The daring exploits of Steenie and Robert drew upon them blessings from their friends but curses from their enemies. They were obliged again to exercise the greatest care to hide themselves from the armed bands that Claverhouse sent in every direction to hunt to the death all that had escaped from Bothwell Bridge. We risked our lives in giving them comforts, for the persecutors, enraged that any had escaped, took measures to punish most severely those who should succor friend or stranger. Some of our own acquaintances suffered death by lingering torture for no other offence. Can my readers imagine the feelings of a mother, a wife, or a sister, who, knowing her loved ones were suffering, scarcely dared give them food, or even speak to them?
As a rule, those who were true to the good cause were dear to each other. But some, I am grieved to say, had a "zeal that was not according to knowledge." They had suffered so much that they were nearly demented. They would not listen to reason, even when counselled by their best friends; and they did rash deeds that made things worse for us all.
And now I have a sad tale to tell. I would it were the only one of its kind!
Few were more zealous in every good work than Rev. Hugh McAdam. He counted not his life dear to him, but cheerfully risked it in works of love and mercy. He sought out the wanderers, carried them food and clothing, prayed with them, and exhorted them to steadfastness in the holy cause. When we thought it safe, we gathered on a lone moor and he broke the bread of life to our famishing souls.
He and his sweet daughter Janet were loved by all our suffering people; yet it was the sorrowful lot of many of us to see him shot down at a conventicle, in the presence of his daughter, and while the words of Christian counsel were yet on his lips. Though death lurked in every corner, and similar scenes were not new to many of us, few deaths caused so universal sorrow in our neighborhood.
Orders to disperse were unnecessary. The men seized their arms and prepared to defend the retreating assembly; but the dragoons, few in number, galloped quickly away having done the foul deed. The little band, that had met with so much hope and confidence, returned sad and dispirited to their homes. The body of the beloved minister was borne with us from the field, and Bessie McDougal took the orphaned daughter home with her.
When I reached home I found that some one had already told mother the dreadful news. She met me at the door. "Alas! alas!" she exclaimed, "what is to become of the sheep when so many of the shepherds are taen awa?"
"There is still the great Shepherd of Israel," answered I. "When the right time comes, he will gird himself with might and deliver his flock."
"Oh, ay, my bairn, I maunna forget that; but trouble has been my portion so long that both heart and flesh quake and quail under every new sorrow. But I am glad you can aye have sae muckle faith."
Dear mother! She little knew with what sickness of heart I turned to my duties. Again and again the face of the dead as I had seen it in the morning came before me. His silvered locks were matted with gore, despoiling of its comeliness the face on which age had sat with so winsome a grace.