John Brown of Priesthill

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John Brown's last words:

Priesthill was ransacked and so-called treasonable papers were found. Brown was questioned. His stammering disappeared, and he answered every question so solidly and distinctly that Claverhouse asked his base guides if ever they had heard him preach. 'No, no,' they said,' he was never a preacher.' 'Well,' said he, 'if he has never preached, much has he prayed in his time. Go to your prayers,' he shouted, 'for you shall immediately die.' The peasant went to his knees and began to pray, but three times Claverhouse interrupted him, and then completely stopped him as John Brown interceded, asking God to spare a remnant. 'I gave you leave to pray,' he bawled ,'and you have begun to preach.' The Covenanter turned upon his knees, 'Sir,' he said, 'you know neither the nature of preaching nor praying that calls this preaching,' and, looking to God, finished his last prayer. 'Take good-bye of your wife and children,' said 'the pitiful creature,' Bonnie Dundee - the Ugly, man of blood. Isabel Brown was standing by with her child in her arms, and another child of John Brown's first wife by her side. He came to her saying, 'Now, Isabel, the day is come that I told you would come when I spoke to you first of marrying me.' She said, 'Indeed, John, I can willingly part with you.' 'That is all I desire,' he replied. 'I have no more to do but to die. I have been in happy case to meet with death for so many years.' He kissed her and his children, saying that he wished Blood-bought and Gospel promised blessings to be multiplied upon them, and Claverhouse roughly broke in, ordering six dragoons to shoot him. As he stood before them their hearts were moved; they lowered their muskets and refused to fire. But the killer of many unbelted his pistol, and hastily walking up to John Brown, placed it to his head, and blew his brains out, scattering them upon the ground. Looking at his ghastly work with a sardonic smile, he turned to Isabel saying, 'What do you think of your fine husband now'? and through her sad tears she bravely answered, 'I ever thought much good of him, and more than ever now.' 'It were but justice to lay you beside him,' he returned. Said she, 'If you were permitted, I doubt not but your cruelty would go that length. But then, how will ye answer to God for this morning's work' Arrogantly, he blustered, 'To man I can be answerable. And as for God, I shall take Him into my own hand!' He then mounted his horse and haughtily rode of at the head of his troops. He later confessed that if he gave himself liberty to think of it, he could forget John Brown's prayer.

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