During the discussion of these viands, (and, maybe, a wee drap of Highland whisky made into warm todd,) John Brown and I became exceedingly well acquainted. He had occupied his present office for upwards of forty years, was an enthusiast about the Covenanters, and possessed, in fact, some written documents on the subject, which he promised to shew me. He was a lineal descendant, he informed me, of the famous Thomas Brown, who suffered, along with John Waddel, Andrew Sword, John Clide, and James Wood, on Magus Muir. The documents, as I afterwards found, were nothing more nor less than some scattered and pencilled notices by one John Govan, in the parish of Kirkliston, of his share in the affair of Bothwell Brig, and his sufferings in consequence thereof. I shall avail myself partially of these pencillings, in the following narrative:-- "O Lord, thy mercies are manifold! Thou wilt not desert thine ancient inheritance--thy puir, suffering, persecuted remnant. O Lord! thou wilt, and thou _must_ stand by thy servants, godly Hamilton, and Cargill, and Rathillet, and by us and our cause--which, guid Lord, is, after all, thine own--in this awful day. I see the Duke's men on the hill-side opposite. They are now, even now, making downwards towards the bridge. They have opened their guns. I must up and do my duty. Lord, stand by the righteous!" The battle, as is here anticipated, began; and (owing to the sad divisions in the camp of the nonconformists) was won by the Duke of Buccleuch and Monmouth, almost without any resistance. Notwithstanding the humane exertions of the Duke--owing to the sanguinary revenge of Clavers in particular--the slaughter after the battle, in what may be termed the wantonness of cruelty, was very great indeed. The next extract from Govan's diary, confirms this historical truth:-- "And thou, O Lord, hast yet more work to do for poor John Govan. But poor Samuel Logan lies dead in the next field there--I saw him run when I fell into a ditch, and just lay still; but the destroyer was hard behind him. Sam _darned_ at last in a corn-field; and there I saw him shot through the head by that terrible Clavers. He did not give him an instant to make his peace wi' his Maker. O Lord! wherefore is it thus with thy Zion? But it belongs not to poor John Govan to find fault wi' sic a Master--thy ways are not as our ways, nor thy thoughts as ours."