his crew, after godly Mr. Cargill had
delivered them over to Satan.

It was Sandy, my brother, that was the eye-witness of the affair. He was
ever of the extreme opinion--as my mother used often to say, "Our Sandy
was either in the moon or the midden"--but in my judgment oftenest in
the latter.

Yet I will never deny that he has had a great deal of experience, though
I would rather want than have some of it. Now at this time, Sandy,
perhaps by means of his wife, Jean Hamilton (who, like her brother
Robert, was just inordinate for preachings and prophesyings), was much
inclined to kick over the traces, and betake himself to the wilder
extremes that were much handled by our enemies for the purpose of
bringing discredit on the good name of the Covenants.

There was one great hulking sailor of Borrowstounness that was specially
afflicted with these visions and maunderings. Nothing but his own crazy
will in all things could satisfy him. He withdrew himself into the waste
with two or three men and a great company of feeble-minded women, and
there renounced all authority and issued proclamations of the wildest
and maddest kinds.

The godly and devout Mr. Donald Cargill (as he was called, for his real
name was Duncan) was much exercised about the matter. And finding
himself in the neighbourhood to which these people had betaken
themselves, he spared no pains, but with much and sore foot-travel he
found them out, and entered into conference with them. But John Gib, who
could be upon occasion a most faceable and plausible person, persuaded
him to abide with them for a night. Which accordingly he did, but having
wrestled with them in prayer and communing half the night, and making
nothing of them, presently he rose and went out into the fields most
unhappy. So after long wandering he came homeward, having failed in his
mission. Then it was that he told the matter to old Anton Lennox, who
had come from Galloway to attend the great Society's Meeting at Howmuir.
With him at the time was my brother Sandy, and here it is that Sandy's
story was used to commence.

And of all Sandy's stories it was the one I liked best, because there
was the least chance of his having anything about himself to tell.

"I mind the day"--so he began--"a fine heartsome harvest day in
mid-September. We had our crop in early that year, and Anton, my father
and I, had gotten awa' betimes to the Societies' meeting at Lesmahagow.
It was in the earliest day