be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen
thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand
of my righteousness." With such assuring words, they fell asleep in each
other's arms, their heads resting on the bosom of Christ's everlasting
love. The sun arose, and they, wandering on, found the Covenanters, with
whom they shared the privations, yea, also the consolations, of
persecuted life.

Having heard that King Charles was dead, the two sisters supposed that
the persecution had abated, and ventured to the house of Margaret
McLaughlan, an old faithful friend. Here they were discovered and
arrested; and, with this aged widow, were cast into prison. Agnes was
ransomed by her father, at a price equal to $500. The two Margarets were
sentenced to die. The manner of their death was peculiar and very
shocking.

On May 11, 1685, they were taken to the sea-shore to be drowned. While
the tide was low two stakes were driven deep into the oozy sand, one
close to the water, the other nearer the shore. To the first Margaret
McLaughlin was bound; to the second, Margaret Wilson. The shore was
crowded with people. Major Windram, with his troop, had charge of the
execution. This man himself like Gilbert Wilson had two daughters and a
son. They, too, like the Wilson children, had become aroused at the
deeds of blood, and remonstrated with their father against his atrocious
cruelty, in persecuting the Covenanters. One after another they had
sickened and died, each charging their death on him, as God's vengeance
upon his deeds. This man, after all his bitter experience, was hard
enough to watch these women die beneath the briny waves, and show them
no pity. The tide slowly recovered its strength; higher and higher it
arose around the more distant woman--up to her face--over her head--then
a death-struggle. "What think you now of your companion?" said a soldier
to the young maiden, as the head of the aged martyr rose and fell on the
waves. "What do I see but Christ, in one of His members, wrestling
there," she calmly replied. "Think you that we are the sufferers? No, it
is Christ in us; for He sends none a warfaring on their own charges."
The tide crept up upon this second martyr like the death-chill, but her
heart was strong and fearless in the Lord. Her voice arose sweetly above
the swash of the waves, reciting Scripture, pouring forth prayer, and
singing Psalms. The tide swelled around her bosom, ascended