of my brother Jacob, by whose
instrumentality I thought we might hear where the Cameronians then were.
For, although I approved not of their separation from the general
presbyterian kirk of Scotland, nor was altogether content with their
declaration published at Sanquhar, there was yet one clause which, to
my spirit, impoverished of all hope, was as food and raiment; and that
there may be no perversion concerning the same in after times, I shall
here set down the words of the clause, and the words are these:--

"Although we be for government and governors such as the Word of God and
our Covenant allows, yet we for ourselves, and all that will adhere to
us, do, by thir presents, disown Charles Stuart, that has been reigning
(or rather tyrannizing as we may say) on the throne of Britain these
years bygone, as having any right or title to, or interest in, the crown
of Scotland for government, he having forfeited the same several years
since by his perjury and breach of Covenant both to God and His kirk;"
and further, I did approve of those passages wherein it was declared,
that he "should have been denuded of being king, ruler, or magistrate,
or having any power to act or to be obeyed as such:" as also, "we being
under the standard of our Lord Jesus Christ, Captain of Salvation, do
declare a war with such a tyrant and usurper, and all the men of his
practices, as enemies to our Lord."

Accordingly, on hearing that the excommunicated and suffering society of
the Cameronians were so near, I resolved, on receiving the soldier's
information, and on account of that recited clause of the Sanquhar
declaration, to league myself with them, and to fight in their avenging
battles; for, like me, they had endured irremediable wrongs, injustice,
and oppressions, from the persecutors, and for that cause had, like me,
abjured the doomed and papistical race of the tyrannical Stuarts. With
my son, therefore, I went toward Kilmarnock, in the hope and with the
intent expressed; and though the road was five long miles, and though I
had not spoken more to him all day, nor for days, and weeks, and months
before, than I have set down herein, we yet continued to travel in
silence.

The night was bleak, and the wind easterly, but the road was dry, and my
thoughts were eager; and we hastened onward, and reached the widow's
door, without the interchange of a word in all the way.

"Wha do ye want?" said my son, "for naebody hae lived here since the