The persecutors, heartless as the rocks and frigid as the iceberg, had equal disregard for the rights of men, the delicacy of women, and the innocency of children.  A few incidents will show the general conditions.  Nor are these exceptional cases; thousands, yea, tens of thousands suffered in like manner.

[Illustration:  The Howie home, Lochgoin.

The house is located in one of Scotland’s solitudes.  Here the Howies have lived for 28 successive generations, keeping the altar fire burning since 1178.  The present house is modern, bearing the date 1858; John Howie, the present occupant, (1912), is the 28th lineal descendant of one of the first settlers.  We had the pleasure of meeting this genial Scotchman in his meadow, as he was making hay one fine August day.  He immediately laid his fork aside, and brought us to his house, where we were deeply interested in a fine collection of souvenirs of the martyrs and their times.]

A Home at Lochgoin.  This is a very ancient residence of the Covenanters.  The Howies have lived here since 1178, the twenty-eighth generation now occupying the house.  The building is stone, one story high, with a loft.  While the persecution raged, this was a chief resort of the Covenanters.  Occupying a solitary place, with a vast out-stretch of waste moorland on every side, this house was like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land:  the pursued often found shelter under its roof.  Hither Peden, Cameron, Renwick, Paton, and many others repaired, and found a cordial welcome.  On one occasion a group had come to spend the night in prayer.  They felt comparatively secure, because a storm was raging over the moor.  The clouds were pouring down torrents, and the fitful gusts were playing wildly across the broad expanse of moss and heather.  These men of God knew how to wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and betimes continued their prayers till the break of day.  The pursuers had scented their game; in the morning a detachment of cavalry rode up to the house.  The Covenanters escaped through the back door.  To give them more time, Mrs. Howie stood in front of the soldiers, and disputed their entrance into the house.  A burly dragoon attempted to push in.  She grappled him by the shoulder, whirled him about, and shoved him out with such force that he fell to the ground.  Her Covenanted guests all escaped, and the soldiers, after a fruitless pursuit, withdrew.  For this heroic service Mrs. Howie suffered much and her life was sought.  Often she had to leave her home, and spend whole nights in the cold, damp moor, with a tender babe on her breast.