When good old Cargill was martyred, a handsome fair young man was looking on in profound sorrow and pity. He was a youth of great moral power, and with a large heart. His name was James Renwick. From that hour this youth cast in his lot with the persecuted wanderers, and, after the martyrdom of Cameron and Cargill, and the death of Welsh, he was left almost alone to manage their affairs. The “Strict Covenanters” had by this time formed themselves into societies for prayer and conference, and held quarterly district meetings in sequestered places, with a regular system of correspondence—thus secretly forming an organised body, which has continued down to modern times.
It was while this young servant of God—having picked up the mantle which Cargill dropped—was toiling and wandering among the mountains, morasses, and caves of the west, that a troop of dragoons was seen, one May morning, galloping over the same region “on duty.” They swept over hill and dale with the dash and rattle of men in all the pride of youth and strength and the panoply of war. They were hasting, however, not to the battlefield but to the field of agriculture, there to imbrue their hands in the blood of the unarmed and the helpless.
At the head of the band rode the valiant Graham of Claverhouse. Most people at that time knew him as the “bloody Clavers,” but as we look at the gay cavalier with his waving plume, martial bearing, beautiful countenance, and magnificent steed, we are tempted to ask, “Has there not been some mistake here?” Some have thought so. One or two literary men, who might have known better, have even said so, and attempted to defend their position!
“Methinks this is our quarry, Glendinning,” said Claverhouse, drawing rein as they approached a small cottage, near to which a man was seen at work with a spade.
“Yes—that’s John Brown of Priesthill,” said the sergeant.
“You know the pestilent fanatic well, I suppose?”
“Ay. He gets the name o’ being a man of eminent godliness,” answered the sergeant in a mocking tone; “and is even credited with having started a Sabbath-school!”
John Brown, known as the “Christian carrier,” truly was what Glendinning had sneeringly described him. On seeing the cavalcade approach he guessed, no doubt, that his last hour had come, for many a time had he committed the sin of succouring the outlawed Covenanters, and he had stoutly refused to attend the ministry of the worthless curate George Lawless. Indeed it was the information conveyed to Government by that reverend gentleman that had brought Claverhouse down upon the unfortunate man.
The dragoons ordered him to proceed to the front of his house, where his wife was standing with one child in her arms and another by her side. The usual ensnaring questions as to the supremacy of the King, etcetera, were put to him, and the answers being unsatisfactory, Claverhouse ordered him to say his prayers and prepare for immediate death. Brown knew that there was no appeal. All Scotland was well aware by that time that soldiers were empowered to act the part of judge, jury, witness, and executioner, and had become accustomed to it. The poor man obeyed. He knelt down and prayed in such a strain that even the troopers, it is said, were impressed—at all events, their subsequent conduct would seem to countenance this belief. Their commander, however, was not much affected, for he thrice interrupted his victim, telling him that he had “given him time to pray, but not to preach.”
“Sir,” returned Brown, “ye know neither the nature of preaching nor praying if ye call this preaching.”