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The Autobiography of Dr. Alexander Carlyle of Inveresk
Chapter III - 1743-1745 AGE, 21-23


IN November 1743 I went to Glasgow, much more opportunely than I should have done the preceding year, for the old Professor of Divinity, Mr. Potter, who had been a very short while there, died in the week I went to College ; and his chair, being in the gift of the University, was immediately filled by Mr. William Leechman, a neighbouring clergyman, a person thoroughly well qualified for the office, of which he gave the most satisfactory proof for a great many years that he continued Professor of Theology, which was till the death of Principal Neil Campbell [Mr. Neil Campbell was minister of Roseneath, and through Argyll influence was appointed Principal of Glasgow University in 1728 in succession to Principal Stirling. He died in 1761.] raised him to the head of the University. He was a distinguished preacher, and was followed when he was occasionally in Edinburgh. His appearance was that of an ascetic, reduced by fasting and prayer; but in aid of fine composition, he delivered his sermons with such fervent spirit, and in so persuasive a manner, as captivated every audience. [A portrait of Leechman, from a painting by W. Millar, very characteristic, and in harmony with this description, is prefixed to an edition of his Sermons: London, 2 vols. 8vo, 1789.—J. H. B.] This was so much the case that his admirers regretted that he should be withdrawn from the pulpit, for the Professor of Theology has no charge in Glasgow, and preaches only occasionally. It was much for the good of the Church, however, that he was raised to a station of more extensive usefulness; for while his interesting manner drew the steady attention of the students, the judicious choice and arrangement of his matter formed the most instructive set of lectures on theology that had, it was thought, ever been delivered in Scotland. It was, no doubt, owing to him and his friend and colleague Mr. Hutcheson, Professor of Moral Philosophy, that a better taste and greater liberality of sentiment were introduced among the clergy in the western provinces of Scotland.

Able as this gentleman was, however, and highly unexceptionable not only in morals but in decorum of behaviour, he was not allowed to ascend his chair without much opposition, and even a prosecution for heresy. Invulnerable as he seemed to be, the keen and prying eye of fanaticism discovered a weak place, to which they directed their attacks. There had been published at Glasgow, or in the neighbourhood of Dr. Leechman's church, in the country, before he came to Glasgow, about that period, a small pamphlet against the use of prayer, which had circulated amongst the inferior ranks, and had made no small impression, being artfully composed. To counteract this poison Leechman had composed and published his sermon on the nature, reasonableness, and advantages of prayer; with an attempt to answer the objections against it, from Matthew, xxvi. 41. In this sermon, though admirably well composed, in defence of prayer as a duty of natural religion, the author had forgot, or omitted to state, the obligations on Christians to pray in the name of Christ. The nature of his subject did not lead him to state this part of a Christian's prayer, and perhaps he thought that the inserting anything relative to that point might disgust or lessen the curiosity of those for whose conviction he had published the sermon. The fanatical or high-flying clergy in the presbytery of Glasgow took advantage of this omission, and instituted an inquiry into the heresy contained in this sermon by omission, which lasted with much theological acrimony on the part of the inquirers (who were chiefly those who had encouraged Cambuslang's work, as it was called, two years before), till it was finally settled in favour of the Professor by the General Assembly 1744. [Cambuslang's Work: Revivals in the Parish of Cambuslang in Lanarkshire in the year 1742. They were the occasion of abundant controversy ; but the fullest account of them will be found in Narrative of the extraordinary Work of the Spirit of God at Cambustang, Kilsyth, etc., written by Mr. James Robe and others.—J. H. B.] Instead of raising any anxiety among the students in theology, or creating any suspicion of Dr. Leechman's orthodoxy, this fit of zeal against him tended much to spread and establish his superior character.

I attended Hutcheson's class this year with great satisfaction and improvement. He was a good-looking man, of an engaging countenance. He delivered his lectures without notes, walking backwards and forwards in the area of his room. As his elocution was good, and his voice and manner pleasing, he raised the attention of his hearers at all times ; and when the subject led him to explain and enforce the moral virtues and duties, he displayed a fervent and persuasive eloquence which was irresistible. Besides the lectures he gave through the week, he, every Sunday at six o'clock, opened his class-room to whoever chose to attend, when he delivered a set of lectures on Grotius de veritctte Religionis Christiance, which, though learned and ingenious, were adapted to every capacity; for on that evening he expected to be attended, not only by students, but by many of the people of the city; and he was not disappointed, for this free lecture always drew crowds of attendants.

Besides Hutcheson and Leechman, there were at that period several eminent professors in that university; particularly Mr. Robert Simson, the great mathematician, and Mr. Alexander Dunlop, the Professor of Greek. The last, besides his eminence as a Greek scholar, was distinguished by his strong good sense and capacity for business; and being a man of a leading mind, was supposed, with the aid of Hutcheson, to direct and manage all the affairs of the University (for it is a wealthy corporation, and has much business), besides the charge of presiding over literature, and maintaining the discipline of the College.

One difference I remarked between this University and that of Edinburgh, where I had been bred, which was, that although at that time there appeared to be a marked superiority in the best scholars and most diligent students of Edinburgh, yet in Glasgow, learning seemed to be an object of more importance, and the habit of application was much more general. Besides the instruction I received from Drs. Hutcheson and Leechman, I derived much pleasure, as well as enlargement of skill in the Greek language, from Mr. Dunlop's translations and criticisms of the great tragic writers in that language. I likewise attended the Professor of Hebrew, a Mr. Morthland, [Mr. Charles Morthland was appointed to the chair of Oriental languages in 1709, and held it till his death in 1744.] who was master of his business. I had neglected that branch in Edinburgh, the professor being then superannuated.

In the second week I was in Glasgow I went to the dancing assembly with some of my new acquaintance, and was there introduced to a married lady who claimed kindred with me, her mother's name being Carlyle, of the Limekiln family. She carried me home to sup with her that night, with a brother of hers, two years younger than me, and some other young people. This was the commencement of an intimate friendship that lasted during the whole of the lady's life, which was four or five and twenty years. She was connected with all the best families in Glasgow and the country round. Her husband was a good sort of man, and very opulent; and as they had no children, he took pleasure in her exercising a genteel hospitality. I became acquainted with all the best families in the town by this lady's means; and by a letter I had procured from my friend James Edgar, afterwards a Commissioner of the Customs, I also soon became well acquainted with all the young ladies who lived in the College. He had studied law the preceding year at Glasgow, under Professor Hercules Lindsay, [Professor Hercules Lindsay was the first Professor of Law to deliver Iectures on the Institutes of Justinian in English.] at that time of some note. On asking him for a letter of introduction to some one of his companions, he gave me one to Miss Mally Campbell, the daughter of the Principal; and when I seemed surprised at his choice, he added that I would find her not only more beautiful than any woman there, but more sensible and friendly than all the professors put together, and much more useful to me. This I found to be literally true.

The city of Glasgow at this time, though very industrious, wealthy, and commercial, was far inferior to what it afterwards became, ["In a word, 'tis one of the cleanest, most beautiful, and best built cities in Great Britain."—Defoe's Tour, 1727. "Glasgow is, to outward appearance, the prettiest and most uniform town that I have ever seen, and I believe there is nothing like it in Britain."—Burt's Letters from the North of Scotland (published 1754).] both before and after the failure of the Virginia trade. The modes of life, too, and manners, were different from what they are at present. Their chief branches were the tobacco trade with the American colonies; ["The tobacco lords distinguished themselves by a particular dress, like their Venetian and Genovese predecessors, in scarlet cloaks, curled wigs, cocked hats, and bearing gold-headed canes." —Strang's Glasgow and its Clubs.] and sugar and rum with the West India. There were not manufacturers sufficient, either there or at Paisley, to supply an outward-bound cargo for Virginia. For this purpose they were obliged to have recourse to Manchester. Manufactures were in their infancy. About this time the inkle manufactory [Inkle manufacture was introduced in 1732 by Mr. Alexander Harvey, who brought over from Haarlem two looms and a Dutch workman.] was first begun by Ingram & Glasford, [Messrs. Ingram started the first calico print-field at Pollockshaws about 1742.] and was shown to strangers as a great curiosity. But the merchants had industry and stock, and the habits of business, and were ready to seize with eagerness, and prosecute with vigour, every new object in commerce or manufactures that promised success.

Few of them could be called learned merchants; yet there was a weekly club, of which a Provost Cochrane was the founder and a leading member, in which their express design was to inquire into the nature and principles of trade in all its branches, and to communicate their knowledge and views on that subject to each other. I was not acquainted with Provost Cochrane at this time, but I observed that the members of this society had the highest admiration of his knowledge and talents. I became well acquainted with him twenty years afterwards, when Drs. Smith and Wight were members of the club, and was made sensible that too much could not be said of his accurate and extensive knowledge, of his agreeable manners, and colloquial eloquence. Dr. Smith acknowledged his obligations to this gentleman's information, when he was collecting materials for his Wealth of Nations ; and the junior merchants who have flourished since his time, and extended their commerce far beyond what was then dreamt of, confess, with respectful remembrance, that it was Andrew Cochrane who first opened and enlarged their views. [For information regarding Cochrane, Simson, and the other Glasgow celebrities mentioned in this chapter, the reader is referred to Glasgow and its Clubs, by Dr. Strang, and to the Cochrane Correspondence, printed in 1836 for the Maitland Club.]

It was not long before I was well established in close intimacy with many of my fellow-students, and soon felt the superiority of an education in the College of Edinburgh ; not in point of knowledge, or acquirements in the languages or sciences, but in knowledge of the world, and a certain manner and address that can only be attained in the capital. It must be confessed that at this time they were far behind in Glasgow, not only in their manner of living, but in those accomplishments and that taste that belong to people of opulence, much more to persons of education. There were only a few families of ancient citizens who pretended to be gentlemen; and a few others, who were recent settlers there, who had obtained wealth and consideration in trade. The rest were shopkeepers and mechanics, or successful pedlars, who occupied large warerooms full of manufactures of all sorts, to furnish a cargo to Virginia. It was usual for the sons of merchants to attend the College for one or two years, and a few of them completed their academical education. In this respect the females were still worse off, for at that period there was neither a teacher of French nor of music in the town. The consequence of this was twofold; first, the young ladies were entirely without accomplishments, and in general had nothing to recommend them but good looks and fine clothes, for their manners were ungainly. Secondly, the few who were distinguished drew all the young men of sense and taste about them ; for, being void of frivolous accomplishments, which in some respects make all women equal, they trusted only to superior understanding and wit, to natural elegance and unaffected manners.

There never was but one concert during the two winters I was at Glasgow, and that was given by Walter Scott, Esq. of Harden, who was himself an eminent performer on the violin; and his band of assistants consisted of two dancing-school fiddlers and the town-waits.

The manner of living, too, at this time, was but coarse and vulgar. Very few of the wealthiest gave dinners to anybody but English riders, or their own relations at Christmas holidays. There were not half-a-dozen families in town who had men-servants; some of those were kept by the professors who had boarders. There were neither post-chaises nor hackney-coaches in the town, and only three or four sedan-chairs for carrying midwives about in the night, and old ladies to church, or to the dancing assemblies once a-fortnight.

The principal merchants, fatigued with the morning's business, took an early dinner with their families at home, and then resorted to the coffeehouse or tavern to read the newspapers, which they generally did in companies of four or five in separate rooms, over a bottle of claret or a bowl of punch. But they never stayed supper, but always went home by nine o'clock, without company or further amusement. At last an arch fellow from Dublin, a Mr. Cockaine, came to be master of the chief coffeehouse, who seduced them gradually to stay supper by placing a few nice cold things at first on the table, as relishers to the wine, till he gradually led them on to bespeak fine hot suppers, and to remain till midnight.

There was an order of women at that time in Glasgow, who, being either young widows not wealthy, or young women unprovided for, were set up in small grocery-shops in various parts of the town, and generally were protected and countenanced by some creditable merchant. In their back shops much time and money were consumed; for it being customary then to drink drams and white wine in the forenoon, the tipplers resorted much to those shops, where there were bedrooms; and the patron, with his friends, frequently passed the evening there also, as taverns were not frequented by persons who affected characters of strict decency.

I was admitted a member of two clubs, one entirely literary, which was held in the porter's lodge at the College, and where we criticised books and wrote abridgements of them, with critical essays ; and to this society we submitted the discourses which we were to deliver in the Divinity Hall in our turns, when we were appointed by the professor. The other club met in Mr. Dugald's tavern near the Cross, weekly, and admitted a mixture of young gentlemen, who were not intended for the study of theology. There met there John Bradefoot, afterwards minister of Dun-sire; James Leslie, of Kilmarnock; John Robertson, of Dunblane; James Hamilton, of Paisley; and Robert Lawson, of London Wall. There also came some young merchants, such as Robin Bogle, my relation; James and George Anderson, William Sellar and Robin Craig. Here we drank a little punch after our beefsteaks and pancakes, and the expense never exceeded is. 6d., seldom is.

Our conversation was almost entirely literary and we were of such good fame, that some ministers of the neighbourhood, when occasionally in Glasgow, frequented our club. Hyndman had been twice introduced by members; and being at that time passing his trials as a probationer before that presbytery in which his native town of Greenock lay, he had become well acquainted with Mr. Robert Paton, minister of Renfrew, who, though a man well accomplished and of liberal sentiments, was too much a man of worth and principle not to be offended by licentious manners in students of divinity. Hyndman, by way of gaining favour with this man, took occasion to hint to him to advise his nephew, Robert Lawson, not to frequent our club, as it admitted and encouraged conversation not suitable to the profession we were to follow. He mentioned two instances, one of which Lawson said was false, and the other disguised by exaggeration. Lawson, who was a lad of pure morals, told me this; and as the best antidote to this injurious impression, which had been made chiefly against me, I begged him to let his uncle know that I would accept of the invitation he had given through him, to pass a night or two with him at Renfrew. We accordingly went next Saturday, and met with a gracious reception, and stayed all next day and heard him preach, at which he was thought to excel (though he was almost the only person who read in those days, in which he truly excelled) ; and being a very handsome man, his delivery much enhanced the value of his composition. We heard him read another sermon at night in his study, with much satisfaction, as he told us it was one of his best, and was a good model; to this we respectfully assented, and the good man was pleased. When we took leave on Monday morning, he politely requested another visit, and said to me, with a smile, he was now fortified against talebearers. These societies contributed much to our improvement ; and as moderation and early hours were inviolable rules of both institutions, they served to open and enlarge our minds.

Towards the end of the session, however, I was introduced to a club which gave me much more satisfaction—I mean that of Mr. Robert Simson, [Dr. Robert Simson was born in 1689 at Kirktonhall, Ayrshire, and was elected to the chair of Mathematics in Glasgow University in 1711. He died in 1768.] the celebrated Professor of Mathematics. Mr. Robert Dick, Professor of Natural Philosophy, an old friend of my father's, one evening after I had dined with him, said he was going to Mr. Robert's club, and if I had a mind, he would take me there and introduce me. I readily accepted the honour. I had been introduced to Mr. Robert before in the College court, for he was extremely courteous, and showed civility to every student who f ell in his way. Though I was not attending any of his classes, having attended M'Laurin in Edinburgh for three sessions, he received me with great kindness; and I had the good fortune to please him so much, that he asked me to be a member of his Friday's club, [Some ten years later than the date of Dr. Carlyle's visit to the Friday Club, Professor Simson founded the Anderston Club at an hostelry in the village of that name kept by "ane God-fearing host—John Sharpe." Among the members of this club were Adam Smith, Professor Leechman, Professor Dick, Robert Bogle, David Hume, and other of Carlyle's friends.—Strang's Glasgow and its Clubs.] which I readily agreed to. Mr. Simson, though a great humorist, who had a very particular way of living, was well-bred and complaisant, was a comely man, of a good size, and had a very prepossessing countenance. He lived entirely at the small tavern opposite the College gate, kept by a Mrs. Millar. He breakfasted, dined, and supped there, and almost never accepted of any invitations to dinner, and paid no visits, but to illustrious or learned strangers, who wished to see the University ; on such occasions he was always the cicerone. He showed the curiosities of the College, which consisted of a few manuscripts and a large collection of Roman antiquities, from Severus' Wall or Graham's Dyke, in the neighbourhood, with a display of much knowledge and taste. He was particularly averse to the company of ladies, and, except one day in the year, when he drank tea at Principal Campbell's, and conversed with gaiety and ease with his daughter Mally, who was always his first toast, he was never in company with them. It was said to have been otherwise with him in his youth, and that he had been much attached to one lady, to whom he had made proposals, but on her refusing him he became disgusted with the sex. The lady was dead before I became acquainted with the family, but her husband I knew, and must confess that in her choice the lady had preferred a satyr to Hyperion.

Mr. Simson almost never left the bounds of the College, having a large garden to walk in, unless it was on Saturday, when, with two chosen companions, he always walked into the country, but no farther than the village of Anderston, one mile off, where he had a dinner bespoke, and where he always treated the company, not only when he had no other than his two humble attendants, but when he casually added one or two more, which happened twice to myself. If any of the club met him on Saturday night at his hotel, he took it very kind, for he was in good spirits, though fatigued with the company of his satellites, and revived on the sight of a fresh companion or two for the evening. He was of a mild temper and an engaging demeanour, and was master of all knowledge, even of theology, which he told us he had learned by being one year amanuensis to his uncle, the Professor of Divinity. [Professor John Simson. See p. 105.] His knowledge he delivered in an easy colloquial style, with the simplicity of a child, and without the least symptom of self-sufficiency or arrogance.

His club at that time consisted chiefly of Hercules Lindsay, Teacher of Law, who was talkative and assuming; of James Moore, Professor of Greek on the death of Mr. Dunlop, [Mr. Dunlop had the power of "giving to his pupils a taste and stimulus for the work of the class, vital enough to impel them to prosecute the study from a love of it in after life." Stewart's Glasgow University, Old and New.] a very lively and witty man, and a famous Grecian, ["When interpreting Homer to his class, he [Dr. Moor] never looked at the book, and from numerous references which he made to parallel passages in his favourite author, it appeared that he could repeat most accurately the whole Iliad or Odyssey." —Bower's History of Edinburgh University.] but a more famous punster; Mr. Dick, Professor of Natural Philosophy, a very worthy man, and of an agreeable temper; and Mr. James Purdie, the rector of the grammar-school, [The Grammar School stood in Greyfriars' Wynd, formerly Grammar School Wynd, on the west side of the High Street. It was built in 16oi and abandoned in 1782 for a new building in George Street.] who had not much to recommend him but his being an adept in grammar. Having been asked to see a famous comet that appeared this winter or the following, through Professor Dick's telescope, which was the best in the College at that time, when Mr. Purdie retired from taking his view of it, he turned to Mr. Simson, and said, "Mr. Robert, I believe it is hic or hac corneta, a comet." To settle the gender of the Latin was all he thought of this great and uncommon phenomenon of nature.

Mr. Simson's most constant attendant, however, and greatest favourite, was his own scholar, Mr. Mathew Stewart, afterwards Professor of Mathematics in the College of Edinburgh, much celebrated for his profound knowledge in that science. During the course of summer he was ordained minister of Roseneath, but resided during the winter in Glasgow College. He was of an amiable disposition and of a most ingenuous mind, and was highly valued in the society of Glasgow University; but when he was preferred to a chair in Edinburgh, being of diminutive stature and of an ordinary appearance, and having withal an embarrassed elocution, he was not able to bring himself into good company; and being left out of the society of those who should have seen through the shell, and put a due value on the kernel, he fell into company of an inferior sort, and adopted their habits with too great facility. [Writing of Professor Stewart after he became professor at Edinburgh, the Rev. Dr. Somerville says: "He was of a disposition so bashful and sensitive that the slightest irregularity or approach to rudeness in the behaviour of the students disconcerted him. The misconduct of any of these boys—for such most of his pupils were—instead of meeting with a reproof from the professor, made him blush like a child."—Memoirs of My Life and Times.]

With this club, and an accidental stranger at times, the great Mr. Robert Simson relaxed his mind every evening from the severe studies of the day; for though there was properly but one club night in the week, yet, as he never failed to be there, some one or two commonly attended him, or at least one of the two minions whom he could command at any time, as he paid their reckoning.

The fame of Mr. Hutcheson had filled the College with students of philosophy, and Leechman's high character brought all the students of divinity from the western provinces, as Hutcheson attracted the Irish. There were sundry young gentlemen from Ireland, with their tutors, one of whom was Archibald M`Laine, pastor at the Hague, the celebrated translator of Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History (who had himself been bred at Glasgow College). With him I became better acquainted next session, and I have often regretted since that it has never been my lot to meet him during the many times I have been for months in London, as his enlightened mind, engaging manners, and animated conversation gave reason to hope for excellent fruit when he arrived at maturity. There were of young men of fashion attending the College, Walter Lord Blantyre, [Walter, eighth Lord Blantyre. He had a reputation as a scholar, and "has the sweetest temper in the world, and to all appearance will be a very great honour to his country." He, however, died in 1751 at the age of twenty-five.] who died young; Sir Thomas Kennedy, and his brother David, afterwards Lord Cassius; [David, tenth Earl of Cassillis. Passed Advocate in 1752, and succeeded his brother Sir Thomas in 1776.] Walter Scott of Harden; James Murray of Broughton; and Dunbar Hamilton, afterwards Earl of Selkirk. The education of this last gentleman had been marred at an English academy in Yorkshire. When his father, the Hon. Basil Hamilton, died, he came to Glasgow, but finding that he was so ill founded in Latin as to be unfit to attend a public class, he had resolution enough, at the age of fifteen, to pass seven or eight hours a-day with Purdie the grammarian for the greater part of two years, when, having acquired Latin, he took James Moore, the Greek scholar, for his private tutor, fitted up rooms for himself in the College, and lived there with Moore in the most retired manner, visiting nobody but Miss M. Campbell, and letting nobody in to him but Lord Blantyre and myself, as I was his distant relation. In this manner he lived for ten years, hardly leaving the College for a few weeks in summer, till he had acquired the ancient tongues in perfection, and was master of ancient philosophy: the effect of which was, that with much rectitude and good intention, and some talent, he came into the world more fit to be a Professor than an Earl.

There was one advantage I derived from my Edinburgh education, which set me up a little in the eyes of my equals, though I soon tired of the employment. Professor Leechman devoted one evening every week from five to eight to conversation with his students, who assembled on Fridays about six or seven together, and were first received in the Professor's own library. But Dr. Leechman was not able to carry on common conversation, and when he spoke at all, it was a short lecture. This was therefore a very dull meeting, and everybody longed to be called in to tea with Mrs. Leechman, whose talent being different from that of her husband, she was able to maintain a continued conversation on plays, novels, poetry, and the fashions. The rest of the lads being for the most part raw and awkward, after trying it once in their turns, they became silent, and the dialogue rested between the lady and me. When she observed this, she requested me to attend as her assistant every night. I did so for a little while, but it became too intolerable not to be soon given up.

What Dr. Leechman wanted in the talent for conversation was fully compensated by his ability as a Professor, for in the chair he shone with great lustre. It was owing to Hutcheson and him that a new school was formed in the western provinces of Scotland, where the clergy till that period were narrow and bigoted, and had never ventured to range in their mind beyond the bounds of strict orthodoxy. For though neither of these professors taught any heresy, yet they opened and enlarged the minds of the students, which soon gave them a turn for free inquiry; the result of which was, candour and liberality of sentiment. From experience, this freedom of thought was not found so dangerous as might at first be apprehended ; for though the daring youth made excursions into the unbounded regions of metaphysical perplexity, yet all the judicious soon returned to the lower sphere of long-established truths, which they found not only more subservient to the good order of society, but necessary to fix their own minds in some degree of stability.

Hutcheson was a great admirer of Shaftesbury, and adopted much of his writings into his lectures; and, to recommend him more to his students, was at great pains in private to prove that the noble moralist was no enemy to the Christian religion ; but that all appearances of that kind, which are very numerous in his works, flowed only from an excess of generous indignation against the fanatics of Charles I.'s reign. Leechman and he both were supposed to lean to Socinianism. Men of sense, however, soon perceived that it was an arduous task to defend Christianity on that ground, and were glad to adopt more common and vulgar principles, which were well compacted together in a uniform system, which it was not easy to demolish.

Leechman's manner of teaching theology was excellent, and I found my sphere of knowledge in that science greatly enlarged, though I had attended the Professor in Edinburgh pretty closely for two or three years ; but he copied the Dutch divines, and, had he lived, would have taken twenty years to have gone through the system which Dr. Leechman accomplished in two years, besides giving us admirable lectures on the Gospels, on the proofs of Christianity, and the art of composition. If there was any defect, it was in the small number of exercises prescribed to the students, for one discourse in a session was by no means sufficient to produce a habit of composition: our literary clubs, in some degree, supplied that defect.

I had been called home to Prestonpans in January to see my brother James, who was then dying of a consumption; he was in his nineteenth year, and died in March. He had been sent to London several years before to be bred to business, but an accident threw him into bad health, and he had been at home for two years or more. He was not a lad of parts, but remarkably handsome and agreeable. I found him perfectly reconciled to a premature death.

I had left my original companions at Edinburgh, who had every kind of merit to create attachment; but I found a few in Glasgow University who in some degree supplied their places, who were worthy and able young men, and afterwards filled their ranks in society with credit, though they had neither the strength nor the polish of the Blairs, and Robertsons, and Fergusons, and Homes. Near the end of the session I made an acquaintance with a young gentleman, which next year grew into the strictest friendship. This was William Sellar, then an apprentice in his third or fourth year with the Oswalds, at that time among the most eminent merchants in Glasgow. He was the son of a Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh, had been two or three years at the College there, was handsome and well-bred, and of very agreeable manners. Though not learned, he had a philosophical and observing mind, and was shrewd in discerning characters. This young man, my junior by a year or two, attached himself to me on our first acquaintance, and I soon repaid him with my affection, for I found that the qualities of his heart were not inferior to those of his understanding. He was daily conversant with the principal merchants, as I was with the students and members of the University, on whom our observations were a great source of instructive entertainment. He had the celebrated Jenny Fall ["Jenny Fall" was the daughter of James Fall of Dunbar, and married Sir John Anstruther, the second baronet in 1750.] (afterwards Lady Anstruther), a coquette and a beauty, for months together in the house with him; and as his person and manner drew the marked attention of the ladies, he derived considerable improvement from the constant intercourse with this young lady and her companions, for she was lively and clever, no less than beautiful. He had also the benefit of Mr. Richard Oswald's [Richard Oswald, second son of Rev. George Oswald of Dunnet, Caithness. He acquired the estate of Auchencruive in Ayrshire in 1755. The date of the peace of Paris was 1782. Richard Oswald died in 1784.] conversation, a man afterwards so much celebrated as to be employed by Government in settling the peace of Paris in 1788. This gentleman was much confined to the house by sore eyes, and yet was able to pass his time almost entirely in reading, and becoming a very learned and intelligent merchant; and having acquired some thousand pounds by being prize agent to his cousins, whose privateer had taken a prize worth £15,000, he a few years after this period established himself in London, and acquired a great fortune, which, having no children of his own, he left to the grandson of his brother, a respectable clergyman of the Church of Scotland ; and thus founded that family of Oswalds, who continue to flourish in the shire of Ayr.

I lived this winter in the same house with Dr. Robert Hamilton, Professor of Anatomy, an ingenious and well-bred man; but with him I had little intercourse, except at breakfast now and then, for he always dined abroad. He had a younger brother, a student of divinity, afterwards his father's successor at Bothwell, who was vain and showy, but who exposed himself very much through a desire of distinction. He was a relation of Mrs. Leechman's, and it had been hinted to him that the Professor expected a remarkable discourse from him. He accordingly delivered one which gave universal satisfaction, and was much extolled by the Professor. But, very unfortunately for Hamilton, half-a-dozen of students, in going down a street, resorted to a bookseller's shop, where one of them, taking a volume from a shelf, was struck, on opening the book, to find the first sermon from the text he had just heard preached upon. He read on, and found it was verbatim from beginning to end what he had heard in the hall. He showed it to his companions, who laughed heartily, and spread the story all over the town before night—not soon enough to prevent the vainglorious orator from circulating two fine copies of it, one among the ladies in the College, and another in the town. What aggravated the folly and imprudence of this young man was, that he was by no means deficient in parts, of which he gave us sundry specimens. His cousin and namesake, James Hamilton, afterwards minister of Paisley, was much ashamed of him, and being a much more sterling man, was able to keep down his vanity ever after. He had submitted his manuscript to the club, and two or three criticisms had been made on it, but he would alter nothing. After Dr. Robert Hamilton's death, which was premature, a younger brother succeeded him in the anatomical chair, who was very able. He dying young also, his son was advanced, who was said to have surpassed all his predecessors in ability. They were descended from the family of Hamiltons of Preston, a very ancient branch of Duke Hamilton's family.

Dr. Johnstone, who was said to be very able, was at this time Professor of Medicine, but he was very old, and died this year; and was succeeded by Dr. William Cullen, who had been settled at Hamilton. In those days there were but few students of physic in Glasgow University. Dr. Cullen, and his successor Dr. Black, with the younger Hamiltons, brought the school of medicine more into repute there.

In the month of March or April this year, having gone down with a merchant to visit New Port-Glasgow, as our dinner was preparing at the inn, we were alarmed with the howling and weeping of half-a-dozen of women in the kitchen, which was so loud and lasting that I went to see what was the matter, when, after some time, I learnt from the calmest among them that a pedlar had left a copy of Peden's Prophecies that morning, which having read part of, they found that he had predicted woes of every kind to the people of Scotland; and in particular that Clyde would run with blood in the year 1744, which now being some months advanced, they believed that their destruction was at hand. I was puzzled how to pacify them, but calling for the book, I found that the passage which had terrified them was contained in the forty-fourth paragraph, without any allusion whatever to the year; and by this means I quieted their lamentations. Had the intended expedition of Mareschal Saxe been carried into execution in that year, as was intended, their fears might have been realised.

Though the theological lectures closed in the beginning of May, on account of some accidental circumstances, I did not get to my father's till the middle of that month. My father's wish was, that I should pass through my trials to be admitted a probationer in summer 1745, and leave nothing undone but the finishing forms, when I returned in 1746 from a foreign Protestant university, where I was bound to go by the terms of the exhibition I held. I was therefore to spend a part of this summer, 1744, in visiting the clergy of the presbytery of Haddington, as the forms required that I should perform that duty before I was admitted to trials.

I made my tour accordingly early in summer, and shall give a short specimen of my reception and the characters I met with. I first passed a day at Aber-lady, where Mr. Andrew Dickson was then minister, the father of Adam Dickson, the author of many excellent works on agriculture. Mr. Dickson was a well-bred formal old man, and was reckoned a good preacher, though lame enough in the article of knowledge, or indeed in discernment. Among the first questions he put to me was, "Had I read the famous pamphlet, Christianity not founded on Argument?" I answered that I had. He replied that certainly that elaborate work was the ablest defence of our holy religion that had been published in our times; and that the author of it, who was unknown to him, deserved the highest praise. I looked surprised, and was going to make him an answer according to my opinion, which was that it was the shrewdest attack that ever had been made on Christianity. But his son observed me, and broke in by saying that he had had some disputes with his father on the subject, but now yielded, and had come in to his opinion: I only subjoined, that whoever saw it in that light must subscribe to its superiority. The old gentleman was pleased, and went on descanting on the great merit of this new proof of revealed religion, which was quite unanswerable. Having settled that point, there was no danger of my differing from him in any other of his notions.

Next day I proceeded to Dirleton, the neighbouring parish, where Mr. James Glen was the incumbent. This was a man of middle age, fat and unwieldy, good-natured and open-hearted, very social, though quick-tempered and jealous. He was a great master of the Deistical controversy, had read all the books, and never stopped, for it was his first topic with me, till he completely refuted Christianity not founded on Argument, which he said was truly very insidious. There was not much time, however, this day for theology, as it happened to be his cherry feast. There being many fine trees of that fruit in his garden, when they were fully ripe it was his custom to invite some of his neighbours and their families to pass the day with him and his daughters, and the only son then at home, Mr. Alexander Glen, who was a student, and two years my junior. We were a very large company, among whom were Congalton of that Ilk, a very singular gentleman, of very good parts, and extremely promising when he passed advocate, but who had become a drunken laird, though the brilliancy of his wit frequently broke through the cloud. There were likewise four Miss Hepburns of Beanston, who were young, handsome, and gay. The old people dispersed not long after dinner, and went their several ways; Congalton and his swaggering blades went to the village changehouse, and remained there all night. There not being lodging in the house for us all, the young men remained as late as they could in the parlour, and then had mattresses brought in to sleep a while upon.

When I wished to depart next day with the rest of the company, the old man protested against that, for we had not yet sufficiently settled the Deistical controversy, and the foundations of moral sentiment. I consented, and as his daughters had detained two Misses Hepburns, I passed the day very well between disputing with my landlord and walking about and philandering with the ladies. When I came to leave him after breakfast the next day, it was with the greatest difficulty he would part with me, and not till after he had taken my solemn promise to come soon back, as I was the only friend he had left in the world. I at last escaped, after he had shed a flood of tears. I was uneasy, and asked afterwards if he was not a very solitary man: "No," they said, "but he was of a jealous temper, and thought he was hated if he was not resorted to more than was possible."

The next clergyman, Mr. George Murray of North Berwick, was in appearance quite the opposite of Mr. Glen, for he was a dry, withered stick, and as cold and repulsive in his manner as the other was kind and inviting ; but he was not the less to be depended on for that, for he was very worthy and sensible, though, at the age of fifty, as torpid in mind, as in body. His wife, however, of the name of Reid, the former minister's daughter, by whose interest he got the church, was as swift to speak as he was slow; and as he never interrupted her, she kept up the conversation, such as it was, without ceasing, except that her household affairs took her sometimes out of the room, when he began some metaphysical argument, but dropped it the moment she appeared, for he said Anny did not like those subjects. Worn out, however, with the fatigue of the cherry feast, I longed to be in bed, and took the first opportunity of a cessation in Anny's clapper to request to be shown to my room; this was complied with about eleven; but the worthy man accompanied me, and being at last safe and at liberty, he began a conversation on liberty and necessity, and the foundation of morals, and the Deistical controversy, that lasted till two in the morning. I got away time enough next day to reach Haddington before dinner, having passed by Athelstaneford, where the minister, Mr. Robert Blair, author of The Grave, was said to be dying slowly; or, at any rate, was so austere and void of urbanity as to make him quite disagreeable to young people. His wife, who was in every respect the opposite (a sister of Sheriff Law), was frank and open, and uncommonly handsome; yet, even with her allurements and his acknowledged ability, his house was unfrequented. I passed on to Haddington, and dined with Mr. Edward Stedman, a man of first-rate sense and ability, and a leader of the presbytery. We called on his father-in-law, Mr. Patrick Wilkie, who had as little desire to examine young men as he had capacity to judge of their proficiency, so that I had only to pay my compliments and pass an hour or two with Stedman, whom I knew well before, and who, with the sombre constrained air of a Jesuit or an old Covenanter, had an enlightened and ardent mind, and comprehended all things human and divine. From him I went early in the evening to Mr. Barclay's at Moreham, a good sensible man, but with not many words or topics of conversation, for he was a great mathematician: with the help of his wife and daughter, however, we made shift to spend the evening, and retired at an early hour.

I passed on next forenoon to Garvald, where his son-in-law, Mr. Archibald Blair, brother of Mr. Robert, lived. He seemed as torpid as George Murray, and not more enlightened than Patrick Wilkie. He conversed none. As we walked out before dinner to see the views, which were not remarkable, I thought I might try to examine him, and put a question to him as we entered the churchyard, which he answered when we got to the far end of the glebe. His wife, however, made it well up. This, with other instances, convinced me that it would have been better if the wives had preached, and the husbands spun.

From hence I went to the next manse, which was Yester, where I had been very frequently before with John Witherspoon, afterwards the celebrated doctor. The father, who had very few topics to examine on, as the depth of his reading was in the sermons of the French Calvinist ministers, which he preached daily, was, besides, too lazy to engage in anything so arduous as the examination of a student—how to eat and drink and sleep being his sole care, though he was not without parts, if the soul had not been buried under a mountain of flesh. The next I went to was old Lundie of Saltoun, a pious and primitive old man, very respectful in his manners, and very kind. He had been bred an old Scotch Episcopalian, and was averse to the Confession of Faith: the presbytery showed lenity towards him, so he did not sign it to his dying day, for which reason he never could be a member of Assembly.

The last I went to on this tour was Mathew Simson, of Pencaitland, a brother of Professor Simson's, who had been suspended for heresy, and an uncle of the celebrated Dr. Robert Simson, both of Glasgow. Their father was Mr. Patrick Simson, of Renfrew, who had been tutor to some of the family of Argyle. Mr. Mathew was an old man, but very different in his manner from Mr. Lundie, for he was frank and open and familiar, as much as the other was reserved and dignified. He was an excellent examinator, for he answered all his own questions, and concluded all with a receipt for making sermons, which he said would serve as a general rule, and answer well, be the text what it would. This was to begin first with an account of the fall of man, and the depravity of human nature; then a statement of the means of our recovery by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; and, thirdly, an application consisting of observations, or uses, or reflections, or practical references tending to make us good men. For my patient hearing, he made me a present of a pen-case of his own turning, and added, if I would come and stay a week with him he would teach me to turn, and converse over the system with me, for he saw I was tolerably well founded, as my father was an able Calvinist. He said he would order his son Patrick, who was a more powerful master of the turning-loom than he was, to turn me a nice snuffbox or egg-cup, which I pleased. But Pat was lazy, and liked better to go about with the gun, from which he did not restrain him, as he not only furnished his sisters with plenty of partridges and hares, but likewise gratified the Lady Pencaitland with many. Thus ended my preparatory trial by visiting the clergy, for with the two or three nearer home I was well acquainted.

Early in November this year, 1744, I returned to Glasgow. As it was a hard frost, I chose to walk, and went the first day to my friend Mr. Hew Horn's [Hew Horn Dalrymple, second son of Lord Drummore. He died in 1746. See p. 60.] at Foxhall, near Kirkliston. He had been married for a year or two to Miss Inglis, a daughter of Sir John Inglis, a handsome, agreeable woman. I perceived that lie was much changed, and thought him in a very dangerous way. He was, however, very cheerful and pleasant, and sat up with me till eleven o'clock. I breakfasted with him next morning, and then took my leave, with a foreboding that I should see him no more, which was verified, for he gave way not many months afterwards. In him I lost a most valuable friend. I walked to Whitburn at an early hour, but could venture no further, as there was no tolerable lodging-house within my reach. There was then not even a cottage nearer than the Kirk of Shotts, and Whitburn itself was a solitary house in a desolate country.

Next morning the frost was gone, and such a deluge of rain and tempest of wind took possession of the atmosphere, as put an end to all travelling. This was on Thursday morning; and the wet thaw and bad weather continuing, I was obliged to remain there for several days, for there was in those days neither coach nor chaise on the road, and not even a saddle-horse to be had. At last, on Sunday morning, being the fourth day, an open chaise returning from Edinburgh to Glasgow took me in, and conveyed me safe. I had passed my time more tolerably than I expected ; for though the landlord was ignorant and stupid, his wife was a sensible woman, and in her youth had been celebrated in a song under the name of the "Bonny Lass of Livingstone." They had five children, but no books but the Bible and Sir Richard Blackmore's epic poem of " Prince Arthur," which the landlord brought me in one day by the name of a song-book, which he said would divert me ; and so it did, for I had not met with it before. The walls and windows were all scrawled with poetry ; and I amused myself not a little in composing a satire on my predecessors, which I also inscribed on the wall, to the great delight of my landlady, who showed it for many years afterwards with vanity to her travellers. When I came to pay my reckoning, to my astonishment she only charged me 3s. 6d. for lodging and board for four days. I had presented the little girls with ribbons I bought from a wandering pedlar who had taken shelter fromthestorm. But my whole expense, maid-servant and all, was only 5s.; such was the rate of travelling in those days.

I had my lodging this session in a college-room, which I had furnished for the session at a moderate rent. I had never been without a cough in the former winter, when I lodged in a warm house in King Street, opposite to what was the butchers' market in those days; but such was the difference between the air of the College and the lower streets of Glasgow, that in my new apartment, though only bare walls, and twenty feet by seventeen, I never had cold or cough all the winter. John Donaldson, a college servant, lighted my fire and made my bed; and a maid from the landlady who furnished the room, came once a fortnight with clean linens. There were two English students of theology who lived on the floor below, and nobody above me. I again attended the lectures of Professors Leech-man and Hutcheson, with much satisfaction and improvement.

Young Sellar, whom I mentioned before, became my most intimate friend; he came to me whenever he was at leisure, and we passed our time very agreeably together. He enlarged my circle of acquaintance by introducing me to the ladies whom he visited; and I introduced him to my two intimates, Miss Campbell and Mrs. D., [This lady may be the same mentioned at foot of p. 79, who, the author says, was of the Limekiln family.] who, he admitted, were superior to any of his former acquaintance. In an excursion with him to Hamilton the year before, he had made me acquainted with Dr. Cullen, and now that he was come to Glasgow, I improved that acquaintance. I became intimate with Dr. M'Lean, whom I mentioned before, and on his suggestion we prepared to act the tragedy of Cato to a select company in the College. Our parts were allotted, and we rehearsed it well, though we never acted it before an audience. M'Lean and I allotted the parts: I was to be Cato; he was Marcus; our friend Sellar, Juba; a Mr. Lesly was to do Lucius; an English student of the name of Seddon was to be Styphax; and Robin Bogle, Sempronius. Miss Campbell was our Marcia, and Miss Wood, Lucia; I have forgot our Portius. We rehearsed it twice, but never acted it. Though we never acted our play, we attained one of our chief purposes, which was, to become more intimate with the ladies. Lord Selkirk would not join us, though he took much pleasure in instructing Miss Campbell.

In our literary club this session we took to reviewing books as a proper exercise. Mr. Thom, who was afterwards minister of Govan, a learned man, of a very particular but ingenious turn of mind, though much senior to any of us, was one of our members, and had great sway among us. He had quarrelled with Hutcheson; and having heard me say that Hutcheson's book on the Passions was not intelligible, he assigned it to me, that I might understand it better. I accordingly reviewed it in a few pages, and took much pains to unravel certain intricacies both of thought and expression that had run through it: this I did with much freedom, though not without respect to the author. This essay pleased my friends; and one of them, by Thom's instigation, carried a copy of it to Hutcheson. He glanced it over and returned it, saying that the young gentleman might be in the right, but that he had long ago made up his mind on those subjects, and could not now take the trouble to revise them.

Not long after this, I had certain proof of the gentleness and candour of this eminent Professor; for when I delivered a discourse in the Divinity Hall, it happened to please the Professor (Leechman) so much, that he gave it very liberal praise, both in public and private; insomuch that it was borrowed by one of his minions, and handed about the College with so much approbation that Mr. Hutcheson wished to see it. When he had read it, he returned it with unqualified applause, though it contained some things which a jealous mind might have interpreted as an attack on his favourite doctrine of a moral sense. His civility was now accompanied with some degree of confidence.

I preserved my intimacy with my friends of last winter, and added a few more families to my acquaintance, which made the time pass very agreeably. I had been introduced to Mr. Purdie, the rector of the school, who had, at North Berwick, taught many of my young friends in the Lothians, and particularly the whole name of Dalrymple. He had half-a-dozen or eight boarders, for whom his daughters kept a very good table, insomuch that I was often invited to dinner, and became intimate in the family. The eldest daughter, who was a sensible, prudent woman, and mistress of the house, being about forty, sent for me one Saturday morning in haste; and when I arrived, she took me into a room apart from her sisters, who were girls under twenty; and there, with many tears, informed me that her father, having been much intoxicated on the Friday or Saturday before, had never since been sober; that he had not attended the school all the week, and that he now was firmly determined to resign his office, as he was sensible he could not abstain from dram-drinking. She added that lie had not saved much money, having been held down by some idle and wasteful sons, and that they could ill afford to want the emoluments of his office. She concluded by telling me that she had previously informed her father that she was going to send for me, and impart his secret to me for advice. To this he had not objected, and when I was carried to his room he received me with open arms, told me his dismal case with tears and lamentations, and his firm resolution to resign, as he was sensible he could not reform, and could no longer be of use. He concluded by asking for a dram, which was the second he had called for before nine o'clock. I laughed and rallied, and was serious and grave with him by turns, and used every argument I could to break him off his habit, but to no purpose; for he answered all my arguments by the impossibility of his ever reforming, and consequently of ever appearing again in the world. He concluded with "Nelly, give me a dram," which she durst not refuse, otherwise he would have fired the house. To have time to think and consult about him, I went from him to the breakfast parlour. When I was leaving him, he prayed me to return as soon as possible, as he could not bear his own thoughts alone.

When at breakfast, I thought of an expedient which I imagined I could depend upon for him, if it took effect. I communicated my plan to his daughter, and she was pleased. When I went to him again, I told him I was truly sorry I could not pass that day with him, as I was obliged to go to Stirling, by my father's orders, upon business, and that I had made choice of that day, as I could return without missing more than one day of the College. I added that I had never been there, and had not been able to find a companion, for which I was sorry. "Nelly," said he, with great quickness, "do you think I could sit on a horse? if I could, I would go with him and show him the way." I cajoled him on this, and so did his daughter; and, in short, after an early dinner while the horses and a servant were preparing, we set out for Stirling about one o'clock, I having taken his word before his daughter, that in all things he would comply with my will, otherwise I would certainly return.

I had much difficulty to get him to pass the little village public-houses which were in our way, without calling for drams. He made this attempt half-a-dozen times in the first stage, but I would not consent, and besides promised him he should have as much wine as he pleased. With much difficulty I got him to Kilsyth, where we stopped to feed our horses, and where we drank a bottle of claret. In short, I got him to Stirling before it was quite dark, in the second week of April, old style: he ate a hearty supper, and we had another bottle of claret, and he confessed he never slept sound but that night, since he was taken ill. In short, we remained at Stirling all Sunday, attended church, and had our dinner and claret, and our walk on the Castle-hill in the evening. I brought him to his own house on Monday by five o'clock. The man's habit was broken; he was again of a sound mind, and he attended his school on Tuesday in perfect health. As many of the Professors were Purdie's friends, this successful act of kindness to him raised me in their esteem, and atoned for many levities with which I had been taxed.

He lived many years after this, but did not leave his family independent. One of his daughters was married creditably in Edinburgh : the two eldest came to live there after his death, but were in indigence. In the year 1778 I happened to be for a few weeks at Buxton, where I met with Sir William Gordon, K.B., who had been a boarder at Purdie's for two or three years before 1745, and who was at Leyden with me in the end of that year. Riding out with him one day, he happened to ask me in what state Purdie's family was left? I told him what I knew, and added that they had a kind remembrance of him, for that not many months after he had left them, I heard Nelly say, with tears in her eyes, upon an insult having been offered them by some of their neighbours, that they durst not have done so if Willy Gordon had been in the house. He answered that the father had very often licked him, but he had no resentment, as it was for his advantage, and that the daughters were good girls. He concluded by offering me a sum of money. I thought it better to accept of an annual pension of £10, which he remitted to them by me for several years.

My friendship with Mrs. D. and her brother never impaired, though, having a more extended acquaintance than I had the preceding year, I was frequently engaged when they wished to have me with them.

I became acquainted with Mr. Wood's family, where there were three or four very agreeable daughters, besides the Governor of the Isle of Man, and Andrew the clergyman, who died rector of Gateshead, by Newcastle, in the year 1772, of a fever which he contracted by exerting himself with the utmost humanity to save his parishioners on the fatal night when the bridge of Newcastle fell. Here it was that I met with Colonel Robert Hepburn of Keith for the first time since we had been at the same class together in the year 1736. We left Mr. Wood's early in an evening after drinking tea, retired to Cockaine's tavern, and did not part till near five in the morning. Most unfortunately for me, I had made an appointment with Mr. James Hogg, a probationer, and tutor to the four sons of Sir John Douglas of Kelhead, to ride ten or twelve miles with them on their way to Annandale; and I had hardly become warm in bed when rap-rap he came to my door, and insisted on my getting up and fulfilling my promise. Never in my life had I such reluctance to fulfil any promise, for Hepburn had proposed to make rack punch our beverage after supper, which I had never tasted before, and which had given me the first headache I had almost ever felt. There was no help for it. It was a fine morning in the second week of May; we breakfasted at Hamilton, and I rode six miles farther with them and returned.

James Hogg was a man of a good heart and uncommon generosity. Sir John's affairs were completely deranged, and he could raise no money to carry on the education of his boys. Hogg had a little patrimony of his own, nearly £200: rather than his pupils should suffer, two of them were fit for college, he came to Glasgow with all thefour, and with a trusty old woman of a servant: he kept a small house for them in King Street, and being an excellent economist, fed them well at the least possible expense. I frequently dined with him and them, and was astonished at his good management. This he continued all the next year also, when Sir John was sent to the Tower of London for rebellious practices. This debt, together with arrears of wages, was not paid till many years afterwards, when Hogg was minister of Linlithgow, where he died by a fall from a horse in spring 1770. Had his understanding been as strong as his heart was generous, he would have been a first-rate character.

In that week, or that immediately following, Will Sellar and I, and Robin Bogle of Shettleston, went on a party with ladies, two Miss Woods and Peggy Douglas of Mains, a celebrated wit and a beauty, even then in the wane. When we came to Hamilton, she prayed us to send a messenger a few miles to bring to us a clergyman of a neighbouring parish, a Mr. Thomas Clelland. He came to us when we were viewing the romantic gardens of Barncluch, which lie between Hamilton and the Dog Kennel.

Thomas Clelland was a good-looking little man, but his hair was becoming grey, which no sooner Margaret observed, than she rallied him pretty roughly (which was her way) on his being an old fusty bachelor, and on his increasing marks of age since she had seen him, not more than a year before. After bearing patiently all the efforts of her wit, "Margaret," says he, "you know that I am master of the parish register where your age is recorded, and that I know when you must be with justice called an old maid, in spite of your juvenile airs." "What care I, Tom?" said she; "for I have for some time renounced your worthless sex: I have sworn to be Duchess of Douglas, or never to mount a marriage-bed." This happened in May 1745. She made her purpose good. When she made this prediction she was about thirty. It was fulfilled a few years after. [Margaret, daughter of James Douglas of Mains, was married in 1758 to Archibald, first and last Duke of Douglas. She died in 1774, leaving a traditional reputation for much freedom of speech and action.—J. H. B. "An old lady," wrote Dr. Johnson, "who talks broad Scotch, with a paralytic voice, and is scarce understood by her own countrymen."]

I had an opportunity of seeing the temper and spirit of the clergy in the neighbourhood of Glasgow a second time this year, by means of a trial of a clergyman in the county of Ayr for certain alleged crimes, which came by appeal before the Synod of Glasgow. The person tried was a very sensible man, of much wit and humour, who had made a butt of a neighbouring clergyman, who was weak, and at the same time good-natured, and had all the qualities of a butt. He was found out, however, to be a man full of deep resentment, and so malicious as to turn frolic into crime. After many very late sederunts of the Synod, and at last a hearing of the General Assembly, the affair was dismissed. The gentleman was settled in the parish to which he was presented, and many years afterwards died minister of Glasgow, where his good name had been so much traduced, much regretted;—a caution to young men of wit and humour to beware of fools as much as knaves.

I was detained later at Glasgow than I would have chosen, that I might obtain my credentials from the University, as by the tenor of the Act of Bursary I was obliged on this third year to repair to some foreign Protestant university. I had taken my degree of A.M. at Edinburgh, and had only to get here my certificate of attendance for two years, and my Latin letter recommending me to foreign academies. I must acknowledge that I had profited much by two years' study at Glasgow in two important branches—viz., moral philosophy and theology; along with which last I received very excellent instructions on composition, for Leech-man was not only fervent in spirit when he lectured, but ornamented all his discourses with a taste derived from his knowledge of belles-lettres.

In the months of June and July 1745, I went through most of my trials in the presbytery of Haddington, as my father was resolved I should be ready to take out my licence within a month after my return from abroad. In the month of August I went to Dumfriesshire, to pass a few weeks there, and to take leave of my friends. About the end of that month I received orders from my father to repair to Drumlanrig Castle, to meet his friend Dr. John Sinclair, M.D., who was to be some days thereon his way from Moffat to Dumfries, and after that to return home as soon as I could, as he expected to be home about the 28th of next month with my mother from Langton, near Dunse, where they were drinking goats' whey.

I accordingly met Dr. Sinclair at Drumlanrig, where I had been frequently before with my friend James Ferguson of Craigdarroch, who was then acting commissioner for his Grace the Duke of Queensberry. He had been bred to the law, but relinquished the bar for this employment, which seated him within a few miles of his own estate, which needed improvement. His first lady was a sister of Sir Henry Nisbet's, who died young; his second was her cousin, a daughter of the Hon. Baron Dalrymple. Dr. Sinclair had been my father's class-fellow, and had a great regard for him; he was an elegant scholar, and remarkable for his perfect knowledge of the Latin tongue, which in those days was much cultivated in Scotland. The professors of medicine then taught in Latin, and Dr. Sinclair was one of that first set who raised the fame of the school of medicine in Edinburgh above that of any other in Europe. He and Dr. John Clerk, the great practising physician, had found Moffat waters agree with themselves, and frequented it every season in their turns for a month or six weeks, and by that means drew many of their patients there, which made it be more frequented than it has been of late years, when there is much better accommodation.

I had promised Mr. R. Bogle and his sister to pass a few days with them at Moffat, on the road to which I passed one day with my friend William Cunningham, minister of Durisdeer, the Duke of Queensberry's parish church. He was knowing and accomplished, and pleasing and elegant in his manners, beyond most of the Scottish clergymen of that day. The Duchess of Queensberry [This lady and her husband were the patrons of Gay, the poet, and brought him to Edinburgh where he resided with them at Queensberry House, Canongate. He became an intimate friend of Allan Ramsay and constantly frequented his shop at the eastern end of the Luckenbooths.] (Lady K. Hyde) had discovered his merit on her visit to Scotland, and had him constantly with her, so that he was called the Duchess's Walking-staff. From his house I crossed to Moffat, about fifteen miles off, but did not reach it that night on account of a thunder-storm which had made the waters impassable, so that I was obliged to lodge in what they call a spieling, where I was used with great hospitality and uncommon politeness by a young farmer and his sister, who were then residing there, attending the milking of the ewes, the business of that season in a sheep country.

When I got to Moffat, I found my expecting friends still there, though the news had arrived that the Chevalier Prince Charles had landed in the north with a small train, had been joined by many of the clans, and might be expected to break down into the low country, unless Sir John Cope, who was then on his march north, should meet with them and disperse them. I remained only a few days at Moffat, as the news became more important and alarming every day; and, taking leave of my friends, I got home to Prestonpans on the evening of the 12th of September. My father, etc., were not returned, but I was perfectly informed of the state of public affairs by many persons in the place, who told me that Prince Charles had evaded Sir John Cope, who found himself obliged to march on to Inverness, not venturing to attack the Highlanders on the hill of Corryarrock, and was then proceeding to Aberdeen, where transports were sent to bring his army by sea to the Firth. I was also informed that as the Highlanders were making hasty marches, the city of Edinburgh was putting itself in some state of defence, so as to be able to resist the rebels in case of an attack before Sir John Cope arrived.

On this news I repaired to Edinburgh the next day, which was the 13th, and, meeting many of my companions, found that they were enlisting themselves in a corps of four hundred Volunteers, which had been embodied the day before, and were thought necessary for the defence of the city. Messrs. William Robertson, John Home, William M`Ghie, Hugh Bannatyne, William Cleghorn, William Wilkie, George Logan, and many others, had enlisted into the first or College Company, as it was called, which was to be commanded by Provost Drummond, who was expected to return that day from London, where he had been for some time. On the 14th I joined that company, and had arms put into my hands, and attended a drill-sergeant that afternoon and the next day to learn the manual exercise, which I had formerly been taught by my father, who had himself been a Volunteer in the end of Queen Anne's reign, when there was an alarm about the Pretender, but were obliged to hold their meetings in malt-barns in the night, and by candle-light.

The city was in great ferment and bustle at this time; for besides the two parties of Whigs and Jacobites—of which a well-informed citizen told me there were two-thirds of the men in the city of the first description, or friends to Government; and of the second, or enemies to Government, two-thirds of the ladies,—besides this division, there was another between those who were keen for preparing with zeal and activity to defend the city, and those who were averse to that measure, which were Provost Stuart and all his friends; and this appeared so plainly from the Provost's conduct and manner at the time, that there was not a Whig in town who did not suspect that he favoured the Pretender's cause; and however cautiously he acted in his capacity of chief magistrate, there were not a few who suspected that his backwardness and coldness in the measure of arming the people, was part of a plan to admit the Pretender into the city.

It was very true that a half-armed regiment of new raised men, with four hundred Volunteers from the city, and two hundred from other places, might not be thought sufficient for the defence of the city, had it been seriously besieged; yet, considering that the Highlanders were not more than 1800, and the half of them only armed—that they were averse to approach walls, and afraid of cannon—I am persuaded that, had the dragoons proved firm and resolute, instead of running away to Dunbar to meet Sir John Cope, it was more than two to one that the rebels had never approached the city till they had defeated Cope, which, in that case, they would probably have attempted. Farther, I am of opinion, that if that part of the Town Council who were Whigs had found good ground to have put Stuart under arrest, the city would have held out.

In this opinion of Stuart I was confirmed, when in London, the following month of April. I happened to be in the British or Forrest's Coffeehouse, I forget which, in the afternoon of the day when the news of the victory at Culloden arrived. I was sitting at a table with Dr. Smollett [Tobias Smollett, author of Humphrey Clinker, etc.] and Bob Smith (the Duke of Roxburgh's Smith), when John Stuart, the son of the Provost, who was then confined in the Tower, after turning pale and murmuring many curses, left the room in a rage, and slapped the door behind him with much violence. I said to my two companions, that lad Stuart is either a madman or a fool to discover himself in this manner, when his father is in the Tower on suspicion. Smith, who knew him best, acquiesced in my opinion, and added, that he had never seen him so much beside himself.

For a few days past M'Laurin the professor had been busy on the walls on the south side of the town, endeavouring to make them more defensible, and had even erected some small cannon near to Potterrow Port, which I saw. I visited my old master when he was busy, who seemed to have no doubt that he could make the walls defensible against a sudden attack, but complained of want of service, and at the same time encouraged me and my companions to be diligent in learning the use of arms. We were busy all Saturday, when there arrived in town Bruce of Kennett, with a considerable number of Volunteers, above zoo from his country, and Sir Robert Dickson with 130 or 140 from Musselburgh and the parish of Inveresk; this increased the strength and added to the courage of the loyal inhabitants.

On Sunday morning the 15th, however, news had arrived in town that the rebel army had been at Linlithgow the night before, and were on full march towards Edinburgh. This altered the face of affairs, and made thinking people fear that they might be in possession of Edinburgh before Cope arrived. The Volunteers rendezvoused in the College Yards before ten o'clock, to the number of about 400. Captain Drummond appeared at ten, and, walking up in front of the right of his company, where I stood with all my companions of the corps, he addressed us in a speech of some length, the purport of which was, that it had been agreed by the General, and the Officers of the Crown, that the military force should oppose the rebels on their march to Edinburgh, consisting of the Town Guard, that part of the new regiment who had got arms, with the Volunteers from the country. What he had to propose to us was, that we should join this force, and expose our lives in defence of the capital of Scotland, and the security of our country's laws and liberties. He added that, as there was a necessity for leaving some men in arms for the defence of the city, that any persons choosing the one service rather than the other would bring no imputation of blame, but that he hoped his company would distinguish themselves by their zeal and spirit on this occasion. This was answered by an unanimous shout of applause.

We were marched immediately up to the Lawn-market, where we halted till the other companies should follow. They were late in making their appearance, and some of their officers, coming up to us while in the street, told us that most of the privates were unwilling to march. During this halt, Hamilton's dragoons, who had been at Leith, marched past our corps, on their route to join Gardiner's regiment, who were at the Colt Bridge. We cheered them, in passing, with a huzzah; and the spectators began to think at last, that some serious fighting was likely to ensue, though before this moment many of them had laughed at and ridiculed the Volunteers. A striking example of this we had in our company, for a Mr. Hawthorn, a son of Bailie Hawthorn, who had laughed at his companions among the Volunteers, seeing us pass through the Luckenbooths in good order, and with apparent military ardour ran immediately upstairs to his father's house, and, fetching his fowling-piece and his small sword: joined us before we left the Lawnmarket.

While we remained there, which was great part of an hour, the mob in the street and the ladies in the windows treated us very variously, many with lamentation, and even with tears, and some with apparent scorn and derision. In one house on the south side of the street there was a row of windows, full of ladies, who appeared to enjoy our march to danger with much levity and mirth. Some of our warm Volunteers observed them, and threatened to fire into the windows if they were not instantly let down, which was immediately complied with. In marching down the Bow, a narrow winding street, the scene was different, for all the spectators were in tears, and uttering loud lamentations; insomuch that Mr. Kinloch, a probationer, the son of Mr. Kinloch, one of the High Church ministers, who was in the second rank just behind Hew Ballantine, said to him in a melancholy tone, "Mr. Hew, Mr. Hew, does not this remind you of a passage in Livy, when the Gens Fabii marched out of Rome to prevent the Gauls entering the city, and the whole matrons and virgins of Rome were wringing their hands, and loudly lamenting the certain danger to which that generous tribe was going to be exposed?" "Hold your tongue," says Ballantine, "otherwise I shall complain to the officer, for you'll discourage the men." "You must recollect the end, Mr. Hew, omnes ad unum 5erieri." This occasioned a hearty laugh among those who heard it, which being over, Ballantine half whispered Kinloch, "Robin, if you are afraid, you had better steal off when you can find an opportunity; I shall not tell that you are gone till we are too far off to recover you." [Sir Walter Scott tells another tale of one of these volunteers, "a very worthy man, a writing master by occupation, who had ensconced his bosom beneath a professional cuirass, consisting of two quires of long foolscap writing paper, and doubtful that even this defence might be unable to protect his valiant heart from claymores, amongst which its impulses might carry him, had written on the outside, in his best flourish, `This is the body of I--M-, pray give it Christian burial,' "-Miscellanies, vol, xix,]

We halted in the Grassmarket, near the West Port, that the other bodies who were to join us might come. On our march, even our company had lost part of their number, and none of the other Volunteers had come up. The day being advanced to between twelve and one o'clock, the brewers who lived in that end of the street brought out bread and cheese, and strong ale and brandy, as a refreshment for us, in the belief that we needed it, in marching on such an enterprise. While we remained in this position, my younger brother William, then near fifteen, as promising a young man as ever was born, of a fine genius, and an excellent scholar, though he had been kept back with very bad health, came up to me. He had walked into town that morning in his anxiety about me, and learning that I was with the company on our march to fight the rebels, he had run down with great anxiety from the house where I lodged, to learn how things really stood. He was melancholy and much alarmed. I withdrew with him to the head of a neighbouring close, and endeavoured to abate his fears, by assuring him that our march was only a feint to keep back the Highlanders, and that we should in a little while be ordered back to our field for exercise in the College. His anxiety began to abate, when, thinking that, whatever should happen, it would be better for me to trust him with a Portugal piece of thirty-six shillings and three guineas that I had in my pocket, I delivered them over to him. On this he burst into tears, and said I surely did not think as I said, but believed I was going out to danger, otherwise I would not so readily part with my money. I comforted him the best way I could, and took back the greater part of the money, assuring him that I did not believe yet that we would be sent out, or if we were, I thought we would be in such force that the rebels would not face us. The young man was comforted, and I gave him a rendezvous for nine at night.

While we were waiting for an additional force, a body of the clergy (the forenoon service being but ill attended on account of the ringing of the fire bell, which is the great alarm in Edinburgh), who were the two Wisharts, Wallace, Glen, Logan, etc., came to us. Dr. William Wishart, Principal of the College, was their prolocutor, and called upon us in a most pathetic speech to desist from this rash enterprise, which he said was exposing the flower of the youth of Edinburgh, and the hope of the next generation, to the danger of being cut off, or made prisoners and maltreated, without any just or adequate object; that our number added so very little to the force that was intended against the rebels, that withdrawing us would make little difference, while our loss would be irreparable, and that at any rate a body of men in arms was necessary to keep the city quiet during the absence of the armed force, and therefore he prayed and besought the Volunteers and their officers to give up all thoughts of leaving the city defenceless, to be a prey to the seditious.

This discourse, and others similar to it, had an effect upon many of us, though youthful ardour made us reluctant to abandon the prospect of showing our prowess. Two or three of the warmest of our youths remonstrated against those unreasonable speeches, and seemed eager for the fight. From that moment I saw the impropriety of sending us out, but till the order was recalled, it was our duty to remain in readiness to obey. We remained for near an hour longer, and were joined by another body of Volunteers, and part of the new regiment that was raising. Not long after came an order for the Volunteers to march back to the College Yards, when Provost Drummond, who had been absent, returned and put himself at our head, and marched us back. In the mean time the other force that had been collected, with ninety men of the Town Guard, etc., etc., marched out to the Colt Bridge, and joined the dragoons, who were watching the approach of the enemy. Some of the Volunteers imagined that this manoeuvre about the Volunteers was entirely Drummond's, and that he had no mind to face the rebels, though he had made a parade of courage and zeal, to make himself popular. But this was not the man's character—want of personal courage was not his defect. It was civil courage in which he failed; for all his life he had a great deference to his superiors. But I then thought as I do now, that his offer to carry out the Volunteers was owing to his zeal and prowess —for personally he was a gallant Highlander; but on better considering the matter, after hearing the remonstrance of the clergy, he did not think that he could well be answerable for exposing so many young men of condition to certain danger and uncertain victory.

When we were dismissed from the College Yards, we were ordered to rendezvous there again in the evening, as night guards were to be posted round the whole city. Twelve or thirteen of the most intimate friends went to a late dinner to a Mrs. Turnbull's, then next house to the Tron Church. Many things were talked of with great freedom, for the company were William M`Ghie, William Cleghorn, William Robertson, John Home, Hugh Ballantine, and I. The other names I have forgot. Sundry proposals were made, one of which was that we should march off with our arms into England, and raise a volunteering spirit; or at any rate that we should join Sir John Cope's army, and try to get as many as possible to follow us. As I had been separated from my companions for two years, by my attendance at Glasgow, I had less confidence to speak my mind, especially as some of my warm associates thought everybody cowardly, or a secret Jacobite, who did not agree with them. However, perceiving that some of the company did not agree with the chief speakers, I ventured to state, that before we resolved to march off with our arms, we should take care to have a sufficient number of followers ; for even if it were a lawful act to march off with our arms without orders, we would appear ridiculous and contemptible if there were no more of us than the present company, and I guessed we could not reckon on three or four more. This brought out M'Ghie and Hew Ballantine, who were considered the steadiest men amongst us. This occasioned a warm altercation, for Cleghorn and Home, in those days, were very fiery. At last, however, it was settled that we should try, in the course of the next day, to find if we could prevail on any considerable number to follow us, and if not, that we should carry our arms to the Castle, that they might not fall into the enemies' hands, and then make the best of our way separately to Sir John Cope's army, and offer our service.

When the night-watch was set, all the company I have now mentioned were appointed to guard the Trinity Hospital, in Leith Wynd, which was one of the weakest parts of the city. There twelve of us were placed under the command of Lieutenant Alexander Scott, a young man of spirit, a merchant in the city, and not two or three years senior to the eldest of us. Here we had nothing to do all night but make responses every half hour, as the "All's well" came round from the other guards that were posted at certain distances, so that a stranger who was approaching the city would have thought it was going to be gallantly defended. But we knew the contrary; for, as Provost Stuart and all his friends had been against making any preparation for defence, when they yielded to the zeal of their opponents, they hung a dead weight on every measure. This we were all sensible of, and had now no doubt that they wished the city to fall into the Pretender's hands, however carefully they might hide their intentions. ["Mr. Thomas Williamson, son of the Rev. David Williamson, minister of St. Cuthbert's Church, was then Town Clerk of Edinburgh. He absolutely refused to give up the keys of the City, even to the Lord Provost. When commanded to do so he implored permission to escape over the walls in order that he might not share in the general disgrace of the City."—Woodhouselee MSS.] At one o'clock, the Lord Provost and his guard visited all the posts, and found us at Trinity Hospital very alert. When he was gone, "Did you not see," said John Home to me, "how pale the traitor looked, when he found us so vigilant?" "No," I replied, "I thought he looked and behaved perfectly well, and it was the light from the lantern that made him appear pale." When we were relieved in the morning, I went to my lodging, and tried to get a few hours' sleep; but though the house was down a close, the noise was so great, and my spirits so much agitated, that I got none.

At noon on the 16th, when I went to the streets, I heard that General Fowlks had arrived from London early, and, by order of General Guest, had taken command of the 2nd Regiment of Dragoons, who, having retired the night before from Corstorphine, where they left only a guard, had marched with them to the Colt Bridge, a mile nearer than Corstorphine, and were joined by the same body of foot that had been with them on the 15th. The rebels, however, were slowly approaching, and there was no news of Sir John Cope's arrival with the army from Aberdeen; and the general opinion was, that the town would certainly be given up. The most zealous Whigs came now to think this necessary, as they plainly thought they saw Provost Stuart and his friends, so far from co-operating with their zeal, retarded every measure.

But the fate of the city was decided early in the afternoon, when the two regiments of dragoons were seen about four o'clock on their march from the Colt Bridge to Leith, by the long dykes, as then called; now George Street in the New Town. Then the clamour arose, that it would be madness to think of defending the town, as the dragoons had fled. The alarm bell was rung—a meeting of the inhabitants with the magistrates was convened, first in the Goldsmith's Hall, and when the crowd increased, in the New Church aisle. The four companies of Volunteers rendezvoused in the Lawnmarket, and, growing impatient, sent two of their lieutenants to the Provost for orders, for the captains had been sent for to the meeting. They soon returned without any orders, and said all was clamour and discordance. While they were absent, two Volunteers in the rear rank (Boyle and Weir), just behind, quarrelled, when debating whether or not the city should be surrounded, and were going to attack one another, one with his musket and bayonet, and the other with his small sword, having flung down his musket. They were soon separated without any harm, and placed asunder from each other. At this time, a man on horseback, whom nobody knew, came up from the Bow, and, riding at a quick pace along the line of Volunteers, called out that the Highlanders were at hand, and that they were 16,000 strong. This fellow did not stop to be examined, but rode off at the gallop. About this time, a letter had come, directed to the Provost, summoning the town to surrender, and alarming them with the consequence in case any opposition was made.

The Provost made a scrupulous feint about reading the letter, but this point was soon carried, and all idea of defence was abandoned. Soon after, Captain Drummond joined us in the Lawnmarket, with another captain or two. He sent to General Guest, of ter conversing a little with the lieutenant, to acquaint him that the Volunteers were coming to the Castle to deliver their arms. The messenger soon returned, and we marched up, glad to deliver them, lest they should have fallen into the hands of the enemy, which the delay of orders seemed to favour, though not a little ashamed and afflicted at our inglorious campaign.

We endeavoured to engage as many as we could to meet us at Haddington, and there deliberate what was to be done, as we conjectured that, now that the town of Edinburgh had surrendered, Sir John Cope would not land nearer than Dunbar. Upon being asked by two of my friends what I was to do—viz., William Robertson and William Cleghorn—I told them that I meant to go that night to my father's, at Prestonpans, where, if they would join me next day, by that time events might take place that would fix our resolution. Our ardour for arms and the field was not abated.

As it was now the dusk of the evening, I went to a house near the Nether Bow Port, where I had appointed my brother to meet me, that we might walk home together. Having foreseen the events that took place, as the rebels were so near the town, I wished to take the road as soon as possible, but on attempting to get out of the gate, in the inside of which several loaded carts or waggons were standing, I found the gates locked, and the keys lodged with the Provost. The carts were said to contain the baggage of Sir John Cope's army, etc., and each party interpreted the shutting of the gates according to their own fancy—one side thinking this was a manoeuvre to prevent their reaching Sir John; and the other, to hinder them from falling into the hands of the enemy. Be that as it may, it was half-past eight o'clock before the gate was opened, when I heard the baggage was ordered back to the Castle. At a later hour they were sent to Dunbar.

My brother and I set out immediately, and after passing through the crowd at the head of the Canon-gate, who were pressing both ways to get out and in, we went through the Abbey, by St. Ann's Yards and the Duke's Walk, to Jock's Lodge, meeting hardly a mortal the whole way. When we came down near the sands, I chose that way rather than the road through the whins, as there was no moonlight, and the whins were dark and solitary, but the sands always lightsome when the sea is in ebb, which was then the case. We walked slowly, as I had been fatigued, and my brother not strong; and, having met no mortal but one man on horseback as we entered the sands, riding at a brisk trot, who hailed us, we arrived at the west end of Preston-pans, having shunned Musselburgh by passing on the north side, without meeting or being overtaken by anybody. When we came to the gate of Lucky Vint's Courtyard, a tavern or inn then much frequented, I was astonished to meet with the utmost alarm and confusion —the officers of the dragoons calling for their horses in the greatest hurry. On stepping into the Court, Lord Drummore, the judge, saw me (his house being near, he had come down to sup with the officers). He immediately made up to me, and hastily inquired "Whence I had come?" "From Edinburgh direct." "Had the town surrendered?" "No! but it was expected to fall into the hands of the rebels early to-morrow." "Were there any Highlanders on their march this way?" "Not a soul;" I could answer for it, as I had left Edinburgh past eight o'clock, and had walked out deliberately, and seen not a creature but the horseman in the sands.

He turned to the officers, and repeated my intelligence, and asserted that it must be a false alarm, as he could depend on me. But this had no effect, for they believed the Highlanders were at hand. It was in vain to tell them that they had neither wings nor horses, nor were invisible—away they went, as fast as they could, to their respective corps, who, on marching from Leith, where they thought themselves not safe, had halted in an open field, above the west end of Preston-pans, between Prestongrange and the enclosures of Mr. Nisbet, lying west from the village of Preston. On inquiring what was become of Gardiner, Drummore told me, that being quite worn out on their arrival on that ground, he had begged to go to his own house, within half a mile, where he had been since eight o'clock, and where he had locked himself in, and could not be awaked till four in the morning, his usual hour. I went through the town to my father's, and before I got there I heard the dragoons marching in confusion, so strong was their panic, on the road that leads by the back of the gardens to Port Seaton, Aberlady, and North Berwick, all the way by the shore. My father and mother were not yet come home.

Before six on Tuesday morning, the 17th, Mr. James Hay, a gentleman in the town, who was afterwards a lieutenant in the Edinburgh Regiment, came to my bedside, and eagerly inquired what I thought was to be done, as the dragoons, in marching along in their confusion, had strewed the road eastward with accoutrements of every kind—pistols, swords, skullcaps, etc. I said that people should be employed immediately to gather them up, and send them after, which was done, and accounted to what filled a close cart and a couple of creels on horseback. By this time it was reported that the transports with Cope were seen off Dunbar. But it was not this news, for it was not then come, that made the dragoons scamper from their ground on the preceding night. It was an unlucky dragoon, who, slipping a little aside for a pea-sheaf to his horse, for there were some on the ground not led off, fell into a coal-pit, not filled up, when his side-arms and accoutrements made such a noise, as alarmed a body of men, who, for two days, had been completely panic-struck.

About mid-day, I grew anxious for the arrival of my two companions, Cleghorn and Robertson. I, therefore, walked out on the road to Edinburgh, when on going as far as where the turnpike is now, below Drummore, I met with Robertson on horseback, who told me that a little way behind him was Cleghorn and a cousin of his own, a Mr. Fraser of the Excise, who wished to accompany us to Sir John Cope's camp, for it was now known that he was to land that day at Dunbar, and the city of Edinburgh had been surrendered early that morning to the Highland army.

We waited till our companions came up, and walked together to my father's house, where I had ordered some dinner to be prepared for them by two o'clock. They were urgent to have it sooner, as they wished to begin our journey towards Dunbar as long before sunset as they could.

As we were finishing a small bowl of punch that I had made for them after dinner, James Hay, the gentleman I mentioned before, paid us a visit, and immediately after the ordinary civilities, said earnestly that he had a small favour to ask of us, which was that we would be so good as accept of a small collation which his sister and he had provided at their house—that of Charles Sheriff, the most eminent merchant in the place, who had died not long before, and left a widow and four daughters with this gentleman, their uncle, to manage their affairs. We declined accepting this invitation, for fear of being too late. He continued strongly to solicit our company, adding that he would detain us averyshort while, as he had only four bottles of burgundy, which if we did not accept of, he would be obliged togiveto the Highlanders. The name of burgundy, which some of us had never tasted, disposed us to listen to terms, and we immediately adjourned to Mrs. Sheriff's, not an hundred yards distant. We found very good apples and pears and biscuit set out for us, and after one bottle of claret to wash away the taste of the whisky punch, we fell to the burgundy, which we thought excellent; and in little more than an hour we were ready to take the road, it being then not long after five o'clock. Robertson mounted his horse, and left us to go round by his house at Gladsmuir to get a little money, as he had not wherewithal to defray his expenses, and mentioned an hour when he promised to meet us at Bangley Braef oot, Maggie Johnstone's, a public-house on the road leading to Dunbar, by Garlton Hills, a mile to the north of Haddington. There were no horses here for me, for though my father kept two, he had them both at the Goat Whey quarters.

When we came within sight of the door of this house, we saw Robertson dismounting from his horse: we got some beer or porter to refresh us after our walk, and having broken off in the middle of a keen dispute between Cleghorn and a recruiting sergeant, whether the musket and bayonet, or broadsword and target, were the best weapons, we proceeded on our journey, still a little doubtful if it was true that Sir John Cope had arrived. We proceeded slowly, for it was dark, till we came to Linton Bridge. Robertson, with his usual prudence, proposed to stay all night, it being ten o'clock, and still double beds for us all. Cleghorn's ardour and mine resisted this proposal; and getting a loan of Robertson's horse, we proceeded on to the camp at Dunbar, that we might be more certain of Sir John's arrival. At Belton Inn, within a mile of the camp, we were certified of it, and might then have turned in, but we obstinately persisted in our plan, fancying that we should find friends among the officers to receive us into their tents. When we arrived at the camp we were not allowed admittance, and the officer on the picket, whom Cleghorn knew, assured us that there was not an inch of room for us or our horse, either in camp or at Dunbar, and advised us to return. Being at last persuaded that Cope was landed, and that we had played the fool, we first attempted Belton Inn, but it was choked full by that time, as we were convinced by eight or ten footmen lounging in the kitchen on tables and chairs. We tried the inn at Linton with the same success. At last we were obliged to knock up the minister, Mat. Reid, at two in the morning, who, taking us for marauders from the camp, kept us an hour at the door. We were hardly well asleep, when, about six, Robertson came to demand his horse, quite stout and well refreshed, as well as his cousin Fraser, while we were jaded and undone; such is the difference between wisdom and folly.

After breakfasting, however, at the inn, we set out again for Dunbar, in sanguine hopes that we should soon return with the army, and give a good account of Sir John Cope. On our way, we visited the camp, which lay a mile west of Dunbar. As soon as I arrived at the town, I inquired for Colonel Gardiner, and went and visited him at Mr. Pyot's the minister of the town, where lie lodged. He received me with kindness, and invited me to dine with him at two o'clock; and to come to him a little before the hour. I went to him at half-past one, and he took me to walk in the garden. He looked pale and dejected, which I attributed to his bad health and the fatigue he had lately undergone. I began to ask him if he was not now quite satisfied with the junction of the foot with the dragoons, and confident that they would give account of the rebels. He answered dejectedly that he hoped it might be so, but —and then made a long pause. I said, that to be sure they had made a very hasty retreat; "a foul flight," said he, "Sandie and they have not recovered from their panic; and I'll tell you in confidence that I have not above ten men in my regiment whom I am certain will follow me. But we must give them battle now, and God's will be done!"

We were called to dinner, where there was nobody but the family and Cornet Kerr, a kinsman of the colonel. He assumed an air of gaiety at dinner, and inquiring of me the adventures of the night, rallied me as a raw soldier in not taking up with the first good quarters I could get; and when the approaching event was mentioned, spoke of victory as a thing certain, " if God were on our side." We sat very short time after dinner. The Colonel went to look after his regiment, and prepare them for to-morrow's march, and I to look out for my companions; on finding them, it was agreed to return back to Linton, as between the dragoons and the concourse of strangers, there was not a bed to be had. We returned accordingly to Linton, and made good our quarters at the minister's, where we remained till the army passed in the morning on their route to Haddington. John Home had arrived at Dunbar on Wednesday, and said he had numbered the Highlanders, and thought there were about 1900, but that they were ill armed, though that defect was now supplied at Edinburgh. There were many of the volunteers all night at Linton, whom we saw in the morning, and with whom we appointed to meet in an inn at Haddington.

As the army passed about eleven or twelve, we joined them and marched along with them; they took the hill road by Charteris Dykes; and when we were about Beanston, I was accosted by Major Bowles, whom I knew, and who, desirous of some conversation with me, made his servant dismount and give me his horse, which I gladly accepted of, being a good deal worn out with the fatigue of the preceding day. The major was completely ignorant of the state of the country and of the character of the Highlanders. I found him perfectly ignorant and credulous, and in the power of every person with whom he conversed. I was not acquainted with the discipline of armies; but it appeared to me to be very imprudent to allow all the common people to converse with the soldiers on their march as they pleased, by which means their panic was kept up, and perhaps their principles corrupted. Many people in East Lothian at that time were Jacobites, and they were most forward to mix with the soldiers. The commons in general, as well as two-thirds of the gentry at that period, had no aversion to the family of Stuart; and could their religion have been secured, would have been very glad to see them on the throne again.

Cope's small army sat down for the afternoon and night in an open field on the west side of Haddington. The Volunteers, to the number of twenty-five, assembled at the principal inn, where also sundry officers of dragoons and those on the staff came for their dinner. While our dinner was preparing, an alarm was beat in the camp, which occasioned a great hurry-scurry in the courtyard with the officers taking their horses, which some of them did with no small reluctance, either through love of their dinner or aversion to the enemy. I saw Colonel Gardiner passing very slowly, and ran to him to ask what was the matter. He said it could be nothing but a false alarm, and would soon be over. The army, however, was drawn out immediately, and it was found to be a false alarm. The Honourable Francis Charteris [Afterwards, seventh Earl of Wemyss.] had been married the day before, at Prestonhall, to Lady Frances Gordon, the Duchess of Gordon's daughter, who was supposed to favour the Pretender, though she had a large pension from Government. How that might be nobody knew, but it was alleged that the alarm followed their coach, as they passed to their house at New Amisfield.

After dinner, Captain Drummond came to us at the inn, to whom we unanimously gave a commission to apply to the general for arms to us, and to appoint us a station in the line, as we had not only our captain, but one of our lieutenants with us. Drummond left us to make this application, but was very long in returning, and the answer he brought was not so agreeable. It was, that the General did not think we could be so serviceable by taking arms, as we might be in taking post-horses through the night, and reconnoitring the roads leading from the enemy towards our army, and bringing an account of what movements there were. This was agreed to after some hesitation, and sixteen of us were selected to go out, two and two—one set at eight in the evening, and another at twelve. Four of these were thought useless, as there were only three roads that could be reconnoitred. I was of the first set, being chosen by Mr. William M'Ghie as his companion, and we chose the road by the sea-coast, through Longniddry, Port Seaton, and Prestonpans, as that with which I was best acquainted. We set out not long after eight o'clock, and found everything perfectly quiet as we expected. At Prestonpans we called at my father's, and found that they had returned home on Wednesday; and having requested them to wait supper till our return, we rode on to Westpans, in the county of Midlothian, near Musselburgh; and still meeting with nothing on which to report, we returned to supper at my father's. While we were there, an application was made to us by Bailie Hepburn, the baron bailie or magistrate of the place, against a young gentleman, a student of medicine, as he said, who had appeared in arms in the town, and pretended that he wished to be conducted to Cope's army. We went down from the manse to a public-house, where this gentleman was confined. At the first glance, M'Ghie knew him to be a student, though not personally acquainted with him, and got him relieved immediately, and brought him up to supper. M`Ghie took all the pains he could to persuade this gentleman, whose name was Myrie, to attach himself to the Volunteers, and not to join the army; but he would not be persuaded, and actually joined one of the regiments on their march next morning, and was sadly wounded at the battle.

Francis Garden, afterwards Lord Gardenstone, and Robert Cunningham, afterwards the General in Ireland, followed Mr. M`Ghie and me, and were taken prisoners, and not very well used. They had gone as far as Cry-stall's Inn, west of Musselburgh, and had sat with a window open after daylight at a regale of white wine and oysters, when they were observed by one of the Prince's Life Guards who was riding past, not in uniform, but armed with pistols; they took to their horses, when he, pretending to take them for rebels, they avowed they were King's men, and were taken to the camp at Duddingston. [Scott in his review of Home's Works records this incident in ludicrous light.—Miscellanies, vol. xix.]

When M'Ghie and I returned to Haddington about one o'clock, all the beds were taken up, and we had to sleep in the kitchen on benches and chairs. To our regret we found that several Volunteers had single beds to themselves, a part of which we might have occupied. Sir John Cope and his army marched in the morning, I think, not till nine o'clock, and to my great surprise, instead of keeping the post-road through Tranent Muir, which was high ground and commanded the country south for several miles, as it did that to the north for two or three miles towards the sea, they turned to the right by Elvingston and the village of Trabroun, till they past Longniddry on the north, and St. Germains on the south, when, on entering the defile made by the enclosures there, they halted for near an hour, and then marched into the open field of two miles in length and one and a half in breadth, extending from Seaton to Preston, and from Tranent Meadow to the sea. I understood afterwards that the General's intention was (if lie had any will of his own) to occupy the field lying between Walliford, Smeaton, and Inveresk, where he would have had the river Esk running through, deep banks in front, and the towns of Dalkeith and Musselburgh at hand to supply him with provisions. In this camp he could not have been surprised; and in marching to this ground the road through Tranent was not more distant by 100 yards than that by Seaton. But they were too late in marching; for when they came to St. Germains, their scouts, who were chiefly Lords Home and Loudon, brought them intelligence that the rebel army were on their march, on which, after an hour's halt, when, by turning to the left, they might have reached the high ground at Tranent before the rebels, they marched on to that plain before described, now called the field of battle. This field was entirely clear of the crop, the last sheaves having been carried in the night before; and neither cottage, tree, or bush were in its whole extent, except one solitary thorn bush which grew on the march between Seaton and Preston fields, around and near to which lay the greatest number of slain, and which remains there to this day, [About half a mile east of Prestonpans Railway Station, a thorn tree, growing in a field a few yards north of the main road to Longniddry, is still pointed out as marking the site of the battle.] though the fields have been long since completely enclosed.

The army marched straight to the west end of this field till they came near the walls of the enclosures of Preston, which reached from the road leading from the village of Preston north to Tranent meadow and Bank-town, down almost half-way to Prestonpans, to which town, from this enclosure, there was no interruption; and the whole projections of those enclosures into the plain to the east were not above 300 yards. That part of it which belonged to Preston estate was divided into three shots, as they were called, or rigg lengths, the under shot, the middle, and the upper. A cart road for carrying out dung divided the two first, which laygently sloping to the sea, from which it was separated by garden walls, and alarge enclosure f or a rabbit warren. The upper shot was divided from the middle one by a footpath, and lay almost level, sloping almost imperceptibly to Tranent Meadow. This was properly the field of battle, which on account of the slope was not seen fully from the lower fields or the town. Near to those walls on the east the army formed their first line of battle fronting west. They were hardly formed, when the rebel army appeared on the high ground at Birsley, south-west of our army about a mile. On sight of them our army shouted. They drew nearer Tranent, and our army shifted a little eastward to front them. All this took place by one o'clock.

Colonel Gardiner having informed the General and his staff that I was at hand to execute anything in my power for the good of the service, there was sent to me a message to inquire if I could provide a proper person to venture up to the Highland army, to make his observations, and particularly to notice if they had any cannon, or if they were breaking ground anywhere. With some difficulty I prevailed on my father's church-officer, a fine stout man, to make this expedition, which he did immediately. A little further on in the afternoon the same aide-de-camp, an uncle of Sir Ralph Abercrombie's, came to request me to keep a look-out from the top of the steeple, and observe if at any time any detachment from the main army was sent westwards. In the mean time the Highlanders lay with their right close to Tranent, and had detached some companies down to the churchyard, which was close by a waggon-way which led directly down to our army, and crossed the road leading between Preston and Seaton, where Cope's six or seven pieces of cannon were placed, not above a third of a mile distant from the church. As the Highlanders appeared north of the church in the churchyard, which was higher than the waggon-way, the cannon were fired, and dislodged them from thence. Not long after this, about four in the afternoon, the rebels made a movement to the westward of Birsley, where they had first appeared, and our army took their first position. Soon after this I observed from the steeple a large detachment of Highlanders, about 300 or 400, lodge themselves in what was called the Thorny Loan, which led from the west end of Preston to the village of Dolphingston to the south-west. I mounted my horse to make this known to the General, and met the aide-de-camp riding briskly down the field, and told him what I had seen. I immediately returned to my station in the steeple. As twilight approached, I observed that detachment withdrawn, and was going up the field to tell this when my doughty arrived, who was going to tell me his story how numerous and fierce the Highlanders were —how keen for the fight—and how they would make but a breakfast of our men. I made him go with me to the General to tell his own story. In the mean time I visited Colonel Gardiner for a third time that day on his post, and found him grave, but serene and resigned; and he concluded by praying God to bless me, and that he could not wish for a better night to lie on the field; and then called for his cloak and other conveniences for lying down, as he said they would be awaked early enough in the morning, as he thought, by the countenance of the enemy, for they had now shifted their position to a sloping field east from the church, and were very near our army, with little more than the morass between. Coming down the field I asked my messenger if they had not paid him for his danger. Not a farthing had they given him, which being of a piece with the rest of the General's conduct raised no sanguine hopes for tomorrow. I gave the poor fellow half-a-crown, which was half my substance, having delivered the gold to my father the night before.

When I returned to my father's house, I found it crowded with strangers, some of them Volunteers, and some Merse clergymen, particularly Monteith and Laurie, and Pat Simson. They were very noisy and boastful of their achievements, one of them having the dragoon's broadsword who had fallen into the coal-pit, and the other the musket he had taken from a Highland soldier between the armies. Simson, who was cousin to Adam Drummond of Meginch, captain and paymaster in Lee's regiment, had a pair of saddle-bags intrusted to him, containing 400 guineas, which Patrick not imprudently gave to my father to keep all night for him, out of any danger of being plundered. Perceiving that there would be no room for me, without incommoding the strangers, I stole away to a neighbouring widow gentlewoman's, where I bespoke a bed, and returned to supper at my father's. But no sooner had I cut up the cold surloin which my mother had provided, than I fell fast asleep, having been much worn out with all the fatigues of the preceding week. I retired directly.

I directed the maid to awake me the moment the battle began, and fell into a profound sleep in an instant. I had no need to be awaked, though the maid was punctual, for I heard the first cannon that was fired, and started to my clothes ; which, as I neither buckled nor gartered, were on in a moment, and immediately went to my father's, not a hundred yards off. All the strangers were gone, and my father had been up before daylight, and had resorted to the steeple. While I was conversing with my mother, he returned to the house, and assured me of what I had guessed before, that we were completely defeated. I ran into the garden where there was a mount in the south-east corner, from which one could see the fields almost to the verge of that part where the battle was fought. Even at that time, which could hardly be more than ten or fifteen minutes after firing the first cannon, ["This battle ... was fought on (Saturday) 21st of September 1745, and was ended just as the sun gott up: it did not last full a quarter of an hour."—Lord Elcho's journal.] the whole prospect was filled with runaways, and Highlanders pursuing them. Many had their coats turned as prisoners, but were still trying to reach the town in hopes of escaping. The pursuing Highlanders, when they could not overtake, fired at them, and I saw two fall in the glebe. By-and-by a Highland officer whom I knew to be Lord Elcho passed with his train, and had an air of savage ferocity that disgusted and alarmed. He inquired fiercely of me where a public-house was to be found; I answered him very meekly, not doubting but that, if I had displeased him with my tone, his reply would have been with a pistol bullet.

The crowd of wounded and dying now approached with all their followers, but their groans and agonies were nothing compared with the howlings, and cries, and lamentations of the women, which suppressed manhood and created despondency. Not long after the Duke of Perth appeared with his train, who asked me, in a very different tone, the way to Collector Cheap's, to which house he had ordered our wounded officers. Knowing the family were from home, I answered the questions of victorious clemency with more assurance of personal safety, than I had done to unappeased fury. I directed him the way to the house, which was hard by that where I had slept.

The rebel army had before day marched in three divisions, one of which went straight down the waggon-way to attack our cannon, the other two crossed the Morass near Seaton House; one of which marched north towards Port Seaton, where the field is broadest, to attack our rear, but overmarched themselves, and fell in with a few companies that were guarding the baggage in a small enclosure near Cockenzie, and took the whole. The main body marched west through the plains, and just at the break of day attacked our army. After firing once, they run on with their broadswords, and our people fled. The dragoons attempted to charge, under Colonel Whitney, who was wounded, but wheeled immediately, and rode off through the defile between Preston and Bankton, to Dolphingston, half a mile off. Colonel Gardiner, with his division, attempted to charge, but was only followed by eleven men, as he had foretold, Cornet Kerr being one. He continued fighting, and had received several wounds, and was at last brought down by the stroke of a broadsword over the head. ["Poor Collenell Gardiner, one of the best men and experienced officers, was lost. It is said he was against the General's disposition, but the good man was in so bad a state of health he could not have lived long."—Woodhouselee MSS.] He was carried to the minister's house atTranent, where he lived till next forenoon. His own house, which was nearer, was made an hospital for the Highlanders, no person of our army being carried there but the Master of Torphichen, who was so badly wounded that he could be sent to no greater distance. Some of the dragoons fled as far as Edinburgh, and one stood all day at the Castle-gate, as General Guest would not allow him to be taken in. A considerable body of dragoons met at Dolphingston immediately after the rout, little more than half a mile from the field, where Cope joined them; and where it was said Lord Drummore offered to conduct them back, with assurance of victory when the Highlanders were busy with the booty. But they could not be prevailed on by his eloquence no more than by the youthful ardour of Earls Home and Loudon. After a short halt, they marched over Falside Hill to Lauder. Sir Peter Halket, a captain in Lee's regiment, acted a distinguished part on this occasion; for after the rout he kept his company together; and getting behind a ditch in Tranent Meadow, he kept firing away on the rebels till they were glad to let him surrender on terms.

In the mean time my father became very uneasy lest I should be ill treated by the rebels, as they would discover that I had been a Volunteer in Edinburgh; he therefore ordered the horses to be saddled, and telling me that the sea was out, and that we could escape by the shore without being seen, we mounted, taking a short leave of my mother and the young ones, and took the way he had pointed out. We escaped without interruption till we came to Portseton harbour, a mile off, where we were obliged to turn up on the land, when my father observing a small party of Highlanders, who were pursuing two or three carts with baggage that were attempting to escape, and coming up with the foremost driver, who would not stop when called to, they shot him on the spot. This daunted my father, who turned immediately, and took the way we came. We were back again soon after, when, taking off my boots and putting on shoes, I had the appearance of a person who had not been abroad. I then proposed to go to Collector Cheap's house, where I understood there were twenty-three wounded officers, to offer my assistance to the surgeons, Cunningham and Trotter, the first of whom I knew. They were surgeons of the dragoons, and had surrendered that they might attend the officers. When I went in, I told Cunningham (afterwards the most eminent surgeon in Dublin) that I had come to offer them my services, as, though no surgeon, I had better hands than a common servant. They were obliged to me; but the only service I could do to them was to try to find one of their medicine-chests among the baggage, as they could do nothing for want of instruments. I readily undertook this task, provided they would furnish me with a guard. This they hoped they could do; and knocking at the door of an inner room, a Highland officer appeared, whom they called Captain Stewart. He was good-looking, grave, and of polished manners. He answered that he would soon find a proper conductor for me, and despatched a servant with a message. In the mean time I observed a very handsome young officer lying in an easy-chair in a faint, and seemingly dying. They led me to a chest of drawers, where there lay a piece of his skull, about two fingers' breadth and an inch and a half long. I said, "This gentleman must die." "No," said Cunningham, "the brain is not affected, nor any vital part: he has youth and a fine constitution on his side; and could I but get my instruments, there would be no fear of him." This man was Captain Blake. Captain Stewart's messenger arrived with a fine, brisk, little, well-dressed Highlander, armed cap-a-pie with pistol, and dirk, and broadsword. Captain Stewart gave him his orders, and we set off immediately.

Never did any young man more perfectly display the boastful temper of a raw soldier, new to conflict and victory, than this Highland warrior. He said he had that morning been armour-bearer to the Duke of Perth, whose valour was as conspicuous as his clemency; that now there was no doubt of their final success, as the Almighty had blessed them with this almost bloodless victory on their part ; that He had made the sun to shine upon them uninterruptedly since their first setting out; that no brawling woman had cursed, nor even a dog had barked at them; that not a cloud had interposed between them and the blessings of Heaven, and that this happy morning here he was interrupted in his harangue by observing in the street a couple of grooms leading four fine blood-horses. He drew a pistol from his belt, and darted at the foremost in a moment. "Who are you, sir? and where are you going? and whom are you seeking?" It was answered with an uncovered head and a dastardly tone, "Jam Sir John Cope's coachman, and I am seeking my master." "You'll not find him here, sir, but you and your man and your horses are my prisoners. Go directly to the Collector's house, and put up your horses in the stable, and wait till I return from a piece of public service. Do this directly, as you regard your lives." They instantly obeyed. A few paces further on he met an officer's servant with two handsome geldings and a large and full clothes-bag. Similar questions and answers were made, and we found them all in the place to which they were ordered, on our return.

It was not long before we arrived at Cockenzie, where, under the protection of my guard, I had an opportunity of seeing this victorious army. In general they were of low stature and dirty, and of a contemptible appearance. The officers with whom I mixed were gentleman-like, and very civil to me, as I was on an errand of humanity. I was conducted to Lochiel, who was polished and gentle, and who ordered a soldier to make all the inquiry he could about the medicine-chests of the dragoons. After an hour's search, we returned without finding any of them, nor were they ever afterwards recovered. This view I had of the rebel army confirmed me in the prepossession that nothing but the weakest and most unaccountable bad conduct on our part could have possibly given them the victory. God forbid that Britain should ever again be in danger of being overrun by such a despicable enemy, for, at the best, the Highlanders were at that time but a raw militia, who were not cowards.

On our return from looking for the medicine-chests, we saw walking on the sea-shore, at the east end of Prestonpans, all the officers who were taken prisoners. I then saw human nature in its most abject form, for almost every aspect bore in it shame, and dejection, and despair. They were deeply mortified with what had happened, and timidly anxious about the future, for they were doubtful whether they were to be treated as prisoners of war or as rebels. I ventured to speak to one of them, who was nearest me, a Major Severn; for Major Bowles, my acquaintance, was much wounded, and at the Collector's. He answered some questions I put to him with civility, and I told him what errand I had been on, and with what humanity I had seen the wounded officers treated, and ventured to assert that the prisoners would be well used. The confidence with which I spoke seemed to raise his spirits, which I completed by saying that nothing could have been expected but what had happened, when the foot were so shamefully deserted by the dragoons.

Before we got back to the Collector's house, the wounded officers were all dressed ; Captain Blake's head was trepanned, and lie was laid in bed, for they had got instruments from a surgeon who lived in the town, of whom I had told Cunningham ; and they were ordered up to Bankton, Colonel Gardiner's house, where the wounded Highlanders were, and also the Honourable Mr. Sandilands. Two captains of ours had been killed outright besides Gardiner—viz., Captain Stewart of Physgill, whose wife was my relation, and who has a monument for him erected in the churchyard of Prestonpans by his father-in-law, Patrick Heron of Heron, Esq.; the other was Captain Brymer of Edrom, in the Merse.

While we were breakfasting at my father's, some young friends of mine called, among whom was James Dunlop, junr., of Garnkirk, my particular acquaintance at Glasgow. He and his companions had ridden through the field of battle, and being well acquainted with the Highland chiefs, assured us there was no danger, as they were civil to everybody. My father, who was impatient till he saw me safe, listened to this, and immediately ordered the horses. We rode through the field of battle where the dead bodies still lay, between eleven and twelve o'clock, mostly stript. There were about two hundred, we thought. There were only slight guards and a few straggling boys. We rode along the field to Seaton, and met no interruption till we came close to the village, when four Highlanders darted out of it, and cried in a wild tone, presenting their pieces, "Fourich, fourich!" (i.e. Stop, stop!) By advice of our Glasgow friends we stopped, and gave them shillings a-piece,with which they were heartily contented. We parted with our friends and rode on, and got to 11Ir. Hamilton's, minister of Bolton, a solitary place at a distance from any road, by two o'clock, and remained there all day. 111y father, having time to recollect himself, fell into a new anxiety, for he then called to mind that, besides sundry watches and purses which he had taken to keep, he also had Pat. Simson's four hundred guineas. After many proposals and projects, and among the rest my earnest desire to return alone, it was at last agreed to write a letter in Latin to John Ritchie the schoolmaster, afterwards minister of Abercorn, and instruct him how to go at night and secrete the watches and purses if still there, and bury the saddle-bags in the garden. Ritchie was also requested to come to us next day.

My father and Mr. Hamilton carried on the work of that day, Sunday, with zeal, and not only prayed fervently for the King, but warned the people against being seduced by appearances to believe that the Lord was with the rebels, and that their cause would in the end be prosperous. But no sooner had we dined than my father grew impatient to see my mother and the children, Ritchie having written by the messenger that all was quiet. He wanted to go alone, but that I could not allow. We set out in due time, and arrived before it was dark, and found the family quite well, and my mother in good spirits. She was naturally strong-minded, and void of imaginary fears; but she had received comfort from the attention paid to her, for Captain Stewart, by the Duke of Perth's order, as he said, gave one of his ensigns, a Mr. Brydone, a particular charge of our family, and ordered him to call upon her at least twice a-day.

We soon began to think of my father's charge of watches and money; and when it was dark enough I went into the garden to look for the place where Ritchie had buried the saddle-bags. This was no difficult search, for he had written us that they were below a particular pear-tree. To be sure, he had buried the treasure, but he had left the leather belts by which they were fixed fully above ground, so that if the Highlanders had been of a curious or prowling disposition, they must have discovered this important sum.

Soon after this Ritchie arrived. He had set out for Bolton early in the afternoon; Dut taking a different road, that was nearer for people on foot, he did not meet us, and had returned immediately. On setting out, not twenty yards from the manse of Prestonpans, he was stopped by a single Highlander, who took from him all the money that he had, which was six shillings; but as he spared his watch, he was contented. Not long after came in my mother's guard, Ensign Brydone, a well-looking, sweet-tempered young man, about twenty years of age. He was Captain Stewart's ensign. Finding all the family assembled again, he resisted my mother's faint invitation to supper. She replied that as he was her guard, she hoped he would come as often as he could. He promised to breakfast with us next morning. He came at the hour appointed, nine o'clock. My mother's custom was to mask the tea before morning prayer, which she did; and soon after my father came into the room he called the servants to prayers. We knelt down, when Brydone turning awkwardly, his broad sword swept off the table a china plate with a roll of butter on it. Prayer being ended, the good lady did not forget her plate, but, taking it up whole, she said, smiling, and with a curtsey, "Captain Brydone, this is a good omen, and I trust our cause will be as safe in the end from your army as my plate has been from the sweep of your sword." The young man bowed, and sat down to breakfast and ate heartily; but I afterwards thought that the bad success of his sword and my mother's application had made him thoughtful, as Highlanders are very superstitious.

During the rest of the week, while I remained at home, finding him very ignorant of history and without political principles, unless it was a blind attachment to the chief, I thought I convinced him, in the many walks I had with him, that his cause would in the end be unsuccessful. I learned afterwards, that though he marched with them to England, he retired before the battle of Falkirk, and appeared no more. He was a miller's son near Drummond Castle.

On Tuesday, and not sooner, came many young surgeons from Edinburgh to dress the wounded soldiers, most of whom lay on straw in the schoolroom. As almost all their wounds were with the broadsword, they had suffered little. The surgeons returned to Edinburgh in the evening, and came back again for three days. As one of them was Colin Simson, a brother of Patrick's, the clergyman at Fala, and apprentice to Adam Drummond their uncle, we trusted him and his companions with the four hundred guineas, which at different times they carried in their pockets and delivered safe to Captain Adam Drummond of Megginch, then a prisoner in Queensberry House in the Canongate.

I remained at home all this week, about the end of which my friend William Sellar came from Edinburgh to see me, and pressed me much to come to Edinburgh and stay with him at his father's house. Having several things to purchase to prepare for my voyage to Holland, I went to town on the following Monday, and remained with him till Thursday. Besides his father and sisters, there lodged in the house Mr. Smith, and there came also to supper every night his son, afterwards Mr. Seton of Touch, having married the heiress of that name. As Prince Charles had issued a proclamation allowing all the Volunteers of Edinburgh three weeks, during which they might pay their court to him at the Abbey, and receive a free pardon, I went twice down to the Abbey Court with my friend about twelve o'clock, to wait till the Prince should come out of the Palace and mount his horse to ride to the east side of Arthur Seat to visit his army. I had the good fortune to see him both days, one of which I was close by him when he walked through the guard. He was a good-looking man, of about five feet ten inches; his hair was dark red, and his eyes black. His features were regular, his visage long, much sunburnt and freckled, and his countenance thoughtful and melancholy. He mounted his horse and rode off through St. Ann's Yards and the Duke's Walk to his army. There was no crowd after him—about three or four hundred each day. By that time curiosity had been satisfied.

In the house where I lived they were all Jacobites, and I heard much of their conversation. When young Sellar and I retired from them at night, he agreed with me that they had less ground for being so sanguine and upish than they imagined. The court at the Abbey was dull and sombre—the Prince was melancholy; he seemed to have no confidence in anybody, not even in the ladies, who were much his friends; far less had he the spirit to venture to the High Church of Edinburgh and take the sacrament, as his great-uncle Charles ii. had done the Covenant, which would have secured him the low-country commons, as he already had the Highlanders by attachment. He was thought to have loitered too long at Edinburgh, and, without doubt, had he marched immediately to Newcastle, he might have distressed the city of London not a little. But besides that his army wanted clothing and necessaries, the victory at Preston put an end to his authority. He had not a mind fit for command at any time, far less to rule the Highland chiefs in prosperity.

I returned to Prestonpans on Thursday, and as I was to set out for Newcastle on Monday to take shipping for Holland, I sent to Captain Blake, who was recovering well, to tell him that if he had any letters for Berwick, I would take charge of them. He prayed me to call on him immediately. He said he was quite well, and complained of nothing but the pain of a little cut he had got on one of his fingers. He said he would trouble me with a letter to a friend at Berwick, and that it would be ready on Saturday at four o'clock, when he begged I would call on him. I went at the hour, and found him dressed and looking well, with a small table and a bottle and glasses before him. "What!" says I; "Captain Blake, are you allowed to drink wine?" "Yes," said he, "and as I expected you, I postponed my few glasses till I should drink to your good journey." To be sure, we drank out the bottle of claret; and when I sent to inquire for him on Sunday, he said he had slept better than ever. I never saw this man more; but I heard he had sold out of the army, and was married. In spring 1800, when the King was very ill, and in danger, I observed in the papers that he had left a written message, mentioning the wounds he had received at the battle of Preston. On seeing this, I wrote to him as the only living witness who could attest the truth of his note left at St. James's. I had a letter from him dated the 1st of March that year, written in high spirits, and inviting me to Great George Street, Westminster, where he hoped we would uncork a bottle with more pleasure than we had done in 1745, but to come soon, for he was verging on eighty-one. He died this spring, 1802.


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