishing his glittering glaive in the face of the timid 
 maiden, marched off with his troop. 
 
 On a fine morning in April the assiduous Margaret 
 set out on her errand of mercy with a load of provisions 
 to the poor people in hiding ; and after climbing the 
 heights, laid aside her burden and sat her down for a 
 moment to rest. As she was looking round the weary 
 landscape, she observed, in the direction of Marmollach, 
 a band of dragoons advancing. The soldiers had ob- 
 served certain appearances on the hill which led them 
 to suspect that a party of wanderers was concealed there ; 
 and accordingly they made straight for the heights. 
 Honest Margaret saw that they were marching straight 
 in the line of the place where she was sitting, and that 
 they must eventually come up to her. She was in great 
 perplexity : for if she endeavoured to flee, that was just 
 to invite a pursuit ; and to hide herself was impossible. 
 A thought hastily occurred that she should feign herself 
 to be a wool-gatherer. This was an employment in 
 which numbers of poor females in the hilly districts 
 were engaged at a certain time of the year, when the wool 
 fell from the sheep, and was to be found here and there 
 in handfuls, or in tates , as they are called, lying on the 
 heath. These tufts of wool the farmers kindly allowed 
 the poor people to gather for their own use, without any 
 charge being made. At this time the hills and moors 
 were frequented by females of this description ; and it 
 occurred to Margaret Gracie that on the present occa- 
 sion she might address herself to the wool-gathering, 
 and by this means she might avoid the particular notice 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRACIE. 
 
 333 
 
 of the moss troopers. In this she succeeded, for the 
 soldiers passed without accosting her. 
 
 The men in hiding observed the dragoons advancing, 
 and they retreated farther back into the moor, and hid 
 themselves in the deep trenches of the moss. The sol- 
 diers spread themselves along the top of the height, in 
 the eager search for the rebels in concealment, but in 
 vain. The fugitives were deeply ensconced in the mossy 
 furrows on the hill, and covered with tufted heath, and 
 tall wild grass that grows luxuriantly in the moors, and 
 thus evaded the notice of the soldiers. When the men 
 had wearied themselves in the search, they returned by 
 the same route to Marmollach. Margaret was all the 
 while plying the wool-gathering, and was now at a con- 
 siderable distance from the track of the dragoons, who 
 went on their way without riding up to her. When 
 they were fairly off the hill, she threw aside her wool, 
 and placing the bundle of provisions on her back, 
 directed her steps straight to the hiding-place in the 
 moss. She soon found the friends ; who gathered around 
 her with grateful hearts, both for her present preserva- 
 tion and for the needed supply of food she had so sea- 
 sonably brought them. We may easily conceive what 
 must have been their mutual congratulations, and how 
 hearty a thanksgiving must have been presented to the 
 throne of grace on this critical occasion. 
 
 At another time, it is said, Margaret had a very 
 narrow escape from Lagg and his dragoons, who were 
 scouring the wastes in quest of rebels. She had been 
 abroad on one of her hospitable errands, and coming 
 homewards through a moss, the intricacies of which 
 none could thread but those who were familiar with the 
 way, Lagg with his party happened to be advancing 
 toward the edge of the morass. She was seen at some 
 distance ; and Lagg suspecting, from her appearance and 
 from what she was carrying, that she might probably 
 have been ministering to the wants of the rebels hiding 
 in the moors, resolved on seizing her. But then the 
 moss — who dared venture it? A trooper, more intrepid 
 
334 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 than his fellows, proposed, in his zeal, to leap on horse- 
 back a miry bog that stretched its yawning length 
 between him and the firmer ground beyond. He ac- 
 cordingly spurred his steed to the action ; and the bold 
 animal, obeying the impulse, gave a mighty spring, but 
 failing to reach the opposite bank, recoiled, and fell back 
 with a plunge on his rider, and buried him beneath in 
 the smeary pit ; when the trooper, though his life was 
 spared, sustained no small damage in the fracture of his 
 limbs : and thus was his chivalrous exploit repaid. 
 
 As Margaret was wending her way homeward after 
 her escape in the moss, she perceived two men fleeing 
 at the utmost speed toward the morass, and the troopers 
 in full pursuit. The fugitives were coming straight in 
 her direction, and their enemies were advancing behind 
 them. What was now to be done ? for she might either 
 be run down by the horsemen, or captured on the spot. 
 There happened to be in the place a quantity of wool 
 spread out on the top of the bushy heather, to be dried 
 in the breeze. This was a sort of wool that was plucked 
 from the back of a sheep that had lain sometime dead, 
 and when the carcass was just beginning to decay. It 
 is sometimes taken off in one piece, and spread out on 
 the ground, that the wind passing through it may re- 
 move any disagreeable smell. A quantity of wool of 
 this description was lying on the heath, when the thought 
 struck Margaret that her safety was to creep in beneath 
 the fleece, which was sufficient to cover her whole per- 
 son, and there to lie till the horsemen should pass by. 
 She did so, and the troopers came on apace, and rode 
 past, part on the one side of the wool and part on the 
 other, while the cowering maiden, with a throbbing 
 heart, lay motionless till the storm blew over. Her 
 hour was not yet come ; but come it did, and a bloody 
 one it was. But every one is immortal till his work be 
 done, and so was it with Margaret Gracie; she had 
 more service to perform to the Lord’s suffering people, 
 and therefore she was kept in the hollow of his hand 
 till that service was fully accomplished. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRACIE. 
 
 335 
 
 Some time after this h conventicle was held in a 
 secluded place in the parish of Tynron. As spies and 
 informers were numerous, information was conve) r ed to 
 the military, w'ho lost no time in mustering their forces, 
 glad of the occasion to invade the meeting. It is said 
 that both Douglas of Stenhouse and Lourie of Max- 
 wellton were leaders of the dragoons on this occasion. 
 But however this may he, a party did come, and took 
 the conventicle by surprise. The people fled, but some 
 were captured, and among these were Margaret Gracie 
 and a female companion. Of the others, it is afhrmed 
 one w T as shot. It was resolved to send the prisoners 
 to Drumlanrig. In the meantime, they were guarded 
 in an out-house during the night. This result being 
 known, a number of the friends combined to effect their 
 rescue on the morrow. There is a place called Duddis- 
 tane Hawse, deep and narrow, leading from Shinnei 
 Water to the Scar ; and it was the determination of the 
 friends to intercept the party as they passed through 
 this narrow defile. Accordingly they stationed them- 
 selves at a suitable point, where they had the full com- 
 mand of the troopers, without the possibility of a pursuit, 
 and could demand the release of the prisoners. They 
 armed themselves with whatever warlike implements 
 they could secure, determined on an onslaught if resist- 
 ance were offered. At the time appointed they met at 
 the place agreed on, and soon had the gratification of 
 seeing the dragoons approach with their charge. The 
 soldiers, not expecting to meet with any resistance in 
 their march, were moving listlessly along, till they were 
 fairly within the jaws of the gorge. In a moment a 
 shout was raised, “ Deliver the prisoners, or stand on 
 your defence. ,, The commander of the party looked up, 
 and seeing on the edge of the ravine what he deemed a 
 clamorous rabble, ordered the soldiers to march on, 
 without deigning to take any further notice. In an 
 instant fire-arms were presented, and several shots were 
 sent down among the troopers, and one man and a 
 horse fell on the spot. The incident alarmed the sol- 
 
336 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 diers, who saw that mischief 4 was determined, and that 
 matters were likely to assume a serious aspect. The 
 commander found that he was completely in the power 
 of the assailants. The demand was again made : “ De- 
 liver the prisoners. W e want no man’s life ; we only want 
 to rescue our friends ; and their rescue we shall have.” 
 The commander, willing to make a virtue of necessity, 
 agreed to dismiss the prisoners ; for it w r as no easy matter 
 to encounter a company of desperate men, especially in 
 the disadvantageous circumstances in which he and his 
 party were placed. Margaret Gracie with a glad heart 
 returned to her home, and was received with open arms 
 by her affectionate parents. And no less were the 
 friends in hiding gratified at the release of their minis- 
 tering angel, who so often had imperiled her safety on 
 their behalf. 
 
 After this affair the family of Marmollach were w r orse 
 looked on than ever. When the soldiers happened at 
 any time to he stationed in the neighbourhood, this 
 household was in constant apprehension ; and often had 
 the inmates to flee, even in the dark night, to the wild 
 moor, or into the bosom of the thickets. The troopers 
 never could forgive a discomfiture ; and the rescue at 
 Duddistane Hawse was not forgotten. 
 
 All this, however, did not discourage the intrepid 
 Margaret Gracie. The ardour of her young and feeling 
 heart was not to be quenched by the hardships and pri- 
 vations that lay in the way of her duty ; and she per- 
 sisted with the same diligence in conveying provisions 
 to the helpless fugitives who for a season were concealed 
 in the wastes around. One morning as she was carry- 
 ing the accustomed repast to some friends who were 
 concealed on what is called the Dibben Fell, she per- 
 ceived a party of horsemen crossing the ridge in the 
 same direction. They came up to a wool-gatherer, 
 who was nimbly plying her occupation on the height ; 
 to whom they put a variety of questions respecting the 
 persons in hiding. The woman was frank in telling all 
 she knew; and informed them that she suspected a 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS GRACIE. 
 
 337 
 
 number of them were not far off, and that she had rea- 
 son to believe that the young woman who had just 
 crossed the height before them, was burdened with a 
 load of provisions for the rebels. By this time Mar- 
 garet had reached her friends on the hill, and having 
 imparted to them her suspicions that the dragoons were 
 abroad expressly in quest of them, they removed and 
 sought a more secure hiding-place. The troopers mo’ved 
 on, wending their way cautiously along the rugged sur- 
 face of the moors, and slowly ' up the steep, not being 
 at all certain w'here the persons they were seeking were 
 hidden. In the meantime Margaret, having deposited 
 her load, left the place as speedily as possible, lest her 
 appearance ‘in the moor should lead the troopers to the 
 exact spot where the friends were concealed. As the 
 dragoons were not yet in sight, she, on her return, 
 deviated somewhat from her former route, lest she should 
 unhappily confront the enemy. With all this caution, 
 nevertheless, she unexpectedly encountered the party in 
 a narrow pass on the hill. She was instantly laid hold 
 on, and strictly interrogated ; but none of her answers 
 proved satisfactory. The commander threatened her 
 with severe usage if she was not ingenuous with them, 
 and if she refused to reveal the hiding-places of the 
 rebels who were lurking in the parts around. She, 
 however, remained inflexible, and was prepared to 
 endure the worst, rather than divulge the secret of the 
 worthies. The ill treatment, it is said, to which she 
 was subjected on this occasion, only nerved her deter- 
 mination to persevere in the course she was pursuing. 
 
 But the history of Margaret Gracie — this instructive 
 pattern of perseverance in well-doing — now draws near 
 its close. A conventicle was to be held at a place called 
 “ The Whigs' Holes/' in the fauns of Altry. This 
 Altry is a pretty high hill, near the respective sources 
 of the Scar and the Ken, — two streams that pursue their 
 course in very different directions. The one pours its 
 streams through the mountainous parts of Galloway, 
 and, joining with the Dee, falls into the sea at Kirkcud- 
 
338 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 bright ; and the other wends its way, through moss and 
 marsh, till it reaches the romantic scenery that com- 
 mences at the monster craig near Glenwhargen, and 
 all along till it falls into the Nith, which carries it on- 
 ward in its channel till it falls into the Solway Firth. 
 The front of the mount of Altry is a bold projection, in 
 the bosom of which lie “The Whigs Holes,” where many 
 a meeting for religious purposes was held in those days. 
 It was a spot excellently suited to the purpose, because 
 the company could be hi’dden in the hollow on the brow 
 of the height, while on all sides the approach of the 
 troopers, either along the Ken or the Scar, or along the 
 wilds behind, could be easily discerned. It was in this 
 secrecy that the conventicle alluded to was to be held. 
 The presiding minister, though tradition has not men- 
 tioned his name, was in all likelihood Mr Renwick ; for 
 at this time, about the years eighty-four and eighty-five, 
 he was the only active man, besides Mr Peden, who 
 traversed the Galloway heights. But however this 
 may be, the meeting, it is said, was held at the time and 
 place appointed, and the friends gathered in from all 
 quarters around the hilly districts to worship God in the 
 wilderness, and to hear his gospel preached. But how- 
 ever secretly these meetings might be announced, it was 
 almost impossible to keep the thing absolutely hid from 
 spies and informers, who had spread themselves every 
 where in the guise of real friends to the nonconformist 
 cause. And so it happened in this case. The projected 
 conventicle was made known to the military, who kept 
 themselves in readiness for the occasion. On the day 
 appointed the meeting was held, and the heights of 
 Altry resounded with the hallowed song of praise sent 
 up to the sanctuary above; and which came with accept- 
 ance before the throne on high, through the interces- 
 sion of the great High Priest of our profession. As the 
 services proceeded, and the preacher was advancing into 
 his subject, one of the outposts announced that troopers 
 were in sight, and marching straight in the direction of 
 the conventicle. These sentinels were uniformly sta- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — GRACIE. 339 
 
 tioned at suitable distances along the heights, to give 
 prompt warning in case of danger ; and in this way the 
 conventiclers continued their meetings with greater 
 security and quietude. 
 
 On hearing of the advance of the soldiers, the meet- 
 ing dispersed, and sought refuge in the nearest place of 
 safety, — some fleeing one way, and some another. There 
 was in the vicinity of the meeting-place a morass called 
 Chanlock Flowe, — a place of security, if it could be 
 reached before the dragoons approached. It was toward 
 this place that a number of the people fled on the first 
 announcement of the approach of the enemy; but before 
 they got fairly into it, the soldiers were just at hand ; 
 and, in order to secure their prey, they discharged their 
 fire-arms on the hinder part of the fugitives. Nor was 
 the murderous shot in vain ; Margaret Gracie fell down 
 on the heath, a ball having glided through her body, 
 and left her lifeless on the waste. Thus died the 
 maiden who had devoted her services to Christ, in 
 ministering to his people who were suffering in his cause. 
 But she gained the martyr's crown, and a place among 
 the bright company who have come out of great tribula- 
 tion, and have washed their robes and made them white 
 in the blood of the Lamb. Many a weary step, and 
 perilous too, had she trode in the deserts on her errands 
 of beneficence and mercy to the poor remnant who had 
 forsaken their all for Christ's sake; and now her body 
 lay at rest on the bent, although wrapped in a bloody 
 winding-sheet. The heart bleeds at such deeds of 
 atrocity ; our tears flow at the recital of the tale of the 
 poor victim so wantonly sacrificed by the rude hands of 
 a ruthless soldiery. The spirit of the pure and gentle 
 Margaret Gracie escaped from a world of sin and tribu- 
 lation, and took its station before the throne. She did 
 what she could, she performed the service which the 
 Lord had laid to her hand ; and when that service was 
 done, she was called home to receive her reward : “ Well 
 done, good and faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy 
 of thy Lord.” 
 
340 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Margaret Grade was buried on the spot where she 
 fell, and a rude flat stone marks the place where her 
 dust reposes, and a few stones are gathered around it ; 
 and till this day it retains the name of Margarets cairn. 
 
 As we have been dwelling for so long a time, in our 
 sketches, on the scenes that occurred in the moorlands 
 and remote solitudes of the country, we shall for a short 
 while shift our position, and draw near the populous 
 places, and come even to the neighbourhood of that 
 city where so many of the Lord’s people suffered publicly 
 on the scaffold ; and shall here present a few notices of a 
 worthy matron, named — 
 
 Helen Alexander, of Pentland. The following 
 narrative, which contains a brief account of the experi- 
 ence and trials of this truly good woman, is not tradi- 
 tionary ; it was written down from her own mouth by 
 her husband, and the manuscript has been carefully pre- 
 served by her descendants till the present day. We 
 trust the reader will derive no small entertainment and 
 spiritual profit from the perusal of the short history of 
 this mother in Israel, who suffered not a little in the 
 eventful times of persecution. 
 
 Her residence was Pentland, — a name familiar to 
 those who are in any degree acquainted with the his- 
 tory of the persecuting period. It was here that, in 
 the year 1666 , the battle was fought between the 
 Covenanters and the Government forces, and which 
 terminated in the defeat of the former. The battle- 
 field was ploughed, for the first time, by an ancestor of 
 the writer of this volume. His father’s name was John 
 Gill, or M‘Gill, who erst wonned in Fife, and was a 
 strict Covenanter. His residence was too near the 
 abode of Archbishop Sharp, and he was obliged to 
 abandon his patrimony to maintain a good conscience 
 and to save his life. He retired to the south of Edin- 
 burgh, and found, with his family, a retreat in the parts 
 about Pentland Hills. His son, of the same name, 
 possessed, after the persecution, the farm of Loanstane, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 341 
 
 and was the first, as we have said, who ploughed the 
 field of Rullion Green, the scene of the conflict. The 
 hones that were turned up were all carefully collected 
 and buried in a suitable place, — bones both of Cove- 
 nanters and dragoons; and now they repose quietly 
 together. A song was made on the occasion, by some 
 rustic bard, that has long since been forgotten. It was 
 called, “ The Raking of the Hay on Rullion Green/' 
 The writer of this remembers, wdien a child, that a very 
 aged relative of his, the daughter or grand- daughter of 
 John Gill, used to rehearse the whole circumstances. 
 The patrimony in Fife was never restored ; hut the de- 
 scendants of John Gill have never wanted, — they have 
 almost all been more than usually successful in the 
 world. His descendants are, at this day, pretty nume- 
 rous ; and none of us are ashamed of such a progenitor. 
 It is only a matter of regret that the descending families 
 have retained so few incidents respecting John Gill of 
 Fife.. 
 
 His son of Loanstane was a man of eminent piety; 
 which, as a blaze of light, shone so clearly around that 
 it attracted the notice and admiration of all within the 
 circle of his acquaintanceship. His death-bed expe- 
 riences were of the most edifying description ; and it is 
 affirmed that he anticipated the very hour of his dis- 
 solution, and expired at the time he mentioned, “ re- 
 joicing in hope of the glory of God/' 
 
 As the writer has been led into this digression with 
 respect to his maternal ancestor, he may, perhaps, be 
 borne with while he mentions, further, that on the 
 fathers side he is also descended from a covenanting 
 family; so that he is twice related to the party that 
 suffered so much in the persecuting times. James 
 Simson was a farmer in East Lothian, and seems to 
 have been connected with the Simsons of Blainsley. 
 He w 7 as a nonconformist, and one to whom the perse- 
 cutors allowed no rest ; and therefore he w r as obliged 
 to flee and leave all his worldly property behind him. 
 So obnoxious had he become to the dominant party, 
 
342 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 that the minister of the parish to which he belonged, 
 and who was probably one of the indulged, was banish- 
 ed from the country for his strong sympathy with the 
 sufferers, and particularly for his “ having baptized 
 young James Simson ” whose father must consequently 
 have been a great eye-sore to the prelatists. James 
 Simson, the father, retreated to Tweeddale ; and young 
 James became, finally, an inmate in the house of his 
 uncle, Richard Brown, minister of Drummelzier, where 
 he was educated and taken care of after the decease of 
 his worthy father, of whom, after his removal to the 
 south, we hear nothing more. This young James 
 Simson was the great grandfather of the writer of these 
 sketches. His father, as we have said, lost all his 
 property in the persecution ; but the son, when he 
 grew to manhood, became, under the divine blessing, 
 remarkably prosperous in the world, and, through good 
 management and virtuous conduct, became the master 
 in lease of no fewer than ten different farms in the 
 localities adjacent to Drummelzier, at one and the same 
 time. We have the names of these farms in a docu- 
 ment lying before us. His descendants for the most 
 part seem to have been equally successful in their 
 worldly occupations, and one of them eminently so. 
 It is said that this is the origin of the family and name 
 of Simson in the upper parts of Tweeddale, where they 
 spread so widely. But this seems to be a mistake ; for 
 we find the name existing in the locality ages prior to 
 the time of James Simson. We find in ancient re- 
 cords that “Sir Alexander Simsone” was parson of 
 Glenholm, one of the pendicles of Stobo, about four 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 James Simson was a man of remarkably humane 
 and benevolent disposition, as may be seen from the 
 following anecdote, which we shall here take the liberty 
 of quoting from a manuscript history of the Simsons of 
 Tweedside, compiled by a literary gentleman, a cousin 
 of the writer of this work. We give the story precisely 
 in his own words : — 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 343 
 
 “ It happened/' he says, “in a scarcity of seven years’ 
 duration in Scotland, that a labouring-man, with a 
 large family, were at the point of dying of hunger ; and 
 several persons that year were actually found dead in 
 the glens, with little or nothing but wild herbs in their 
 stomachs. This poor man had his residence on the 
 north side of the Tweed ; and so pressing was his situa- 
 tion, that one winter night he set out to cross the Tweed 
 for the purpose of stealing a sheep from the farms of 
 James Simson, on the south side of the river. As he was 
 crossing at a shallow part of the Tweed called Hap- 
 cartoon Streams, he was surprised when he observed, 
 by the clear light of the moon, a large salmon lying in 
 the water with its back dry, being the spawning season. 
 The water was so very shallow about the salmon, that 
 it could not make its escape, having probably been 
 aground, being terrified at the sight of the man. The 
 starving individual instantly laid hold of the salmon, 
 and instead of proceeding to steal sheep, returned home 
 with his fish to his nearly exhausted family, and im- 
 mediately divided part of it amongst them. The very 
 next morning a boll of meal was brought to him, sent 
 by some one who knew his pressing necessities. The 
 man and his family were never again in want of food ; 
 and he always considered that the salmon was put in 
 his way by Providence, to prevent him from committing 
 the sin of theft. The man often mentioned the story ; 
 and upon its coming to the knowledge of James Sim- 
 son, he expressed his surprise how it came into his 
 head to steal from him, considering the kind manner in 
 which he had always treated him and his family. 4 Sir/ 
 replied the man, c I was certain, from your humane and 
 merciful disposition, that had I been detected in steal- 
 ing your sheep, you would not have brought me to the 
 gallows ; and this was the reason I preferred stealing a 
 sheep from you before all others/’ 
 
 But it is now time to return to the subject in hand 
 — the story of Helen Alexander ; which we shall 
 give in her own words. The manuscript is entitled, 
 
 Z 
 
344 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 u A short account of the Lord's dealing with Helen 
 Alexander, spouse first to Charles Umpherston, tenant 
 in Pentland; and thereafter to James Currie, merchant 
 in Pentland : together with some remarkable passages, 
 providential occurrences, and her support and comfort 
 under them, and deliverance out of them. All collected 
 from her own mouth by her surviving husband. She 
 departed this life, March 1729, aged seventy-five.” 
 
 “ Although I lived in conformity to a present world 
 for some time in my younger years, — namely, about 
 fifty-three years ago, — yet, praise to the Lord, I was 
 kept even then, by him, from extravagancies and the 
 common pollutions which ordinarily younger ones run 
 into, and are polluted with. After the death of my 
 mother, and second marriage of my father, through 
 divers difficulties occurring by such providential alter- 
 ations, which proved not a little afflicting to me, I was 
 obliged to go to, and reside with, my sister for some 
 time, when dwelling in the parish of Dirleton ; in which, 
 together with Linton parish, — the place where I was 
 born and brought up, — I remained for some time, there 
 being no curates in these parishes at that time. 
 
 When I was married, being about eighteen years of 
 age, my lot, in the adorable providence of God, — who 
 chooses out for his people their inheritance both spiri- 
 tual and temporal, and appoints unto them the bounds 
 of their habitation, — fell to be in this place, namely, 
 Pentland ; where I found several godly persons, truly 
 concerned about hearing and attending the gospel 
 preached by the persecuted ministers, sometimes at 
 Edinburgh, and sometimes at a place called Gutters. 
 At that time the Lord inclined my heart to go with 
 them, where I had the occasion to hear the worthy and 
 godly Mr John Welsh, and Mr Donald Cargill, with 
 several others ; whose administrations and preachings 
 the Lord was pleased, through his sovereign free grace, 
 to bless unto my soul. At that time, I was not tho- 
 roughly convinced of the evil of hearing the prelatic 
 curates ; partly owing to my not fully understanding 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS ALEXANDER. 345 
 
 the evil of their way, and partly to the esteem I had 
 for some religious folks, judging with myself that if 
 they had gone to hear the curates, I would have readily 
 accompanied them: whereas, as afterwards I came to 
 understand, we should follow no man farther than he 
 follows Christ, and walk no way but in so far as it is 
 the Lord’s way; which is the good 'old way, and yet 
 the new and living way — the consecrated way, in which 
 the travellers of hope find rest unto their souls; which 
 yet is a high way, — 6 And an high way shall be there, and 
 a way, and it shall be called, The way of holiness ; the 
 unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall be for those : 
 the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein/ 
 “ Upon a certain time, when going to the Gutters 
 with a design to hear the gospel, I was informed that 
 my Christian acquaintances were gone to Edinburgh ; 
 and so being disappointed, I returned home with no 
 small pressure of spirit, through this double disappoint- 
 ment. By the way I sat down at a dyke-side, of 
 purpose to pour out my heart unto the Lord, and to 
 know the language of the dispensation : where it pleased 
 the Lord to manifest himself unto me in the way of 
 the word, particularly these words in Isaiah, — c When 
 the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and 
 their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear 
 them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them ; I will 
 open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst 
 of the valleys ; I will make the wilderness a pool of 
 water, and the dry land springs of water/ This scrip- 
 ture, as it was most refreshing at the time, so I found 
 a more full accomplishment thereof afterwards, parti- 
 cularly at a communion in Ormiston, where I did hear 
 Mr David Williamson upon that text in Isaiah, 6 For 
 all these hath mine hand made, and all these things 
 have been,' saith the Lord ; but to this man will I look, 
 even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and 
 that trembleth at my word/ 
 
 66 Yet, afterwards, when in the east country visiting 
 my sister, having taken an undue liberty in speaking 
 
346 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 some worldly discourse on the Lord’s day, — for which 
 and other sins I got broken bones, was plunged into 
 the depths, — the Lord was thereby provoked justly to 
 hide his face, and I was troubled. He awakened my 
 secure conscience, and convinced me thoroughly what 
 I was bv nature, and how all the powers and faculties 
 of the soul were miserably stained, deformed, and cor- 
 rupted, with original sin, — that I was altogether as an 
 unclean thing ; and at the same time discovered unto 
 me the exceeding sinfulness of sin, the vileness of my 
 former ways, and, among other things, the great sin of 
 hearing the perjured curates, insomuch that I durst 
 not have countenanced or attended their ministrations, 
 even though my fife should have gone in the quarrel, — 
 which afterwards became my trial. And while in this 
 condition, oh, what a fearful and loathsome sight got 
 I of myself! insomuch that I thought there was none 
 upon the earth like me. I wondered that I was kept 
 out of hell ; yea, I thought that I saw the very flames 
 of the infernal lake, and heard the terrible shrieks of 
 the damned. I marvelled that the earth did not open 
 her mouth and swallow me up quick, in regard that I 
 thought I did not, and never could do, any thing but sin. 
 The troubles that encompassed me about and over- 
 whelmed my soul were exceedingly many and great. 
 I was sore pressed with heavy waves : and Satan was 
 not wanting to improve this opportunity with his hell- 
 ish designs; insomuch that I thought it was utterly 
 needless to pray any more, in regard I saw all my 
 duties and performances not only defiled with sin, as 
 they really were and are, but altogether sin ; and that it 
 was high presumption for such a creature as I to pray, 
 who could do nothing but take his holy and blessed 
 name in vain. When praying in this case, Satan did 
 sore thrust, that I might fall ; but my God helped me : 
 for I heard the following as if it had been said with an 
 audible voice from the Lord unto me, ‘ Mint and be 
 doing;’ — for at this time I had passed the sentence of 
 condemnation upon myself, and my hopes being almost 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS ALEXANDER. 347 
 
 extinguished, I found no evasion for me. My teeth 
 were broken with gravel stones, rottenness entered into 
 my bones ; my very countenance was altered. I was 
 w T eary with my groaning. My days were consumed like 
 smoke, and my bones were burnt like a hearth. My 
 heart was smitten, and withered like grass, so that I 
 forgot to eat my bread. By reason of the voice of my 
 groaning, my bones clave to my skin. I was like the 
 pelican in the wilderness ; I was like an owl of the 
 desert ; I was like a sparrow upon the house top. I 
 did eat ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with 
 weeping ; because of the Lord’s indignation and wrath, 
 justly gone forth against me ; who lifted me up, and, 
 upon the account of my sins, cast me down again. 
 When I looked up to the heavens, I thought they were 
 blessed folk that were, and would win there ; hut when 
 I looked into my own heart, I thought and safl, 6 Oh, 
 but I will never win there though, at the same time, 
 
 I was glad how many did win there. 
 
 “ While in this desponding state, and while poring 
 upon the perfect blessedness, in the full enjoyment of 
 God to all eternity, of which the whole redeemed com- 
 pany are and shall be possessed, on the one hand ; and 
 the unexpressible misery of the damned on the other, 
 (in the meantime, looking, longing, and crying unto the 
 Lord for a little reviving in my bondage), I was strange- 
 ly surprised with a word from the Holy One, namely, 
 c Thou shalt have thy part and portion among the 
 glorious company in heaven which was darted in with 
 such power and life as revived my shattered hope and 
 my sinking spirits, and made me to be cheerful and 
 glad in the Bock of my salvation, for some time ; being 
 confirmed, further, of the Lord’s good-will and loving- 
 kindness to me, by allowing me access to him and 
 communion with him in prayer. Immediately upon 
 the back of this ground of hope, I was persuaded that 
 it was not a delusion ; for by this here admission unto 
 the throne of grace, I found, through the Lord’s good- 
 ness, these heavy thoughts and burdens taken off my 
 
348 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 soul, and kept off for some considerable time, insomuch 
 that I found the storm changed into a calm at his com- 
 mand and will. My diseases were healed, my soul 
 was visited with kindness and tender mercies, yea, so 
 satisfied with good things, that my youth was renewed 
 as the eagle’s. c The Lord executeth righteousness and 
 judgment for all that are oppressed/ Oh, how sweet 
 a time had I then, because he satisfied my longing soul, 
 and in some measure satisfied my hungry soul with good 
 things, and that soon after I had been sitting in dark- 
 ness, and in the shadow of death. I then understood 
 what it was to sit down under his shadow with great 
 delight, and find his fruit sweet unto my taste. 
 
 u Yet, alas ! Israel-like, how soon did I forget His 
 mighty works, by giving way to security. I was not 
 so watchful and tender as I should have been. I forgot 
 to set the Lord before me ; and hence I soon came to 
 be moved and shaken. My former fears and doubts re- 
 turned with such force that I accounted all my former 
 consolation and persuasion of salvation, through the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, to be but mere delusion. In this 
 case I continued until the Lord instructed me with a 
 high hand, and directed to cry importunately that he 
 would lift upon me the light of his countenance, blot 
 out all mine iniquities, create a clean heart, restore to 
 me the joy of his salvation, and uphold me with his 
 free Spirit. It pleased the Lord to give ear unto my 
 cry; and he did not hide himself from my situation, but 
 revealed himself unto me in the way of his word, even 
 when my heart was sore pained within me, and the 
 terrors of death had fallen upon me. 6 The Lord hath 
 appeared unto me of old, saying, Yea, I have loved 
 thee with an everlasting love ; therefore with loving- 
 kindness have I drawn thee/ This word did sink so 
 deep into my heart that I could never forget it. But, 
 indeed, it was not the bare promise that could do me 
 good ; though faith believes the promise, yet the pro- 
 mise is but the vessel, and Christ is the food in it that 
 the soul feeds on. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 349 
 
 “From this time I was taught to make recourse, in 
 all straits and' difficulties, to the Lord, in the way of 
 his blessed word : ‘ This is my comfort in mine afflic- 
 tion ; for thy word hath quickened me/ I enjoyed 
 many sweet smiles of the Lord’s countenance for a 
 considerable time. Then I found the outmaking of 
 that word in Isaiah : ‘For thus saith the Lord, Behold, 
 I will extend peace to her like a river, and the glory 
 of the Gentiles like a flowing stream/ All this time 
 (which was in the year 1678) my soul was made like 
 the chariots of Amminadib, by the pleasing, refreshing 
 blinks of His countenance ; yea, all my bands were 
 loosed, my fetters and chains knocked off, and my 
 burdens removed, and I was made to taste of the 
 glorious liberty of the sons of God. Whom the Son 
 makes free, they are free indeed. Then, with the 
 psalmist, I said that my mountain stood strong, and 
 that I should not be moved. Yet how badly did I re- 
 quite the Lord for his gracious kindness to me, in 
 regard that at that time the Highland host came into 
 the west, to oppress, plunder, harass, and waste the 
 people of God. They were charged to put out their 
 militia in this county ; and my first husband, what 
 through fear and what through ill counsel, was pre- 
 vailed upon in the hurry and heat of temptation, to 
 give his proportion of money to these militiamen ; and 
 in order hereunto, sent unto me (being in a house in 
 the neighbourhood) for the key of the chest in which 
 the money was. Accordingly I sent it ; but no 
 sooner had I done it, but as soon was I convinced of 
 the evil, from these words in Obadiah : ‘For thy vio- 
 lence against thy brother Jacob, shame shall cover 
 thee yea, I thought my very giving of the key was 
 an assenting to that wicked action or cause these 
 militiamen were undertaking, namely, their oppressing 
 and persecuting the honest cause, and the honest 
 people of Christ. 
 
 “ Moreover, upon the back of this, oh, how did the 
 Lord hide his sweet face, and frown upon me ! inso- 
 
350 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 much that I was made to roar. My conscience rose 
 against me as an armed man. The consideration of the 
 offence and displeasure done to the Lord hy me, and 
 such as I was connected with, in that action, struck 
 me with terror ; and though many professors of religion 
 gave out that money which I saw to be helping for- 
 ward the affliction of the Lord's people, and a standing 
 on the other side, Edom-like, in the day of Jacobs 
 trouble, yet it proved bitter to me as gall and wormwood; 
 in regard what is done against the Lord’s people, he 
 takes it as done against himself. Some would have 
 said, 4 Why are ye troubled ? wherefore may you not 
 pay that money as well as other professors?’ but that 
 was so far from giving ease to my conscience, that it 
 increased my trouble ; because the more that concurred 
 in that sinful action made the sin the greater. 
 
 44 But in the year 1679, at the break at Bothwell, I 
 thought it my bounden duty to concern myself with 
 the Lord’s people ; and, accordingly, I went and met 
 with them a mile west from Edinburgh. They were 
 said to be about eleven hundred prisoners. I was 
 sore grieved and afflicted to see them so barbarously 
 and unchristianly treated. Some of them were stript 
 of their garments, some of them were in their shirts, 
 and some with mutches on their heads, and many half- 
 naked. They were brought in through the city, and 
 driven like slaughter- sheep into the Greyfriars’ church- 
 yard, four score of the wounded being shut up in 
 Heriot’s Work. Upon this melancholy sight, I w r ent 
 and gathered as much money as I could procure, and 
 brought with it some of my own, and shirts for their 
 use. Our Lord’s words seemed to have, in some 
 measure, an accomplishment : 4 Ye shall be hated of 
 all men for my name’s sake.’ They were hated of all 
 men in place and power, and by them persecuted for 
 righteousness’ sake. 
 
 44 At this time it pleased the Lord to tryst me with a 
 very heavy trial, namely, the affliction of my husband, 
 which proved his death. This dispensation was truly 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 351 
 
 distressing. Being deprived of the husband of my 
 youth, my sympathizer in mine afflictions and trials, a 
 loving husband, and a most tender-hearted parent unto 
 his and my children ; being thus left with three small 
 children, and a considerable charge besides, — I was 
 surrounded with sorrows, and almost swallowed up ; 
 partly on account of what had befallen the people of 
 God ; and partly on account of the dishonour done to 
 God, by such as were overturning the Lord’s work, and 
 persecuting unto the death the owners of and adherents 
 to the same ; and partly on account of wfflat in provi- 
 dence had befallen myself and family through the death 
 of my dear husband. 
 
 “ My next trial,- — w 7 hich proved very sharp, — pro- 
 ceeded from being at a preaching in Earne Craig, in the 
 Pentland Hills. One Porteus, tenant in Eastside, in- 
 formed the laird of Pentland of that occasion ; who 
 forthwith called a court, and I was the first person that 
 was challenged if I had been at the preaching afore- 
 said ; and they added, I behoved either to confess or 
 deny. Mine answer was : c I will not deny, for Christ 
 hath said, “ He that denieth me before men, him will 
 I deny before my Father w T ho is in heaven.” ’ But, alas ! 
 to my great grief, many resolutely denied that they had 
 been at that preaching, whom I knew I had seen at it. 
 
 c ‘ After this, Skeen of Hallyards held a court, and 
 fined me of fifty pounds Scots ; before whom I did not 
 compear, judging it sinful to answer and compear be- 
 fore their courts. And at this time, according as the 
 malice and envy of the enemies of Christ swelled and 
 increased, so my troubles and afflictions augmented, 
 insomuch that I w r as obliged either to go to the kirk 
 and hear the perjured curates, or otherwise quit my 
 possession of the room or farm, and go from it. I 
 bless the Lord, who determined me to the better choice, 
 and made me willing to part with all my worldly pro- 
 perty rather than make a compliance as had the for- 
 saking of Christ and his way wrapt in the bosom of it. 
 Many were not wanting with their solicitations, to 
 
352 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE jl>jSSERT. 
 
 entice me into a compliance, saying, I should be a fool 
 for quitting such a good farm room, and that I was on 
 a fair way to beggar myself and children, and reduce 
 myself and others to most miserable and melancholy 
 circumstances. Yet it pleased the Lord to enable me 
 to withstand such assaults from without, and the ben- 
 sail of corruption within inclining that way. Yet I 
 thought, if all the farm had been covered with gold, I 
 would rather quit it than quit with my sweet Lord 
 Jesus, and his noble cause and truths; for the Lord 
 upheld me with his right hand of power, and made me 
 see, if I loved houses, lands, and possessions, or any 
 thing else, better than him, I was not worthy of him. 
 And so, accordingly, I did quit that room on these 
 considerations, and went with my three small children 
 into another cottage in the town. This I found to be 
 a duty, in regard I behoved either to lose the favour 
 of God and a good conscience, or lose the room. My 
 God helped me to another choice ; and I never rued it. 
 Oh, but all that time his precious word was sweet unto 
 me; liis name was as ointment poured forth; and his 
 lips like lilies dropt sweet-smelling myrrh. I beheld 
 him as altogether lovely. He was to me as a cluster of 
 camphire in the vineyards of Engedi. 
 
 u In order to prevent the enemies plundering me of 
 all, I made a disposition of all unto my brother-in-law, 
 Robert Umpherston; and accordingly delivered all that 
 was about the house, of movables, horse, malt, and 
 corn, unto him. Then I thought with myself, Now I 
 have nothing ; and began to be a little thoughtful about 
 it : but that sweet word dropt into my mind with such 
 power and life as soon allayed all kind of uneasiness, 
 c The name of the Lord is a strong tower, and the right- 
 eous run into it and are safe/ Yet the temptation re- 
 turned so fiercely afterward, that I was made to think 
 what of our substance was retained would not maintain 
 us in meat and clothing ; but the Lord banished this 
 temptation away also, and gave me the victory over it,* 
 by sending this word most seasonably into my mind, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS ALEXANDER. 353 
 
 ‘ Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither 
 do they reap, and yet your heavenly Father feedeth 
 them ; are ye not much better than they ?' After these 
 scriptures were borne home upon my mind with such 
 sweetness, power, and life, I durst not doubt of God's 
 providence toward me and my children ; — and praise be 
 to him, he hath provided bountifully hitherto ! 0 that 
 
 we may not walk unanswerably unto the pains and 
 kindness bestowed either one way or another ! 
 
 “ At this time troubles arose to such a height that I 
 could not stay with my children, but was forced to 
 leave them, for fear of being apprehended by the ene- 
 mies. But when thus under hidings, I cannot express 
 the goodness and kindness of the Lord unto me, who 
 both wonderfully supported, protected, and provided for 
 me, and at the same time kept me from many sinful 
 snares that others fell into : for I never thought it law- 
 ful to give any thing to any of those who were enemies 
 to my dear Lord, his cause, and people owning the same, 
 neither militia money nor fines ; for though Hallyards 
 imposed a fine on me, I never paid, but absolutely re- 
 fused it. Nevertheless, I having sold a lime kiln to a 
 man in the neighbourhood at fifty pounds Scots, the 
 laird of Pentland being informed of this, arrested the 
 money in the man's hand, afterwards uplifted it and 
 paid it to Hallyards, without my allowance. Yea, on 
 the contrary, I always judged it my duty to bear testi- 
 mony in my station against all such impositions and 
 exactions. 
 
 ‘‘About the year 1682, Andrew^ Gullon, who was 
 afterwards executed at the cross of Edinburgh, did 
 sometimes frequent my house; I judging it to be my 
 duty to entertain him, or any of the godly, if I thought 
 them so, even though they differed in judgment as to 
 some things ; but especially those that were most upright 
 in principle and practice, and most persecuted for right- 
 eousness' sake, I loved to harbour and esteem. When 
 the Lord discovered unto me the evil and sinfulness of 
 the indulgences, and the indemnities, and exceptions 
 
354 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 thereof, I counted it ray duty, in my private capacity, 
 to signify my disapprobation of such courses, as a testi- 
 mony against them, by disowning them ; though, at the 
 same time, I delighted to honour such as the Lord 
 honoured to contend for his truth, either by suffering 
 or otherwise. 
 
 “ After Andrew Gullon was imprisoned, it was 
 thought Mr M c Naight, the curate in this parish, in- 
 formed the council against me ; who pushed the laird of 
 Pentland, namely, Sir Alexander Gibson, to apprehend 
 me. Accordingly the said Sir Alexander, with his son, 
 Mr Alexander, (who fell from his horse and died, March 
 3, 1729,) and several servants, came to my house in the 
 morning, early, and caught me (having been for seve- 
 ral weeks before that absent and under hiding) when 
 essaying to perform family worship. Having sung 
 part of a psalm, I endeavoured to hide myself under a 
 bed ; but they lighted a candle and found me out. He 
 carried me to a house of his own acquaintance, and 
 there he pressed me to go to the kirk. Mine answer to 
 him w r as, I would rather beg my bread with my chil- 
 dren, before I took any sinful way for their and my out- 
 ward advantage and accommodation. Furthermore, I 
 added, that I would go out of the town, and remove 
 from his grounds, and when challenged about me, he 
 might lawfully say, I was not on his ground. He replied, 
 that would ruin his family. I told him that the way he 
 was taking for the preservation of his family would 
 effectually ruin him and his family both. Whereupon 
 they carried me away to the Abbey, where the soldiers 
 took me into a house ; and there, having my Bible with 
 me, I found every place of the holy Scripture I was 
 directed to look upon most sweet, and more refreshing 
 and encouraging than ever, especially in Revelation, 
 6 And w r hen he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under 
 the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word 
 of God, and for the testimony which they held. And they 
 cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, 
 
I 
 
 THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 3 55 
 
 holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our 
 blood on them that dwell on the earth ? And white 
 robes were given unto every one of them ; and it was 
 said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little 
 season. And one of the elders answered, saying unto 
 me, What are these that are arrayed in white robes ? 
 and whence came they ? And he said unto me, These 
 are they who came out of great tribulation, and have 
 washed their robes, and made them white in the blood 
 of the Lamb ; therefore are they before the throne of 
 God/ And Psalm 50th and 15, ‘Call upon me in the 
 day of trouble : I will deliver thee , and thou shalt glorify 
 me/ And Psalm 55th and 22, 4 Cast thy burden upon 
 the Lord, and he shall sustain thee/ These and many 
 other scriptures were sweet and helpful unto me at 
 that time. 
 
 44 When one of the men guarding me said, 4 You have 
 the chancellor and other great men to go before I said, 
 ‘I have a greater Judge to go before, the Judge of all 
 the earth/ Then came a party of soldiers and carried 
 me to prison, viz., the Tolbooth. I bless the Lord, all 
 fear was taken from me. Oh, how sweet and kind was 
 the Lord to me there ! there he made good his promise 
 to me, viz., 4 1 will be with you in trouble, to deliver 
 you/ 
 
 44 The only thing that did most grieve and disturb my 
 spirit there, was my being brought down from the 
 chamber where I was first put into, and thrust in among 
 Gibb’s faction, that wicked swearer; where, besides 
 Gibb, and one Jamieson, were Alexander Monteath, 
 and Ann Sewart, — all vile, abominable blasphemers. 
 That woman was wont to sew her seams and do her 
 other business on the Lord’s day ; and when mine ac- 
 quaintances and I were singing and praying they would 
 frequently interrupt us. Oh, what sorrow of soul it 
 was to me to be confined to hear their blasphemy. 
 They would have said, they knew of no heaven, no 
 hell, yea, nor no God : and their practice proclaimed 
 
356 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the same. When under the thraldom, I frequently 
 thought I would rather choose to go to the gibbet than 
 be restricted to their blasphemous company. On the 
 Sabbath, in particular, their carriage was to me worse 
 than death. But to the Lord's name be all the praise, 
 who speedily delivered me from this hell upon earth ; 
 for a few days after I was brought down from the prison 
 to the Abbey by a guard of soldiers. Oh ! what a plea- 
 sant and soul-refreshing blink of the Lord's countenance 
 I had as I was walking down the street with the guard. 
 
 “ When I was brought before the Chancellor and 
 Bishop Paterson, I was interrogated by Sir William 
 Paterson if I would go to the kirk ? Mine answer was, 
 I neither did nor would go to the kirk, though they 
 should take my life for refusing to comply. They ques- 
 tioned me if Andrew Gullon was wont to come to my 
 house. I said he did sometimes come. They asked if 
 any vagabonds came to my house (thus they called the 
 honest people). I said no. Sir William Paterson asked 
 me if I thought the bishop's death was murder, and if 
 the king’s authority was lawful. I answered, they 
 should not ask such questions at women. At the same 
 time, so kind was the Lord unto me, that fear of man 
 was taken quite away. After some more questionings 
 to this purpose, I was thrust back into prison again ; 
 but not into the den of lions — I mean Gibb’s faction ; 
 the Lord in his holy providence delivered me from them. 
 At last, after I had lain eleven weeks in prison, the 
 Lord, glory to his name ! brought me out of prison with- 
 out the least compliance, either by bending or yielding 
 any other way. 
 
 46 1 durst never consent to any petition whatsoever; 
 nor could I own them nor their authority in any thing 
 whatsoever ; neither did I consent to the paying of what 
 the jailers claimed as their fees ; — in order to shun any 
 thing that might involve any kind of compliance. So 
 the Lord, in his kind ordering providence, delivered me, 
 when many tall cedars (in respect of whom I seemed 
 in mine own eyes as a small shrub, but the race is not 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 357 
 
 to the swift nor the battle to the strong) were left to 
 comply ; and the more seemingly eminent were left of the 
 Lord so far that they took the cursed test. There were 
 thirty-two prisoners swore it in the time I was in prison ; 
 which was no small grief of heart to me. 
 
 44 As I was on my way coming home behind my 
 brother, I asked how I had won out of prison. He 
 said, 4 Had you been brought before them (namely, the 
 bloody council) again, it might have cost you your life/ 
 So I came home to my three children, who were father- 
 less three years before I was taken. 
 
 44 But before I came out of prison several people told 
 me that I was to die. I asked them who were their 
 informers. They answered, all that were in the prison 
 said it. Whereupon I sent home to provide my winding- 
 sheet and other necessaries ; for in the strength of the 
 Lord I was resolved to lay down my life rather than 
 comply either with the prelatic curates, or submit unto 
 the pretended authority of the tyrant then upon the 
 throne. This account occasioned no small concern and 
 trouble to my friends and acquaintances at home, inso- 
 much that some were like to run into extremes. How- 
 ever, when I came home my relations were displeased 
 v T ith me for harbouring or entertaining any of the per- 
 secuted people, affirming that thereby I should bring 
 myself again into trouble. My mind in this matter 
 was, that I did not know for what end I had or kept a 
 house, if it was not to entertain the people of God as he 
 should enable me, and in providence called me. 
 
 44 There are some things which I could not pass 
 without observation concerning Alexander Brown, ser- 
 vant in Pentland, one of those who guarded me to 
 Edinburgh. Within a short time after my return from 
 prison, this man fell sick, and in the Lord's righteous 
 judgment was smitten with vermin. I w r ent and saw 
 him sometime before he died ; and upon my approach 
 toward the bed on which he did lie, the woman who 
 had the charge of him desired me to hold off him, for 
 he was crawling with vermin : and I saw it to be true. 
 
358 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Another that guarded me was John Logan, smith in 
 Pentland ; who was also struck with a strange kind of 
 distemper, which proved mortal. I visited him also 
 before death ; and when in his house, his wife told me 
 that he was rotting away in his own filth, as if he had 
 been a beast : whereby the Lord seemed to be putting 
 some distinguishing mark upon him for his cruelty 
 vented against the people of the Lord, and his other 
 wickedness. At the same time, I must say, I never 
 wished or desired any evil to any of them ; but, on the 
 contrary, prayed that the Lord might not lay any thing 
 that they had done against me to their charge. But the 
 Lord says, 4 Vengeance is mine, and I will repay/ 
 
 44 In the year 1683 the reverend and worthy Mr 
 James Ren wick came home from Holland an ordained 
 minister. At first I scrupled to hear him, because it 
 was said he was ordained by such as used the organ in 
 their worship. But being better informed by himself, 
 according as it is recorded in his life and death, printed 
 some years ago, I heard him with all freedom, and to 
 my great satisfaction, at Woodhouselee old house, being 
 called there by friends about Edinburgh and Pentland. 
 After this he frequented my house, wfith several worthy 
 Christians, even in the very heat of persecution ; and I 
 judged it my duty in all these hazards to attend the 
 ordinances administered by him. 
 
 64 Some time after this the woful toleration came forth 
 from the tyrant York. It was a dagger thrust through 
 my heart, w'hen it was told me that the ministers called 
 Presbyterians had all accepted it, and thanked the 
 profane prince for the same ; for — though none but the 
 prelatic party should have accepted it — all these ac- 
 cepters stumbled and fell so foully that they never 
 recovered their integrity again. Compliance with this 
 made way for following snares and evils, — 4 A little leaven 
 leaveneth the whole lump/ Which toleration and other 
 defections w 7 ere faithfully witnessed against by the 
 worthy Mr Renwick, Mr Shields, and the suffering 
 remnant. And, as the Lord enabled, I endeavoured to 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS ALEXANDER. 359 
 
 signify my displeasure and testimony against the same, 
 together with all their other sinful compliances and de- 
 fections, by which the Lord was dishonoured, his people’s 
 consciences offended and defiled, and for which the Lord 
 is pleading a controversy with the land at this day. 
 
 46 At this time I durst not be seen in Pentland, nor 
 about my own house ; yet, having been for some time 
 with my father in Linton, I inclined and adventured 
 to see my children, and came home greatly distressed 
 with a fever ; yet could not have access to my own fire, 
 because of a woman that was spinning in the house ; 
 nor to my own bed, till one stood up betwixt me and 
 her, lest she had discovered and detected me unto the 
 enemies. Being all trembling, partly through cold 
 and partly through affliction and fear, I caused my 
 daughter to lie down with me, being in a room distant 
 from the fire, until I grew warm. This fever continued 
 long ; but my God, who had supplied me in all my 
 wants, comforted me in all my troubles, and in straits 
 proved always a present help, delivered me and brought 
 me out of this trouble also ; for all which kindness I 
 desire to magnify his great and glorious name. Then, 
 indeed, I found it sweet to suffer hardships for his 
 name’s sake, in regard he was graciously pleased to 
 support and countenance poor and unworthy me in all 
 my trials, — praise to Him for it I 
 
 “ When Mr John Flint came from Holland, I could 
 never hear him preach, being never lawfully licensed, 
 (he had only a testimony of his learning ;) though I enter- 
 tained and had many reasonings with his followers. 
 The worthy Mr Ren wick and adherents bore testimony 
 against the said Mr Flint ; to which I adhered, and do 
 adhere to all the honest and faithful testimonies that 
 have been given by such as were walking in the Lord’s 
 way, and espousing his cause. At the same time, in 
 the Lord’s strength, I always endeavoured to shun and 
 guard against extremes on either hand ; and so found 
 myself obliged, in point of duty, to sympathize always 
 with such as were in distress, though of different senti- 
 
 2 A 
 
360 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ments from me as to some things ; and, accordingly, 
 having collected some money, and prepared some shirts 
 for such prisoners in Dunnotar Castle as needed them, 
 who yet differed in judgment touching some things, I 
 thought all that I could do that way, for such as were 
 suffering for righteousness’ sake, was too little. 
 
 “In the year 1687, November 30, I was again mar- 
 ried, unto James Currie, by the renowned Mr James 
 Renwick. My design of marrying was, that we might 
 glorify God, as in other things, so particularly by re- 
 ligious and soul-edifying discourse, both in the night 
 when awake on our beds, and in the day. Some months 
 after this, Mr Renwick being taken, I went and saw 
 him in prison. When discoursing about several things, 
 I said, 4 Sir, within a little you will get the white 
 robes ; 9 he added, c And palms in my hands/ And 
 when he was executed I went along to the Greyfriars’ 
 church-yard, took him in my arms until stripped of his 
 clothes, helped to wind him in his grave-clothes, and 
 helped to put him into the coffin. This was a most 
 shocking and sinking dispensation, more piercing, 
 wounding, and afflicting, than almost any before it. 
 Some time before this there were about nine or ten chil- 
 dren, — none of them above fourteen years of age, — met 
 together weekly for prayer. I thought it my duty to 
 encourage them in duty, as far as the Lord enabled. 
 
 “After this, my husband was in danger of being 
 taken by one Captain Inglis, who came to the town 
 with some men for that end ; but he, being absent, 
 escaped. About this time I had the occasion to hear 
 Mr David Houston preach in Lammermuir ; in which 
 he said : 6 In a short time ye will be freed from the 
 dominion of Popery ; but that woful thing, Erastian- 
 ism, w r ill be your greatest trial and snare/ Which has 
 proved too true, as daily experience doth still show. 
 
 “ As I had a sea of troubles and dangers to pass 
 through during the whole course and tract of the perse- 
 cution, — though wonderfully supported, preserved, and 
 protected, — so I behoved not to want tribulation and 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 361 
 
 affliction in my own family when this storm calmed in 
 providence ; — lest I had either forgotten the Lord’s for- 
 mer loving-kindness, which would have been the height 
 of ingratitude ; or turned easy, and indifferent, and luke- 
 warm about the truths and cause of Christ, — as, alas, too 
 many have done, which have hitherto been lying under 
 the ashes of contempt and forgetfulness, — which would 
 have been dreadful treachery and unfaithfulness, yea, 
 disloyalty to Christ ; and therefore, to prevent this, the 
 Lord saw it fit to keep me in exercise, by afflicting and 
 taking by death two of my children, viz., Thomas and 
 James, whose elegy is extant. Though this was a try- 
 ing dispensation, yet the Lord was remarkably kind, in 
 not only giving me some gracious blinks of his counte- 
 nance in time thereof, but also in condescending to 
 make known unto me his mercy and love towards them. 
 Praise to him for his goodness, and for his works of 
 wonder done unto me and mine ! 
 
 “ Nevertheless, these, in some respects, were but 
 small troubles when compared w T ith what I underwent 
 in the tract of my dear child Robert’s sore affliction ; 
 who, if he had lived, was to have been Ebenezer, by 
 reason of the Lord’s unspeakable kindness, being six 
 times cut by reason of gravel stones, some of which 
 were very large. On each of these different cuttings, I en- 
 deavoured to give him away to the Lord, no hopes of re- 
 covery being left ; and as often I received him again from 
 the Lord, as renewed pledges of his love and kindness. 
 
 “ And this was no small ingredient of my affliction, 
 that he wanted the seal of the covenant, there being 
 none at that time that we could with freedom apply to 
 for the administration of that holy ordinance of bap- 
 tism, by reason of defection, apostasy, and compliance, 
 all being either involved in the sinful indulgences 
 and tolerations, or in compliance with such ; with 
 many other heinous practices, plainly contrary to our 
 covenanted work of reformation. Yet this was so 
 very weighty to me, that I could have been content to 
 have carried him an hundred miles on my back, to 
 
362 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 have had that sacrament of baptism administered by 
 one truly owning, in principle and in practice, faithfully 
 the Lord’s cause and interest, in opposition to Popery, 
 Prelacy, and Erastianism, and other sinful and wicked 
 abominations in church and state. 
 
 “ I remember, w r hen earnestly begging of the Lord 
 that he would glorify his own name in the preserving 
 of my child, so frequently cut, that sweet scripture 
 among others, which proved supporting in such cases, 
 in John xvii., was conveyed into my mind with a 
 more than ordinary power and liveliness, namely, 4 1 
 have both glorified my name, and will glorify it again/ 
 In all my troubles and trials, the Lord permitted me still 
 to have recourse to the sweet and precious Scripture. 
 
 “ Furthermore, when these sinful oaths of allegiance, 
 assurance, abjuration, and the unlawful union, were on 
 foot, my soul was deeply grieved with these God-pro- 
 voking and land-ruining courses ; yea, I saw so much 
 evil in them, that I thought no man pretending to pres- 
 byterian principles would go in with them. Which sinful 
 practices, with many others, especially since the year 
 1651, which was the spring of our declension and 
 apostasy from the Lord and his noble cause, I bear my 
 testimony against ; and do signify my firm adherence to 
 the precious W ord, our covenanted work of Reformation, 
 Confessions of Faith, Catechisms Larger and Shorter, 
 and to all the honest testimonies for truth’s sake, both 
 before and since the Revolution unto this present time. 
 
 “As soon as I understood my children had life in the 
 womb, the Lord (to the praise of his grace be it spoken) 
 enabled me to devote and give them away to himself 
 again. This I was drawn into from the consideration 
 of his own word of promise unto me, namely, 6 1 will be 
 your God, and the God of your seed/ and which he was 
 graciously pleased to make good, to my soul’s comfort. 
 My young children that died in their tender years, had 
 clear evidences of grace in them before their removal. 
 Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings he perfected 
 praise. It has been my concern not only to pray that 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — ALEXANDER. 363 
 
 such as survived might have real grace themselves, hut 
 that they might be severally matched with such as were 
 truly gracious. And I hope the Lord hath not been 
 wanting to hear and answer my earnest request as to 
 this also. For all which my soul doth magnify his name. 
 Yet, notwithstanding of all, I, from the bottom of my 
 heart, count myself but an unprofitable servant. I see 
 my righteousness to be but as filthy rags, myself to be 
 a most unclean creature, and every thing as done by me 
 •to be unclean. It is upon the plank of free grace that 
 I must swim to the shore of Immanuels land. I have 
 been enabled to flee by faith, as a poor, blind, naked, 
 brutish, deformed, defiled, ignorant, sinful, and polluted 
 creature, unto a God in Christ, for tried gold, eye* salve, 
 white raiment, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and 
 complete redemption. And he has promised I shall be 
 an overcomer, and so shall inherit all things. And 
 seeing he hath promised, who is faithful and cannot deny 
 himself, in his strength I venture my all upon his sure 
 word, promise, and oath ; and heaven, earth, and hell, 
 cannot challenge him with breach of promise, or with 
 the least failure of all he hath promised. He is the 
 Lord, and changes not ; therefore the sons of Jacob are 
 not consumed.” 
 
 The reader has now before him a full account of 
 Helen Alexander of Pentland, as contained in the old 
 brown manuscript which we have transcribed. No 
 mention is made of her in W odro w, at least that we can 
 find ; which plainly shows that probably scores, or even 
 hundreds of cases, of a similar description, have passed 
 unnoticed by the historian. And, indeed, as he himself 
 remarks, it was not possible to get at all the instances 
 of suffering on the part of the people of God in those 
 trying times. Wodrow wrote about thirty years after 
 the persecuting period, and a great proportion of his 
 material was supplied by the people in the different 
 localities where the scenes of violence were witnessed. 
 Many of the incidents were not communicated to him, 
 and many that were communicated were not embodied 
 
364 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 in his work. Hence the room that is left for gleaning 
 what the historians of the period did not gather in the 
 vintage. The transmissions, through the medium of the 
 families of the Covenanters, which come down to us may 
 be depended on as being accurate, and probably just 
 as accurate as they were in the days of Wodrow. Tra- 
 dition bears more truth on its lips than many are aware 
 of ; and it is our duty to gather up the incidents, the 
 memory of which has been conveyed to our times re- 
 specting those holy and devoted men u who loved not 
 their lives unto the death and to restore these to their 
 proper niche in history, which they so richly deserve. 
 Our heart burns at the very name of our persecuted 
 ancestors. We feel a unity of spirit with them, which 
 nothing can make twain. Our heart is in the moor- 
 lands, in the dreary wastes, where these honoured men 
 prayed and died, and where they rest in the martyr’s 
 winding-sheet ; and we say, Rest there, ye illustrious 
 dead, ye renowned witnesses of Jesus Christ; rest, where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, till the blessed morn- 
 ing dawn, when ye shall rise from your lowly bed to 
 shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of your Father. 
 
 We now return, in the course of our researches, to 
 the upland wilds of Nithsdale, where it borders on the 
 rugged heights and desolate tracts of the upper parts of 
 Galloway. We shall here record a few striking in- 
 cidents that befell some of the worthies who frequented 
 these localities, and — 
 
 William Smith and Mary M‘Clymont here pre- 
 sent themselves to our notice. William Smith was the 
 son of a worthy man of the name of Robert Smith, who 
 was proprietor of a small pastoral farm called Deuch- 
 side, in the parish of Carsphairn. It was in this same 
 parish that the good John Semple ministered in the 
 gospel, with so much success, for many a painful and 
 industrious year; but he preached under the wing of 
 the indulgence, and consequently remained compara- 
 tively unmolested. Under his ministry many precious 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 365 
 
 Christians were reared ; which made Mr Peden say that 
 he knew of no Christians that had such “ moyen ” or in- 
 fluence at the throne of grace as the Christians of Cars- 
 phairn. Many of these, no doubt, became famous in 
 the covenanting ranks, and, though living in an indulged 
 parish, suffered equally with the others of the stricter sort. 
 Of this class were William Smith and Mary M‘Cly- 
 mont. Deuchside, the residence of William Smith, 
 was a sweetly secluded spot by the margin of the Deuch, 
 which, running through Carsphairn, falls into the silvery 
 Ken. Robert, the father, was a stanch Covenanter, 
 and, by marriage, was connected with the pious house 
 of Penkhill. He and his worthy spouse trained their 
 household in the fear of God ; and had the satisfaction 
 of perceiving that their labours were not in vain. Robert 
 Smith and his son William were at the battle of Both- 
 well Bridge. The father was severely wounded, but 
 the son escaped scathless. William tended his parent 
 with great affection ; and when he was able to sit on 
 horseback, he conducted him homeward by easy stages, 
 and chiefly under the cloud of night. When he was 
 brought to Deuchside, he survived but a short time. 
 He expired in the faith of Christ. 
 
 William, the subject of the following notices, now 
 stood up in his father’s place, and followed his example 
 as a Christian, and a devoted adherent of the noncon- 
 formist cause. His situation, after Bothwell Bridge, 
 was one of very great danger. He was now looked on 
 as a rebel, and was every hour in peril. Canon of 
 Mardrogat, mentioned by Wodrow as having once 
 been a strict Presbyterian, but w T ho became a traitor to 
 the cause, and a violent persecutor, lived in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and had his eye on William Smith. He 
 was ready either to apprehend him, or to lodge infor- 
 mation with the military. Smith now perceived that 
 it was impossible for him to reside on his farm, and 
 therefore proceeded to set his house in order, with 
 a view to betake himself to desert places, to save his 
 life. Those were times when a mans principles were 
 
366 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 tested to the uttermost. It was no easy matter to leave 
 house and hold, and to abandon property and friends, 
 and betake one's self to the wide world, seeking some 
 unknown hiding-place. All this, however, William 
 Smith did, to maintain a manly independence and a 
 good conscience. 
 
 As Smith was one day on his farm inspecting his 
 flocks of sheep, which he was soon to leave as a prey 
 to the devouring wolves of troopers and others, who 
 might seize them at their will, he spied a company of 
 dragoons, who, he thought, might perchance be guided 
 by the laird of Mardrogat in search of him. He be- 
 gan to look about him for a place to hide in, as the 
 horsemen were pressing onwards, and therefore no 
 time was to be lost. In his way he came to a small 
 bridge that bestrode a mountain streamlet, constructed 
 of wood and turf, for the convenience of the shepherds 
 and their sheep, when the rills were in full flood. He 
 descended the bank of the brook, and placed himself 
 exactly under the turfen bridge, in such a position as 
 that he thought himself fully protected from their view. 
 When he had ensconced himself in this hiding-place, 
 his faithful dog, his constant companion in his wander- 
 ings, in some unaccountable manner left him, and 
 sought his way quietly home to Deuchside. The cir- 
 cumstance surprised him, for the kindly animal never 
 used to leave him alone before. In a short time the 
 soldiers came up, and traversed the moor all about the 
 place where he had been seen by them as they were 
 advancing. They went along the little bridge, back- 
 ward and forward, in close search, but never thought 
 of looking beneath it. There was not a place of ap- 
 parent concealment into which they did not pry ; but, 
 after all their scrutiny, they found nothing, and finally 
 they left the moor without gaining their object. It was 
 now that it occurred to Smith that if his dog had been 
 with him he would most certainly, by his barking in 
 the zealous defence of his master, have revealed the 
 hiding-place. And what appeared to him equally re- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 367 
 
 markable, the dog returned after the soldiers had left 
 the spot, and came snooking and fawning about his 
 master, as if to congratulate him on his escape. Per- 
 haps the animal had been frightened by the soldiers 
 before, by the firing of their pistols, and, being of a 
 timid nature, sought to avoid their presence. But 
 however this may be, it is more than likely that the 
 absence of his dog saved him. 
 
 After this, William Smith returned to Deuchside, 
 before he took his departure to the wastes around ; and, 
 expecting to spend another night in his house, was pre- 
 paring to retire to rest when a party of dragoons rode 
 up to the door. They had been sent by Mardrogat, who 
 suspected that Smith might be found at home ; and in 
 this he was not mistaken. At the moment the soldiers 
 were entering the door in front, Smith darted from the 
 door on the back part of the house, and was concealed 
 from their view in the dusk. The soldiers, finding it in 
 vain to search in the dark, returned chagrined at the 
 disappointment ; and Smith, watching his opportunity, 
 came back before the morning dawned, and having 
 supplied himself with what food and clothing he need- 
 ed, he left his cherished home, to wander in the wilder- 
 ness, among his brethren in the same cause, and whom 
 necessity had forced to take the same course. 
 
 He now betook himself to the rocky cliffs of Craig- 
 dhu, — a dismal and rugged steep, where no human 
 creature, except in cases of dire necessity, would ever 
 think of resorting to. Being overpowered with fatigue, 
 he laid himself down on a shelf of the rock, and in a 
 brief space he was fast asleep. When he awoke, to 
 his surprise four men stood before him. His first im- 
 pulse was to flee. He imagined that his steps had 
 been traced by the enemy, and that these were emissa- 
 ries sent to seize him. The men, however, soon calmed 
 his fears. They were sufferers like himself, and in 
 hiding. He had imagined that in this melancholy spot 
 there was not a human being but himself, singly and 
 alone. He was not aware that even such places had 
 
368 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 their inhabitants, and inhabitants that were thankful 
 for such a retreat. 
 
 The four men and he instantly became friends ; and 
 he counted it a happy circumstance that he had been 
 guided to a company of Christian men, and men who 
 were sufferers in the same cause. The four men then 
 led him to the cave in which they had taken up their 
 residence ; and which, all things considered, was a re- 
 markably snug and comfortable chamber in a deep 
 recess of the rocks, and which was capable of contain- 
 ing the whole of the little company. These caverns 
 were frequently greatly improved in the interior, by 
 spreading heather, or withered grass, or brakens, on the 
 floor; and by carefully closing up every chink and 
 crevice through which the wind might blow and the 
 rain penetrate. If in the neighbourhood of friendly 
 places, bed-clothes were amply supplied, and other 
 necessaries contributed. In certain cases a fire could 
 be kindled, the smoke issuing from which ascended 
 through the crannies above, and diffusing itself over 
 the grey rocks and the fragmentary stones on the 
 brow of the mountain, was rendered almost invisible. 
 This, however, required to be used with great caution. 
 The mouths of these caves might be built up with large 
 stones, resembling the general face of the craggy steep ; 
 so that a high degree of safety was insured. 
 
 These men had secured a regular supply of provisions 
 to be conveyed from their respective homes to a parti- 
 cular place on the hill, not far from the cavern. This, 
 of course, had to be done under the cloud of night, and 
 with the utmost caution. In this way they wanted for 
 nothing, and were in a position infinitely more com- 
 fortable than multitudes of their fellow- sufferers in 
 other parts, who could boast of no such accommoda- 
 tion, but who had to content themselves with the dark 
 and dank hole in the clifts of the ravine, or with a 
 place in the heart of the thicket by the side of the 
 lonely stream, with no fellow- creature to speak to, and 
 to cheer the solitude of their situation. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 369 
 
 These five brethren continued for several weeks in 
 the cavern, and were as happy as circumstances would 
 permit. We can easily conceive the sweet fellowship 
 they had among themselves, and the higher intercourse 
 they had with heaven. In this solitude they were at 
 perfect liberty to lift their voice aloud in praise, and to 
 pray with a fervent utterance to Him who hears the 
 cry of the prisoner, and whose sympathies are all with 
 his people in affliction. Their moments were precious, 
 for they were like people on the wing to another 
 world; and at any time the murderous arm of the 
 persecutor might reach them. 
 
 But the cave was not to be their continuous residence ; 
 for however secure these haunts might be considered, 
 circumstances always transpired which in the end led 
 to a discovery. It was not possible to preserve con- 
 cealment always ; for incidents even of the most trivial 
 nature might befall, which, in those days of constant 
 and systematic espionage, were sure to expose the re- 
 treat. The report was spread that the military in the 
 district were about to institute an unsparing search in 
 every glen, and moor, and mountain. This, if accom- 
 panied with strong-scented dogs and keen-eyed spies, 
 would ferret out the inmates of any cave or den, how- 
 ever retired, among the rocks on the hill. The fugitives, 
 therefore, resolved to change their residence, and to 
 retire to a different district altogether. They left their 
 snug concealment, and agreed at the same time not to 
 move in a body, but to disperse, and to seek separately 
 a hiding-place, as this might be attended with less risk 
 of discovery. This separation, no doubt, was painful, 
 but it was necessary in the present state of things. 
 
 William Smith how betook himself to a deep gorge 
 in a place called Camreggan, with the view of shelter- 
 ing himself for a season ; and just as he was descending 
 the defile he encountered a young woman, who was 
 stealthily conveying a supply of provisions to two men 
 w r ho were concealed in a cave close at hand. Smith 
 and the young woman had been previously acquainted. 
 
370 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 She was Mary, the daughter of Gavin M^lymont of 
 Dalmellington, mentioned by Wodrow as one of the 
 sufferers of those times, when so many were cast into 
 the furnace ; and who in his hidings had some narrow 
 escapes from the soldiers in their searchings in the wilds, 
 an instance of which is given by the historian of the 
 period in the following words : — “ The parishes in the 
 south,” he says, “ had now their hardships very frequent, 
 and one upon the heels of another ; and so, a little after 
 Enterkin Path, Lieutenant Livingstone came from 
 Nithsdale to Carsphairn with a troop of dragoons, and 
 swore all the people about the head of the Water of 
 Ken. Claverhouse came after him with five or six 
 troops, and went through all the hills thereabout, 
 searching for persons on their hiding, and made as 
 many as he pleased answer his interrogatories upon 
 oath. Wonderful were the preservations of the perse- 
 cuted about this time. The soldiers frequently got 
 their clothes and cloaks, and yet missed themselves. 
 They would have gone by the mouths of the caves and 
 dens in which they were lurking, and the dogs w r ould 
 snook and smell about the stones under which they 
 were hid, and yet they remained undiscovered. This 
 was the case with Gavin M'Clymont, at Cairnshill Muir, 
 and others.” 
 
 This Gavin, it is said, suffered many hardships in 
 caves and desert places, and was finally one of the 
 prisoners in Dunnotar Castle, where such unheard-of 
 barbarities were exercised on the prisoners. Mary 
 M 4 Clymont, — who was another Margaret Gracie, and 
 delighted in nothing more than to minister to the suffer- 
 ers, — was, on account of the harassings of the soldiers, 
 obliged to leave her father's house ahd to seek a refuge 
 elsewhere. And this refuge she found for a season in 
 the house of her uncle at Camreggan. It was while 
 here that she incidentally met with William Smith, as 
 has been noticed above. She conducted him to a cave 
 in the immediate vicinity, in which were lodged two 
 men to whom Mary was in the habit of conveying pro- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 371 
 
 visions in the day of their need. This cave was small, 
 hut there was room for the new guest; and they huddled 
 together in the confined space among the bleak rocks, 
 with thankful hearts that they had one who tended them 
 so carefully, and anticipated, so far as was in her power, 
 their wants. But this ministry had its end, for the 
 house of Camreggan had rendered itself obnoxious on 
 account of its intercourse with the interdicted rebels, 
 and the family was put to flight, and Mary M‘Clymont 
 had to seek another home. This home was Glenmuck, 
 the residence of her aunt ; where she found a refuge for 
 a season. The time of Mary's abode here was to her 
 the most important epoch of her life, and consequences 
 resulted both of the most agreeable and of the most 
 disastrous kind. One evening she heard the shepherd 
 whisper to his mistress that he thought he observed 
 William Smith of Deuchside conceal himself in a clift 
 of the rock in the Wolf Craig. Mary knew the place, 
 and went next day to visit it, and to ascertain if persons 
 in hiding were really there, to whose comfort she could 
 in any way contribute. Accordingly, having wrapped 
 a quantity of bread in a napkin, she set out at a con- 
 venient time, and finding the cave, saw nobody ; but she 
 left the parcel and returned. Next day she did the 
 same ; the napkin was there, but the bread was gone. 
 The third day it was the same ; the handkerchief was 
 lying on the stone, but the bread was away. On the 
 day following she did not visit the place, as the military 
 had arrived and spread themselves abroad in quest of 
 fugitives, and a party came to Glenmuck to make due 
 examination. The party, it is said, were tipsy, and 
 came swaggering into the house. They proceeded with 
 their searchings and strict inquiries, first at one and then 
 at another, till all was tumult together. One of them 
 turned on Mary and began to question her; and she not 
 being inclined to give any answer, darted out, and ran 
 toward a bosky ravine in the vicinity of the house. The 
 men rushed after her, and one of them drew his sword, 
 with the intent of striking her down on the spot ; but in 
 
372 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 the effort the weapon flew from his hand, and lay in- 
 nocuous on the ground. But the speed at which the 
 half drunken man was running had imparted an im- 
 petus to his movement which he could not easily 
 restrain, and being near the brink of the precipice, he 
 tumbled headlong into the chasm, and lay dead at the 
 bottom. All this was the work of a moment, and so 
 confounded the soldiers, that the great object of their 
 visit was entirely lost sight of in the fate of their com- 
 rade. Next morning the glittering glaive was found 
 among the grass; and the instrument which was designed 
 to deprive her of her life, or at least to wound her 
 person, was now grasped by the hand of the harmless 
 maiden, who carried it to the house. She escaped the 
 shedding of her own blood at this time ; but it was only 
 to be reserved for another occasion, when that same 
 blood was to flow profusely on the heath in the day of a 
 still fiercer attack. 
 
 It is said that Mary carried the sword to the cave in 
 the Craig, having a piece of paper attached to it, on 
 which were written some such words as these, “ From a 
 friend — for your defence.” Smith was astonished when 
 he found the sword ; and not knowing the circumstance, 
 could not at all divine the purport of the thing. But the 
 w T hole was soon explained, for Mary M‘Clymont ap- 
 peared before him and informed him of all that had 
 passed on the preceding evening, and of all her history 
 since she left her father's house. 
 
 Some time after this, William Smith and Mary 
 M‘Clymont were united in marriage by one of the 
 conventicle ministers, who visited the district for the 
 purpose of holding a meeting among the lonely hills 
 and on the heathy wastes, far from the observant eyes 
 of the military. At this time these meetings were rare, 
 and much more precarious than formerly ; nevertheless 
 they were held whenever an opportunity occurred. But 
 the preachers being few, the conventicles were far be- 
 tween. Their place, however, was in a considerable 
 degree supplied by the social meetings held by the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 373 
 
 peasantry themselves, and which were found of great 
 advantage in keeping the parties united, and in pre- 
 serving alive the spark of spirituality in the heart. And 
 these meetings were eminently countenanced of God, 
 and much spiritual influence was shed down on the 
 little assemblies. It may justly be supposed that not 
 only w r ere the parties greatly benefited, but also that 
 the strangers who were admitted to witness their wor- 
 ship, and to listen to their conversation, were, many of 
 them, seriously impressed, and that their frequent at- 
 tendance issued in their sound conversion to God. Their 
 example has been followed, ^hrough many generations, 
 till the present time, in the same localities where these 
 holy men wandered, and prayed, and suffered. It has 
 been truly said, that 
 
 “ The evil that men do lives after them, 
 
 The good is oft interred with their bones 
 
 but here the reverse is strikingly the case. The good 
 that these men did lives after them, and their holy ex- 
 ample has been followed by their descendants, and 
 has long outlived their own brief generation. Nor 
 are their posterity, in this respect, unworthy of their 
 ancestry ; they do not shame the pious memory of their 
 forefathers. 
 
 After his marriage, William Smith longed to visit 
 Deuchside once more, and to see how it fared with his 
 household. He succeeded in reaching his home with- 
 out being detected, and was gratified on finding himself 
 again under his own roof-tree. But what a change had 
 taken place ! Every thing was in disorder. The plunder- 
 ing of the soldiers had left nothing of value within, and 
 the sheep on the hills had been driven away in scores 
 for the supply of the garrison at Carsphairn. All was 
 in desolation ; and with a sad heart he left the home of 
 his fathers, — never more to return. 
 
 On his retreat to his former hiding-places, he found 
 the troopers abroad, spread over the glens and hills in 
 strict search after persons in concealment. He himself 
 
374 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 was one on whom, in an especial manner, they had their 
 eye ; and this he well knew, and therefore he was the 
 more solicitous to avoid their track. The hiding-place 
 he had in view he found it impossible to reach without 
 discovery ; and there was only another place near at hand 
 in which there was any likelihood of concealment, pro- 
 vided he could reach it without his being observed. 
 This place was in a clift of the rock, and resembled a 
 barrel half raised on its end, into which a person might 
 easily slide, and one only ; so that if the place had been 
 occupied at the moment, he must have been obliged to 
 stand without, fully expojpd to view. As it was, how- 
 ever, he was snug ; for no one passing by could possibly 
 recognise an individual within. The person who com- 
 municated this tradition has carefully examined this 
 spot. He made a man enter the cavity, while he placed 
 himself at the distance of a few yards in front ; and 
 found it impossible to discern the individual within, so 
 complete was the seclusion. The rock is low, and 
 forms a part of the bank of the Water of Deuch, and 
 has, in all likelihood, been excavated by the stream in 
 former ages, and before it wore its channel to the pre- 
 sent level. One has a strange feeling when creeping 
 into a hole or cavern where, in days of persecution, men, 
 of whom the world was not worthy, so often hid them- 
 selves, and in whiqh many a solicitous moment was 
 spent, and from which many an earnest prayer ascended 
 to the sanctuary on high. 
 
 The soldiers advanced along the side of the stream, 
 and halted on the beautiful green holm precisely oppo- 
 site this hiding-place. Smith, in his stony cask, ex- 
 pected every moment to be dragged forth and shot 
 without ceremony on the velvet turf by the water’s 
 edge. He was the very man they wanted, and there 
 could be no doubt, in his opinion, that they had been 
 guided to his retreat by their having observed his move- 
 ments, — at least so thought he. He heard every word 
 they said ; and words about himself, expressive of their 
 full determination to shoot him as an incorrigible rebel. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 375 
 
 But though the horsemen had come to this particular 
 spot, and had actually dismounted on the green only a 
 few feet from the person of him of whom they were in 
 quest, they were not aware of the fact that he was in 
 their very presence, or that there was such a thing as a 
 cavity in the bank right before them. If, however, they 
 had lingered longer on the spot, there is no saying what 
 discoveries might have been made. Their attention, in 
 the meantime, was arrested by observing some men 
 passing over the heights of Waterhead, and instantly 
 mounting their horses they gallopped off in full pursuit. 
 This was a happy riddance to poor Smith, who lay with 
 a throbbing heart within his rocky bed. He lifted up 
 his head, and warily peeping over the edge of the rock, 
 saw r the whole party careering over the bent. We can 
 easily conceive his feeling — it was as if the sentence of 
 death had been revoked. 
 
 But Smith’s pilgrimage, and that of his faithful wife, 
 were near a close. A conventicle was held in the up- 
 land wilds, at which the worthy pair were present. 
 During the service the report was spread that a com- 
 pany of horsemen was just at hand. All was in con- 
 fusion ; and those of the conventiclers who had arms, 
 stood up in the defence of the helpless. A person of 
 the name of M 4 Millan, it is said, closed with Smith, who 
 was armed with the sw T ord which was left in the cave by 
 Mary M‘Clymont. The contest was doubtful; but, after 
 a stout defence, Smith was overpowered and run through 
 by the sword of his opponent ; who, it is said, gained 
 the day by dashing his bonnet in Smith's face, which 
 for a moment blinded him, and thus gave M'Millan the 
 advantage. The sword fell from his hand ; but his 
 ardent spouse, whose heart was wrung with anguish, 
 caught hold of it, and, in a fit of desperation and over- 
 whelming grief, opposed M c Millan with the weapon, 
 when the brutal man pierced her to the heart, and she 
 fell dead by the side of her husband. u They were 
 lovely in their lives, and in their death they were not 
 
376 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 It is said that McMillan was seized with great re- 
 morse at the barbarous deed, and expressed the deepest 
 regret. He, with a few assistants, buried them in the 
 moss where they fell. A good number of years ago, 
 when the people were cutting peats in the moss, they 
 came upon the bodies, in a state of good preservation ; at 
 least the very aged people in the district, who in their 
 youth heard the incident rehearsed by their forefathers, 
 believed that they were the identical bodies of William 
 Smith and Mary M‘Clymont. It is well known that 
 the antiseptic power of moss keeps animal substances 
 for centuries from putrefaction. The well known fact 
 of the bodies of Marion Cameron and Margaret Dun, 
 who were buried in the moss of Daljig, in the higher 
 parts of Ayrshire, being discovered in their resting- 
 place some years ago, is a proof of this. The pin that 
 Marion Cameron wore in her breast was at that time 
 found in her clothes, and is at present retained as a 
 precious relic. 
 
 The memory of William Smith and of Mary M.‘Cly- 
 mont is still warmly cherished in the district where they 
 wonned, and the incidents respecting them are carefully 
 retained among the peasantry. 
 
 In the preceding sketch we incidentally mentioned 
 the name of Margaret Dun, and this circumstance brings 
 before us — 
 
 The Duns of Ayrshire. This family was numerous, 
 and spread itself abroad in different localities in the hilly 
 parts in the county of Ayr. There were of the name, 
 James Dun, and David Dun, and Andrew Dun, and 
 Allan Dun, and Roger Dun ; all renowned in the cove- 
 nanting days, and men of brave hearts, who dared to 
 withstand the impositions of the times and the assault 
 of the foe. Some of these were better known than 
 others, and occupied a more prominent part in the con- 
 tendings of the precarious times in which they lived. 
 There were always here and there throughout the per- 
 secuted localities certain families of a standing name, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE DUNS. 
 
 377 
 
 and of a sort of patriarchal influence, that were sturdy 
 props to the cause, and around whom the friends in the 
 general district were inclined to rally. Of this class 
 were the Duns of Ayrshire, the Laings in Blagannoch, 
 the Clarks in Auchengrouth, the Harknesses of Close- 
 burn, the Hutchisons of Daljig, and the Howies of 
 Lochgoin ; with many others spread throughout the 
 country. Each of these families formed a nucleus 
 around which others were ready to cluster, and all of 
 them were noted for their hospitality. Their houses 
 were like inns, open for the reception of the wanderers 
 who were obliged to move from place to place to pre- 
 serve their lives. 
 
 The name of Dun w r as very obnoxious to the per- 
 secutors ; and when any of them fell into the hands of 
 the foe, their treatment was of a very summary kind. 
 Wodrow states that a party of dragoons took Simon 
 Paterson and David Dun, and because they learned 
 that they had been at a conventicle, they carried them 
 to the gallows that was standing at Cumnock, and, with- 
 out any trial, witnesses, or jury, hanged them there the 
 same day. The same historian informs us that James 
 Dun and Robert Dun, along with other four men, were 
 surprised by James Douglas and his associates in per- 
 secution, while at prayer in a place called Caldunes, in 
 the parish of Minniegaff in Galloway. “ Nothing/' 
 he says, “ could be charged upon them but that they 
 were persons upon their hiding, and at prayer. Whether 
 the oath of abjuration was offered or not my information 
 doth not bear; but without any further process, they 
 were immediately taken out and shot to death.” Such 
 were the villanies exercised in those lawless times, the 
 bare recital of which makes the blood run cold. Run 
 cold! nay, it makes it boil with the hottest indignation, 
 when we see such miscreants let loose on the land, and 
 shedding blood so cruelly and so causelessly. Ay, and 
 the very same scenes would be acted anew, were Pusey- 
 ism, and Popery, and High Churchism, once more to gain 
 the ascendency. Little reck they who countenance such 
 
378 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 principles, even in the most modified degree, what ruin 
 and mischief they may he preparing for themselves or 
 their posterity, and that at no distant day, were circum- 
 stances to favour. Those mean-spirited recreants w'ho 
 have become perverts to Popery may yet live to rue the 
 day that they bestowed even an approving smile on the 
 bloated system of Romanism, that execrable and idola- 
 trous apostasy which God has foredoomed to destruction. 
 
 There were several distinct families of the name of 
 Dun, hut all of which seem to have been related. There 
 w r ere the Duns of Glass, commonly called Class ; the 
 Duns of Blewhat, and the Duns of Bennet, or Benholt. 
 There must, no doubt, have been others, but these more 
 frequently come before us, either in traditionary anecdote 
 or in historic statement. The Duns of Glass were a 
 family devoted in heart and soul to the nonconformist 
 cause. Old Dun, the father, died in 1681, leaving his 
 principles as an inheritance to his children ; wdio held 
 them fast, and guarded them as a rich and precious 
 portion. When he was lying a corpse, a party of 
 troopers came to the house, having probably heard of 
 the worthy man's decease, and expecting, on that occa- 
 sion, to find his sons at home, who otherwise might be 
 in their hiding-places in the moors. When they arrived, 
 however, they found only females wdthin ; and having 
 sought in vain for the sons, they drove away all the 
 cattle, — a prize that was always dear to them, and 
 which they never allowed to elude their grasp. 
 
 After the death of the father, the family at Glass was 
 incessantly harassed for a number of years, and found 
 no rest except in places of concealment. The farm- 
 houses in those days had kilns attached to them, for the 
 purpose of drying the grain prior to its being taken to 
 the mill. The kiln w 7 as not unfrequently used as a 
 hiding-place in times of peril ; and the kiln at Glass 
 had a hiding-place under what is termed the kiln-logie, 
 which had been prepared as a retreat in case of danger. 
 To this place the family often fled on the approach of 
 the soldiers. This pious household afforded shelter to 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE DUNS. 379 
 
 the sufferers who often resorted to that part of the 
 country ; and among others who sought a retreat here 
 was Marion Cameron, the pious sister of the renowned 
 Richard Cameron, who fell at Airsmoss. Marion 
 Cameron, all gentle and harmless as she was, was 
 eagerly sought for by the troopers, who, being informed 
 that she was frequently at Glass, threatened to burn the 
 entire premises if she w T as not delivered up. At one 
 time the’ soldiers, on approaching the house to search 
 for fugitives, came upon Margaret Dun sitting under a 
 bush, apparently seeking concealment ; and thinking that 
 she was Marion Cameron, carried her with them to 
 Cumnock, whence she contrived to make her escape, 
 and returned home. 
 
 Margaret Dun was a remarkably saintly and affec- 
 tionate young person. She and Marion Cameron were 
 of a kindred spirit, and loved each other with an un- 
 common affection. But there was a third, in no respect 
 inferior to these two, and this was Jane Livingstone, the 
 sister of the heroic Margaret Livingstone, who encoun- 
 tered the trooper in the moors returning from the con- 
 flict in Airsmoss, and who wrenched the naked sword 
 from his grasp, by wrapping her apron closely around 
 her bare hand, and broke it with a twang over her knee ; 
 and who then had probably met her fate had not ex- 
 haustion from the loss of blood, occasioned by the 
 wounds he had received in the skirmish, prevented him 
 proceeding to further violence. This valorous feat, on 
 the part of a young and unprotected female, is still 
 rehearsed with great interest by the people of the moor- 
 lands ; and many a magnanimous exploit of a like 
 description was no doubt achieved, though neither his- 
 tory nor tradition has retained the memory of them. 
 
 Jane Livingstone appears to have been a gem of the 
 purest water, and exhibited an example of the fairest 
 Christian deportment that could be witnessed. The 
 three devoted young women formed a society of their 
 own. They loved one another with a pure heart fer- 
 vently, and often met in secret for prayer and mutual 
 
380 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 edification. They lived in times when they might lose 
 their lives, any of them, by the reckless shot of the 
 troopers, females though they were. And their lives they 
 did lose, and that, too, by the murderous hands of these 
 wicked men. Their tale is a very heart-rending one, and 
 deserves to be kept in remembrance. Marion Cameron 
 was hated for her brothers sake, and was long followed 
 by the persecutors as if she had been a host in herself. 
 Margaret Dun belonged to the house of Glass, and 
 that was enough. Jane Livingstone was known as the 
 sister of her who had braved the dragoon, and this made 
 her a rebel. These three young women, all modest and 
 harmless as they were, were nevertheless the objects of 
 insult and of injury to the mean-spirited troopers. After 
 the capture of her brother David, Margaret Dun was 
 proceeding to Cumnock, in great anxiety, to ascertain 
 his fate, when she met with Jane Livingstone and Marion 
 Cameron, who were on their way to Well wood, near 
 Muirkirk ; and being afraid to pass through Cumnock, 
 Margaret pointed out the way by which they could 
 avoid the village and keep straight through the moors. 
 But little did they think that in seeking to shun one 
 danger, another still greater was just at hand, and that 
 the hour of their martyrdom was come. Before they 
 parted, it was proposed that they should retire to a hol- 
 low place on the bent, where, being concealed from the 
 view, they might engage in devotional exercises. This 
 was always sweet to the sufferers, whose life constantly 
 hung in doubt before their eyes, and whose only refuge 
 was in God. Those were wasteful and weary times, 
 when God's hidden ones had to retire into the loneliest 
 deserts to unite in the fellowship of the saints in seeking 
 the face of God. 
 
 As the three females, lurking in the heath, were 
 engaged in singing, in a sweet and silvery tone, the 
 high praises of their God, a company of troopers coming 
 along the waste caught the solemn melody as it was 
 wafted on the breeze, and they marched speedily to the 
 spot. The sound of church music was to these men 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE DUNS. 381 
 
 the sound of treason ; for acts of devotion were in their 
 eyes suspicious performances, as being especially charac- 
 teristic of the Whigs or rebels, to suppress all whom 
 they were especially commissioned. The work of the 
 troopers was brief. They had found a company of 
 worshippers who refused to renounce their principles, 
 and the next moment they lay weltering in their blood. 
 Their bodies were interred in the moss; and about seventy 
 or eighty years ago, they were discovered in a state of 
 good preservation. We have already noticed, in the 
 sketch of Mary M‘Clymont, that in the clothes of 
 one of them was found a large pin known to belong to 
 Marion Cameron, and which is preserved to this day ; 
 the story respecting which is more particularly detailed 
 in “ The Traditions of the Covenanters.” 
 
 It is much to be regretted that the historians of the 
 persecuting period have not collected one tenth of the 
 incidents that befell in those days, especially in the up- 
 land and more rural parts of the country. Wodrow 
 gathered somewhat ; but had he gathered all that could 
 have been obtained, his book — leaving out all the public 
 documents, which we now care little about — would have 
 been three times its present bulk, and full of matter 
 which would have been interesting for all time. The 
 accounts transmitted to the historian by the country 
 people, though they were all veritable, were yet in many 
 instances deficient ; and from many districts in the up- 
 land parts no accounts seem to have been received at all, 
 or, at least, but very partially. The common people 
 w T ere not then much acquainted with writing, and this, 
 probably, may in many cases have prevented the com- 
 munication of facts that now would be invaluable. 
 The work of the gleaner is to collect these unrecorded 
 incidents, which tradition has so carefully preserved. 
 
 In speaking of the Duns of Ayrshire, we now come 
 to notice the story of Roger Dun of Bennet, part ot 
 which has already been given in “ The Traditions of the 
 Covenanters.” Roger seems to have been a relative of 
 the Glass family, and in all likelihood a cousin to Mar- 
 
382 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 garet Dun. He was a brave and a Christian man, 
 and one around whom the friends of the cause were in- 
 clined to rally. A conventicle was kept by Mr Ren- 
 wick at a place called Kilmien. Roger Dun proceeded 
 to go to the meeting-place, and was just emerging from 
 Dunasken Glen when he descried, at no great distance 
 from him, a party of dragoons advancing in the direc- 
 tion of the meeting-place. Roger, who was more so- 
 licitous about the safety of the handful gathered in the 
 wilderness than about his own, turned in the direction 
 of the soldiers, and met them on the bent. He was 
 arrayed in the garb of a shepherd ; and they, supposing 
 him to be following his flocks on the hills, asked him 
 to conduct them to Kilmien. His compliance with this 
 request could not be avoided, and he proceeded at the 
 head of the party to lead them by as circuitous a route 
 as he could, to give the meeting time to disperse, as he 
 knew the warders would soon give intimation of what 
 was approaching. The day was hazy, and the mist was 
 beginning to descend on the tops of the heights, and to 
 creep down into the glens, and Roger hoped they would 
 soon be enveloped in its snow-white drapery; and in 
 that case, he trusted he would be able to effect his es- 
 cape. As they were moving along the side of what is 
 called the Duniston Moss, the bewildering mist spread 
 itself over them ; and Roger, when its smoky volumes 
 thickened on their path, darted into the moss, and in 
 an instant was out of sight, leaving the troopers to find 
 their way in the dubious wilderness as best they might. 
 No circumstance alarmed the soldiers more than a visi- 
 tation of this kind ; and even the redoubted Claverhouse 
 himself was more appalled by the creeping mist in the 
 midst of the desert, than by the approach of a powerful 
 company of armed men. His consternation in such 
 cases, especially when he had no sure guide to lead him, 
 was extreme. Dark fogs and dark nights were no 
 agreeable objects to him. 
 
 But though Roger left the men to find their own 
 path, they moved on ; and the mist having partially 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS THE DUNS. 383 
 
 cleared away, they advanced with safety. David Dun 
 of Glass, who had been at the meeting, was returning 
 wending his way on horseback through the moors. As 
 he came slowly on, he observed a company of horsemen 
 approaching. He then turned toward a morass, in the 
 midst of which was a hollow which was often resorted 
 to by the wanderers when pursued by their foes. In 
 his advancing before the troopers, he kept as near the 
 edge of the moss as he could, with a view to turn into 
 it at the most advantageous point, and would in all 
 likelihood have effected his purpose, had not another 
 party of horsemen met him in the face, coming from a 
 different quarter. In this predicament he found him- 
 self completely hemmed in, and by his heavy horse 
 sinking in the edge of the moss, he was retarded, and 
 before he could right himself, he was in the hands of 
 his enemies. It was on this same day that Simon 
 Paterson, mentioned in connection with David Dun 
 in the extract which we have already given from W od- 
 row, was apprehended ; when both were conducted to 
 Cumnock and executed. Wodrow mentions the capture 
 of other four on the same day. His words are : u Some 
 time this summer, four men coming from Galloway, 
 where they had been hearing Mr Renwick in the fields, 
 in the shire of Ayr, a party of soldiers overtook them at 
 Knockdon Hill, and upon their confession that they had 
 been hearing a sermon, they immediately shot three of 
 them.” This was on the day on which Paterson and 
 Dun were caught. It was in this way that the soldiers 
 exercised that military license which a worthless go- 
 vernment so recklessly conferred on them. They were 
 men without control and without responsibility, and 
 they murdered and plundered at their will, and none 
 durst remonstrate but at the risk of their liberty or their 
 life. Indeed the dragoons seem to have indulged their 
 murderous propensities in much the same way, and 
 with as little compunction, as those who are licensed to 
 kill game on the mountains. Killing men was a pas- 
 time to them. It would be endless to produce speci- 
 
384 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 mens confirmatory of this assertion ; hut here is one 
 which may be given : — 
 
 In the month of June 1688, one John Reid, a soldier, 
 who once belonged to Craigie’s troop, came incidentally 
 on George Wood, a hoy of about sixteen years of age, 
 who was hiding in the fields. Without asking a single 
 question at him, says Wodrow, and without knowing 
 what were his principles, or for what purpose he hap- 
 pened to be in the field, he pointed his pistol at his 
 head, and shot him dead on the spot. When he was 
 afterwards challenged for this barbarous and atrocious 
 deed, he replied, with the utmost indifference, that “ he 
 knew him to be Whig, and that all such persons ought 
 to be shot, wherever they are found.” 
 
 Roger Dun tried many a shift when he happened 
 unawares to encounter the soldiers. The expedients to 
 which he sometimes resorted were both numerous and 
 daring. The following anecdote, illustrative of this, is 
 told of him : He one day came in contact with a com- 
 pany of troopers rather unexpectedly; and in order to 
 avoid suspicion, he walked up to them, and addressing 
 them in a familiar manner, said, “ I think I can guess 
 your errand, gentlemen ; I suppose you are in search of 
 Roger Dun, who is supposed to be in concealment 
 somewhere in this quarter.” “ It is even so,” replied 
 the commander of the party, “ he is the very person we 
 are in quest of.” “ Well,” said Roger, u though I hate 
 the name of an informer, yet I think I could direct you 
 to a place in which he is sometimes to be found. See 
 you yon shepherd’s hut afar in the waste? bear down 
 directly upon it and see what you can find.” “ You 
 are an honest fellow, I opine,” answered the leader, 
 64 and we will follow your advice.” The party then 
 proceeded onward at full speed, and Roger, with all 
 expedition, betook himself to his hiding-place in the 
 glen, which is said to have been beneath the projecting 
 bank of a mountain streamlet. 
 
 Roger had many a hair-breadth escape for his life. 
 He lived till after the Revolution, and was at last killed 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 385 
 
 at a place called Woodhead, by an individual who mis- 
 took him for another person, whom he intended to 
 murder ; so that the worthy man who had so often 
 escaped the sword of the persecutor, fell by the hand of 
 the private assassin. 
 
 The two Forests. The story of the two brothers of 
 the name of Forest was formerly given in the u Banner 
 of the Covenant f but we introduce it here again, and 
 more especially as we have received additional material, 
 which tends more fully to elucidate the narrative, — for 
 narrative it is, and not traditionary. It is taken from 
 a manuscript containing many interesting things, and 
 written by Robert Forest the Covenanter, who, with his 
 brother, is the subject of the narrative. The manu- 
 script itself is in the possession of a lineal descendant, 
 who, about twenty years ago, removed to America. 
 The following recital is given as accurately as could be 
 taken from the tenacious memory of one who had care- 
 fully perused the manuscript. 
 
 John Forest, the Covenanter, lived in the parish of 
 Carluke in Lanarkshire, — a county which, in the dismal 
 times of persecution, contained a goodly multitude of 
 witnesses who displayed the banner of the covenant. 
 John followed the occupation of a tailor, and was, with 
 his wife, truly religious, and devoted to the cause of 
 civil and religious liberty. He had two sons and one 
 daughter, — a family that was subject to much annoy- 
 ance and distress on account of their father’s principles. 
 Robert, the eldest son, was a youth of great piety and 
 promise, and firmly attached to the cause to which his 
 father was so warmly devoted. He accompanied him 
 to the various conventicles in the neighbourhood, and 
 was much profited by the ministrations of such men as 
 Cameron and Cargill, whom he followed into the soli- 
 tudes, and around whose tents he, with many others, 
 gathered the manna that was so sweet to their taste. 
 Robert was present on the memorable occasion at Airs- 
 moss, where the renowned Cameron and other worthies 
 
386 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 fell in self-defence against the troops of Earlshall, who 
 came upon them as they were hiding in the moss, and 
 sought to mow them down like the grass of the field. 
 After the skirmish, Robert fled to Galloway, where, 
 among its dark and rugged mountains, he continued to 
 conceal himself from the face of the foe. 
 
 John, the younger brother, was a man of a very dif- 
 ferent cast from Robert. His mind was not seriously 
 impressed ; and having become impatient of parental 
 restraint, he left the home of his father, became a trooper, 
 and associated himself with those who, in those un- 
 happy times, persecuted the church of God, and griev- 
 ously oppressed the virtuous peasantry throughout the 
 land. This step was a matter of great distress to 
 Robert, who could not brook the idea of his brother 
 being in alliance with the persecutors, who were seeking, 
 by the most unrighteous and cruel means, to suppress 
 the cause which his father and himself, in common with 
 the great body of the Covenanters, were labouring to 
 maintain. Accordingly, he proceeded to seek out John, 
 with a view to remonstrate with him. This was an ad- 
 venture fraught with no small peril to himself, but his 
 heart yearned over his brother ; who had so grievously 
 erred as to connect himself with the enemies of the Lord’s 
 people, and who might probably stain his hands with 
 the blood of the martyrs of Jesus. Robert was so- 
 licitous for the credit of his father’s house, and espe- 
 cially for the soul of his brother, whose eternal interests 
 were so deeply endangered. Having travelled from 
 place to place, he at length found him with a party of 
 troopers stationed at Carsphairn ; where, owing to the 
 great number of Covenanters who frequented these 
 parts, it was necessary to form a garrison in which to 
 lodge a company of soldiers sufficiently strong to sup- 
 press the rebels, as they were called. 
 
 John met the kindly admonitions of Robert in a very 
 unbecoming temper ; he was greatly displeased at the 
 interference of his brother. Stung to the heart with 
 the reproofs which were administered, his indignation 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 387 
 
 rose to the highest pitch, and he left his poor and kindly 
 brother with oaths and imprecations, and vowing ven- 
 geance. He instantly repaired to the commander of the 
 garrison ; who was in all likelihood the infamous Lagg, 
 who had the supervision of that part of the country, 
 and lodged information against his own brother ! In 
 the meantime Robert had withdrawn ; and knowing the 
 temper of his brother, he was aware that mischief was 
 pending. He sought a retreat somewhere in the wilds, 
 and eluded the danger. John, however, was intent on 
 his mission of evil, and traversed the moors, and glens, 
 and mountains of several contiguous parishes, in quest 
 of the harmless object of his hatred, but without success; 
 though he had received a party of troopers from his 
 commander to apprehend his brother. Indignant at 
 the failure of his first enterprise, he separated the troop 
 into three small divisions, with strict injunctions to 
 search every heath, and wood, and cottage, on their way 
 back, and to leave no means untried to accomplish the 
 end. Having thus arranged matters, and appointed 
 the soldiers to meet on the evening of the second day 
 at a place called Braecleuch, he resolved to proceed 
 alone, and to wend his way through the valleys of the 
 Ken and the Deuch, if, perchance, he might meet with 
 the object of his search. As he was advancing singly 
 and alone along a remote glen in the parish of Kells, 
 he came all at once on a young man in the garb of a 
 shepherd hoy, stretched at his full length on the heathy 
 turf, with a book open before him. The thundering 
 tramp of the trooper's horse roused the youth from his 
 meditation, and, little expecting such an unseasonable 
 intrusion, he sprang to his feet ; but seeing it impossible 
 to escape, he stood still. Our adventurer conceiving 
 that a person found in such a situation must necessarily 
 be an obnoxious Covenanter, and thinking that his new 
 commission more especially bound him to execute ven- 
 geance on all such, prepared for the onslaught, and 
 aimed at the life of an innocent man. He drew a pistol 
 from his holster, and having asked sundry questions, the 
 
388 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 answers to which he deemed unsatisfactory, he attempted 
 to shoot him ; but the instrument missing fire, he drew 
 his sword, and advanced furiously to the slaughter. 
 The young man remonstrated on the injustice and the 
 folly of such aggression, and requested his assailant 
 to listen to him for a moment. He stayed his hand 
 for an instant, and hearkened to the youth, while he 
 uttered, with uncommon energy and impressiveness of 
 manner, the following words of holy writ : “ No mur- 
 derer hath eternal life abiding iii him;” and, “ Whoso 
 sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” 
 Just as he had finished the utterance of these awful 
 words, a company of colts that w r ere grazing on the side 
 of the hill, having observed the troopers war steed in the 
 glen below, rushed in a body down the steep ; and 
 Forest's horse began to neigh and prance at the approach 
 of the sportive animals. This trifling incident arrested 
 his attention ; and his mind being impressed by the 
 alarming threatenings which had just been sounded in 
 his ears, he restored his sword to the scabbard and rode 
 away, leaving the stranger unscathed and astonished at 
 the unexpected deliverance. 
 
 But the trooper who was about to smite to death an 
 innocent man, was himself smitten with the sword of 
 the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Forest's con- 
 science was wounded, and he was thrown into great per- 
 plexity and disquietude. He was now impressed with 
 the sinfulness of his conduct, and alarmed at the danger 
 to which his iniquities had exposed him. His cheer- 
 fulness forsook him, and his mind became dark and 
 melancholy ; a weight pressed upon his heart which no 
 effort of his could remove. He rejoined his compan- 
 ions on the evening of the day he had appointed, at 
 Braecleuch ; and his saddened looks did not escape the 
 notice of the soldiers, who naturally enough attributed 
 the circumstance to his unsuccessful adventure. They 
 did what they could in their own rude way to comfort 
 him ; but Forest could not efface from his mind the 
 attitude and the words of the young man in the glen, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 389 
 
 from the shedding of whose blood an overruling Provi- 
 dence had so signally restrained him. His spirit was 
 bow r ed down under the load of mental affliction, and 
 this sensibly affected even his bodily frame. Under the 
 pretence of feeling unwell, he asked of his commander 
 a few days’ exemption from duty ; which was readily 
 granted. At the expiry of the time, however, his dis- 
 order was found to be nothing abated, but rather to be 
 on the increase ; and therefore he requested the liberty 
 of repairing for a few weeks to the north, in hope that, 
 among his friends, and by means of his native air, his 
 constitution might be- strengthened. To this reasonable 
 request the officer acceded, and Forest left Carsphairn, 
 glad to escape from a situation that had yielded so much 
 discomfort. 
 
 When he reached Carluke, he found that his worthy 
 parents were in the dust ; and how far his conduct had 
 contributed to bring down their heads with sorrow to 
 the grave was left to himself to conjecture. His sister 
 he found residing in a small cottage in the neighbour- 
 hood, alone but not solitary, for God was with her, and 
 in the midst of her sorrows her heart was at peace ; and 
 this her prodigal brother felt his not to be. When 
 John saw his sister his heart melted within him; the 
 remembrance of his parents, and all their goodness and 
 kindness, rushed upon his mind. He was filled with 
 self-reproach on account of the base and ungracious 
 part he had acted, in abandoning the parental roof, and 
 connecting himself with the iniquitous persecutors. He 
 opened his mind freely and fully to his sister, and ac- 
 knowledged his grievous errors. His heart underwent 
 a mighty revolution. He became sincerely penitent, and 
 a true believer in the Saviour; and, through divine grace, 
 he was determined to pursue for the future a very differ- 
 ent line of conduct. After remaining a while with his 
 affectionate sister, and having received from her pious 
 conversation that instruction and consolation he so 
 much needed, he resolved to search out his brother, 
 with an intent very different from that with which he 
 
390 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 went to seek him with his dragoons. He had now 
 come to the full determination to unite himself to the 
 persecuted people, and, for conscience’ sake, to endure 
 the hardships to which, in their society, he might be 
 subjected. From his sister he could learn nothing 
 respecting his brother, excepting that he had proceeded 
 to the south on the errand already specified ; and, for 
 any thing she could tell, his blood might by this time 
 have stained the heather blooms on the waste. But 
 John was determined to find out his honest brother, 
 whom he now felt to be very dear to him ; to confess 
 the injury he had meditated against him ; to ask his for- 
 giveness ; and to inform him of the change of views he 
 had now experienced. For this purpose he travelled 
 southward, conjecturing that probably he might be 
 found among the wilds of Galloway, not far from the 
 scene of their interview at Carsphairn. In advancing 
 across the country, it was now his solicitude to keep 
 out of the way of the troopers, with whom, even though 
 as yet they knew nothing of his change of sentiments, 
 he wished to have no intercourse. 
 
 At length, after many a weary step, and after many 
 an anxious inquiry, he found his brother in a secluded 
 spot in the southern parts of the parish of Kells, plying 
 industriously his occupation, for the purpose of earning 
 an honest livelihood. The meeting between them was 
 of a very affecting nature. John hastened to make 
 known his change of mind, and to solicit pardon for the 
 contemptuous manner in which he had treated* his re- 
 monstrances, and for the injury he had done him. 
 Robert, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with 
 amazement and gratitude for the grace bestowed on 
 his wayward brother, and regarded this decided change 
 as an answer to the prayers of himself and his parents, 
 whose solicitude on his behalf was very great. The 
 brothers were now united in the same bond of high 
 Christian relationship, and in their attachment to the 
 covenanting cause, in the defence of which they were 
 to abide by one another. As they were both of the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 391 
 
 same manual occupation, they lived together for some 
 time, and followed tlieir employment in the various 
 houses where their services were required. At length 
 it became known to the garrison at Oarsphairn that 
 Forest, the trooper, was in the district, and had attached 
 himself to the obnoxious Covenanters. In those days, 
 when spies and informers were so numerous, it was im- 
 possible for persons in the covenanting interest to remain 
 long concealed, and hence more than ordinary caution 
 was requisite. The brothers, on learning that they were 
 sought for, kept themselves as quiet as possible, though 
 they never absented themselves from any of the prayer- 
 meetings or conventicles that were held in the places 
 around them. 
 
 After John was reclaimed and had become a sincere 
 Christian, Robert one day remarked that it was in the 
 very house to which John had come to apprehend him 
 that they first met as Christian brothers. John, the 
 dragoon, had traced all the wilds and glens around, and 
 came incidentally, on the evening of a day’s long and 
 weary search, to the very house in w r hich his brother 
 had been working on the preceding part of the day. 
 Robert, it appears, had a retreat in some place in the 
 immediate neighbourhood, to which he had betaken 
 himself before the trooper arrived; and in this way 
 escaped. When the people of the house learned the 
 errand of the soldier, they were on their guard, and 
 took care to supply him with no information. The 
 people in the cottages among the hills generally sym- 
 pathised with the sufferers in those times; and though 
 they might not be nonconformists themselves, yet their 
 leanings were toward the side of the oppressed. It is 
 said that the two brothers passed each other in the dark 
 without any mutual recognition, John the dragoon to 
 the cottage, and Robert the fugitive to his hiding-place. 
 The murky covering of the night happily prevented a 
 discovery. It was on the morrow, when John was 
 returning, that he met with the young man in the garb 
 of a shepherd boy ; and who, in order to arrest his mur- 
 
 2 G 
 
392 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 derous arm, quoted the passages of Scripture to which 
 we have already alluded. 
 
 On one occasion a conventicle was kept hy Mr Ren- 
 wick on the banks of the Cree, in a solitary place in 
 that wild district ; and though it was in the depth of 
 winter, and the spot many a mile distant, the two 
 brothers resolved to attend. They travelled all day, and 
 reached the vicinity of the meeting-place in the dusk ; 
 and being afraid of discovery, they chose rather to seek 
 a shelter in some woody retreat or cave during the night, 
 than obtrude themselves into anv hut where the inhabi- 
 tants were strangers to them, seeing the search for the 
 fugitive dragoon was very strict. When they issued 
 from their resting-place in the morning, they observed 
 a shepherd traversing the waste after his flock ; whom 
 they accosted, and were happy to find him a friend. 
 He gave them information respecting the precise place 
 of the meeting, and conducted them to his house, to 
 bestow on them that hospitality which they no doubt 
 needed. In a short time the people convened in a suit- 
 able place not far from the shepherd’s hut, and the 
 worship commenced. During the time that Mr Ren- 
 wick was reading out the psalm, John Forest, whose 
 eyes were rivetted on the youthful servant of Christ, 
 fainted, and was conveyed to the outskirts of the as- 
 sembly. The circumstance created a stir among the 
 people, and was attributed to the cold and fatigue he 
 had previously endured. He was carried to the shep- 
 herd’s cottage, and was carefully attended till he re- 
 covered. In the meantime the services went on at the 
 conventicle, and Mr Ren wick, with his usual earnest- 
 ness and sweetness, addressed his audience on the great 
 matters of the gospel, to which the people always 
 listened with uncommon attention ; for no person could 
 avoid being attracted by Mr Ren wick’s manner, or fail 
 to he impressed by the weighty truths which he uttered. 
 The assembly was permitted to continue till the close of 
 the services, and then to disperse without molestation ; 
 a circumstance the more noticeable in those precarious 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 393 
 
 times. After the dismissal of the conventicle, Robert 
 was desirous that the minister should see his brother, 
 and accordingly he accompanied him to the hut. When 
 Mr Ren wick entered, John started up in his bed, and 
 stretching out his hand, exclaimed, u Sir, do you not 
 recognise me?'’ “No,” replied Mr Ren wick, “I cannot 
 
 say I do.” “ What ! ” said Forest, “ do you not recog- 
 nise in me your intended murderer in the glen ? ” Mr 
 Renwick, supposing that the man was in a frenzy, 
 desired him to compose himself, while he should pray 
 in company with him. Forest, with great energy, re- 
 called the circumstance to Mr Renwick’s mind, and 
 craved his forgiveness, adding, “ I trust God has, for 
 the ever blessed Redeemer’s sake, forgiven me.” This 
 statement astonished every one present, and none more 
 than Mr Renwick, who saw in this an additional in- 
 stance of the care of Providence over him, when, in those 
 days of peril, his life hung every hour in doubt before 
 him. But what, doubtless, interested him more, was the 
 grace bestowed on this poor man, who, from being a 
 persecutor, had become a lowly follower of the Saviour, 
 and a member of that despised and wasted remnant who 
 strove, in the midst of the severest privations, to main- 
 tain the standard of the gospel on the mountains and 
 solitudes of Scotland. Mr Renwick did not fail to 
 make a suitable improvement of the circumstance ; and 
 the little group rejoiced over the finding of this lost 
 sheep, that had now returned to the great Shepherd and 
 Bishop of souls. 
 
 The following incident shows in what peril the 
 brothers were occasionally placed. In those days the 
 occupation of a tailor was not confined merely to the 
 making of men’s apparel, it embraced also the prepara- 
 tion of female raiment. It happened that they were 
 called, in the exercise of their vocation, to assist in 
 making a bride’s dress, in a cottage in the wilds of the 
 Kells. As they were plying the scissors and the needle, 
 in company with a number of women, some of whom 
 were assisting, and others busy at what was called quilt- 
 
394 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 ing a tent, a person in breathless haste entered the 
 apartment, with the information that a party of troopers 
 were seen advancing toward the house. All was in 
 confusion ; and the concern of the company was chiefly 
 on account of the brothers, who, they knew, had been 
 much sought for in the district. As necessity is the 
 mother of invention, it was proposed that the tailors 
 should instantly array themselves in women’s clothes, 
 and take their places at the quilting tent — an occupation 
 which, it was well known, was peculiar to females — in 
 the hope that detection might be avoided. And this was 
 accordingly done by the time that the soldiers rode up 
 in front of the house. The mistress of the cottage ran 
 to the door, and, with a smile on her countenance, 
 addressed the troopers, and requested them to alight. 
 The men were pleased with this reception, and from 
 that moment entertained no suspicion that any obnoxi- 
 ous persons were harboured within. “ We have at 
 present,” said the gudewife, as the men stepped into the 
 house, “ a few women assisting at some needle- work, as 
 we have the prospect of a wedding among us ; and they 
 are all busy in that apartment there ; and you may look 
 in upon them if you please.” This frank invitation 
 further convinced the men that nothing was to be found 
 there ; and perhaps they did not come to search for 
 fugitives at the time, but called merely in passing. 
 When they had taken a hasty glance of the circle, 
 they retired into another apartment, and partook of the 
 refreshments which their hostess set before them in 
 abundance, with many an invitation to partake of the 
 homely fare. She succeeded to her wish ; and as no 
 suspicion was excited, no search was made, and the 
 horsemen marched off, to the great relief of the cot- 
 tagers. It was in this way that the troopers were often 
 outwitted ; for the people had to study every art and 
 contrivance to throw the soldiers off their guard ; and 
 they succeeded much oftener than we may be ready to 
 suppose, for the Lord wrought in behalf of his people, 
 and delivered them out of their perplexities, in circum- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS THE FORESTS. 395 
 
 stances in which, to human view, deliverance seemed 
 impossible. 
 
 Some time after this, the brothers resolved to leave 
 Galloway and return to Carluke. They now found it 
 a matter of great difficulty to keep themselves in con- 
 cealment, as it was known that they were lurking some- 
 where in the district. In their progress northward, 
 John, the time of whose martyrdom was drawing on 
 apace, resolved to visit a young woman in the neighbour- 
 hood of Ochiltree, to whom he had, when a trooper, 
 made proposals of marriage. He was anxious to see 
 her, as she was a person for whom he cherished a strong 
 affection ; and he was desirous of imparting to her the 
 knowledge of that truth which he himself now possessed, 
 and which had made him so happy. While they were 
 journeying to this place, the brothers were apprehended 
 as suspicious persons, and brought before the laird of 
 Colzean; who interrogated them, and was about to com- 
 mit them for trial, when John, expecting nothing but 
 the harshest treatment, without any view of escape, 
 quoted with great emphasis the following words in re- 
 ference to the laird, namely, u he was a child of the 
 devil, and an enemy of all righteousness, and an heir of 
 hell’ ’ The words sounded in the man's ears something 
 like common swearing, so ill-informed was he in refer- 
 ence to the language of Scripture, and he forthwith 
 dismissed them as loose characters, who had no connec- 
 tion whatever with the grave and solemn Covenanters. 
 In this way, and by the merest accident, they were re- 
 leased. 
 
 They now went to Ochiltree, where John met the 
 young woman; but Robert proceeded to Carluke. John 
 was now in company with his female friend in a very 
 different character from that which he had sustained 
 when a trooper. He was now a sober, religious man, 
 and anxious to impress the object of his affections with 
 serious concern about her salvation ; for he felt that a 
 marriage union would not be desirable, unless she were, 
 like himself, a believer in the Saviour, and brought to 
 
396 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 approve of the views he had now adopted as a non- 
 conformist. With the greatest honesty and affection he 
 laid the whole matter before her, accompanied with the 
 statement that he could not conscientiously make her 
 his wife unless she adopted similar religious sentiments 
 with himself. Whatever were the motives which actuated 
 the girl, we cannot say, hut certain it is that she lodged 
 information against Forest to Colonel Douglas, who was 
 at that time at Ochiltree House ; and next morning he 
 was apprehended and shot by a party of troopers, with- 
 out trial and ceremony. This treacherous act on the 
 part of the young woman was followed by a painful 
 visitation. The baseness of her conduct in her own 
 eyes, and in the estimation of the people, so wrought 
 on her mind that she lost her reason, and was long 
 after known in Kyle and Carrick as daft Jenny Dun. 
 
 We have searched Wodrow’s volumes, and can find 
 nothing in the index that points to the family of the 
 Forests, whose history is no imaginary thing, but is 
 contained in Robert’s veritable manuscript. This fur- 
 nishes an additional proof of our former statement, that 
 Wodrow’s gatherings were very imperfect, and that 
 many incidents, by no means obscure, were never com- 
 municated to him from the localities where they oc- 
 curred. We are not, then, to suppose that these 
 traditional transmissions have no veritable foundation, 
 simply because there are no allusions to them in the 
 histories of the period. The family documents which 
 are to be met with here and there, completely prove that 
 many striking facts occurred that have no niche in such 
 annals. We are of opinion that if these manuscript 
 papers could be gathered, a goodly and most precious 
 volume might he furnished ; and which would be greatly 
 useful, not only in detailing the circumstances of the 
 sufferers, and in pointing out their highly Christian 
 exercises, but also in elucidating some dusky points in 
 the general history of the period. 
 
 We shall conclude this sketch by presenting the 
 reader with a few sentences from the manuscript of 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — THE FORESTS. 397 
 
 Robert Forest, a single leaf of which has been sent us 
 all the way from America, from a descendant of the 
 family who have the memoirs in their possession. Its 
 date is 1685 ; it is now somewhat time-worn ; the paper 
 is brown through age and smoke ; the writing is in a 
 good round readable hand ; and one likes to look on it, 
 as a memorial of that trying time, and to think on the 
 person whose pen inscribed the precious words, breathing 
 the purest spirit of piety : — 
 
 66 1685, February. 
 
 “ The Lord hath granted me a great deliverance. 
 This day the solgers have been at our house, and taken 
 my master from my head. I will praise His name for 
 ever and ever. Had I got home, I must have been a 
 prisoner, though the Lord's free man. The have robed 
 the woman wi’ child o’ her man, and she knows not 
 when her travill will come upon her ; and l am hunted 
 like a partrige on the mountains. God is my refuge still. 
 
 “ 24 day. 
 
 “ Still in this wilderness, wonderfully preserved. 
 Blessed be the name of God, who doth wonderful things 
 past finding out. 0 my poor deluded brother, still among 
 the emisaries of Satan ! The Lord deliver him. 
 
 “ 25 day. 
 
 “ I have enjoyed much the presence of my God, 
 throug my blessed Savior, who loved sic a vile cretur 
 as me, to kip me under the hollo of his hand. O that 
 my brother kent how my bowels earn over him ! 
 
 “ Again praise God tor his mercys : let my soul never 
 forget his goodness. Bless the Lord, O my soul! thoug i 
 dar not come |~to] my hame. Kip my mistris, who has 
 been good and mineful of her God. Amen. 
 
 u Lord, thou hast past sentence upon the woman 
 that was first in the transgression, that in sorrow she 
 shall bring forth children ; but let this handmaid of 
 thine be saved in child-bearing, and continue in faith, 
 
398 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 and charity, and holiness, and sobriety. Enable her to 
 cast her burden upon the Lord, and let the Lord sustain 
 her ; and what time she is afraid, grant that she may 
 trust in thee, and may encourage herself in the Lord her 
 God. O let not the root be dried up from beneath, nor 
 let the branch be withered nor cut off, but let both live 
 before thee. Be thou her strong habitation, her rock 
 and her fortress. Give commandment to save her. And 
 when travail comes upon her, which she cannot escape, 
 be pleased, O Lord, to deliver her. O Lord, make haste 
 to help her. Be thou thyself her help and deliverer : no 
 tarrying, O our God. Let her be safely delivered, and 
 remember the anguish no more, for joy that a child is 
 born into the world, is born unto thee. 
 
 “ Be a father to the fatherless, and husband to the 
 widow, 0 God, in thy holy habitation. With thee let 
 the fatherless find mercy; keep them alive. And let the 
 widows trust in thee, that they may be widows indeed, 
 who, being desolate, trust in God, and continue instant 
 in prayer night and day. And where father and mother 
 have forsaken, let the Lord take up the children, and" — 
 
 Thus far the fragment of the manuscript. It appears 
 that the soldiers were often in quest of Robert. Forest, 
 and that he made not a few narrow escapes. On one 
 occasion the house in which he lodged was visited by 
 the troopers, for the purpose of apprehending him. It 
 happened, however, that he was from home, and the 
 search of the soldiers for him personally was in vain. 
 The men were under the apprehension that the people 
 of the house were concealing him ; and in order to repay 
 themselves for their trouble and disappointment, they 
 made a prisoner of the gudeman, as the reset of fugitives 
 was a crime not to be overlooked. This visitation was 
 the more painful, as the mistress of the hospitable man- 
 sion was near the hour of her confinement, and the 
 absence of the husband was therefore the more severely 
 felt ; and, besides, she knew not what might be his fate 
 in the hands of the foe. It is to this incident more 
 especially that the fragment which we have inserted has 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 399 
 
 a reference. We have given it exactly as it stands in 
 Robert Forest’s manuscript ; and from what we have just 
 now stated, the reader will find no difficulty in perceiv- 
 ing its import. 
 
 Robert lived after the Revolution, and married a 
 woman of the name of Toes, and had a family. The 
 person who communicated some of the anecdotes of 
 which this sketch is composed, is a great grandson of 
 Robert the Covenanter, who, with the other descendants 
 of this good man, cherishes a warm regard for the 
 memory of their w T orthy ancestor. 
 
 Robert lived till the beginning of the last century ; 
 and though he did not die the martyr’s death, yet he 
 was a steadfast witness for the truth, and left behind 
 him an honoured name. 
 
 Willy Smith, the simpleton. Willy was one of those 
 foolish things that God has chosen to confound the wise ; 
 one of the weak ones chosen to confound the mighty. 
 His history, though somewhat amusing, is highly in- 
 structive, and shows how the grace of God can work 
 even in a mind that is more than ordinarily enfeebled. 
 He was a simpleton, intellectually considered, but yet 
 was possessed of a shrewdness bordering on cunning ; 
 which made him a most remarkable adept in the line 
 which it suited his peculiar taste to pursue. In our “ Life 
 of the Rev. James Renwick,” we gave a short sketch of 
 him under the title of “ Silly Willy Smith but as our 
 attention has again been directed to him, by means of 
 additional information which we have received from the 
 floating traditions that are still current concerning him, 
 and which any who choose may make what use of them 
 they may see fit, we feel strongly inclined to narrate the 
 incidents illustrative of the habits of this singular 
 creature, and to embody them in the main story that we 
 have elsewhere given. It is interesting to notice the 
 part which Willy acted in those persecuting days, and 
 especially the service he rendered to Mr Renwick. 
 
 Willy in his ramblings became acquainted with Mr 
 
400 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Ren wick; with whom, it appears, he frequently met, and 
 for whom he had conceived a strong attachment, and 
 would sooner have died himself than seen any mischance 
 befall the wandering minister. This poor man, at whom 
 every person was inclined to laugh, and whom not even 
 the most jealous Malignants ever once suspected of 
 favouring or helping in any way the intercommuned 
 Covenanters, was often of signal service to Mr Ren wick. 
 He sometimes brought intelligence of the movements 
 of the troopers ; and we can easily conceive him running 
 without stockings or shoes at great speed, and availing 
 himself of every advantage, in passing through fields and 
 woods by a nearer route, to give the friendly warning. 
 No person heeded Willy, nor cared where he ran, nor 
 what he was about ; for he was “ Silly Willy," and his 
 movements were capricious. At other times he watched 
 Mr Renwick like a guardian angel, when he was lurk- 
 ing in a thicket, or hidden in a cave ; and ofttimes sup- 
 plied him with bread of his begging, which he received 
 in abundance from the hand of charity : for few people, 
 we may suppose, would refuse a morsel to poor harm- 
 less Willy, when he happened to present himself at 
 their hearth ; for in those days the wanderers of Willy’s 
 description did not use the ceremony of knocking at the 
 door. It is wonderful to think on the particular sort 
 of means which the Lord sometimes employs for the 
 service of his people, and how available he can make 
 the most apparently insignificant instruments for the 
 accomplishment of very important ends. Willy Smith, 
 the simpleton, and not the powerful and influential of 
 the land, was made use of for shielding Mr Renwick in 
 the hour of peril ; and Willy’s name is to this day re- 
 membered, and mentioned with respect. 
 
 A conventicle was to be held among the hills, not far 
 from Newton-Stewart ; and in order to be in readiness 
 for the projected meeting, Mr Renwick repaired to the 
 neighbourhood on the preceding evening. In a state of 
 considerable destitution, as tradition affirms, and we 
 can easily believe it, he arrived, after the light of day 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS SMITH. 
 
 401 
 
 had departed, at a public-house on the way side. The 
 master of the inn was not a Covenanter, at least he did 
 not belong to the stricter part of the nonconformists ; 
 but he was a worthy man, and not only hospitable as 
 his vocation demanded, but really kind, and more espe- 
 cially to Mr Renwick and bis friends, who were subjected 
 to so many hardships. He was well acquainted with 
 Mr Renwick, and never failed to minister to his wants 
 when he happened to visit that quarter; for God had 
 put it into the hearts of many to show him kindness for 
 the gospel’s sake : and they were blessed in their deed ; 
 for “ he that receiveth a prophet in the name of a pro- 
 phet, shall receive a prophet’s reward/' 
 
 On the evening prior to the meeting, "Willy had 
 learned the place of Mr Renwick’s residence, and, as 
 usual, was on the outlook ; for he conceived he had 
 something worth the while to guard when his minister 
 was in the house. And his guardianship was not un- 
 needed, for a company of troopers was near, information 
 having been conveyed to them respecting the conven- 
 ticle. Mr Renwick had just partaken of an entertain- 
 ment, and was warming himself before a blazing fire in 
 the kitchen, when Willy entered with the report that 
 the soldiers were just at hand. The landlord was fully 
 aware that his inn would be occupied as their quarters 
 during the night, and he became very solicitous about 
 his guest. Mr Renwick seeing the honest man's con- 
 cern about his safety, said, that as he was at present 
 feeble and exhausted by means of his having been so 
 many days exposed in the fields to the inclement 
 weather, he was resolved to stay where he was, and to 
 abide the consequences, as he was not able to flee. It 
 was then proposed that he should array himself with 
 all speed in a suit of his landlord’s clothes. But he being 
 rather a corpulent person, and Mr Renwick a short and 
 slender man, it was considered that the plan, if adopted, 
 would rather excite suspicion than otherwise; and so the 
 proposal was abandoned. The soldiers now thronged 
 into the house, the best apartment of which was occu- 
 
402 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 pied by the commander. Mr Ren wick kept his seat by 
 the fire in the kitchen, not without solicitude, but trust- 
 ing in his God, and ready to resign himself to whatever 
 might be his fate. During the bustling made by the 
 uproarious troopers, little attention was paid to the un- 
 assuming stranger, who kept near the corner beyond the 
 hallen ; and any inquiries that were made concerning 
 him led to nothing, and nothing was suspected ; for they 
 never deemed it possible that the man in quest of whom 
 all the soldiers in the country were in motion would 
 place himself, carelessly and unmoved, by the fire-place 
 of a public inn, exposed to the gaze of every visitor who 
 might happen to call on his way. Many a time did the 
 worthy men in those trying days escape detection in this 
 way. THfeir coolness, and their apparently courting an 
 interview with the military, screened them from hazard ; 
 whereas if their timidity had. led them to assume a 
 different bearing, and incited them to attempt an escape, 
 their capture was inevitable. But then it was not every 
 man that had the nerve to act in this way, not to speak 
 of the grace which was necessary to enable them to 
 conduct themselves with prudence and Christian firm- 
 ness in a moment of sudden danger. 
 
 The evening passed on, and the soldiers retired to 
 rest. Their dormitory was the stable loft, where beds 
 were made for them among the soft hay, immediately 
 above the horses stalls ; and there is perhaps no cham- 
 ber so warm and comfortable in a cold winter night as 
 the apartment which the dragoons now occupied. As 
 for Mr Ren wick, there was no bed in the inn for him ; 
 and therefore he was obliged to stretch himself on what 
 by the peasantry is called the lang settle , or wooden seat 
 in the form of a modern sofa, which stood behind the 
 fire-place, in an open space which was formed for its 
 reception. Here he slept and enjoyed the genial warmth 
 of the place; a retreat with which he was seldom favoured, 
 as he was often obliged to cower down during the night 
 in some out-house, or thicket, or cave, thankful for any 
 retreat, however inhospitable, under the care of the great 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 403 
 
 Shepherd of Israel, who never slumbers nor sleeps. It 
 appears that the conventicle was to be held in the night 
 season ; a circumstance of no un frequent occurrence in 
 those times. The night was deemed the fittest season ; 
 both because their enemies w r ere not so likely to be 
 abroad ; and also because, if discovered, their footsteps 
 could not be so easily traced in the dark. There is 
 something very solemn in the idea of a great company 
 of worshippers meeting at the dead of night in the 
 heart of a lonely moor, with nothing to guide them to 
 the appointed spot but the occasional gleaming of the 
 lightning from the murky bosom of the thick clouds 
 with which they were o’er-canopied, while the hoarse 
 muttering of the thunder was heard mingling with their 
 song of praise ! Those were truly sad times, when God's 
 people, in a professedly Christian country, were obliged 
 to shroud themselves in impervious darkness when they 
 assembled for religious exercises, for fear of the enemy 
 and the avenger. 
 
 Mr Renwick was astir a little after midnight ; and 
 before he retired from the house he entered the stable, 
 as being the most secluded place he could find, for the 
 purpose of secret prayer. He does not seem to have been 
 aware that the soldiers were sleeping in the loft above 
 him ; and as he did not conceive himself to be within 
 the hearing of any individual, he felt no restraint. By 
 degrees his voice rose, as the fervency of his spirit rose 
 within him, till it became so audible as to awaken the 
 soldiers. They heard an earnest voice uttering myste- 
 rious sounds in the stable beneath, and superstitious 
 fears crept over them. They felt as if they were in an 
 old haunted castle, and actually supposed that the place 
 was infested with evil spirits. The poor ignorant men 
 were not accustomed to the voice of prayer, and more 
 especially in such a place and at such an hour. Mr 
 Renwick prayed, and the soldiers lay trembling in their 
 beds, not daring to stir in the darkness. When he had 
 ended his devotions, he waited on the good landlord to 
 take leave of him ; but no sooner was he ready to de- 
 
404 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 part than honest Willy Smith, faithful in his attach- 
 ment, was at his side, the kind creature having watched 
 the opportunity to conduct him in the darkness through 
 the intricacies of the moorland path which they had to 
 trace. Others, no doubt, were with them, but Willy 
 was capable of guiding the whole party. When Willy 
 had safely lodged him in the hands of his friends, he 
 instantly returned, to watch the movements of the sol- 
 diers, and to convey intelligence to the conventiclers. 
 
 When the day dawned the soldiers were again in 
 motion, and made a mighty noise about the fright they 
 had received in the night time, and felt peculiarly grate- 
 ful that they were so soon to leave a place so infested 
 with demons, as they asserted it was. The commander, 
 who had brought his troopers to disperse the conven- 
 ticle, found nothing ; for all was over before the break 
 of day, and the worshippers had retired to their several 
 homes. The soldiers returned to their garrison at 
 Carsphairn. 
 
 Willy Smith was of eminent service to Mr Renwick 
 on the following occasion : A conventicle was to be 
 held at a place called Gatelock, in Girthland, of which 
 the military had received notice. Accordingly a party 
 was despatched to seize the preacher and disperse the 
 assembly. The meeting was held in the day time ; and 
 when the services were well advanced, the warders, who 
 were stationed at the proper distances, announced the 
 approach of the military. The intelligence threw all 
 into confusion, and the people fled with all speed from 
 the face of the foe. It was the concern of every one to 
 secure the minister from harm ; and as they were plan- 
 ning his escape, Willy Smith presented himself, and 
 pulling Mr Renwick by the arm, said, “ Come with me ; 
 the soldiers will not suspect you in my company .” To 
 this proposal he agreed, and requested that no one 
 should follow him. He walked away with Willy with 
 perfect confidence in his fidelity and affection. He 
 conducted him to a glen, in the bosom of which was a 
 natural recess among the rocks, the mouth of which 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 405 
 
 was concealed among the pendent branches of the thick 
 hushes which grew on the steep sides of the ravine. 
 The place was well known to Willy, who, in his wan- 
 derings, noticed many things unobserved by other people. 
 The cavity could easily contain several persons without 
 inconvenience, and it happened to be a very eligible 
 retreat in time of danger. Here Willy secreted Mr 
 Renwick, and tended him with the utmost assiduity. 
 The soldiers were perfectly aware that he was hidden in 
 some place in the vicinity; but where his concealment 
 was, neither friend nor foe could tell, and Willy was 
 determined to reveal it to none. In order, if possible, 
 to secure his person, the troopers formed a sort of cor- 
 don around the place, so as, if they could not seize him, 
 at least to cut off his retreat. Willy, however, was a 
 privileged person, and he could go and come reckless of 
 the notice of the soldiers, into whose mind it never once 
 entered that he had any intercourse with Mr Renwick. 
 Whether he stayed w ith him all night is not said, but he 
 supplied him with food, which he carried, as mendicants 
 do, in his wallet ; and as the prophet of the Lord was 
 fed by ravens when he dwelt by the brook, so this ser- 
 vant of Christ was sustained by a person who himself 
 lived on alms ; and he drank of the rill that murmured 
 past the mouth of his cave. Willy was now the daily 
 companion of the fugitive, whom he encouraged by every 
 means in his power, and spoke kindly to him ; and it 
 is said, he never retired from the cave without begging 
 an interest in Mr Renwick’s prayers. So faithfully did 
 Willy keep Mr Renwick’s secret, that the friends began 
 to suspect the simpleton of treachery, — that, being a poor 
 beggar, he might perhaps be bribed with money; and 
 the idea was entertained by some that Mr Renwick was 
 either betrayed or murdered. A person of the name of 
 McCall, who was more forward than the rest in giving 
 expression to his fears, attacked Willy ; who was so 
 greatly indignant at the base suspicion, that he proceeded 
 forthwith to the commander of the troops, and stated 
 that M'Call was, in his opinion, a person whom he ought 
 
406 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 to apprehend. And on this suggestion he was seized and 
 carried to Carsphairn ; and what became of him is not 
 known. After this, the soldiers, finding their efforts 
 fruitless, left the place, and Mr Ren wick emerged from 
 his concealment, and appeared once more among his 
 friends. 
 
 Willy’s conduct, which now appeared in its true 
 light, was much approved of; and the poor man was 
 now noticed and esteemed by many who formerly heeded 
 him not. There might be many other instances in 
 which Willy was helpful to other field preachers be- 
 sides Mr Ren wick, although they have not been handed 
 down. Willy’s attachment to Mr Renwick was won- 
 derful ; and it is said, when he heard of his apprehen- 
 sion in Edinburgh, he went all the way from Galloway 
 to see him. and to try w T hat could be done for his 
 liberation ! 
 
 Willy knew all the places around Carsphairn, and 
 was acquainted with almost all the people, their habits, 
 and their principles ; and, among others, there was a 
 certain spy of the name Milligan, whose movements 
 Willy was in the habit of watching. One day Willy 
 met this informer as he was perambulating the country, 
 and accosted him as a friend who had something to 
 communicate. Milligan, eager to gather what informa- 
 tion Willy had to impart, stood still to listen to the 
 simpleton. “ Ye’ll ken,” said Willy, u there’s to be a 
 converlticle at the Stroan the night?” “No,” replied 
 the spy ; “ I was not aware that there was to be any 
 such meeting.” “ Weel,” said Willy, “ye can let Cap- 
 tain Gordon ken that there is to be a meeting at the 
 Stroan Burn-head this night at midnight. And as ye 
 can gang faster than me, ye’ll save me the trouble, and 
 I’ll maybe get something for the news.” Milligan pro- 
 mised to reward Willy for the information next time he 
 should meet him. The conventicle, however, was held 
 at a place called Strahanna, instead of Stroan Burn- head ; 
 and this Willy knew was to be the case, but he wished 
 to decoy the troopers, and to put them to all the incon- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — SMITH. 
 
 407 
 
 venience he could, while at the same time, lest informa- 
 tion of the true place of meeting should happen to be 
 imparted, he thought he would be beforehand, and lead 
 off the soldiers in a different direction. When Milli- 
 gan afterwards met him, he accused him of giving false 
 information. “ Weel,” said Willy, “ye maybe have 
 mista’en me ; it was Strahanna and not Stro-an that I 
 meant.” 
 
 Willy was at the famous conventicle held by Mr 
 Cameron in Hyndbottom, in the vicinity of Shawhead, 
 in the upper ward of Lanarkshire, in the very heart of 
 the wilds bordering on the desert of Kyle ; w T hich con- 
 venticle we have already noticed in our preceding 
 sketches of Mr Cameron. The projected meeting was 
 made known to the friends far and wide. The people 
 of Galloway moved northward o’er hill and moor to 
 hear one of the greatest conventicle preachers that ever 
 opened their mouth in the solitudes. Willy set out 
 among the rest, and moved onward till he reached the 
 place of meeting. He arrived the evening before at the 
 farm-house of Shawhead, near the source of the dark 
 Duneaton, and applied for quarters, according to his 
 mendicant custom ; but met with refusal, the honest 
 gudeman of Shawhead taking him for a spy. Shaw- 
 head might think that he had assumed the habiliments 
 of a beggar and the appearance of a simpleton for the 
 purpose of deception, and then to convey information 
 respecting the names and residences of the persons who 
 might happen to be at the meeting. These spies were 
 so common, and so artfully disguised, that it required 
 the greatest circumspection on the part of the noncon- 
 formists to detect and to ward off the annoyance as far 
 as possible. 
 
 Willy, however, was very much hurt at the repulse 
 he met with from Shawhead, and withdrew indignantly 
 from the house to seek a place somewhere in the neigh- 
 bouring wilds. In searching about, he found a snug 
 hollow place, not far from the dwelling-house, and here 
 he resolved to take up his abode for the night. In the 
 
 2 D 
 
408 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 warm summer months this was no great inconvenience 
 to Willy, who was used to all sorts of weather in his 
 sojournings, both by day and night. He was accustomed 
 to lie all night in out-houses or by the side of the hay- 
 stack ; so that what would have been deemed, in this 
 respect, a great inconvenience bv others, was of no ac- 
 count in Willy’s eyes. His food he carried with him; 
 for his gatherings by the way filled his wallet, and 
 afforded him a ready supply. Next day Willy was 
 early at the conventicle, with the many hundreds that 
 assembled on that occasion, and listened with great at- 
 tention and deep interest to the words of Mr Cameron ; 
 which seem to have made a deep impression on his 
 mind. After all was over, Willy forgethered with some 
 of his acquaintances from Galloway, to whom he men- 
 tioned the treatment he had met with. They were amused 
 at the circumstance, and introduced Willy to Shawhead, 
 as an honest, harmless creature, who had come from the 
 neighbourhood of Carsphairn with others, to hear the 
 word of God. The honest gudeman proceeded to make 
 an apology to Willy for the treatment he received. 
 44 Ou ay,” said Willy, 44 you prevented me from sleeping 
 within your stane an’ fail wa’s ; but you could not pre- 
 vent me from sleeping in God’s out-house, where I 
 was in good company.” Willy continued wandering up 
 and down the higher parts of Lanarkshire till the fatal 
 skirmish at Airsmoss, when he returned again to the 
 glens of Galloway, and was spared to perform those 
 offices of kindness to Mr Renwick which we have al- 
 ready mentioned. 
 
 Willy was much in the habit of talking to himself in 
 an audible voice, and always in the third person. One 
 day he was overheard saying, 44 Willy, Mr Cameron says 
 ye will not come to Christ, but ye maun come to Christ. 
 Willy, do ye say ye winna come to Christ ? If ye dinna 
 come to Christ, Mr Cameron will be a witness against 
 ye.” In this way Willy mused and talked to himself; 
 which shows that his mind was in some degree spiri- 
 tually exercised. The grace of God operating on the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — STEEL. 
 
 409 
 
 heart and dispositions of persons strikingly characterised 
 for their mental imbecility, is much to be admired ; and 
 it is pleasant to think that such instances are not rare. 
 The Lord can make his paths so plain, that u the way- 
 faring men, though fools, shall not err therein.” It 
 would be well for some who are inclined to value them- 
 selves on account of their mental accomplishments, were 
 they to manifest the same soundness of heart and 
 Christian kindness of disposition as “Willy Smith the 
 simpleton.” 
 
 We shall here introduce the story of David Steel of 
 Lesmahago. It was formerly published by the author, 
 in a volume which is not in the hands of every one, and 
 which is not likely soon to be reprinted. We wish to 
 give it here a little more publicity, as it possesses no 
 small degree of interest. 
 
 David Steel lived in Nether Skeilyhill, in the parish 
 of Lesmahago ; and, with his cousin John Steel of 
 Waterhead, was an intimate companion of John Brown 
 of Priesthill, who resided at some distance in the remote 
 moorlands. And many a holy communing these saintly 
 men had, when they met together in the wastes, and in 
 the silvan retreats of the bosky ravines, to worship God 
 and to read his word, when they were driven by their ene- 
 mies from their homes to seek a shelter in the solitudes. 
 
 Lesmahago abounded with worthies in those days, 
 and leal-hearted confessors, who loved not their lives 
 unto the death. Wodrow gives a list of thirty-nine 
 persons in this parish who were compelled to flee from 
 their dwellings to save their lives ; and mentions that, 
 in the rolls of the period, he found the names of no 
 fewer than sixty individuals who were charged with the 
 crime of harbouring the persecuted people, and other- 
 wise assisting them in their privations. The Steels and 
 the Weirs, the Thomsons and the Whites, the Wilsons 
 and the Browns, and many others, were all renowned 
 names in this district ; and there is, perhaps, no place in 
 Scotland where, at the present day, so many of the de- 
 
410 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 scendants of the worthies are found resident. As an 
 instance, we may mention that the descendants of James 
 Thomson the Covenanter, who was farmer of Tanhill, 
 on the side of Lesmahago parish, were, in the year 
 1832, no fewer than sixty-eight males and sixty-eight 
 females ; — a remarkable circumstance. The family of 
 Thomson had occupied Tanhill for the long period of 
 three hundred and fifty years, till about sixty or seventy 
 years ago, when they removed from it. The descend- 
 ants also of John Brown and Jean M‘Gie, of this 
 place, amounted to upwards of a hundred. 
 
 David Steel was a person of eminent godliness, and 
 warmly attached to the covenanting interest. He fought 
 at Both well Bridge in company with his cousin, John 
 Steel, the laird of W aterhead, who was the leader of 
 the Covenanters in the district around Lesmahago. 
 The cousins were both in the early prime of life, and 
 full of ardour in the good cause, and prepared to sacri- 
 fice even life itself in the support of its interests. After 
 Bothwell Bridge there was no rest for David Steel and 
 his associates ; and hence they were obliged to betake 
 themselves for refuge to the very heart of the impassable 
 morasses, and hide in the deep moss hags. 
 
 So incessant were the searchings for David Steel, that 
 he never durst pass the night at home ; and accordingly 
 he constructed a turfen hut in a remote place near the 
 source of the Water of Nethan, where he kept himself 
 in concealment for many a day. In this retreat he was 
 four miles from his own house, and two from Priest- 
 hill, the residence of John Brown, with whom he held 
 many a stealthy communication ; and he was among 
 the earliest visitors that hastened to the spot on that 
 melancholy morning, the first morning of summer 1685, 
 when that godly man was shot by Claverhouse’s own 
 hand, and obtained the martyr s crown. 
 
 His wife, Mary Weir, is said to have been a remark- 
 ably fine young woman, — fine in personal appearance, 
 and fine in Christian excellence ; and she was the first 
 that came to condole with the widow of Priesthill on 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS STEEL. 
 
 411 
 
 that trying occasion. And as Isobel Weir, having tied 
 up her husband's shattered head with a napkin, and 
 covered his slaughtered body with a plaid, was sitting 
 with her children, a weeping group, beside the corpse 
 of him she loved so tenderly, Mary Weir hastened to 
 the spot ; and throwing her arms around the little com- 
 pany, cowering like the timid lambkins on the bent, 
 she thus sainted the new-made widow, who was sitting 
 almost insensible in the amazement of her grief : “ W ow, 
 woman ! and has your master been taken from your 
 head this day ? and has he won the martyr's crown ? 
 and has God taken you and your children under his 
 own care , saying, 4 1 will be a husband to the widow, 
 and a father to the fatherless?' No wonder that you 
 are overcome and astonished at his doings.” It was 
 only about eighteen brief months after this occurrence 
 that the youthful Mary Weir herself needed the same 
 condolence, being placed in exactly the same circum- 
 stances as the widow of Priesthill ; — and when her trial 
 came she was not forsaken. 
 
 It was in cold December 1686, that David Steel met 
 with his death. He had for some time been in the 
 habit of resorting more frequently to his house, and it 
 was on the occasion of one of these visits that Lieute- 
 nant Crichton, who had probably received information 
 of the circumstance, came to his dwelling with a party 
 of soldiers ; whose approach was not observed till they 
 were just at hand. On the warning being given, 
 David instantly seized his gun, and making his escape 
 through a window, ran toward the Logan Water, with 
 the troopers in full pursuit. In passing the stream he 
 fell and wetted his powder, which prevented the imme- 
 diate use of his musket. He then sped for the Nethan, 
 a rivulet, the steep and wooded banks of which would 
 have screened him from his foes, or at least have re- 
 tarded their progress till he reached the moss beyond, 
 whose rugged and impassable tracts would have alforded 
 him a pretty secure retreat. 
 
 The dragoons crossed the water and came to a place 
 
412 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 called Yondertown, when they observed him on a rising 
 ground a little above them. They fired, but without 
 effect. In crossing a plot of ground a little below 
 Meadow-house, his strength began to fail, and he was 
 nearly overtaken ; but he succeeded for a while in keeping 
 the foremost of the pursuers in check by presenting his 
 useless musket, as if he were going to fire. Crichton, 
 coming forward, called on him to stop, and promised 
 him quarter and a fair trial. On this he stood still, 
 and, finding it impossible to reach the morass, surren- 
 dered himself on the proposed conditions. The de- 
 ceitful trooper, however, had no intention of fulfilling 
 his promise, and, exulting over his captive, conveyed 
 him back to Skellyhill, that he might inflict the addi- 
 tional cruelty of shooting him in the presence of his 
 wife. 
 
 Mary Weir, who cherished an uncommon attachment 
 to her husband, beheld from the door of her cottage, 
 with dizzy gaze and intense anxiety, the pursuit ; and 
 when she saw him seized, she caught up her first-born 
 child, an infant, in her arms, and ran to meet him, pray- 
 ing as she went. Her moral heroism was conspicuous ; for 
 dearly as she loved her husband, and much as she 
 wished his life to be spared, she exhorted him to abide 
 in his constancy, and encouraged him with the conso- 
 lations of the gospel, amid the jeers and the taunts of 
 the mean, profane soldiers. She loved her husband 
 well, but she loved her Saviour better ; and hence she 
 wished him to guard against all foul compliance, and to 
 continue steadfast to the death. The life of her hus- 
 band would have been no prize to her, had it been 
 gained at the expense of a good conscience. The 
 scene enacted before the door of Priesthill w r as now 
 about to be renewed before her own, and she who on 
 that occasion consoled a sister in affliction, now needed 
 the like consolation in her turn. 
 
 Crichton led his victim to what he considered a suit- 
 able place, near the kiln, and having arranged matters 
 for the execution, commanded his troopers to fire. This, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — STEEL. 
 
 413 
 
 however, they positively refused to do, on the plea that 
 quarter had been promised. And when neither remon- 
 strance on their part, nor tearful pleading on the part 
 of the martyrs wife, could prevail, the dragoons, with 
 one voice, exclaimed, that they would neither shoot 
 him nor see him shot ; and on this they wheeled round 
 and rode off to upper Skellyhill. The ruthless com- 
 mander, nothing moved, then ordered the foot soldiers, 
 who were Highlanders, to shoot him ; and they not 
 having the same scruples, complied, and instantly a 
 volley of balls at once passed through his head, which 
 was literally shattered to pieces. And thus fell one of 
 the most upright and Christian men whose names have 
 found a place on the roll of our martyrs. 
 
 When the foul and flagrant deed was committed the 
 soldiers slank away from the appalling scene, and left 
 the poor widow ; who, encouraging herself in the Lord 
 her God, placed her infant child on the ground, and 
 proceeded to adjust the mangled corpse. She gathered 
 his fair hair, and the scattered pieces of his head, and 
 having gently pressed down the eyelids, yet warm with 
 life, she tied up his head with a napkin. When she 
 had quietly performed this service, she looked earnestly 
 on the manly countenance, now pale in death — on that 
 countenance on which her eye had often rested with 
 unspeakable complacency — that countenance which she 
 had so often seen lighted up with a holy animation and 
 a heavenly joy — that countenance which had so often 
 beamed with ineffable kindness on herself, and which 
 had a thousand and a thousand times sent a thrill of 
 gladness to her inmost soul, which was more prized by 
 her than all the world besides, yea, than even her own 
 life. She gazed on that countenance, now not less 
 lovely to her, and scanned its every feature ; and while 
 a shower of warm and gushing tears fell on the clay- 
 cold cheeks, she said, with a sweet and dignified com- 
 posure, “ The archers have shot at thee, my husband, 
 but they could not reach thy soul ; it has escaped like a 
 dove far away, and is at rest.” Then clasping her 
 
414 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 hands together, with a look and a cry that pierced the 
 very heavens, said, u Lord, give strength to thy hand- 
 maid, that will prove that she has waited for thee 
 even in the way of thy judgments.” 
 
 When the neighbours came to the spot, they lifted 
 the body, streaming with blood, and laid it on what is 
 called the mill grip, a low wall* on which sacks of grain 
 are placed before it is spread upon the kiln. The blood, 
 it appears, had sunk into the wall ; for when the kiln 
 was taken down, more than eighty years ago, it was 
 visible on the stones, having the appearance of tar. A 
 small cairn was reared on the place where he fell, and 
 near it grew a mountain ash, or rowan-tree. This tree 
 fell a number of years ago, after it had stood, it is sup- 
 posed, upwards of a century. Another was planted in its 
 room. 
 
 In person David Steel is said to have been of the 
 middle size, having a very fair complexion, fine flaxen 
 hair, and mild blue eyes. His body was buried in 
 Lesmahago church-yard, and the place is marked out 
 by a stone bearing a suitable inscription. 
 
 The death of David Steel is equally affecting with 
 that of his friend John Brown of Priesthill, although 
 the latter has hitherto received more prominence than 
 the former. 
 
 The courage of the female portion of the sufferers in 
 those days is peculiarly worthy of notice. That of the 
 wives of John Brown and David Steel is much to be 
 admired, and shows how far the support of divine grace 
 may be expected to reach in the hour of trial : u As thy 
 day is, so shall thy strength be.” The patient endur- 
 ance of personal suffering and privation is equally 
 noticeable. The wife of John Steel of Waterhead, 
 Marion Lean, was, in the absence of her husband, 
 sometimes reduced to hardships almost incredible. 
 She and her children w r ere obliged to live in a lonely 
 hut in the moors, and were occasionally brought to 
 almost absolute want. The boys had to gather berries 
 on the heath, and catch trouts with their hands, under 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — WILSON. 415 
 
 the stones in the Logan Water, for their own and their 
 mother’s subsistence. The following incident respect- 
 ing this good woman is worthy of recording ; and let 
 mothers especially read it, and be thankful : — 
 
 u Marion Steel, at this period, stood in need of that 
 comfort and attendance which her female acquaintances 
 would willingly have given, but which she durst not ask, 
 and they durst not bestow. When the time drew near 
 at hand, she was so terrified at the brutality of the 
 soldiers, that, with motherly modesty, she fled with her 
 two children from the hut, and took refuge in a deep 
 gully which had been formed in the moors by one of 
 the mountain torrents. Here, in the gully, oppressed 
 with terror, and with no one to wait upon her but her 
 eldest son, a mere boy, was this Christian matron de- 
 livered of a female child. A shepherd heard, in the 
 grey of the morning, the cries of the agonised mother, 
 and hurried to the spot, and spread his plaid over her. 
 He then ran and brought such assistance as he could 
 most readily procure. But the visitors durst neither 
 stay with Marion Steel, nor take her to any of their 
 houses ; for even so piteous a case as this would not 
 have softened the callous hearts of the soldiery. They 
 were therefore obliged soon to depart; but the shep- 
 herd waited near, and attentively did for the mother 
 and her children what little service he could, and as 
 soon as possible helped them to their miserable dwell- 
 ing. There was no bedding in their hut for them to 
 sleep on, and the mother had no other method of keep- 
 ing her 6 wee lassie ’ warm at night than to put her in- 
 to a pillowslip, and cover her up to the neck in a heap 
 of soft moss, or fog, which her boys had pulled in the 
 moors and dried in the sun. The gully where this 
 child was born is still known by the name of Steel’s 
 hag.” — Such is the graphic language of one who is 
 himself a lineal descendant of a Lesmahago Cove- 
 nanter. 
 
 Wilson of Wasteland, of whom we have only a 
 
416 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 mere fragment, may here be introduced. Wasteland 
 w as a farm-house situated below New Cumnock, in 
 the vale of the Nith, and exactly on the route which 
 the troopers followed from Ayrshire to Sanquhar and 
 the parts adjacent. In those times the upper part of 
 the valley was uncultivated and filled with scraggy 
 wood ; and so a portion of it was styled the waste land. 
 Wilson was a worthy man, and adhered conscienti- 
 ously to the nonconformist cause. He soon became a 
 noted character, and a marked man. The troopers 
 frequently visited his house for the purpose of appre- 
 hending him, but he as often eluded their search. On 
 one occasion he was in the field below his house, when 
 he observed a party of dragoons coming in quest of 
 him. He had a place of retreat not far from the 
 dwelling-house, to which he could easily betake him- 
 self in an emergency. He was not willing, however, 
 that this place should be discovered to his enemies, who 
 now had a full view of his movements ; and therefore, 
 instead of running to it, he hastened across the level 
 ground, dashed into the Nith, and hid himself in the 
 thick brushwood, in a cleuch where he knew his pur- 
 suers could not follow him. They fired into the 
 thickets, but without effect ; and Wilson remained 
 secure in his silvan retreat till the soldiers separated. 
 On another occasion this honest man was surprised by 
 the arrival of the troopers before his door ere ever he 
 was aware of their approach. To pass them by issu- 
 ing from the door, was impossible ; he therefore sought 
 refuge in the cow-house ; and having scrambled up to 
 what is called the “ hen baulks,” he there secreted him- 
 self as quietly as possible. It appears to have been in 
 the dusk of the evening when the dragoons paid this 
 visit. When they had searched the dwelling-house 
 and premises around, they proceeded with a light to 
 the byre, and began their search, prying into every 
 corner, and turning over straw and every thing that 
 might afford concealment. In their bawling and bust- 
 ling about, an incident befell which fairly put them to 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — M c MICHING. 417 
 
 the rout. The loft on which honest Wilson lay was 
 but a rickety affair, and could scarcely sustain the 
 weight of a single person, and the least movement was 
 enough to bring the whole to the ground. According- 
 ly, wdien they were straight below the loft, it fell with 
 a crash on the heads of the men, extinguished the light, 
 and nearly smothered them in dust and rubbish, with 
 the superincumbent weight of poor Wilson pressing the 
 rotten boards the more heavily down upon them. The 
 visitation was ominous, and the terrified soldiers, hav- 
 ing extricated themselves with all speed, hastened to 
 flee from the unlucky spot, and betook themselves, 
 with their scratches and bruises, to their horses, and left 
 the place. Wilson, in the midst of the trepidation, 
 was happy to find himself unscathed, and equally 
 happy to find that his enemies had so speedily departed. 
 He was no more troubled at that time ; but he felt the 
 necessity more and more of looking to his own safety. 
 
 Gilbert M 4 Miching belonged to Kil St. Ninians, 
 in Colmonell, and was born in the year 1647. Col- 
 monell is a parish in the district of Old Carrick, famous 
 as being connected with the name of Robert Bruce. 
 It stretches along the Ayrshire coast to about fourteen 
 miles in extent. The locality furnishes not a few objects 
 of interest to the antiquary, and persons whose tastes 
 lead them to roam among old forts and cairns, the 
 remnants of an age long gone by. In ancient times 
 there were several chapels in this parish, one of which 
 was dedicated to St. Ninian, and called Kil St. Ninian, 
 or Kil-an-Ringan, — the Cell of St. Ringan, the name 
 Ringan being the same as Ninian. The name of the 
 parish itself is supposed to be derived from a Scoto- 
 Irish saint, denominated Colmonell, where he had a 
 kil or cell. The mountainous parts of this parish 
 afforded a retreat to the persecuted people, some of 
 whom were shot in the wilds ; so that Colmonell has, in 
 common with other places in the west of Scotland, been 
 hallowed by the blood of the martyrs of Jesus. 
 
418 
 
 A VOICE FROM TIIE DESERT. 
 
 But though Gilbert M‘Miching belonged originally 
 to Colmonell, his place of residence was at Miltonise, in 
 the parish of New Luce, in Galloway, the scene of Mr 
 Peden’s ministry. He was a Covenanter, and steadily 
 adhered to his principles. His steadfastness was severely 
 tested ; but he endured the trial, and came out of the 
 furnace as purified gold. He maintained his integrity, 
 and preserved a good conscience to the end. 
 
 In the year 1678 Graham of Claverhouse appeared 
 for the first time on the scene of Scotland's tragedy ; 
 where he acted a part so conspicuous as to acquire for 
 him the appellation of the bluidy Glar>ers. It is in this 
 year that tradition first presents to our notice Gilbert 
 M c Miching, when Claverhouse and his troopers, com- 
 monly called u the locusts,” betook themselves to free 
 quarters on the premises of this worthy man. This 
 quartering of the military was the infliction to which 
 those who were more obnoxious to the ruling party were 
 uniformly subjected; and no trivial infliction it was. 
 A heavier visitation could scarcely befall an honest 
 household than this. The unprincipled and licentious 
 dragoons acted as they chose, and without responsi- 
 bility. The devastation created in such cases was in- 
 expressible. Nothing but wreck and ruin were left 
 behind them. Every thing within and without the 
 house was the object of their spoliation. What they 
 could not carry away with them they destroyed ; smash- 
 ing furniture to pieces, emptying the beef barrels on the 
 floor, scattering the meal like dust in the air, driving oft 
 the cattle, and finally, in some cases, setting fire to the 
 entire steading ; and thus the desolation left behind 
 them was only w r hat might have been expected from a 
 foreign enemy. 
 
 Claverhouse and his men were quartered, as we have 
 said, on Gilbert M 4 Miching at New Luce, commonly 
 called Glenluce. And during their sojourn there, they 
 behaved precisely according to their custom in other 
 places. They were the masters of the premises for the 
 time being, and acted accordingly. The sheep they 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS — M c MICHING. 419 
 
 killed at their pleasure, and feasted on the best so long 
 as they continued there. But they not only feasted on 
 the carcasses of the animals, they tried to make profit by 
 them otherwise ; for they spread out the skins to dry in 
 the sun, and sold them with their wool to the best 
 advantage. The particular spot on which they spread 
 the skins is known to this day by the name of The 
 skin croft. 
 
 Wodrow the historian states that, in April 1681, 
 Gilbert M c II wraith and [Gilbert] M‘Miching, with a 
 number of others, were outlawed, on the assumption 
 that they had been in the rising at Bothwell Bridge. 
 Their estates were forfeited ; and themselves, when 
 caught, were to be executed as traitors, in common 
 form. From this time Gilbert M fc Miching was the 
 object of continual search, all along till the Revolution. 
 He was again included in a process of treason in 1685 ; 
 but the precise results are not known. 
 
 Owing to the incessant harassings to which he was 
 subjected, and to the unwearied searchings that were 
 made for him, he found it necessary to consult his safety 
 by betaking himself to some place of permanent con- 
 cealment. In those days of peril many curious contriv- 
 ances were resorted to for personal security. One had 
 his hiding-place among the leafy branches of the oak ; 
 another in the heart of a dense thicket ; others, again, 
 scooped out caves in the sides of the bosky ravine ; some 
 built a double gable to their houses, and formed a secret 
 chamber between the two walls ; and some constructed 
 a retreat in the heart of the peat stack. It was to the 
 last of these that honest Gilbert M 4 Miching had re- 
 course. The only fuel used by the people in the moors 
 in those days was dug from the rich black moss. The 
 peats were carefully prepared in the summer, and when 
 sufficiently hardened in the sun, were dragged on cars 
 to the dwelling-house, and neatly piled in brick-like 
 fashion close to the end of the building. The gudeman 
 of Miltonise, like others in similar circumstances, so 
 fashioned the interior of the stack next the wall of the 
 
420 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 house as to form a convenient chamber of considerable 
 dimensions, in which he could hide himself on any 
 emergency. The entrance was not through the wall 
 of the dwelling-house, but on the side of the stack, 
 the aperture being of such a size as easily to admit a 
 person to crawl through it. Within, it could be made 
 tolerably comfortable, by spreading the floor with 
 abundance of scented hay, to make it warm and soft. 
 The little opening behoved always to be neatly closed 
 with peats, to avoid any thing like suspicion, and to 
 prevent the dogs of the troopers from scenting out 
 the retreat. 
 
 Many a day did the worthy man occupy this snug 
 retirement; for snug it was, compared with the cold, 
 dripping caves, or the mossy trenches on the hills, to 
 which the wanderers had often to betake themselves. 
 It was in the day time especially that he confined him- 
 self to his murky chamber ; but at night, when all was 
 quiet, and when the weather permitted, he crept from 
 his retreat, and having carefully built up the aperture 
 behind him, he betook himself to the fields, to breathe 
 the fresh air and to exercise his limbs by walking ; and 
 after a suitable time he returned to his chamber. It 
 was a great comfort to him that his hiding-place was so 
 near to his mansion ; for he knew every thing that was 
 going on, and could manage his affairs with as much 
 precision as if he had been living openly on his own 
 premises. His wife, who we may conceive was the only 
 person who knew his retreat, supplied him stealthily 
 with food; so that he had every comfort and convenience 
 that the circumstances could admit of. It is said that 
 the part of the stack in which he was hid was never 
 removed, and that the fresh peats, when brought in their 
 season, were always added to the old ; which circum- 
 stance plainly intimates that this good man must have 
 been confined to his retreat in the stack not for one sea- 
 son only, but occasionally during a series of years. This 
 hiding-place was never discovered till the Revolution, 
 when concealment was no longer necessary. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS M^MICHING. 421 
 
 Gilbert M‘Micbing had so successfully eluded those 
 who were sent in quest of him, and for so long a period, 
 that none of them knew him personally. This was of 
 great advantage to him; for he was several times in their 
 power, had they been able to recognise him. It is sup- 
 posed, and not without reason, that he may have assumed 
 the clothes of one of his servants,— of his shepherd, or of 
 his ploughman, for instance, — and in this guise sometimes 
 ventured out in the day time. On one occasion, when 
 he was driving the cows to the field, he encountered a 
 company of troopers advancing toward the house. He 
 was taken hv surprise, for a gentle rising ground con- 
 cealed them from his view as he left the house, else he 
 would have betaken himself to the peat-stack. His wits 
 were put in requisition ; but assuming a careless manner, 
 he met their approach with an open countenance, and 
 bluntly asked one of them for a piece of tobacco. He 
 was now in the very presence of his enemies ; he was 
 addressing the very persons sent to apprehend him. His 
 heart must have beat high in his bosom, for who could 
 tell the issue ? This might probably be his last day on 
 earth ; for he was denounced as a traitor, and military 
 license was given to shoot him on the spot. It was a 
 perilous moment, it was the crisis of his fate ; and now 
 he might be called to seal his testimony with his blood 
 before his own door, and in the presence of his family. 
 This was the “ killing time,” as it was mournfully called, 
 when men were slaughtered like sheep on the bent, and 
 when the report of fire-arms was continually heard 
 on the heathy hills and in the lonely glens, when one 
 witness for the truth after another was falling and 
 welling out the purple tide of life on the desert moor- 
 land. 
 
 The begging of a piece of tobacco seems to have been 
 the first thing that occurred to him, for the purpose of 
 lulling suspicion. The troopers, firmly bent on tbeir 
 purpose, sternly asked if the laird was at home. “ He 
 was,” replied he, “ at the house when I was there.” On 
 this, without responding to his request for the tobacco, 
 
422 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 they rode quickly over the rising ground, thinking that 
 now they had certainly secured the object of their visit, 
 and in an instant drew up before the door. No doubt the 
 inmates were surprised at the visitation, but the troopers 
 were disappointed in their object. The laird now be- 
 took himself to a moss at no great distance from the 
 place where the soldiers met him, and there concealed 
 himself in a ravine till they departed. Many a time 
 did the deep ruts in the rugged moors and the dark moss 
 hags, save the fugitives that were driven into these re- 
 treats by the merciless soldiers, who durst not venture 
 after them. There, among the tufted heath, they could 
 look out on the foe, and rest in security. 
 
 This worthy man, who endured so much for a right 
 cause, and for a good conscience, made many similar 
 escapes, the particulars respecting which have not been 
 handed down ; but he came through all his perils, under 
 the guardianship of the God in whom he trusted, and of 
 the Saviour whom he loved, and in whose cause he 
 suffered hardships. He survived the persecution for 
 the long period of three and forty years, and died in 
 peace in 1731. He was buried in the church-yard of 
 Colmonell. 
 
 Among those sufferers during the persecuting period 
 whose patrimonies were restored at the Revolution, was 
 
 Gilbert M 4 Miching, son of M'Miching of Kil St. 
 
 Ninians. It would appear that the father of Gilbert 
 M‘Miching was also a sufferer in those times, for he was 
 also among the forfeited. 
 
 After the Revolution, the laird of Kil-an-Ringan and 
 his neighbours erected a church on one of his own farms 
 called Altercannoch, which was used as a place of wor- 
 ship onward to the year 1855. 
 
 It was on this farm of Altercannoch that John Mur- 
 chie and Daniel Meiklewraith, two worthies of the 
 covenant, who jeoparded their lives on the high places 
 of the field, were apprehended on a Sabbath morning 
 by Lieutenant Drummond, and, without trial, shot on 
 the spot by an irresponsible soldiery. They lie interred 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 423 
 
 on the side of the cross water of Dusk, and the follow- 
 ing is the inscription on their grave- stone : — 
 
 “Here in this place two martyrs lie, 
 
 Whose blood to heaven hath a loud cry ; 
 
 Murdered contrary to divine laws, 
 
 For owning of king Jesus’ cause. 
 
 By bloody Drummond they were shot, 
 
 Without any trial, near this spot.” 
 
 The preceding anecdotes of the good Gilbert M‘Mich- 
 ing are precisely in keeping with those transmitted re- 
 garding the rest of the sufferers in that dismal period. 
 They all suffered from the same hands, and for the same 
 principles ; and they had resort to much the same means 
 for their safety. This, no doubt, imparts a certain simi- 
 larity to many of the traditions of that time, which can- 
 not be avoided ; but yet it is a similarity which supports 
 their general truthfulness. 
 
 Gilbert M‘Miching lived a whole generation after the 
 persecution ; and as he had witnessed much of the Lord’s 
 hand in shielding him from “ his deadly foes that com- 
 passed him about/’ so he kept this in grateful remem- 
 brance, and forgot not to live to him who had done so 
 great things for him. 
 
 The above particulars respecting Gilbert M‘Miching 
 were transmitted to the writer by a great grandson of 
 this honoured man, at present residing in Stirling. The 
 faithfulness of the tradition, therefore, may be safely 
 relied on. 
 
 THE RIVER CRAWICK AND ITS MEMORIES. 
 
 The river Crawick falls into the Nith, about a mile to 
 the west of Old Sanquharburgh. The Crawick deserves 
 notice, both on account of its scenery and the incidents 
 that have befallen within the precincts of its sweet vale, 
 — incidents both ancient and modern, and some of heart- 
 stirring interest. If the fairy streams of the Yarrow 
 and the Ettrick are not unknown to song, the Crawick, 
 
 2 E 
 
424 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 a stream of precisely the same description, deserves to 
 live also in poetic strains. But neither Scott nor Hogg, 
 nor any of the poets and romancers of their time, ever 
 visited this sweet vale of the west ; w T hich, along the 
 brief ten miles of its course, may vie with any pastoral 
 scene in the whole amplitude of the south and west of 
 our beloved Scotland. The hills all so green and 
 smooth, and so softly rounded in their contour, with 
 the crystal rills that pour their swift currents adown 
 the deep gashes which the water- courses have formed, 
 age after age, in the velvet slopes of the verdant 
 heights ; the patches of primeval forests that clothe the 
 precipitous sides of the mountains; and the close thickets 
 that choke the gorges and dark ravines on either side ; 
 all and each attract our notice, and, when seen on a 
 fine summer’s day, elicit an irrepressible admiration. 
 All, from the face of the abrupt Craignorth to Holm, 
 on either face of the mountains that line the stream on 
 right and left, is crowded with incidents and tales of 
 other times, which thrill the hearts of the peasantry 
 that won in this secluded glen. It is our intention to 
 notice a few of those incidents and popular tales that 
 have been so long current in this locality, and then to 
 close with the traditionary fragment relative to the 
 covenanting days, which w T e had more especially in our 
 eye when we were led to take this notice of the lovely 
 Crawick. It was along this strath that the troopers, in 
 their raids between Douglas and Sanquhar, held their 
 route. And, doubtless, many things befell on this line 
 of march, between the military and the peasantry who 
 resided here, that no history has recorded, and no tra- 
 dition has handed down. We shall therefore glean a 
 few things that may happen to come in our walk down 
 the course of this stream, beginning at the northern 
 entrance of its glen. 
 
 And first we have Craignorth, an abrupt and mag- 
 nificent height, the green clad face of which seems 
 originally to have formed a scar from the summit of 
 the hill to the rivers edge. The people of the preced- 
 ing generation used to tell, that at the foot of a thorn 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 425 
 
 bush which grew on the very face of the green escarp- 
 ment, a lamb was dropped by its dam, and for seven 
 years afterwards it never wandered more than a hun- 
 dred yards from the side of the bush where it first saw 
 the light. This, however unlikely it may appear, is 
 nevertheless a veritable fact, which has been fully and 
 incontrovertibly attested. It was along the side of the 
 steep Craignorth — on which a person can scarcely keep 
 his footing, in an upright posture — that a moorland 
 maiden, named Agnes Hislop, who had leaped on the 
 bare back of a pony, which she had been sent out to 
 catch on the hill above, was carried across the face of 
 the steep on the animal's back, at its full speed, when the 
 people who witnessed the scene from the opposite side 
 of the valley expected every moment when both would 
 rush adown the steep and be dashed to pieces ; but she 
 maintained her seat, and the pony maintained its foot- 
 ing, to the wonderment of all, till they reached the level 
 ground, when she dismounted in safety. A daughter 
 of this same person is still alive, though advanced in 
 life, and tells the story with great interest. 
 
 Craignorth bears on its southern shoulder the ashes 
 of two martyrs, that were shot in the year 1685 by a 
 party belonging to Douglas of Drumlanrig. The story 
 is this : Six men had fled from their retreat in Douglas 
 Water, and travelling southward, came to Glenshilloch, 
 a place on the north side of the Water of Cog, which 
 flows through a deep gorge in the hills, and falls into 
 the river Crawick. The six wanderers concealed in 
 Glenshilloch — which originally abounded in willows, as 
 the name signifies — were fed by the farmer who wonned 
 in Cogshead, a romantic spot toward the source of the 
 stream, and occupying a sweet locality in the bosom of 
 the mountains. The gudeman's name was Brown, and 
 was related to one of the brethren who had taken re- 
 fuge in the glen. The news had reached Drumlanrig 
 that six rebels were in hiding somewhere in the upper 
 parts between the parallel streams of the Menock and 
 the Crawick. On receiving this information, Drum- 
 lanrig marched with his troopers to scour the wilds in 
 
426 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 quest of the fugitives. A hasty thunder-storm, how- 
 ever, disconcerted the party, as has been fully detailed 
 in the “ Traditions of the Covenanters ; v but their 
 mission was not altogether fruitless, for they caught 
 Brown and Morris at the back of Craignorth, and shot 
 them where they found them. It was “killing time” 
 — a space which comprehended more especially the 
 years eighty-four and eighty-jive of that disastrous 
 century ; for the military had full license to kill or 
 capture at their discretion. Brown was shot at the 
 head of the ravine, now called Brown’s Cleuch ; and 
 Morris near another streamlet, which got the name of 
 Morris’s Cleuch. Their graves are in the desert heath, 
 for it was the custom to bury the martyrs just where 
 they fell. A little above this, and on the stream of 
 Spank, lies also a martyr ; but neither his name nor his 
 grave is now known. 
 
 Drumlanrig’s party, as we have said, met with a 
 signal defeat by means of the thunder that went crash- 
 ing along the hills, and so terrified men and horses that 
 they became utterly powerless, and let go the other pri- 
 soners that they had caught in the Glen of the Willows, 
 while the soldiers fled to Cogshead from the fierceness of 
 the tempest. On the Martyr’s Knowe they had left a 
 boy, whom they had bound and laid on the turf, because 
 they caught him returning with his kit, or cog, in which 
 he had carried provisions to the men in the glen. 
 Douglas at first proposed to shoot him, but on second 
 thoughts spared him, for the purpose of extorting from 
 him what information he could. But the boy remained 
 firm; and had not the thunder-storm come to his 
 rescue, he might, young as he was, have fallen a victim 
 on the heath. The prisoners fled when the soldiers 
 were scattered in the terror of the moment, and passing 
 over the Martyr’s Knowe, in the direction of Glendyne, 
 found the boy half-stupified, and released him from his 
 bonds ; and thus the whole party escaped but Brown 
 and Morris, who, as we have said, lost their lives on the 
 hill beyond. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 427 
 
 A monumental stone stands upright on a beautiful 
 green spot on a bend of the river, supposed to be an 
 erection of an ancient date, marking the resting-spot of 
 some warrior- chieftain who had fallen in the strife of 
 other days, and by the hands of a people utterly for- 
 gotten. But it was no doubt intended as a memorial, 
 though neither sculpture nor inscription is to be found 
 on it. It served its end, however, for a generation or 
 two ; and now the hero and all the stirring incidents 
 of his history, sufficiently local it may be, have glided 
 into utter oblivion. It stands on the farm of Cors- 
 bank, between the road and the waters edge, and 
 almost every passenger pays it a visit. 
 
 The Chapman's Cleuch is generally another spot that 
 is pointed out to passers by, as being the place where a 
 pedler, in former times, lost his life by the murderous 
 hands of certain robbers who greedily coveted the wares 
 he carried in his pack, and which he disposed of among 
 the simple peasantry. Whether his remains lie near 
 the cleuch we cannot precisely say, but his name is 
 stereotyped on the place on account of the disastrous 
 incident that befell. 
 
 The Crawick seems, in ancient times, to have 
 abounded with small baronial holds or castles. These 
 •were chiefly square towers, erected in the feudal times 
 by the lesser barons, who required such edifices in those 
 precarious and adventurous ages for special defence. 
 These structures were of the rudest order ; because 
 strength, and not ornament, was the object. They were 
 generally surrounded by a trench, as a species of out- 
 ward defence, after the fashion of the strongholds of the 
 nobles, whom the barons were in the habit of imitating, 
 and w r hose mode of defence was equally requisite. As 
 the larger castles had their ton or town, Ailed with their 
 retainers, in whose warlike prowess consisted the real 
 strength of the hold ; so the smaller castles had the 
 same, who w r ere equally devoted to their superiors. 
 
 The stream of the Crawick is about nine miles in 
 length ; and in this course, on either side of the river, 
 
428 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 there had been, at one time, about an equal number of 
 strongholds. The sites of some of them are still visible, 
 though in the last generation they were all well known. 
 Commencing at the head of the stream, we have first 
 the Castle of Spank, which stood almost on the site of 
 the present farm-house. It stood on the frontiers of 
 the valley, and overlooked the wilds of Crawfordjohn. 
 Its existence here was fully tested by means of conduits 
 and pipes that were recently discovered, for conveying 
 water into the castle. Other indications of a large 
 building were manifest ; hut the structure has long since 
 been demolished. The Clenrie, or more properly the 
 Glenrie, was another strong building of the baronial 
 kind, and stood on the left bank of the stream, at some 
 distance from the hold of Spank. The foundation steps 
 of a strongly built staircase have been found here ; the 
 mason-work of which, it is said, shows that the edifice 
 must have been of a superior order. But this also 
 has long ago passed away, and the name and memo- 
 rial of its inhabitants have gone into irrecoverable obli- 
 vion. 
 
 There is next in our way along the stream the hold 
 of Castle Robert, still retaining the original name of its 
 founder. This strength stood on the breast of the hill 
 on the right bank of the river. It occupied a fine site, 
 and straight in front was the abrupt face of Craignorth ; 
 a steep bank of a mountain rivulet defended its north 
 side. The trench was visible till of late, and may be 
 partly so still. When the ruin was some years ago 
 finally demolished, masses of melted lead were found in 
 the rubbish at its foundation ; which has led some to 
 suppose that the roof at least had been consumed by 
 fire. Castle Robert is a beautiful spot, and well chosen 
 in point of situation as a stronghold. The present 
 farm-house stands a little below the old castle, and has 
 assumed the vulgar appellation of “ Corse Bank,” in- 
 stead of the ancient baronial name. 
 
 In our farther descent along this sweet vale, we next 
 meet with what is called Spoath, on the plain of the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 429 
 
 stream : but this is merely a modern erection. It was 
 on the height immediately above this where stood the 
 old Castle of Spoath, overlooking the entire middle sec- 
 tion of the Crawick. It was elevated on the breast of 
 the hill, above the thickets that formerly filled the valley 
 from side to side, and which even crept a good way up 
 toward the lower brow of the mountains. The old 
 people well remember the gloomy vaults of this ancient 
 building ; all of which are now demolished, and nothing 
 left but a miserable hut, itself now in ruins, to indicate 
 the spot where erst frowned the proud peel that lorded 
 it over its own domains. None of the holds on the 
 Crawick had so commanding a prospect as this, and few 
 had greater means of defence, — at least if its elevated 
 situation be considered as an advantage. 
 
 But the most imposing of all the strongholds on the 
 Crawick was that of Carco, at no great distance from 
 the Tower of Spoath, having the deep defile of what is 
 now called the Spoath Burn between them. This gorge, 
 the ancient Celtic name of which is now lost, is by far 
 the most magnificent of all the glens that spur off from 
 the valley of the Crawick, right and left, — sweeps afar 
 into the bosom of the hills, forming a splendid curvature 
 to the north-west ; and the heights on either side are so 
 steep and verdant, that one may almost slide from top 
 to bottom without much serious interruption. An an- 
 cient Celtic dike speels the beetling height on the east, 
 and, running along, loses itself in the wilds of Craw- 
 fordjohn. How pleasantly a long summer day could be 
 spent here ! it is a sweet meditative retreat in the bosom 
 of the lonely hills. 
 
 But the Castle of Carco. It stood on the table-land 
 near the base of the second rise of the mountain. The 
 trench is plainly seen within which the structure reared 
 its head ; and this trench has been deep and strong, in- 
 dicative of the importance of the hold which it encircled. 
 The elevation on which it stood is called the Chapel Hill; 
 which clearly shows that this was a place of some con- 
 sequence. It is highly likely that a pretty large ion had 
 
430 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 been erected here, as a place of worship was connected 
 with the castle. 
 
 It appears that a goodly space of ground around this 
 stronghold had been under cultivation, or at least cap- 
 able of being so ; and thus food for the retainers would 
 be furnished. This castle must have possessed greater 
 facilities in this way than any of the others on the 
 Crawick. 
 
 The Orchard next comes in our way. A tower 
 seems also to have stood here, and its site must have 
 been on the angle where the burn and the Crawick in 
 ancient times appear to have met. The present build- 
 ing stands almost on the precise spot on which this 
 castle was reared. The foundations of the ancient 
 buildings were plainly seen by the people of the pre- 
 ceding generation* but have all been cleared out for 
 other building purposes. The font-stone that stands in 
 the field in the vicinity of the dwelling-house, distinctly 
 indicates the existence of a religious structure here. The 
 stone with its font has existed for many ages on the 
 spot. The water which it contained was used for sprink- 
 ling the worshippers, — it was holy water, and not water 
 for baptism, for the chapel could not be a baptismal 
 church : this was the privilege of the mother church in 
 the district, — the church of Sanquhar. These font-stones 
 are by no means uncommon in the neighbourhood of 
 ruined castles ; every chapel must have possessed a stone 
 basin of this description. It is not unlikely that another 
 castle stood on the shoulder of the hill above the 
 Orchard, at a place called Auchengo wer, “ the field of the 
 goats;” for in the last generation there w r as a hamlet 
 here. And it is equally probable that another castle 
 stood at the base of Knockenhair, in the vicinity of the 
 old farm-house which was lately removed. That Carco 
 Mains had once a castle is obvious from the name. 
 This castle occupied the finest position of all the holds 
 on the Crawick. It commands a charming prospect of 
 the scenery around, and looks to the distant hills on the 
 east and south. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS* 
 
 431 
 
 Powfernock was a small Celtic strength. It stands 
 nearly opposite the Holm House, on the south side of 
 the Crawick, close to the water’s edge. The site of the 
 fort and its entrance are plainly distinguishable. But 
 it is of a date beyond all tradition, and immensely older 
 than any of the Saxon holds which we have men- 
 tioned. 
 
 The hills of Crawick, after its castles, are well worth 
 the noticing. They resemble the Carron heights in 
 Durisdeer for their beauty and the smoothness of their 
 verdure. There is nothing rugged or offensive to the 
 eye, and the sleep of the summer’s evening sun on their 
 velvet slopes imparts to them an inexpressible charm. 
 We have already noticed Craignorth, with its almost 
 perpendicular front, and a few of the incidents con- 
 nected with it, so that it is unnecessary to say more. 
 Castle Robert height, on the right side of the stream, 
 towers conspicuously above its fellows, and presents a 
 fine object from certain points of view* It overlooks 
 the wilds toward the north, and the dark, dreary heights 
 that border on the stream of the Spank, and far beyond, 
 where many a worthy hid himself in the dismal days ot 
 persecution. There is a tradition often rehearsed by the 
 old people, that in a certain spot on this hill there lies 
 an ox hide full of gold, hidden by some wealthy baron 
 in the days of feudal strife. And the exact spot where 
 the treasure is concealed is indicated by the first rays 
 of the rising sun where they hit a certain place on the 
 first morning of summer ; so that if any person will take 
 the trouble of watching and digging at the precise mo- 
 ment, they will find the glittering prize. So says the 
 popular tradition. 
 
 The Hill of Knockenhair, that shows itself in front 
 southward, and the farthest on in the course of the 
 stream, is a height of a beautiful conical shape. It has 
 on its summit an ancient druidical cairn, on which the 
 sacred fires were lighted on May-day, and which were 
 seen through the whole of the wide basin of Sanqu- 
 har, as an object of religious interest to the old Celtic 
 
432 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 people who inhabited these glens and straths. Lately this 
 cairn was partially reconstructed ; which has greatly di- 
 minished its antiquarian interest. Still the general form 
 is plain. It has had a circular wall at some distance from 
 the base, within which only sacred officials were permitted 
 to enter when the priests were in the act of performing 
 the hallowed rites peculiar to their religion. There is 
 a projection of a hill opposite to this, called the Bale or 
 Baal Hill, on which also the fires were kindled on Bel- 
 tane eve, and which were seen through several parishes 
 at once, though parishes then there w r ere none. 
 
 But the most magnificent of these heights is Carco 
 Hill, which rears its massive form precisely opposite to 
 Knockenhair, on the right bank of the river. This is a 
 hill of no small interest to those who admire mountain 
 scenery ; the richness and variety of its outline never 
 fatigue the eye. The deep and precipitous glen of 
 Spoath Burn sweeps round its northern side, and isolates 
 it from the hills beyond ; and the Haunted Linn on its 
 southern part separates it from the hills of Carcoside ; 
 while it is attached on its north-west part to the ridge 
 that runs to the higher Bale Hill. The rivulets that 
 rush adown the steeps of this stately mountain, have, in 
 the lapse of ages, cut deep beds for themselves. Pow- 
 craigy is an impetuous torrent that dashes its foaming 
 waters, after a thunder spate, abruptly over its precipi- 
 tous channel, and tumbles straight into the Crawick ; 
 rendering the road impassable by its brown flood, and 
 peculiarly dangerous by means of the bowlders it fetches 
 from the heights above. And the Shiel Burn, on its 
 western side, flows through a grassy hollow and falls into 
 the Haunted Linn. From the summit of Carco Hill a 
 prospect of considerable extent is to be had, though by 
 no means so spacious as might be anticipated, owing to 
 the hills that stud the space on the north and east. 
 Still, a stroll to the top of the magnificent heights will 
 amply repay the toil of the ascent. The base of this 
 hill, in ancient times, seems to have been clustered 
 round with cottages. There is Auchengower, and the 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 433 
 
 Kill, and Little Carco, and Meikle Carco, and the 
 hamlet on the Chapel Hill ; all places crowded with in- 
 habitants of old, but all swept away with the exception 
 of two. The view from the door of the farm-house at 
 Carco is exceedingly romantic. The glen turns with a 
 majestic sweep, like a bow in full bend, and receives in 
 its bosom the projection of the verdant Knockenhair as 
 it protrudes on the vale of the Crawick. The eye never 
 wearies as it reposes on this beautiful curve, especially 
 in the luxuriance of summer, and when the woods are 
 vocal with the voice of birds, and the silvery stream is 
 dancing in the garish beams of the sun. At Carco 
 there lived, in his early youth, Hislop, commonly called 
 “ the moorland poet,” who wrote the “ Cameronian's 
 Dream a poem which has earned for him no small 
 celebrity, and which has endeared his name to those 
 who cherish the memory of our persecuted ancestry. 
 Carco is a sweet residence, lying in the sheltered bosom 
 of the hills, in the pleasant quietude of the charming 
 vale of the Crawick. 
 
 The glen of the Crawick once contained a numerous 
 population, — perhaps fully more than the locality could 
 well bear. About seventy years ago there were about 
 four hundred inhabitants in the valley. The old people 
 used to count the number of the households as amount- 
 ing to upwards of eighty between the Holm House and 
 the Spank ; and now they scarcely amount to a score. 
 This is a sad decrease. The ancient inhabitants were a 
 virtuous and pious people, and their worth is to this 
 day talked of. The Crawick teemed with a church- 
 going population ; and it is said that, on sacramental 
 occasions, in the fine days of summer, a whole host of 
 worshippers were to be seen pouring like a stream along 
 the valley to the church of Sanquhar. Men, women, 
 and children, clad, it may be, in homely habiliments, 
 but with warm and honest hearts throbbing in their 
 bosoms, convened within the precincts of the hallowed 
 fane, or on the field of graves, there to worship God, 
 and to listen to the message of his grace from the 
 
434 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 mouths of his servants. Hislop the poet has, in re- 
 gard to this very subject, the following lines. He refers 
 to the dwellers on the Crawick issuing from their homes 
 to the church on the Sabbath morning : — 
 
 “The Sabbath morning gilds the eastern hills; 
 
 The swains its sunny dawn with gladness greet; 
 
 Frae heath-clad hamlets ’mang the muirland rills, 
 
 The dewy mountains climb wi’ naked feet, 
 
 Skiffen the daisies drookit wi’ the weet; 
 
 The nibblen flocks come bleatin’ down the brae 
 To shady pastures, screen’d frae summer heat 
 In woods, where tinklin’ waters glide away 
 ’Mang holms o’ clover red, and soft sweet-scented hay.” 
 
 On the lower part of the stream, and branching off 
 to the right, there is what is called the “ Haunted Linn,” 
 or Orchard Burn. This linn is a deep gorge between 
 Carco-height and the rising grounds of Carco-side. It 
 was in ancient times thickly crowded with trees, stately 
 oaks and ashes, that reared their tops high into the air, 
 while their overshadowing branches darkened the linn 
 beneath with something like the murkiness of night. 
 And so deep was the sombre shade, that an undefined 
 dread stole over those who had the hardihood to ven- 
 ture under the umbrageous awning of the wood. This 
 we have heard the old people say, who in their youth 
 wonned in the vicinity of the linn. It is now divested 
 of its majestic trees, although considerable thickets still 
 remain — the dwarfish representatives of the giants that 
 graced the precipitous sides of the defile in the olden 
 time. The magnificence of the linn, when its woods 
 were all in their glory, must have been great, and 
 charming exceedingly, when even yet the scenery is 
 enchanting. Its truly romantic character is indepen- 
 dent of its woods ; for the glorious hills by which it 
 is flanked on both sides remain immovable, and to its 
 chief and lasting interest. We never weary in strolling 
 in the haunted linn. It must have been a ready place 
 of refuge in the days of persecuting outrage ; and few 
 could have had the hardihood to venture down into its 
 dark chambers, in quest of a company of covenanting 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 435 
 
 brethren who had buried themselves in its deep ob- 
 scurities. There are many curious points of interest in 
 this linn, and some weird tales have had their origin 
 here, in striking incidents which befell in times of yore. 
 The story of old Gairland, who disappeared so myste- 
 riously in passing over the linn on the evening of a 
 Sabbath-day, when returning from a sacrament, the 
 blood stains that were seen on the stones for many a 
 long year after, the eerie sounds that fell on the ear, 
 and the strange, suspicious sights that were seen by the 
 lonely traveller as he wended his way in the dark ; all 
 imparted to the linn something ominous and full of 
 dread to those who knew its history. 
 
 Near the foot of the brook, and above the bridge, on 
 a beautiful green spot formed by a bend of the stream, 
 stood the house of old Ledgie Cooper, a worthy man, 
 who about a hundred years ago here kept a school ; 
 which, it is said, w T as well frequented by the children 
 in the locality, where now there are only a few. Ledgie 
 was one of the cottage patriarchs, who was an honour 
 to the Crawick, and whose influence, as a man of piety 
 rather than a man of learning, was felt in the circle in 
 wdiich he moved. We well remember of seeing a very 
 aged man, one of the little lairds of Crawick, who, 
 when a boy, was one of Ledgie’s scholars, and who 
 used to relate some curious anecdotes of him. One 
 was, that the adversary attempted to prevent him from 
 praying in the dark, by pulling forcibly by his coat 
 behind. This anecdote he one day related in the 
 school, when speaking to the children on prayer, and 
 on the necessity of persevering in it; but they not 
 rightly apprehending the thing, and supposing that the 
 enemy was at the moment standing at the back of their 
 venerable teacher, rushed all and every one straight out 
 of the school in the utmost trepidation, and would not 
 return till they were persuaded by the old laird of 
 Orchard to accompany him back ; when composure was 
 restored, and the work of the school went on as usual. 
 Many of these old teachers were very worthy men, .and 
 
436 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 Ledgie Cooper was one of the class ; but he has long 
 since passed away : and his name and his memorial 
 must have passed away too, had it not been for an 
 aged woman, lately deceased, who lived in the laird of 
 Orchard’s house, and heard the anecdote often repeated. 
 The school-house at the mouth of the linn has long 
 since been demolished ; hut the precise spot on which 
 it stood is plainly to he seen. 
 
 In the very centre of the deep gorge of this linn is 
 an immense bowlder, estimated at thirty tons weight. 
 It is a mass of water-worn granite, probably from the 
 Isle of Arran, as its granulated particles seem to be 
 precisely of the same character as those that compose 
 the granite of Goatfell. It must have been conveyed 
 in the age of the northern drift, or dropped from the 
 base of some massive iceberg as it sailed the waters 
 that erst covered these heights. It is rounded like an 
 egg, and has a belt of finer grain begirding its bulk, like 
 an iron hoop around a barrel. 
 
 Crawick was famed for its woods of old. There was 
 once the forest of Crawick. /The old people used to 
 speak with meikle pride of the wooded braes of this 
 sweet vale. The trees, they said, were so dense and 
 level a-top, that, in appearance, a person might have 
 walked on their summits for miles ; — trees that had 
 grown for centuries, trees of immense girth, umbrage- 
 ous trees, and trees whose leafy branches were filled 
 with charming warblers, that made the valley vocal 
 with their melody. But where are those trees now ? 
 They are all swept away by the woodman’s axe ; and 
 the plains of the glen and the slopes of the hills are 
 divested of their glory, the growth of ages, — the fine 
 old natural w r ood, that w r as never planted by the hand 
 of man, but sprang up where the parent stem fell and 
 rotted in the soil, repeating the process age after age, 
 till the hand of violence tore it from its standing-place, 
 leaving nothing to come after it. Something more 
 than half a century past saw this work of devastation 
 completed by the command of the owner of the soil, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 437 
 
 whose ruthless agents full well executed their com- 
 mission. 
 
 The Crawick, in its descent from Orchard, passes 
 through a scene of unrivalled sweetness. The natural 
 wood on both sides, springing from the roots of ancient 
 stems, is truly picturesque. The gorge is deep, and 
 the stream wends its tortuous way over a rocky channel 
 which in the long lapse of ages it has cut sheer down 
 to a great depth, the rocks and the trees alike over- 
 hanging the stream in perilous position. Geologists 
 say that the beds of rivers have for the most part 
 been chains of lakes, the spaces between which have 
 been gradually worn down by the erosion of the waters, 
 so that in process of time the channel has become a 
 trench deep enough for the draining of the lakes. This 
 has been obviously the case with the Crawick. The 
 lake has stretched from the Holm of Carco Mains 
 backward for several miles in a clear and deep loch, 
 till, in the progress of centuries, or even thousands of 
 years, an opening has been made for the issuing out of 
 its waters, by the wearing down of the rocks below. 
 A sweeter promenade is scarcely to be found than the 
 charming walks made along the margin of the river in 
 the Holm woods, and of which the public are allowed 
 to avail themselves. 
 
 It is here, in these woods on the left bank of the 
 stream, at a short distance above what is called the 
 Witches' Linn, that a hiding-place was constructed in 
 the time of persecution for the benefit of the covenant- 
 ing friends, to which they could betake themselves in a 
 perilous hour. It was in a hollow now filled with 
 stones and rubbish, having in front a little rocky knoll 
 between it and the river, but of great height, and form- 
 ing a sheer precipice to the waters edge. A beautiful 
 gravel walk now runs close by the mouth of what was 
 the hiding-place ; but there were no foot-paths then, the 
 whole was an almost impervious thicket, so that few 
 could find the spot even though they were in its imme- 
 diate vicinity. It must, in those times, have been a 
 
438 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 place of great security, in the very heart of the dense 
 underwood. It is said that it had an outlet immedi- 
 ately opposite the entrance, so that, in the case of a 
 surprise, an escape could be made into the dark cover- 
 let of the wood, where pursuit was almost impossible. 
 These woods are now greatly thinned, so that we can 
 scarcely form an idea of their primeval density ; and 
 then they were spread along the rising ground above, 
 covering acres of land which are all now under cultiva- 
 tion. Over the field to the east of this cavern, on the 
 adjacent farm of Conraik, and on the green slope in 
 front of the farm-house, is a martyr’s grave, — at least so 
 says old tradition, and we have no reason to believe 
 that it says wrong. The grave is to this day perfectly 
 distinct, and the plough has never passed over its green 
 turf, which has remained intact generation after gene- 
 ration : such is the reverence paid to the sleeping-place 
 of a worthy. It is not now precisely known whether 
 the individual was shot by the troopers or died in the 
 cave of disease caused by privations, and the various 
 hardships otherwise endured. As it is, the grave is 
 there, and may be seen in its breadth and length by 
 any one who may he inclined to pay it a visit. Many 
 a grave of this description is to be found in the wastes, 
 of which no account can be given other than that they 
 are the graves of the sufferers in the hard times of per- 
 secution. 
 
 Contiguous to this hiding-place is the Witches’ Linn, 
 a stream which skirts the lower parts of the Conraik 
 farm, and falls into the Crawick a little above the 
 Holm House. The lower part of this streamlet runs 
 through a gloomy defile, crowded with sombre trees on 
 either side, where the reputed witches and the weird 
 men of old held their nightly cantrips, and which has 
 accordingly given the appellation to the linn. But what- 
 ever there may be of the witches, — and truly we have 
 little faith in such personages, — the linn said to be the 
 scene of their revels is a romantic spot ; and from our 
 station on the bridge which spans its chaffy stream, 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 439 
 
 looking along its murky vista, something eerie is apt to 
 steal over a superstitious mind. The deep, dark woods, 
 and the mural rocks that rise perpendicularly from the 
 bed of the brook, might form an appropriate locality, in 
 the popular imagination, for eldritch meetings. We say, 
 whatever there might be of the witches, there is some- 
 thing more than a probability that this same linn was the 
 identical spot w T here the brave knight of Douglasdale 
 and his men lurked on the night before he took the 
 Castle of Sanquhar from the Southerns in the time of 
 Edward the First. Blind Harry says, — 
 
 “ They lodged in a cleuch 
 Close by the Water Crawick.” 
 
 From this they sallied in the morning dusk, and took 
 the hold of Sanquhar ere the occupants were awake. 
 
 The walks on the banks of the Crawick, in the imme- 
 diate vicinity of the Holm House, are a particularly 
 inviting promenade in the sweet stillness of a summer’s 
 eve. The towering sides of the ravine, the overhanging 
 oak trees, the murmuring of the stream along its rugged 
 bed, the lofty pines on the rising ground, the clear sky 
 above head, the ‘long vista of the river’s channel termi- 
 nating the view on the smooth breast of the verdant 
 Knockenhair, and the entire seclusion of the spot, — 
 wdierethe world is shut out, and things of solemn moment 
 crowd into the mind, — impart a peculiar interest to this 
 romantic patch of scenery which garnishes the lower 
 portion of the valley of the lovely Crawick. We re- 
 member of hearing a learned friend once remark, that 
 though he had visited all the fine scenes both in Eng- 
 land and in Scotland, he had never seen any thing 
 of a similar kind to surpass this. A quarter of an 
 hour’s w r alk from the burgh of Sanquhar would land a 
 stranger in the very heart of this enchanting spot. Sir 
 Walter Scott remarks, that some of the finest points of 
 Scottish scenery escape the eye of the passing traveller, 
 who sees nothing but the plain exterior of the neigh- 
 bouring locality. He must, therefore, diverge from the 
 
 2 F 
 
440 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 beaten highway, and peer into the coy recesses that 
 seem to shun the common gaze ; and there he may wit- 
 ness sights that will gratify his curiosity a hundredfold. 
 The scene around the Holm, and along its walks, is a 
 perfect picture, a finished poem. Its interest is pecu- 
 liarly enhanced to those who know the local associa- 
 tions that cluster around it, and impart to it all the 
 vividness of life, and people it with a thousand airy 
 imaginings, — and yet not imaginings only, but living 
 realities. Every rocky projection, every creek in the 
 stream, every cavernous recess, every stump of a pri- 
 meval oak, every murky thicket, has a tongue, and 
 could tell a tale of the olden time that might thrill 
 th^ inmost soul. The smooth faces of the rocks are 
 scratched with the initials of names that have long since 
 been forgotten. The stream, when in full flood, fur- 
 nishes at this spot an imposing sight. The deep- 
 wrought channel, foaming brimful, and chafing with 
 its shores, tears the rocks in masses, and tumbles 
 the fragments adown the angry torrent, thundering 
 beneath the waters like a cannonading in the bowels of 
 the hills. How sweet is this spot to us ! how charming 
 is that stately oak, under the awning of which we have 
 often stood in meditative mood, and thought on the 
 many ages that were required to chisel the solid rock 
 to such a profundity to afford an outlet to the restless 
 stream ! How often have we taken up our solitary 
 station here, and thought of Him who made all these 
 highways for the waters that are coursing onward to the 
 great ocean that swallows up the wdiole, — of Him who 
 projected the lofty mountains and fixed them on their 
 firm bases, — of Him who spread the glorious canopy 
 above, — of Him who formed us all, — of Him who is 
 the Father of our race, and the Redeemer of our fallen 
 world ! How great is He ! how wonderful in counsel, 
 and how excellent in working ! 
 
 In this place, too, there are curious geological pheno- 
 mena, that are worthy the study of those who have a 
 taste tor dipping into the secrets of that splendid science. 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 441 
 
 The twisting of the strata in the bed of the stream, the 
 sandy mouldering in the very heart of the compact trap 
 rock, and the great upheaving of the sedimentary for- 
 mations, are all worthy of notice. 
 
 The village of Crawick Mill comes in our way in our 
 course descending the stream. This is an ancient place, 
 and has clustered around it many recollections of the 
 olden time. Our local poet complains of the little notice 
 that has hitherto been taken of this hamlet, that sits 
 cowering by the water's side, in the following lines : — 
 
 “ Rab Burns has sung Edina’s city, 
 
 Scotia's mountains, wood, and dale; 
 
 But nae bard, (the mair’s the pity,) 
 
 Ever thought on Crawick Mill.” 
 
 “’Tis true, ’tis pity; pity ’tis, ’tis true but there Crawick 
 Mill stands, a great geographical verity on the spacious 
 surface of the great world. But Crawick Mill has long 
 stood, and may stand a long time to come. And many 
 a worthy character has had a name and a residence here; 
 and a sweet spot it is, and sheltered, by the side of the 
 stream. It has long been famous for its mills ; and fifty 
 or sixty years ago, as the old inhabitants used to tell, 
 it had no fewer than seven mills for as many different 
 purposes ; but what they were we have now forgotten, 
 and therefore cannot specify. It is at present distin- 
 guished for its carpet works, and has been so for about 
 two generations past. The witches of Crawick Mill 
 were notable personages in former times, and ruled with 
 a sway that kept the adjacent district in a salutary sub- 
 jection to their weird authority. But whatever we 
 now-a-davs may think of the profession of wizardhood 
 or witchcraft, they of former times reposed the fullest 
 credence in the existence and claims of such characters. 
 But they are now gone, and fled never to return, and 
 Crawick Mill is, on the whole, in as Christian a position 
 as any other little village in the land. 
 
 Thus have we taken our survey of the Crawick, and 
 gathered along our route, from its source to the point 
 at which we have stopped, a number of traditionary 
 
442 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 matters, and other things of interest that have happened 
 to cast up. The stream, in ancient times, when there 
 was no road formed along the valley, was crossed six or 
 seven times, to the great annoyance of travellers, espe- 
 cially when the channel was full. That inconvenience is 
 now removed, and an admirable road now wends along 
 the course of the stream, skirting the base of the hills, 
 onward to its source. The lowest mile of the river, 
 before it falls into the Nith, is spanned by no fewer 
 than five bridges ; two of them of wood and three of 
 stone, including the railway viaduct. 
 
 It was only a few remarks on the Crawick that we 
 intended at the outset to make, as introductory to the 
 following incident which befell in the persecuting times, 
 but they have swollen to some bulk on our hand, and 
 may, perhaps, be not uninteresting to those who are 
 familiar with the locality, and who will easily recognise 
 the features of the whole scene at once. The incident 
 which we are now about to introduce befell near the 
 source of the Crawick, at a place called the Waterfoot. 
 It was originally inserted in the third series of the 
 u Traditions of the Covenanters,” but was left out of 
 the new stereotyped edition, and we here give it with 
 certain modifications. It is a tradition which has long 
 floated in the district, and may be taken up by any one 
 who chooses to relate it. We have no reason to doubt 
 of its main accuracy. 
 
 One evening, as the story tells, during the hottest 
 time of persecution, two lonely men were tracing the 
 windings of the wild stream of the Wanlock. In pass- 
 ing over the trackless heath, they were guided in the 
 dusk to a solitary hut, from the window of which 
 gleamed a feeble light. This hut stood on a beautiful 
 green, near the junction of the moorland stream of 
 Spank with the river Crawick. When they arrived at 
 the cottage, they entered without ceremony; but had 
 they guessed the scene they w r ere to witness, it is likely 
 they would have passed, and risked the dangers of their 
 pathless route in the deepest shades of night. The man 
 
• THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 443 
 
 into whose house they entered was, it is said, an in- 
 former and an infamous spy. On this night, however, 
 he lay on his death-bed ; and a short time before the 
 strangers arrived, his wife, and those who happened to 
 be with her, supposed that he had been dead, for he lay 
 apparently cold and stiff like a corpse. To their amaze- 
 ment, however, he started up on the bed, and in a wild 
 and ghastly manner gazed around him. He appeared 
 to them to have risen from the dead, and they screamed, 
 and sprang toward the door. The feebleness of the 
 dying man, who had obviously awakened from a swoon, 
 prevented him from moving from his posture, and he 
 sat staring in a dreadful and desperate manner. It w 7 as, 
 as the story tells, exactly at this juncture that the two 
 men presented themselves on the floor of the cottage. 
 Their entrance seemed to give relief to the distracted 
 inmates, who were thankful to see a human face in their 
 distressful circumstances. The terrified wife welcomed 
 the strangers and claimed their assistance, stating that 
 her husband, who had died some time before their 
 arrival, had returned from the state of the dead, and 
 was now sitting on the bed in an ireful and threatening 
 attitude. One of the two men, it is said, was Drum- 
 lan rig’s steward, who himself was a very wicked man ; 
 and he looked with blank horror on the appalling ap- 
 parition before him, and felt as if a fiend from another 
 world were summoned to drag him down alive into the 
 place of perdition. 44 O pray,” cried the demented wife, 
 44 pray that my wretched husband maybe laid to rest 
 again.” 44 1 cannot pray,” said the steward, 44 I never 
 pray; but let us fall on our knees and repeat v r hat 
 words we can.” Having, in the terror of the moment, 
 uttered a few T incoherent sentences, he next drew his 
 sword, and pointing it with a tremulous hand to the 
 breast of the dying man, gently pushed him backwards 
 till he fell flat on the bed and expired. In a short time 
 the company was restored to something like composure. 
 The steward and his companion were induced to remain 
 all night in the hut. They interrogated the widow’ 
 
444 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 respecting her deceased husband, and found that his life 
 had been notoriously wicked, and that the state of his 
 mind in prospect of death was horrific. It appears 
 that conscience, armed with all its terrors, rose against 
 him, and filled him with the most dreadful apprehen- 
 sions of the wrath of God ; and in this state he had 
 continued till about the time that they had arrived, and 
 then expired. He lived persecuting the cause of Christ, 
 and practising all manner of iniquity ; and died in a 
 state of inexpressible misery. The terrors of his death- 
 bed bore testimony both to the wickedness of that cause 
 in which he was enlisted; and also to the reality of that 
 godliness which, when living, he could not endure. It 
 is not said what effect this scene had on the minds of 
 the steward and his companion ; it is to be hoped, how- 
 ever, that what they heard and witnessed w r as not alto- 
 gether lost, and that they would be enabled to read in 
 such a scene the divine disapprobation of a sinful life, 
 and the consequent necessity of forgiveness through the 
 Saviour. Such a consummation, we are told, was wit- 
 nessed in the case of one of the Drumlanrig family, who, 
 after the persecution in which he had had an eminent hand, 
 lived to repent and to return to the ways of godliness. 
 
 Such horrifying death-beds were permitted, in the 
 divine providence, in those times of persecuting cruelty 
 and treachery, for the purpose of calling the attention 
 of the community to the striking difference between the 
 deaths of the persecuted and those of their persecutors. 
 
 As this is a point of some importance, it may not be 
 amiss to add here a short account of Alison the informer, 
 whose death, as Wodrow remarks, made a great noise. 
 “ At this time,” (1674,) says the historian, u the death 
 of John Alison, chamberlain in Nithsdale to Queens- 
 berry, made a great noise. He had been an apostate 
 from the profession he had taken up before the Restora- 
 tion, and lived a bitter persecutor. His torment in 
 body made him roar; but he had a heavier torture in 
 his spirit for his bygone ways. He died in the greatest 
 agony and terror ; yet the living laid it not to heart, but 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 445 
 
 the persecution went on in its full vigour.” This is all 
 the notice the historian takes of him ; but the local 
 tradition is much more full and circumstantial. It 
 seems that, prior to the Restoration, this Alison was a 
 Covenanter ; but when Queensberry made him his 
 chamberlain and baron-bailie, he renounced his prin- 
 ciples, and all connection with his former friends. His 
 residence was at Thornhill, where there was a prison 
 and a council-chamber. It was he who ruined the 
 harmless laird of Enoch in Durisdeer by a base strata- 
 gem, and added his lands to Drumlanrig. But Alison’s 
 wicked career was drawing near its close. He was 
 seized by the grasp of a hand which he could not con- 
 trol, and death marked him for his prey. He had 
 come, it is said, to Drumlanrig on business, and was 
 there arrested by an incurable disease. His bodily pain 
 was extreme, and no medical skill was in the least 
 degree available. The sentence of death appeared to be 
 passed upon him, and its execution was hourly expected. 
 When he felt that death was dealing with him, and 
 that there was no hope of recovery, conscience, with all 
 its terrors, rose against him, and he was alarmed to dis- 
 traction with the fearful and incessant foreboding of an 
 instant and unavoidable damnation. His crimes, which 
 were of a deep dye, presented themselves in all their 
 aggravation to his terribly awakened mind. He rolled 
 on his bed in the agonies of despair, while the perspira- 
 tion in large drops burst from every pore of his body. 
 When those of his friends who could muster as much 
 courage as to approach his couch, endeavoured to say 
 any thing to soothe his mind, he turned wildly from 
 them, and, with an intense yell of agony, vociferated 
 that he was now suffering the torments of hell as the 
 due reward of his deeds ; and that it was in vain to 
 talk of mercy to him who had renounced his former 
 profession, and persecuted the people of God, malici- 
 ously fighting against the cause of the Redeemer, and 
 had, like Judas, betrayed the innocent blood. His 
 situation was both pitiable and horrifying. The sight 
 
446 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 of a sinful creature, on whose conscience there has 
 alighted a spark of fire from hell, tossed with mental 
 anguish, and racked with bodily torture, without a 
 moment’s intermission, and without the least ray of 
 hope, is indeed a spectacle enough to appal the stoutest 
 heart. "YVhat a dreadful evil is sin ! And how intoler- 
 able would be the situation of any person, if God in 
 judgment were to allow the mind to awaken to a full 
 sense of its guiltiness, without a concomitant view of 
 that blood which cleanseth from all sin. The least sin 
 deserves everlasting misery; and to what a fearful reck- 
 oning must all the thousands and the myriads of our 
 iniquities, great and small, expose us ! O how precious 
 is that atonement, on the sure ground of which all our 
 sins can be forgiven at once and for ever ! 
 
 The crimes of this poor unhappy man were indeed 
 great ; but, had he known it, there was salvation for the 
 chief of sinners. Of this, however, he was ignorant, or 
 at least would not believe it as it respected himself ; and 
 therefore he embraced despair instead of embracing the 
 great redemption. It appears that he continued several 
 days in this condition, reading a lesson by his sufferings 
 to all the persecutors and godless persons in the neigh- 
 bourhood, on the grievous danger of the course they 
 were pursuing. Death at last put an end to his suffer- 
 ings on earth ; but though he died, as Wodrow remarks, 
 “ in the greatest agony and terror, yet the living laid it 
 not to heart, but the persecution went on in its full 
 vigour.” The master in whose service he was employed 
 repented not of his deeds, but followed the same career 
 of injustice and cruelty as formerly. The circumstances 
 of his death made “ a great noise ” throughout the coun- 
 try; and were doubtless designed as a palpable display of 
 the divine displeasure of a wicked life. 
 
 What a vast difference is there between the righteous 
 and the wicked in their deaths ; not only as it regards 
 their respective states, but frequently as it regards their 
 views and experience at the moment. A godly man is 
 peaceful, but an impious man is wretched, unless when 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 447 
 
 he dies under a delusion or with a seared conscience. 
 Hence there is, among the many evidences that Chris- 
 tianity is from God, this proof, namely, the effects, 
 agreeable or disagreeable, which our obedience or dis- 
 obedience, in reference to its injunctions, produces on 
 the heart and conscience. If the Lord of the conscience 
 is not also the Author of Christianity, how comes it 
 that, when a man violates the precepts contained in the 
 book of Christianity, the Bible, he feels so ill at ease, 
 and dreads punishment from the hand of Him who made 
 him ? On the other hand, how comes it that when a 
 man conscientiously obeys the injunctions contained in 
 the holy Scriptures, he uniformly experiences so much 
 ease and peace of mind, if the commandment to which 
 he yields obedience does not emanate from the source 
 from which his own moral nature, in its unfallen state, 
 originally emanated ? Is not the comfort which a man 
 experiences in following the line of his duty as deline- 
 ated in the law of God, to be regarded as a token of the 
 divine approbation of his conduct ? and is not the dis- 
 quietude of mind which is consequent on disobedience, 
 in like manner to be regarded as a testimony of the 
 divine disapprobation ? If the Bible is not from the 
 God who made us , then it is not easy to see why the 
 misery or the happiness of our nature should be so 
 dependent, nay, altogether dependent, on our reception 
 or our rejection of the doctrines of a book which God 
 himself disavows. Let the infidel solve this difficulty if 
 he can. There is a homage paid to Christianity by that 
 terrific faith which wicked men sometimes exhibit on a 
 death-bed, as well as by that true peace and happiness 
 which flow in a full stream into the heart and conscience 
 of a believer, from an enlightened reception of the gospel 
 of Christ. Men may contrive, while in health and pros- 
 perity, to live, in the spiritual sense, without God in the 
 world ; but when they approach the eternal state, and 
 are forced to take a full and broad view of its realities, 
 they find that to be without God is to be miserable. 
 The design of the gospel is to make men happy, — happy 
 
448 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE DESERT. 
 
 not only hereafter, but even in this life, — by imparting 
 to them the peace of God in present possession, and by 
 animating them with the gladdening hope of a perfect 
 and endless felicity in the world to come. 
 
 It is said, that at the funeral of Alison, Drumlanrig 
 made the following remark over his grave : — “ If,” said 
 he, “ I had the services of the man who now lies there 
 only seven years more, I would possibly, by the end of 
 that period, be master of the greater part of all the fair 
 lands that lie between Corsincon and Caerlaverock.” 
 The preceding anecdotes display, in some measure, 
 the character of the persecutors, and unveil the base 
 principles by which they were actuated ; while, at the 
 same time, they afford a specimen of the wretchedness 
 of those who wander far from God, and who, either 
 from cruelty, or from hatred to the cause of truth, or 
 from a greed of gain, scruple not to imbrue their hands 
 in the blood of their fellow-men. u There is no peace 
 to the wicked ; they are like the troubled sea, whose 
 waters cast up mire and dirt.” 
 
 There are several other beautiful streams in this 
 neighbourhood that are worth the noticing, and all of 
 which have their own associations ; but then to notice 
 all these would lead us too far away from the main 
 object we have had in view in furnishing the Second 
 Part of this volume. There is one stream, however, at 
 which we may merely glance in conclusion ; and that is 
 the Water of Euchan, which falls into the Nith nearly 
 opposite the town of Sanquhar. This stream has its 
 source in the far moorlands, and in the times of perse- 
 cution there wonned on its banks many a pious family. 
 The households along the Euchan were often subjected 
 to the rude visitations of the troopers from the Castle of 
 Sanquhar, as has already been told in the u Traditions 
 of the Covenanters.” The foundations of those houses 
 in which so much worth once resided only remain, for 
 the valley is now swept of its inhabitants. It was on 
 the banks of this stream that he of Cruffel resided, the 
 sturdy Covenanter, whose history we have given else- 
 
THE CONVENTICLE HEARERS. 
 
 449 
 
 where. The Euchan is now chiefly of interest because 
 of its scenery, especially toward the lower part of its 
 course, for upwards of a mile before it falls into the 
 Nitli. The fine mineral well which has now been dis- 
 covered near the bottom of the stream, and within less 
 than a mile distant from the town of Sanquhar, makes 
 it interesting to strangers, not a few of whom have re- 
 ceived essential benefit from its salubrious spring.