ed wi' my very devotions. But I maun root it up, though, in so
doing, I tear my very heart-strings. Fareweel!--fareweel! Peace be wi'
you--and may ye be a' happier than will ever be the earthly lot o'
Andrew Duncan!"

The tears fell upon Mary's cheeks; for, though she could not love, she
respected the preacher, and she esteemed him for his worth. Her father
and brother entreated him to accompany them. "No! no!" he answered; "I
see how this flight will end. Go--there is happiness in store for you;
but my portion is with the dispersed and the persecuted." And he turned
and left them.

Lieutenant Mowbray was disgusted with the cold-blooded butchery of the
service in which he was engaged; and, a few days after the escape of
John Brydone and his son, he threw up his commission, and proceeded to
Dumfriesshire. It was a Sabbath evening, and near nightfall; he had
wandered into the fields alone, for his spirit was heavy. Sounds of rude
laughter broke upon his ear; and, mingled with the sound of mirth, was a
voice as if in earnest prayer. He hurried to a small wood from whence
the sounds proceeded, and there he beheld four troopers, with their
pistols in their hands, and before them was a man, who appeared to be
a preacher, bound to a tree.

"Come, old Psalmody!" cried one of the troopers, raising his pistol, and
addressing their intended victim, who was engaged in prayer; "make
ready--we have other jobs on hand--and we gave you time to speak a
prayer, but not to preach."

Mowbray rushed forward. He sprang between the troopers and their victim.
"Hold! ye murderers, hold!" he exclaimed. "Is it thus that ye disgrace
the name of soldiers by washing your hands in the blood of the
innocent?"

They knew Mowbray, and they muttered, "You are no officer of ours now;
he is our prisoner, and our orders ere to shoot every conventicle knave
who falls into our hands."

"Shame on him who would give such orders!" said Mowbray; "and shame on
those who would execute them! There," added he, "there is money! I will
ransom him."

With an imprecation, they took the money that was offered them, and left
their prisoner to Mowbray. He approached the tree where they had bound
him--he started back--it was the Rev. Andrew Duncan!

"Rash man!" exclaimed Mowbray, as he again stepped forward to unloose
the cords that bound him. "Why have ye again cast yourself into the
hands of the men who seek your blood? Do you hold your life so cheap,
that, in o