Andrew Ayton, deeply overcome at sight of the old man’s sorrow, knelt with him on the sand, and prayed that He who had promised grace to help in every time of need might look down from his throne on high, and strengthen those about to go forth in defence of their Covenants. "O God of Battles," exclaimed the venerable stranger aloud, in the fervour of his devotion, "behold and visit us in our affliction; stretch out thy right hand and save us from the dangers which threaten us, that a remnant may be saved to worship thee according to the ways of our fathers. O heavenly Father, the mighty ones of the earth are arrayed against us, but if thou, our Father, art with us, what have we to fear from the hate and malice of our enemies." The petitioner then went on to pray for those appointed to suffer martyrdom in the cause of their religion, that their faith might be strengthened in the last hours of their sojourn on earth, that no tortures inflicted on them by their merciless persecutors might have the power of inducing them in their agony to yield up their glorious privileges; that those ministers unjustly deprived of their churches might be enabled to preach the blessed doctrine of salvation with comfort and edification to those who hungered and thirsted after the truths of the gospel amongst the mountains and valleys of Scotland; and that the Almighty would be graciously pleased to hear the prayers and petitions of his children. Towards the conclusion of his supplication, he besought the blessing of the Lord on the head of him who had so recently become a convert to Protestantism—that he might long be spared to labour in the Lord’s vineyard, and his hands be strengthened for the work he had yet to perform; but if the Almighty, in his wisdom, was pleased to remove him from thence in the spring-time of life, that there might be laid up for him a crown of glory, such as is promised to those who have fought the good fight. Thus prayed the venerable stranger; and it was an affecting sight to view the grey-haired soldier of the cross, who had grown aged in the battles of the Lord, and the golden-haired youth, who had newly donned his armour for the fight, kneeling side by side on the solitary shore, with no ear to hearken to the voice of their petition, save His to whom all hearts are open—all desires known; and no sound to disturb the tenor of their thoughts save the wild roar of ocean, as it rolled along, obedient to the commands of its creator—"Thus far shalt thou come and no farther." "By what name shall I for the future address one with whom I have become so singularly acquainted?" inquired the stranger on rising from his kneeling posture. "I am Andrew Ayton; and you?" "Am styled Walter Denoon."