C.H.WILKINSON 
 
 V. J. ? .3 aAe.tLy 1<j33 
 

THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS 
 
 AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 OF A JUSTIFIED SINNER 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF : 
 
 WITH A DETAIL OF CURIOUS TRADITIONARY FACTS, AND 
 OTHER EVIDENCE, BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, BROWN, 
 AND GREEN, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 MDCCCXXIV. 
 
EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED BY JAMES CLARKE AND CO. 
 
 1824. 
 
TO 
 
 THE HON. WILLIAM SMITH, 
 
 LORD PROVOST OF GLASGOW, 
 
 4* 4* 4* 
 
 THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,, 
 AS A SMALL MARK OF 
 
 THE EDITOR'S 
 
 ESTEEM FOR HIM AS A MAN, 
 AND RESPECT FOR HIM AS A MAGISTRATE. 
 
THE 
 
 EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 
 
 It appears from tradition, as well as some parish re- 
 gisters still extant, that the lands of Dalcastle .(or 
 Dalchastel, as it is often spelled) were possessed by a 
 family of the name of Colwan, about one hundred and 
 fifty years ago, and for at least a century previous to 
 that period. That family was supposed to have been a 
 branch of the ancient family of Colquhoun, and it is 
 certain that from it spring the Cowans that spread 
 towards the Border. I find, that in the year 1687, 
 George Colwan succeeded his uncle of the same 
 name, in the lands of Dalchastel and Balgrennan ; 
 and this being all I can gather of the family from 
 history, to tradition I must appeal for the remainder 
 of the motley adventures of that house. But of the 
 matter furnished by the latter of these powerful ma- 
 
 B 
 
2 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 nitors, I have no reason to complain : It has been 
 handed down to the world in unlimited abundance; 
 and I am certain, that in recording the hideous events 
 which follow, I am only relating to the greater part 
 of the inhabitants of at least four counties of Scot- 
 land, matters of which they were before perfectly 
 well informed. 
 
 This George was a rich man, or supposed to be 
 so, and was married, when considerably advanced in 
 life, to the sole heiress and reputed daughter of a 
 Baillie Orde, of Glasgow. This proved a conjunction 
 any thing but agreeable to the parties contracting. 
 It is well known, that the Reformation principles had 
 long before that time taken a powerful hold of the 
 hearts and affections of the people of Scotland, al- 
 though the feeling was by no means general, or in 
 equal degrees ; and it so happened that this married 
 couple felt completely at variance on the subject. 
 Granting it to have been so, one would have thought 
 that the laird, owing to his retired situation, would 
 have been the one that inclined to the stern doctrines 
 of the reformers ; and that the young and gay dame 
 from the city would have adhered to the free princi- 
 ples cherished by the court party, and indulged in 
 rather to extremity, in opposition to their severe and 
 carping contemporaries. 
 
THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE. O 
 
 The contrary, however, happened to be the case. 
 The laird was what his country neighbours called " a 
 droll, careless chap," with a very limited proportion of 
 the fear of God in his heart, and very nearly as little 
 of the fear of man. The laird had not intentionally 
 wronged or offended either of the parties, and per- 
 ceived not the necessity of deprecating their ven- 
 geance. He had hitherto believed that he was living 
 in most cordial terms with the greater part of the in- 
 habitants of the earth, and with the powers above in 
 particular : but woe be unto him if he was not soon 
 convinced of the fallacy of such damning security ! 
 for his lady was the most severe and gloomy of all 
 bigots to the principles of the Reformation. Hers 
 were not the tenets of the great reformers, but theirs 
 mightily overstrained and deformed. Theirs was an 
 unguent hard to be swallowed ; but hers was that un- 
 guent embittered and overheated until nature could 
 not longer bear it. She had imbibed her ideas from the 
 doctrines of one flaming predestinarian divine alone ; 
 and these were so rigid, that they became a stumbling- 
 block to many of his brethren, and a mighty handle 
 for the enemies of his party to turn the machine of 
 the state against them. 
 
 The wedding festivities at Dalcastle partook of all 
 the gaiety, not of that stern age, but of one previous 
 b 2 
 
4 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 to it. There was feasting, dancing, piping, and sing- 
 ing : the liquors were handed around in great fulness, 
 the ale in large wooden bickers, and the brandy in 
 capacious horns of oxen. The laird gave full scope 
 to his homely glee. He danced, — he snapped his 
 fingers to the music, — clapped his hands and shouted 
 at the turn of the tune. He saluted every girl in the 
 hall whose appearance was any thing tolerable, and 
 requested of their sweethearts to take the same free- 
 dom with his bride, by way of retaliation. But there 
 she sat at the head of the hall in still and blooming 
 beauty, absolutely refusing to tread a single measure 
 with any gentleman there. The only enjoyment in 
 which she appeared to partake, was in now and then 
 stealing a word of sweet conversation with her favour- 
 ite pastor about divine things ; for he had accom- 
 panied her home after marrying her to her husband, 
 to see her fairly settled in her new dwelling. He 
 addressed her several times by her new name, Mrs. 
 Colwan ; but she turned away her head disgusted, 
 and looked with pity and contempt towards the old 
 inadvertent sinner, capering away in the height of his 
 unregenerated mirth. The minister perceived the 
 workings of her pious mind, and thenceforward ad- 
 dressed her by the courteous title of Lady Dalcastle, 
 which sounded somewhat better, as not coupling her 
 

 THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE. 5 
 
 name with one of the wicked : and there is too great 
 reason to believe, that for all the solemn vows she had 
 come under, and these were of no ordinary binding, 
 particularly on the laird's part, she at that time des- 
 pised, if not abhorred him, in her heart. 
 
 The good parson again blessed her, and went away. 
 She took leave of him with tears in her eyes, entreat- 
 ing him often to visit her in that heathen land of the 
 Amorite, the Hittite, and the Girgashite : to which 
 he assented, on many solemn and qualifying condi- 
 tions, — and then the comely bride retired to her cham- 
 ber to pray. 
 
 It was customary, in those days, for the brideVman 
 and maiden, and a few select friends, to visit the new 
 married couple after they had retired to rest, and drink 
 a.cup to their healths, their happiness, and a numerous 
 posterity. But the laird delighted not in this : he 
 wished to have his jewel to himself; and, slipping 
 away quietly from his jovial party, he retired to his 
 chamber to his beloved, and bolted the door. He 
 found her engaged with the writings of the Evange- 
 lists, and terribly demure. The laird went up to 
 caress her ; but she turned away her head, and spoke 
 of the follies of aged men, and something of the broad 
 way that leadeth to destruction. The laird did not 
 thoroughly comprehend this allusion ; but being con- 
 'p3 
 
6 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 siderably flustered by drinking, and disposed to take 
 all in good part, he only remarked, as he took off his 
 shoes and stockings, " that whether the way was broad 
 or narrow, it was time that they were in their bed." 
 
 " Sure, Mr. Colwan, you won't go to bed to-night, 
 at such an important period of your life, without first 
 saying prayers for yourself and me. 11 
 
 When she said this, the laird had his head down 
 almost to the ground, loosing his shoe-buckle ; but 
 when he heard of prayers, on such a night, he raised 
 his face suddenly up, which was all over as flushed 
 and red as a rose, and answered, — 
 
 " Prayers, Mistress ! Lord help your crazed head, 
 is this a night for prayers ?" 
 
 He had better have held his peace. There was 
 such a torrent of profound divinity poured out upon 
 him, that the laird became ashamed, both of himself 
 and his new-made spouse, and wist not what to say ; 
 but the brandy helped him out. 
 
 " It strikes me, my dear, that religious devotion 
 would be somewhat out of place to-night," said he. 
 " Allowing that it is ever so beautiful, and ever so 
 beneficial, were we to ride on the rigging of it at all 
 times, would we not be constantly making a farce 
 of it : It would be like reading the Bible and the 
 
THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE. 7 
 
 jest-book, verse about, and would render the life of 
 man a medley of absurdity and confusion." 
 
 But against the cant of the bigot or the hypocrite, 
 no reasoning can aught avail. If you would argue 
 until the end of life, the infallible creature must alone 
 be right. So it proved with the laird. One Scripture 
 text followed another, not in the least connected, and 
 one sentence of the profound Mr. WringhmVs ser- 
 mons after another, proving the duty of family wor- 
 ship, till the laird lost patience, and, tossing him- 
 self into bed, said, carelessly, that he would leave 
 that duty upon her shoulders for one night. 
 
 The meek mind of Lady Dalcastle was somewhat 
 disarranged by this sudden evolution. She felt that 
 she was left rather in an awkward situation. How- 
 ever, to show her unconscionable spouse that she was 
 resolved to hold fast her integrity, she kneeled down 
 and prayed in terms so potent, that she deemed she 
 was sure of making an impression on him. She did 
 so ; for in a short time the laird began to utter a re- 
 sponse so fervent, that she was utterly astounded, and 
 fairly driven from the chain of her orisons. He be- 
 gan, in truth, to sound a nasal bugle of no ordinary 
 calibre, — the notes being little inferior to those of a 
 military trumpet. The lady tried to proceed, but 
 every returning note from the bed burst on her ear 
 
8 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 with a louder twang, and a longer peal, till the con- 
 cord of sweet sounds became so truly pathetic, that 
 the meek spirit of the dame was quite overcome ; and 
 after shedding a flood of tears, she arose from her 
 knees, and retired to the chimney-corner with her 
 Bible in her lap, there to spend the hours in holy 
 meditation till such time as the inebriated trumpejter 
 should awaken to a sense of propriety. 
 
 The laird did not awake in any reasonable time ; 
 for, he being overcome with fatigue and wassail, his 
 sleep became sounder, and his Morphean measures 
 more intense. These varied a little in their struc- 
 ture ; but the general run of the bars sounded some- 
 thing in this way, — " Hic-hoc-wheew !" It was 
 most profoundly ludicrous ; and could not have miss- 
 ed exciting risibility in any one, save a pious, a dis- 
 appointed, and humbled bride. 
 
 The good dame wept bitterly. She could not for 
 her life go and awaken the monster, and request him 
 to make room for her : but she retired somewhere ; 
 for the laird, on awaking next morning, found that 
 he was still lying alone. His sleep had been of the 
 deepest and most genuine sort ; and all the time that 
 it lasted, he had never once thought of either wives, 
 children, or sweethearts, save in the way of dream- 
 ing about them ; but as his spirit began again by 
 
THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE 
 
 slow degrees to verge towards the boundaries of rea- 
 son, it became lighter and more buoyant from the 
 effects of deep repose, and his dreams partook of that 
 buoyancy, yea, to a degree hardly expressible. He 
 dreamed of the reel, the jig, the strathspey, and the 
 corant ; and the elasticity of his frame was such, 
 that he was bounding over the heads of the maidens, 
 and making his feet skimmer against the ceiling, 
 enjoying, the while, the most extatic emotions. These 
 grew too fervent for the shackles of the drowsy god 
 to restrain. The nasal bugle ceased its prolonged 
 sounds in one moment, and a sort of hectic laugh 
 took its place. " Keep it going,— play up, you de- 
 vils l" cried the laird, without changing his position 
 on the pillow. But this exertion to hold the fiddlers 
 at their work, fairly awakened the delighted dreamer ; 
 and though he could not refrain from continuing his 
 laugh, he at length, by tracing out a regular chain 
 of facts, came to be sensible of his real situation. 
 " I^abina, where are you ? What's become of you, 
 my dear ?" cried the laird. But there was no voice, 
 nor any one that answered or regarded. He flung 
 open the curtains, thinking to find her still on her 
 knees, as he had seen her ; but she was not there, 
 either sleeping or waking. " Rabina ! Mrs. Col- 
 wan !" shouted he, as loud as he could call, and then 
 
10 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 added, in the same breath, " God save the king,— 
 I have lost my wife P 
 
 He sprung up and opened the casement : the day- 
 light was beginning to streak the east, for it was 
 spring, and the nights were short, and the mornings 
 very long. The laird half dressed himself in an in- 
 stant, and strode through every room in the house, 
 opening the windows as he went, and scrutinizing 
 every bed and every corner. He came into the hall 
 where the wedding festival had held; and, as he 
 opened the various window-boards, loving couples 
 flew off like hares surprised too late in the morning 
 among the early braird. " Hoo-boo ! Fie, be fright- 
 ened P cried the laird. " Fie, rin like fools, as if 
 ye were caught in an ill turn P — His bride was not 
 among them ; so he was obliged to betake himself to 
 farther search. " She will be praying in some cor- 
 ner, poor woman, 1 ' said he to himself. " It is an 
 unlucky thing this praying. But, for my part, I fear 
 I have behaved very ill ; and I must endeavour to 
 make amends." 
 
 The laird continued his search, and at length found 
 his beloved in the same bed with her Glasgow cousin, 
 who had acted as bride's-maid. " You sly and ma- 
 levolent imp," said the laird ; " you have played me 
 such a trick when I was fast asleep ! I have not known 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 11 
 
 a frolic so clever, and, at the same time, so severe. 
 Come along, you baggage you P* 
 
 " Sir, I will let you know, that I detest your prin- 
 ciples and your person alike," said she. "It shall 
 never be said, Sir, that my person was at the controul 
 of a heathenish man of Belial,— a dangler among 
 the daughters of women, — a promiscuous dancer, — 
 and a player at unlawful games. Forego your rude- 
 ness, Sir, I say, and depart away from my presence 
 and that of my kinswoman." 
 
 " Come along, I say, my charming Rab. If you 
 were the pink of all puritans, and the saint of all 
 saints, you are my wife, and must do as I command 
 you." 
 
 " Sir, I will sooner lay down my life than be sub- 
 jected to your godless will ; therefore, I say, desist, 
 and begone with you." 
 
 But the laird regarded none of these testy sayings : 
 he rolled her in a blanket, and bore her triumphantly 
 away to his chamber, taking care to keep a fold or 
 two of the blanket always rather near to her mouth, 
 in case of any outrageous forthcoming of noise. 
 
 The next day at breakfast the bride was long iii 
 making her appearance. Her maid asked to see her ; 
 but George did not choose that any body should see 
 her but himself: he paid her several visits, and al- 
 
12 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ways turned the key as he came out. At length 
 breakfast was served ; and during the time of refresh- 
 ment the laird tried to break several jokes ; but it was 
 remarked, that they wanted their accustomed bril- 
 liancy, and that his nose was particularly red at the 
 top. 
 
 Matters, without all doubt, had been very bad be- 
 tween the new-married couple ; for in the course of 
 the day the lady deserted her quarters, and returned 
 to her father's house in Glasgow, after having been 
 a night on the road ; stage-coaches and steam-boats 
 having then no existence in that quarter. Though 
 Baillie Orde had acquiesced in his wife's asseveration 
 regarding the likeness of their only daughter to her 
 father, he never loved or admired her greatly; there- 
 fore this behaviour nothing astounded him. He ques- 
 tioned her strictly as to the grievous offence com- 
 mitted against her ; and could discover nothing that 
 warranted a procedure so fraught with disagreeable 
 consequences. So, after mature deliberation, the bail- 
 lie addressed her as follows : — 
 
 " Ay, ay, Raby ! An' sae I find that Dalcastle 
 has actually refused to say prayers with you when 
 you ordered him ; an' has guidit you in a rude indeli- 
 cate manner, outstepping the respect due to my daugh- 
 ter, — as my daughter. But wi' regard to what is due 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 13 
 
 to his own wife, of that he's a better judge nor me. 
 However, since he has behaved in that manner to 
 my daughter, I shall be revenged on him for aince ; 
 for I shall return the obligation to ane nearer to him : 
 that is, I shall take pennyworths of his wife, — an" 
 let him lick at that.'' 
 
 " What do you mean, Sir ?" said the astonished 
 damsel. 
 
 " I mean to be revenged on that villain Dalcastle," 
 said he, " for what he has done to my daughter. 
 Come hither, Mrs. Colwan, you shall pay for this." 
 
 So saying, the baillie began to inflict corporal pu- 
 nishment on the runaway wife. His strokes were 
 not indeed very deadly, but he made a mighty flou- 
 rish in the infliction, pretending to be in a great rage 
 only at the Laird of Dalcastle. " Villain that he is !" 
 exclaimed he, " I shall teach him to behave in such 
 a manner to a child of mine, be she as she may ; 
 since I cannot get at himself, I shall lounder her that 
 is nearest to him in life. Take you that, and that, 
 Mrs. Colwan, for your husband's impertinence !" 
 
 The poor afflicted woman wept and prayed, but 
 the baillie would not abate aught of his severity. Af- 
 ter fuming, and beating her with many stripes, far 
 drawn, and lightly laid down, he took her up to her 
 chamber, five stories high, locked her in, and there 
 
14 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 he fed her on bread and water, all to be revenged on 
 the presumptuous Laird of Dalcastle ; but ever and 
 anon, as the baillie came down the stair from carrying 
 his daughter's meal, he said to himself, " I shall 
 make the sight of the laird the blithest she ever saw 
 in her life." 
 
 Lady Dalcastle got plenty of time to read, and 
 pray, and meditate ; but she was at a great loss for 
 one to dispute with about religious tenets ; for she 
 found, that without this advantage, about which 
 there was a perfect rage at that time, her reading, 
 and learning of Scripture texts, and sentences of in- 
 tricate doctrine, availed her nought ; so she was of- 
 ten driven to sit at her casement and look out for 
 the approach of the heathenish Laird of Dalcastle. 
 
 That hero, after a considerable lapse of time, at 
 length made his appearance. Matters were not hard 
 to adjust ; for his lady found that there was no re- 
 fuge for her in her father's house ; and so, after some 
 sighs and tears, she accompanied her husband home. 
 For all that had passed, things went on no better. 
 She would convert the laird in spite of his teeth : 
 The laird would not be converted. She would have 
 the laird to say family prayers, both morning and 
 evening : The laird would neither pray morning nor 
 evening. He would not even sing psalms, and kneel 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 15 
 
 beside her, while she performed the exercise ; nei- 
 ther would he converse at all times, and in all places, 
 about the sacred mysteries of religion, although his 
 lady took occasion to contradict flatly every assertion 
 that he made, in order that she might spiritualize 
 him by drawing him into argument. 
 
 The laird kept his temper a long while, but at 
 length his patience wore out ; he cut her short in all 
 her futile attempts at spiritualization, and mocked at 
 her wire-drawn degrees of faith, hope, and repent- 
 ance. He also dared to doubt of the great standard 
 doctrine of absolute predestination, which put the 
 crown on the lady's christian resentment. She de- 
 clared her helpmate to be a limb of Antichrist, and 
 one with whom no regenerated person could associate. 
 She therefore bespoke a separate establishment, and 
 before the expiry of the first six months, the arrange- 
 ments of the separation were amicably adjusted. The 
 upper, or third story of the old matision-house, was 
 awarded to the lady for her residence. She had a se- 
 parate door, a separate stair, a separate garden, and 
 walks that in no instance intersected the laird's ; so 
 that one would have thought the separation complete. 
 They had each their own parties, selected from their 
 own sort of people ; and though the laird never once 
 chafed himself about the lady's companies, it was 
 
16 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 not long before she began to intermeddle about some 
 of his. 
 
 " Who is that fat bouncing dame that visits the 
 laird so often, and always by herself?" said she to 
 her maid Martha one day. 
 
 " O dear, mem, how can I ken ? We're banished 
 frae our acquaintances here, as weel as frae the sweet 
 gospel ordinances. " 
 
 " Find me out who that jolly dame is, Martha. 
 You, who hold communion with the household of 
 this ungodly man, can be at no loss to attain this in- 
 formation. I observe that she always casts her eye 
 up toward our windows, both in coming and going ; 
 and I suspect that she seldom departs from the house 
 empty-handed." 
 
 That same evening Martha came with the infor- 
 mation, that this august visitor was a Miss Logan, 
 an old and intimate acquaintance of the laird's, and 
 a very worthy respectable lady, of good connections, 
 whose parents had lost their patrimony in the civil 
 wars. 
 
 " Ha ! very well !" said the lady ; " very well, 
 Martha ! But, nevertheless, go thou and watch this 
 respectable lady's motions and behaviour the next 
 time she comes to visit the laird, — and the next after 
 that. You will not, I see, lack opportunities." 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 17 
 
 Martha's information turned out of that nature, 
 that prayers were said in the uppermost story of Dal- 
 castle-house against the Canaanitish woman, every 
 night and every morning ; and great discontent pre- 
 vailed there, even to anathemas and tears. Letter 
 after letter was dispatched to Glasgow; and at 
 length, to the lady's great consolation, the Rev. Mr. 
 Wringhim arrived safely and devoutly in her elevated 
 sanctuary. Marvellous was the conversation between 
 these gifted people. Wringhim had held in his doc- 
 trines that there were eight different kinds of Faith, 
 all perfectly distinct in their operations and effects. 
 But the lady, in her secluded state, had discovered 
 other five, — making twelve in all : the adjusting of 
 the existence or fallacy of these five faiths served for 
 a most enlightened discussion of nearly seventeen 
 hours ; in the course of which the two got warm in 
 their arguments, always in proportion as they re- 
 ceded from nature, utility, and common sense. 
 Wringhim at length got into unwonted fervour 
 about some disputed point between one of these 
 faiths and trust ; when the lady, fearing that 
 zeal was getting beyond its wonted barrier, broke 
 in on his vehement asseverations with the following 
 abrupt discomfiture ; — " But, Sir, as long as I re- 
 
18 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 member, what is to be done with this case of open 
 and avowed iniquity ?" 
 
 The minister was struck dumb. He leaned him 
 back on his chair, stroked his beard, hemmed — 
 considered, and hemmed again ; and then said, in 
 an altered and softened tone, — " Why, that is a 
 secondary consideration ; you mean the case be- 
 tween your husband and Miss Logan ?" 
 
 u The same, Sir. I am scandalised at such in- 
 timacies going on under my nose. The sufferance 
 of it is a great and crying evil." 
 
 " Evil, madam, may be either operative, or pas- 
 sive. To them it is an evil, but to us none. We 
 have no more to do with the sins of the wicked 
 and unconverted here, than with those of an infi- 
 del Turk ; for all earthly bonds and fellowships are 
 absorbed and swallowed up in the holy community 
 of the Reformed Church. However, if it is your 
 wish, I shall take him to task, and reprimand and 
 humble him in such a manner, that he shall be 
 ashamed of his doings, and renounce such deeds 
 for ever, out of mere self-respect, though all un 
 sanctified the heart, as well as the deed, may be. 
 To the wicked, all things are wicked ; but to the 
 just, all things are just and right." 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 19 
 
 " Ah, that is a sweet and comfortable saying, 
 Mr. Wringhim ! How delightful to think that a jus- 
 tified person can do no wrong ! Who would not 
 envy the liberty wherewith we are made free ? Go 
 to my husband, that poor unfortunate, blindfolded 
 person, and open his eyes to his degenerate and 
 sinful state ; for well are you fitted to the task." 
 
 " Yea, I will go in unto him, and confound him. 
 I will lay the strong holds of sin and Satan as flat 
 before my face, as the dung that is spread out to 
 fatten the land." 
 
 " Master, there's a gentleman at the fore-door 
 wants a private word o' ye." 
 
 " Tall him I'm engaged : I can t see any gentle- 
 man to-night. But I shall attend on him to-morrow 
 as soon as he pleases." 
 
 " He's coming straight in, Sir. Stop a wee 
 
 bit, Sir, my master is engaged. He cannot see you 
 at present, Sir." 
 
 " Stand aside, thou Moabite ! my mission admits 
 of no delay. I come to save him from the jaws of 
 destruction !" 
 
 " An that be the case, Sir, it maks a wide dif- 
 ference ; an', as the danger may threaten us a', I 
 fancy I may as weel let ye gang by as fight wi' ye, 
 c2 
 
20 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 sin** ye seem sae intent on't. The man says he's 
 
 comm' to save ye, an* canna stop, Sir. — Here he is." 
 
 The laird was going to break out into a volley 
 of wrath against Waters, his servant ; but before 
 he got a word pronounced, the Rev. Mr. Wringhim 
 had stepped inside the room, and Waters had re- 
 tired, shutting the door behind him. 
 
 No introduction could be more mal-a-propos : it 
 is impossible ; for at that very moment the laird and 
 Arabella Logan were both sitting on one seat, and 
 both looking on one book, when the door opened. 
 " What is it, Sir ?" said the laird fiercely. 
 
 " A message of the greatest importance, Sir," 
 said the divine, striding unceremoniously up to the 
 chimney, — turning his back to the fire, and his face 
 to the culprits. — " I think you should know me, 
 Sir?" continued he, looking displeasedly at the 
 laird, with his face half turned round. 
 
 " I think I should," returned the laird. " You 
 are a Mr. HowVtey-caVhim, of Glasgow, who did 
 me the worst turn ever I got done to me in my life. 
 You gentry are always ready to do a man such a 
 turn. Pray, Sir, did you ever do a good job for any 
 one to counterbalance that ? for, if you have not, 
 vou ought to be ■ ." 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE. 21 
 
 " Hold, Sir, I say ! None of your profanity be- 
 fore me. If I do evil to any one on such occasions, 
 it is because he will have it so ; therefore, the evil 
 is not of my doing. I ask you, Sir, — before God 
 and this witness, I ask you, have you kept solemnly 
 and inviolate the vows which I laid upon you that 
 day ? Answer me ?" 
 
 " Has the partner whom you bound me to, kept 
 hers inviolate ? Answer me that, Sir ? None can 
 better do so than you, Mr. HowVtey-ca^-you." 
 
 " So, then, you confess your backslidings, and 
 avow the profligacy of your life. And this person 
 here, is, I suppose, the partner of your iniquity, — ■ 
 she whose beauty hath caused you to err ! Stand up, 
 both of you, till I rebuke you, and show you what 
 you are in the eyes of God and man." 
 
 " In the first place, stand you still there, till I 
 tell you what you are in the eyes of God and man : 
 You are, Sir, a presumptuous, self-conceited peda- 
 gogue, a stirrer up of strife and commotion in 
 church, in state, in families, and communities. You 
 are one, Sir, whose righteousness consists in split- 
 ting the doctrines of Calvin into thousands of un- 
 distinguishable films, and in setting up a system of 
 justifying-grace against all breaches of all laws, mo^ 
 c3 
 
22 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 ral or divine. In short, Sir, you are a mildew, — a 
 canker-worm in the bosom of the Reformed Church, 
 generating a disease of which she will never be 
 purged, but by the shedding of blood. Go thou 
 in peace, and do these abominations no more ; but 
 humble thyself, lest a worse reproof come upon 
 thee." 
 
 Wringhim heard all this without flinching. He 
 now and then twisted his mouth in disdain, trea- 
 suring up, mean time, his vengeance against the two 
 aggressors ; for he felt that he had them on the 
 hip, and resolved to pour out his vengeance and in- 
 dignation upon them. Sorry am I, that the shac- 
 kles of modern decorum restrain me from penning 
 that famous rebuke ; fragments of which have been 
 attributed to every divine of old notoriety through- 
 out Scotland. But I have it by heart ; and a 
 glorious morsel it is to put into the hands of cer- 
 tain incendiaries. The metaphors were so strong, 
 and so appalling, that Miss Logan could only stand 
 them a very short time : she was obliged to with- 
 draw in confusion. The laird stood his ground 
 with much ado, though his face was often crimsoned 
 over with the hues of shame and anger. Several 
 times he was on the point of turning the officious 
 
the editor's narrative. 23 
 
 sycophant to the door; but good manners, and an 
 inherent respect that he entertained for the clergy, 
 as the immediate servants of the Supreme Being, 
 restrained him. 
 
 Wringhim, perceiving these symptoms of resent- 
 ment, took them for marks of shame and contri- 
 tion, and pushed his reproaches farther than ever 
 divine ventured to do in a similar case. When he 
 had finished, to prevent further discussion, he walk- 
 ed slowly and majestically out of the apartment, 
 making his robes to swing behind him in a most 
 magisterial manner ; he being, without doubt, elat- 
 ed with his high conquest. He went to the upper 
 story, and related to his metaphysical associate his 
 wonderful success ; how he had driven the dame 
 from the house in tears and deep confusion, and left 
 the backsliding laird in such a quandary of shame 
 and repentance, that he could neither articulate a 
 word, nor lift up his countenance. The dame thank- 
 ed him most cordially, lauding his friendly zeal and 
 powerful eloquence ; and then the two again set 
 keenly to the splitting of hairs, and making distinc- 
 tions in religion where none existed. 
 
 They being both children of adoption, and se- 
 cured from falling into snares, or any way under 
 
24 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 the power of the wicked one, it was their custom, 
 on each visit, to sit up a night in the same apart- 
 ment, for the sake of sweet spiritual converse ; but 
 that time, in the course of the night, they differed 
 so materially on a small point, somewhere between 
 justification and final election, that the minister, 
 in the heat of his zeal, sprung from his seat, paced 
 the floor, and maintained his point with such ardour, 
 that Martha was alarmed, and, thinking they were 
 going to fight, and that the minister would be a 
 hard match for her mistress, she put on some clothes, 
 and twice left her bed and stood listening at the 
 back of the door, ready to burst in should need 
 require it. Should any one think this picture over- 
 strained, I can assure him that it is taken from na- 
 ture and from truth ; but I will not likewise aver, 
 that the theologist was neither crazed nor inebri- 
 ated. If the listener's words were to be relied on, 
 there was no love, no accommodating principle 
 manifested between the two, but a fiery burning 
 zeal, relating to points of such minor importance, 
 that a true Christian would blush to hear them 
 mentioned, and the infidel and profane make a 
 handle of them to turn our religion to scorn. 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE. 25 
 
 Great was the dame's exultation at the triumph 
 of her beloved pastor over her sinful neighbours 
 in the lower parts of the house ; and she boasted 
 of it to Martha in high-sounding terms. But it 
 was of short duration ; for, in five weeks after that, 
 Arabella Logan came to reside with the laird as 
 his house-keeper, sitting at his table, and carrying 
 the keys as mistress-substitute of the mansion. The 
 lady's grief and indignation were now raised to a 
 higher pitch than ever ; and she set every agent 
 to work, with whom she had any power, to effect 
 a separation between these two suspected ones. Re- 
 monstrance was of no avail : George laughed at 
 them who tried such a course, and retained his 
 house-keeper, while the lady gave herself up to 
 utter despair ; for though she would not consort 
 with her husband herself, she could not endure 
 that any other should do so. 
 
 But, to countervail this grievous offence, our 
 saintly and afflicted dame, in due time, was safely 
 delivered of a fine boy, whom the laird acknow- 
 ledged as his son and heir, and had him christened 
 by his own name, and nursed in his own premises. 
 He gave the nurse permission to take the boy to 
 his mother's presence if ever she should desire to see 
 
26 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 him ; but, strange as it may appear, she never once 
 desired to see him from the day that he was born. 
 The boy grew up, and was a healthful and happy 
 child ; and, in the course of another year, the lady 
 presented him with a brother. A brother he cer- 
 tainly was, in the eye of the law, and it is more 
 than probable that he was his brother in reality. 
 But the laird thought otherwise ; and, though he 
 knew and acknowledged that he was obliged to 
 support and provide for him, he refused to acknow- 
 ledge him in other respects. He neither would 
 countenance the banquet, nor take the baptismal 
 vows on him in the child's name ; of course, the 
 poor boy had to live and remain an alien from the 
 visible church for a year and a day ; at which time, 
 Mr. Wringhim, out of pity and kindness, took the 
 lady herself as sponsor for the boy, and baptized him 
 by the name of Robert Wringhim, — that being the 
 noted divine's own name. 
 
 George was brought up with his father, and edu- 
 cated partly at the parish-school, and partly at home, 
 by a tutor hired for the purpose. He was a ge- 
 nerous and kind-hearted youth; always ready to 
 oblige, and hardly ever dissatisfied with any body. 
 Robert was brought up with Mr. Wringhim, the 
 
the editor's narrative. 2*J 
 
 laird paying a certain allowance for him yearly ; and 
 there the boy was early inured to all the sternness 
 and severity of his pastor's arbitrary and unyielding 
 creed. He was taught to pray twice every day, 
 and seven times on Sabbath days ; but he was 
 only to pray for the elect, and, like David of old, 
 doom all that were aliens from God to destruction. 
 He had never, in that family into which he had 
 been as it were adopted, heard ought but evil 
 spoken of his reputed father and brother ; conse- 
 quently he held them in utter abhorrence, and 
 prayed against them every day, often " that the 
 old hoary sinner might be cut off in the full flush 
 of his iniquity, and be carried quick into hell ; 
 and that the young stem of the corrupt trunk might 
 also be taken from a world that he disgraced, but 
 that his sins might be pardoned, because he knew 
 no better." 
 
 Such were the tenets in which it would appear 
 young Robert was bred. He was an acute boy, an 
 excellent learner, had ardent and ungovernable pas- 
 sions, and withal, a sternness of demeanour from 
 which other boys shrunk. He was the best gram- 
 marian, the best reader, writer, and accountant in 
 the various classes that he attended, and was fond 
 
28 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 of writing essays on controverted points of theology, 
 for which he got prizes, and great praise from his 
 guardian and mother. George was much behind 
 him in scholastic acquirements, but greatly his su- 
 perior in personal prowess, form, feature, and all 
 that constitutes gentility in deportment and appear- 
 ance. The laird had often manifested to Miss 
 Logan an earnest wish that the two young men 
 should never meet, or at all events that they should 
 be as little conversant as possible ; and Miss Logan, 
 who was as much attached to George as if he had 
 been her own son, took every precaution, while he 
 was a boy, that he should never meet with his bro- 
 ther ; but as they advanced towards manhood, this 
 became impracticable. The lady was removed from 
 her apartments in her husband's house to Glasgow, 
 to her great content ; and all to prevent the young 
 laird being tainted with the company of her and her 
 second son ; for the laird had felt the effects of the 
 principles they professed, and dreaded them more 
 than persecution, fire, and sword. During all the 
 dreadful times that had overpast, though the laird 
 had been a moderate man, he had still leaned to the 
 side of the kingly prerogative, and had escaped con- 
 fiscation and fines, without ever taking any active 
 
the editor's narrative. 29 
 
 hand in suppressing the Covenanters. But after 
 experiencing a specimen of their tenets and manner 
 in his wife, from a secret favourer of them and their 
 doctrines, he grew alarmed at the prevalence of such 
 stern and factious principles, now that there was no 
 check nor restraint upon them ; and from that time 
 he began to set himself against them, joining with 
 the cavalier party of that day in all their proceed- 
 ings. 
 
 It so happened, that, under the influence of the 
 Earls of Seafield and Tullibardine, he was returned 
 for a Member of Parliament in the famous session 
 that sat at Edinburgh, when the Duke of Queens- 
 berry was commissioner, and in which party spirit 
 ran to such an extremity. The young laird went 
 with his father to the court, and remained in town 
 all the time that the session lasted ; and as all in- 
 terested people of both factions flocked to the town 
 at that period, so the important Mr. Wringhim was 
 there among the rest, during the greater part of the 
 time, blowing the coal of revolutionary principles 
 with all his might, in every society to which he 
 could obtain admission. He was a great favourite 
 with some of the west country gentlemen of that 
 faction, by reason of his unbending impudence. No 
 
30 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 opposition could for a moment cause him either to 
 blush, or retract one item that he had advanced. 
 Therefore the Duke of Argyle and his friends 
 made such use of him as sportsmen often do of ter- 
 riers, to start the game, and make a great yelping 
 noise to let them know whither the chace is pro- 
 ceeding. They often did this out of sport, in or- 
 der to teaze their opponent ; for of all pesterers 
 that ever fastened on man he was the most insuf- 
 ferable : knowing that his coat protected him from 
 manual chastisement, he spared no acrimony, and 
 delighted in the chagrin and anger of those with 
 whom he contended. But he was sometimes like- 
 wise of real use to the heads of the presbyterian 
 faction, and therefore was admitted to their tables, 
 and of course conceived himself a very great man. 
 
 His ward accompanied him ; and very shortly 
 after their arrival in Edinburgh, llobert, for the 
 first time, met with the young laird his brother, in 
 a match at tennis. The prowess and agility of the 
 young squire drew forth the loudest plaudits of ap- 
 proval from his associates, and his own exertion 
 alone carried the game every time on the one side, 
 and that so far as all along to count three for their 
 one. The hero's name soon ran round the circle, 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 31 
 
 and when his brother Robert, who was an onlooker, 
 learned who it was that was gaining so much ap- 
 plause, he came and stood close beside him all the 
 time that the game lasted, always now and then 
 putting in a cutting remark by way of mockery. 
 
 George could not help perceiving him, not only 
 on account of his impertinent remarks, but he, more- 
 over, stood so near him that he several times impeded 
 him in his rapid evolutions, and of course got him- 
 self shoved aside in no very ceremonious way. In- 
 stead of making him keep his distance, these rude 
 shocks and pushes, accompanied sometimes with 
 hasty curses, only made him cling the closer to this 
 king of the game. He seemed determined to main- 
 tain his right to his place as an onlooker, as well as 
 any of those engaged in the game, and if they had 
 tried him at an argument, he would have carried his 
 point : or perhaps he wished to quarrel with this 
 spark of his jealousy and aversion, and draw the 
 attention of the gay crowd to himself by these 
 means ; for, like his guardian, he knew no other 
 pleasure but what consisted in opposition. George 
 took him for some impertinent student of divinity, 
 rather set upon a joke than any thing else. He per- 
 ceived a lad with black clothes, and a methodistical 
 
32 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEIt. 
 
 face, whose countenance and eye he disliked exceed- 
 ingly, several times in his way, and that was all the 
 notice he took of him the first time they two met. 
 But the next day, and every succeeding one, the 
 same devilish-looking youth attended him as con- 
 stantly as his shadow ; was always in his way as 
 with intention to impede him, and ever and anon 
 his deep and malignant eye met those of his elder 
 brother with a glance so fierce that it sometimes 
 startled him. 
 
 The very next time that George was engaged at 
 tennis, he had not struck the ball above twice till 
 the same intrusive being was again in his way. The 
 party played for considerable stakes that day, name- 
 ly, a dinner and wine at the Black Bull tavern ; and 
 George, as the hero and head of his party, was much 
 interested in its honour ; consequently, the sight of 
 this moody and hellish-looking student affected him 
 in no very pleasant manner. " Pray, Sir, be so 
 good as keep without the range of the ball," said 
 he. 
 
 " Is there any law or enactment that can compel 
 me to do so ?" said the other, biting his lip with 
 scorn. 
 
the editor's narrative. 33 
 
 " If there is not, they are here that shall compel 
 you," returned George: "so, friend, I rede you to 
 be on your guard." 
 
 As he said this, a flush of anger glowed in his 
 handsome face, and flashed from his sparkling blue 
 eye ; but it was a stranger to both, and momently 
 took its departure. The black-coated youth set up 
 his cap before, brought his heavy brows over his 
 deep dark eyes, put his hands in the pockets of his 
 black plush breeches, and stepped a little farther 
 into the semi-circle, immediately on his brother's 
 right hand, than he had ever ventured to do before. 
 There he set himself firm on his legs, and, with a 
 face as demure as death, seemed determined to keep 
 his ground. He pretended to be following the ball 
 with his eyes ; but every moment they were glan- 
 cing aside at George. One of the competitors 
 chanced to say rashly, in the moment of exultation, 
 
 " That's a d d fine blow, George P! On which 
 
 the intruder took up the word, as characteristic of 
 the competitors, and repeated it every stroke that 
 was given, making such a ludicrous use of it, that 
 several of the on-lookers were compelled to laugh 
 immoderately ; but the players were terribly nettled 
 at it, as he really contrived, by dint of sliding in 
 
34 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 some canonical terms, to render the competitors and 
 their game ridiculous. 
 
 But matters at length came to a crisis that put 
 them beyond sport. George, in flying backward to 
 gain the point at which the ball was going to light, 
 came inadvertently so rudely in contact with this 
 obstreperous interloper, that he not only overthrew 
 him, but also got a grievous fall over his legs ; and, 
 as he arose, the other made a spurn at him with his 
 foot, which, if it had hit to its aim, would undoubt- 
 edly have finished the course of the young laird of 
 Dalcastle and Balgrennan. George, being irritated 
 beyond measure, as may well be conceived, especially 
 at the deadly stroke aimed at him, struck the assail- 
 ant with his racket, rather slightly, but so that his 
 mouth and nose gushed out blood ; and, at the same 
 time, he said, turning to his cronies, — " Does any 
 of you know who the infernal puppy is ?" 
 
 " Do you not know, Sir ?" said one of the on- 
 lookers, a stranger : " The gentleman is your own 
 brother, Sir — Mr. Robert Wringhim Colwan !" 
 
 " No, not Colwan, Sir," said Robert, putting his 
 hands in his pockets, and setting himself still farther 
 forward than before, — " not a Colwan, Sir ; hence- 
 forth I disclaim the name.'" 
 
the editor's narrative. 35 
 
 " No, certainly not," repeated George : " My 
 mother's son you may be, — but not a Colwan I 
 There you are right." Then turning round to his 
 informer, he said, " Mercy be about us, Sir ! is 
 this the crazy minister's son from Glasgow ?" 
 
 This question was put in the irritation of the mo- 
 ment ; but it was too rude, and too far out of place, 
 and no one deigned any answer to it. He felt the 
 reproof, and felt it deeply; seeming anxious for some 
 opportunity to make an acknowledgment, or some 
 reparation. 
 
 In the meantime, young Wringhim was an object 
 to all of the uttermost disgust. The blood flowing 
 from his mouth and nose he took no pains to stem, 
 neither did he so much as wipe it away ; so that it 
 spread over all his cheeks, and breast, even off at his 
 toes. In that state did he take up his station in the 
 middle of the competitors ; and he did not now keep 
 his place, but ran about, impeding every one who 
 attempted to make at the ball. They loaded him 
 with execrations, but it availed nothing ; he seemed 
 courting persecution and buffetings, keeping sted- 
 fastly to his old joke of damnation, and marring the 
 game so completely, that, in spite of every effort on 
 the part of the players, he forced them to stop their 
 d2 
 
36 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 game, and give it up. He was such a rueful-looking 
 object, covered with blood, that none of them had 
 the heart to kick him, although it appeared the only 
 thing he wanted ; and as for George, he said not 
 another word to him, either in anger or reproof. 
 
 When the game was fairly given up, and the party 
 were washing their hands in the stone fount, some of 
 them besought Robert Wringhim to wash himself; 
 but he mocked at them, and said, he was much better 
 as he was. George, at length, came forward abashedly 
 toward him, and said, — " I have been greatly to 
 blame, Robert, and am very sorry for what I have 
 done. But, in the first instance, I erred through 
 ignorance, not knowing you were my brother, which 
 you certainly are ; and, in the second, through a 
 momentary irritation, for which I am ashamed. I 
 pray you, therefore, to pardon me, and give me your 
 hand." 
 
 As he said this, he held out his hand toward his 
 polluted brother ; butthefroward predestinariantook 
 not his from his breeches pocket, but lifting his foot, 
 he gave his brother's hand a kick. " 111 give you 
 what will suit such a hand better than mine," said 
 he, with a sneer. And then, turning lightly about, 
 he added, — " Are there to be no more of these 
 
THE EDITOR'S XAKllATIVK. 37 
 
 . fine blows, gentlemen ? For shame, to give 
 up such a profitable and edifying game !" 
 
 " This is too bad," said George. " But, since it 
 is thus, I have the less to regret." And, having 
 made this general remark, he took no more note of 
 the uncouth aggressor. But the persecution of the 
 latter terminated not on the play-ground : he ranked 
 up among them, bloody and disgusting as he was, 
 and, keeping close by his brother's side, he marched 
 along with the party all the way to the Black Bull. 
 Before they got there, a great number of boys and 
 idle people had surrounded them, hooting and in- 
 commoding them exceedingly, so that they were glad 
 to get into the inn ; and the unaccountable monster 
 actually tried to get in alongst with them, to make 
 one of the party at dinner. But the innkeeper and 
 his men, getting the hint, by force prevented him 
 from entering, although he attempted it again and 
 again, both by telling lies and offering a bribe. Find- 
 ing he could not prevail, he set to exciting the mob 
 at the door to acts of violence ; in which he had like 
 to have succeeded. The landlord had no other shift, 
 at last, but to send privately for two officers, and have 
 him carried to the guard-house; and the hilarity and 
 joy of the party of young gentlemen, for the even- 
 d 3 
 
38 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ing, was quite spoiled, by the inauspicious termina- 
 tion of their game. • 
 
 The Rev. Robert Wringhim was now to send for, 
 to release his beloved ward. The messenger found 
 him at table, with a number of the leaders of the 
 Whig faction, the Marquis of Annandale being in 
 the chair ; and the prisoner's note being produced, 
 Wringhim read it aloud, accompanying it with some 
 explanatory remarks. The circumstances of the case 
 being thus magnified and distorted, it excited the ut- 
 most abhorrence, both of the deed and the perpetrat- 
 ors, among the assembled faction. They declaimed 
 . against the act as an unnatural attempt on the cha- 
 racter, and even the life, of an unfortunate brother, 
 who had been expelled from his father's house. And, 
 as party spirit was the order of the day, an attempt 
 was made to lay the burden of it to that account. In 
 short, the young culprit got some of the best blood 
 of the land to enter as his securities, and was set at 
 liberty. But when Wringhim perceived the plight 
 that he was in, he took him, as he was, and presented 
 Rim to his honourable patrons. This raised the in- 
 dignation against the young laird and his associates 
 a thousand fold, which actually roused the party to 
 temporary madness. They were, perhaps, a little 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. *^ 39 
 
 excited by the wine and spirits they had swallowed ; 
 else a casual quarrel between two young men, at tennis, 
 could not have driven them to such extremes. But 
 certain it is, that from one at first arising to address 
 the party on the atrocity of the offence, both in a 
 moral and political point of view, on a sudden there 
 were six on their feet, at the same time, expatiating 
 on it ; and, in a very short time thereafter, every 
 one in the room was up, talking with the utmost vo- 
 ciferation, all on the same subject, and all taking the 
 same side in the debate. 
 
 In the midst of this confusion, some one or other 
 issued from the house, which was at the back of the 
 Canongate, calling out, — "A plot, a plot ! Treason, 
 treason ! Down with the bloody incendiaries at the 
 Black Bull r 
 
 The concourse of people that were assembled in 
 Edinburgh at that time was prodigious ; and as they 
 were all actuated by political motives, they wanted 
 only a ready-blown coal to set the mountain on fire. 
 The evening being fine, and the streets thronged, 
 the cry ran from mouth to mouth through the whole 
 city. More than that, the mob that had of late been 
 gathered to the door of the Black Bull, had, by de- 
 grees, dispersed ; but, they being young men, and 
 d 4 
 
40 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER* 
 
 idle vagrants, they had only spread themselves over 
 the rest of the street to lounge in search of farther 
 amusement : consequently, a word was sufficient to 
 send them back to their late rendezvous, where they 
 had previously witnessed something they did not 
 much approve of. 
 
 The master of the tavern was astonished at seeing 
 the mob again assembling; and that with such hurry 
 and noise. But his inmates being all of the highest 
 respectability, he judged himself sure of protection, 
 or, at least, of indemnity. He had two large parties 
 in his house at the time ; the largest of which was 
 of the Revolutionist faction. The other consisted of 
 our young tennis-players, and their associates, who 
 were all of the Jacobite order; or, at all events, leaned 
 to the Episcopal side. The largest party were in a 
 front-room ; and the attack of the mob fell first on 
 their windows, though rather with fear and caution. 
 Jingle went one pane ; then a loud hurra ; and that 
 again was followed by a number of voices, endea- 
 vouring to restrain the indignation from venting it- 
 self in destroying the windows, and to turn it on the 
 inmates. The Whigs, calling the landlord, inquired 
 what the assault meant: he cunningly answered, that 
 he suspected it was some of the youths of the Cava- 
 
THE EDITOR^ KAltKATIVE. 41 
 
 lier,or High-Church party, exciting the mob against 
 them. The party consisted mostly of young gentle- 
 men, by that time in a key to engage in any row ; 
 and, at all events, to suffer nothing from the other 
 party, against whom their passions were mightily in- 
 flamed. 
 
 The landlord, therefore, had no sooner given them 
 the spirit-rousing intelligence, than every one, as by 
 instinct, swore his own natural oath, and grasped his 
 own natural weapon. A few of those of the highest 
 rank were armed with swords, which they boldly 
 drew ; those of the subordinate orders immediately 
 flew to such weapons as the room, kitchen, and scul- 
 lery afforded ; — such as tongs, pokers, spits, racks, 
 and shovels ; and breathing vengeance on the pre- 
 latic party, the children of Antichrist and the heirs 
 of d — n — t — n ! the barterers of the liberties of their 
 country, and betrayers of the most sacred trust, — 
 thus elevated, and thus armed, in the cause of right, 
 justice, and liberty, our heroes rushed to the street, 
 and attacked the mob with such violence, that they 
 broke the mass in a moment, and dispersed their 
 thousands like chaff* before the wind. The other 
 party of young Jacobites, who sat in a room farther 
 from the front, and were those against whom the fury 
 
42 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 of the mob was meant to have been directed, knew no- 
 thing of this second uproar, till the noise of the sally 
 made by the Whigs assailed their ears ; being then 
 informed that the mob had attacked the house on ac- 
 count of the treatment they themselves had given to 
 a young gentleman of the adverse faction, and that 
 another jovial party had issued from the house in 
 their defence, and was now engaged in an unequal 
 combat, the sparks likewise flew to the field to back 
 their defenders with all their prowess, without trou- 
 bling their heads about who they were. 
 
 A mob is like a spring-tide in an eastern storm, 
 that retires only to return with more overwhelming 
 fury. The crowd was taken by surprise, when such 
 a strong and well-armed party issued from the house 
 with so great fury, laying all prostrate that came 
 in their way. Those who were next to the door, and 
 were, of course, the first whom the imminent danger 
 assailed, rushed backward among the crowd with their 
 whole force. The Black Bull standing in a small square 
 halfway between the High Street and the Cowgate, 
 and the entrance to it being by two closes, into these 
 the pressure outward was simultaneous, and thou- 
 sands were moved to an involuntary flight they knew 
 not why. 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 43 
 
 But the High Street of Edinburgh, which they 
 soon reached, is a dangerous place in which to make 
 an open attack upon a mob. And it appears that the 
 entrances to the tavern had been somewhere near 
 to the Cross, on the south side of the street ; for 
 the crowd fled with great expedition, both to the 
 east and west, and the conquerors, separating them- 
 selves as chance directed, pursued impetuously, 
 wounding and maiming as they flew. But, it so 
 chanced, that before either of the wings had fol- 
 lowed the flying squadrons of their enemies for the 
 space of a hundred yards each way, the devil an 
 enemy they had to pursue ! the multitude had va- 
 nished like so many thousands of phantoms ! What 
 could our heroes do ? — Why, they faced about to 
 return toward their citadel, the Black Bull. But 
 that feat was not so easily, nor so readily accom- 
 plished, as they divined. The unnumbered alleys 
 on each side of the street had swallowed up the mul- 
 titude in a few seconds ; but from these they were 
 busy reconnoitring ; and, perceiving the deficiency 
 in the number of their assailants, the rush from both 
 sides of the street was as rapid, and as wonderful, 
 as the disappearance of the crowd had been a few 
 minutes before. Each close vomited out its levies, 
 
44 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNElf. 
 
 and these better armed with missiles than when 
 they sought it for a temporary retreat. Woe then 
 to our two columns of victorious Whigs ! The mob 
 actually closed around them as they would have 
 swallowed them up ; and, in the meanwhile, show- 
 er after shower of the most abominable weapons of 
 offence were rained in upon them. If the gentle- 
 men were irritated before, this inflamed them still 
 farther ; but their danger was now so apparent, they 
 could not shut their eyes on it, therefore, both par- 
 ties, as if actuated by the same spirit, made a des- 
 perate effort to join, and the greater part effected it; 
 but some were knocked down, and others were se- 
 parated from their friends, and blithe to become si- 
 lent members of the mob. 
 
 The battle now raged immediately in front of the 
 closes leading to the Black Bull ; the small body 
 of Whig gentlemen was hardly bested, and it is 
 likely would have been overcome and trampled 
 down every man, had they not been then and there 
 joined by the young Cavaliers ; who, fresh to arms, 
 broke from the wynd, opened the head of the pas- 
 sage, laid about them manfully, and thus kept up 
 the spirits of the exasperated Whigs, who were the 
 men in fact that wrought the most deray among the 
 populace. 
 
the editor's narrative. 45 
 
 The town-guard was now on the alert ; and two 
 companies of the Cameronian regiment, with the 
 Hon. Captain Douglas, rushed down from the Cas- 
 tle to the scene of action ; but, for all the noise and 
 hubbub that these caused in the street, the combat 
 had become so close and inveterate, that numbers of 
 both sides were taken prisoners fighting hand to 
 hand, and could scarcely be separated when the 
 guardsmen and soldiers had them by the necks. 
 
 Great was the alarm and confusion that night in 
 Edinburgh ; for every one concluded that it was a 
 party scuffle, and, the two parties being so equal in 
 power, the most serious consequences were antici- 
 pated. The agitation was so prevailing, that every 
 party in the town, great and small, was broken up ; 
 and the lord-commissioner thought proper to go 
 to the council-chamber himself, even at that late 
 hour, accompanied by the sheriffs of Edinburgh and 
 Linlithgow, with sundry noblemen besides, in order 
 to learn something of the origin of the affray. 
 
 For a long time the court was completely puzzled. 
 Every gentleman brought in exclaimed against the 
 treatment he had received, in most bitter terms, 
 blaming a mob set on him and his friends by the 
 adverse party, and matters looked extremely ill, un- 
 
46 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 til at length they began to perceive that they were 
 examining gentlemen of both parties, and that they 
 had been doing so from the beginning, almost al- 
 ternately, so equally had the prisoners been taken 
 from both parties. Finally, it turned out, that a 
 few gentlemen, two-thirds of whom were strenu- 
 ous Whigs themselves, had joined in mauling the 
 whole Whig population of Edinburgh. The inves- 
 tigation disclosed nothing the effect of which was 
 not ludicrous ; and the Duke of Queensberry , whose 
 aim was at that time to conciliate the two factions, 
 tried all that he could to turn the whole fracas 
 into a joke — an unlucky frolic, where no ill was 
 meant on either side, and which yet had been pro- 
 ductive of a great deal. 
 
 The greater part of the people went home satis- 
 fied ; but not so the Rev. Robert Wringhim. He 
 did all that he could to inflame both judges and 
 populace against the young Cavaliers, especially 
 against the young Laird of Dalcastle, whom he re- 
 presented as an incendiary, set on by an unnatural 
 parent to slander his mother, and make away with 
 a hapless and only brother ; and, in truth, that de- 
 claimer against all human merit had that sort of 
 powerful, homely, and bitter eloquence, which seldom 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 47 
 
 missed affecting his hearers : the consequence at 
 that time was, that he made the unfortunate affair 
 between the two brothers appear in extremely bad 
 colours, and the populace retired to their homes im- 
 pressed with no very favourable opinion of either the 
 Laird of Dalcastle or his son George, neither of 
 whom were there present to speak for themselves. 
 
 As for Wringhim himself, he went home to his 
 lodgings, filled with gall and with spite against the 
 young laird, whom he was made to believe the 
 aggressor, and that intentionally. But most of all 
 was he filled with indignation against the father, 
 whom he held in abhorrence at all times, and blam- 
 ed solely for this unmannerly attack made on his 
 favourite ward, namesake, and adopted son ; and 
 for the public imputation of a crime to his own re- 
 verence, in calling the lad his son, and thus charging 
 him with a sin against which he was well known 
 to have levelled all the arrows of church censure 
 with unsparing might. 
 
 But, filled as his heart was with some portion of 
 these bad feelings, to which all flesh is subject, he 
 kept, nevertheless, the fear of the Lord always be- 
 fore his eyes so far as never to omit any of the 
 
48 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 external duties of religion, and farther than that, 
 man hath no power to pry. He lodged with the 
 family of a Mr. Miller, whose lady was originally 
 from Glasgow, and had been a hearer, and, of 
 course, a great admirer of Mr. Wringhim. In 
 that family he made public worship every evening ; 
 and that night, in his petitions at a throne of grace, 
 he prayed for so many vials of wrath to be poured 
 on the head of some particular sinner, that the 
 hearers trembled, and stopped their ears. But that 
 he might not proceed with so violent a measure, 
 amounting to excommunication, without due scrip- 
 ture warrant, he began the exercise of the evening 
 by singing the following verses, which it is a pity 
 should ever have been admitted into a Christian 
 psalmody, being so adverse to all its mild and bene- 
 volent principles : — 
 
 Set thou the wicked over him, 
 
 And upon his right hand 
 Give thou his greatest enemy , 
 
 Even Satan, leave to stand. 
 And when by thee he shall be judged, 
 
 Let him remembered be ; 
 And let his prayer be turned to sin, 
 
 When he shall call on thee. 
 
the editor's narrative. 49 
 
 Few be his days ; and in his room 
 
 His charge another take ; 
 His children let be fatherless ; 
 
 His wife a widow make : 
 Let God his father's wickedness 
 
 Still to remembrance call ; 
 And never let his mother's sin 
 
 Be blotted out at all. 
 As he in cursing pleasure took, 
 
 So let it to him fall ; 
 As he delighted not to bless, 
 
 So bless him not at all. 
 As cursing he like clothes put on, 
 
 Into his bowels so, 
 Like water, and into his bones 
 
 Like oil, down let it go. 
 
 Young Wringhim only knew the full purport of 
 this spiritual song ; and went to his bed better sa- 
 tisfied than ever, that his father and brother were 
 cast-aways, reprobates, aliens from the church and 
 the true faith, and cursed in time and eternity. 
 
 The next day George and his companions met 
 as usual, — all who were not seriously wounded 
 of them. But as they strolled about the city, the 
 rancorous eye and the finger of scorn was pointed 
 against them. None of them was at first aware of 
 the reason ; but it threw a damp over their spirits 
 
 E 
 
50 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 and enjoyments, which they could not master. They 
 went to take a forenoon game at their old play of 
 tennis, not on a match, but by way of improving 
 themselves ; but they had not well taken their 
 places till young Wringhim appeared in his old sta- 
 tion, at his brother's right hand, with looks more 
 demure and determined than ever. His lips were 
 primmed so close that his mouth was hardly dis- 
 cernible, and his dark deep eye flashed gleams of 
 holy indignation on the godless set, but particu- 
 larly on his brother. His presence acted as a mil- 
 dew on all social intercourse or enjoyment ; the 
 game was marred, and ended ere ever it was well 
 begun. There were whisperings apart — the party 
 separated ; and, in order to shake off the the blight- 
 ing influence of this dogged persecutor, they enter- 
 ed sundry houses of their acquaintances, with an 
 understanding that they were to meet on the Links 
 for a game at cricket. 
 
 They did so ; and, stripping off part of their 
 clothes, they began that violent and spirited game. 
 They had not played five minutes, till Wringhim 
 was stalking in the midst of them, and totally im- 
 peding the play. A cry arose from all corners of 
 " O, this will never do. Kick him out of the play- 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 51 
 
 oround ! Knock down the scoundrel ; or bind him, 
 and let him lie in peace." 
 
 " By no means," eried George : " it is evident 
 he wants nothing else. Pray do not humour him 
 so much as to touch him with either foot or finger." 
 Then turning to a friend, he said in a whisper, 
 u Speak to him, Gordon ; he surely will not refuse 
 to let us have the ground to ourselves, if you re- 
 quest it of him." 
 
 Gordon went up to him, and requested of him, 
 civilly, but ardently, " to retire to a certain dis- 
 tance, else none of them could or would be answer- 
 able, however sore he might be hurt." 
 
 He turned disdainfully on his heel, uttered a kind 
 of pulpit hem ! and then added, " I will take my 
 chance of that ; hurt me, any of you, at your peril." 
 
 The young gentlemen smiled, through spite and 
 disdain of the dogged animal. Gordon followed him 
 up, and tried to remonstrate with him ; but he let 
 him know that " it was his pleasure to be there at 
 that time ; and, unless he could demonstrate to him 
 what superior right he and his party had to that 
 ground, in preference to him, and to the exclusion 
 of all others, he was determined to assert his right, 
 and the rights of his fellow-citizens, by keeping pos- 
 e2 
 
52 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 session of whatsoever part of that common field he 
 chose.'" 
 
 " You are no gentleman, Sir,? said Gordon. 
 
 " Are you one, Sir ?" said the other. 
 
 " Yes, Sir, I will let you know that I am, by 
 
 g— r X. 
 
 H Then, thanks be to Him whose name you have 
 profaned, I am none. If one of the party be a 
 gentleman, / do hope in God I am not P- 
 
 It was now apparent to them all that he was court- 
 ing obloquy and manual chastisement from their 
 hands, if by any means he could provoke them to 
 the deed ; and, apprehensive that he had some si- 
 nister and deep-laid design in hunting after such a 
 singular favour, they wisely restrained one another 
 from inflicting the punishment that each of them 
 yearned to bestow, personally, and which he so well 
 deserved. 
 
 But the unpopularity of the Younger George 
 Colwan could no longer be concealed from his asso- 
 ciates. It was manifested wherever the populace 
 were assembled ; and his young and intimate friend, 
 Adam Gordon, was obliged to warn him of the cir- 
 cumstance, that he might not be surprised at the 
 gentlemen of their acquaintance withdrawing them- 
 
the editor's narrative. 53 
 
 selves from his society, as they could not be seen 
 with him without being insulted. George thanked 
 him ; and it was agreed between them, that the for- 
 mer should keep himself retired during the day- 
 time while he remained in Edinburgh, and that at 
 night they should always meet together, along with 
 such of their companions as were disengaged. 
 
 George found it every day more and more ne- 
 cessary to adhere to this system of seclusion ; for 
 it was not alone the hisses of the boys and populace 
 that pursued him, — a fiend of more malignant as- 
 pect was ever at his elbow, in the form of his bro- 
 ther. To whatever place of amusement he betook 
 himself, and however well he concealed his inten- 
 tions of going there from all flesh living, there was 
 his brother Wringhim also, and always within a 
 few yards of him, generally about the same dis- 
 tance, and ever and anon darting looks at him that 
 chilled his very soul. They were looks that can- 
 not be described ; but they were felt piercing to 
 the bosom's deepest core. They affected even the 
 on-lookers in a very particular manner, for all 
 whose eyes caught a glimpse of these hideous 
 glances followed them to the object toward which 
 they were darted : the gentlemanly and mild de- 
 i: 3 
 
54 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 meanour of that object generally calmed their start- 
 led apprehensions ; for no one ever yet noted the 
 glances of the young man's eye in the black coat, at 
 the face of his brother, who did not at first mani- 
 fest strong symptoms of alarm. 
 
 George became utterly confounded ; not only at 
 the import of this persecution, but how in the 
 world it came to pass that this unaccountable be- 
 ing knew all his motions, and every intention of 
 his heart, as it were intuitively. On consulting his 
 own previous feelings and resolutions, he found 
 that the circumstances of his going to such and 
 such a place were often the most casual incidents in 
 nature — the caprice of a moment had carried him 
 there, and yet he had never sat or stood many mi- 
 nutes till there was the self-same being, always in 
 the same position with regard to himself, as regu- 
 larly as the shadow is cast from the substance, or 
 the ray of light from the opposing denser me- 
 dium. 
 
 For instance, he remembered one day of setting 
 out with the intention of going to attend divine 
 worship in the High Church, and when within a 
 short space of its door, he was overtaken by young 
 Kilpatrick of Closeburn, who was bound to the 
 
the editor's narrative. 55 
 
 Grey-Friars to see his sweetheart, as he said ; " and 
 if you will go with me, Colwan," said he, " I will 
 let you see her too, and then you will be just as 
 far forward as I am." 
 
 George assented at once, and went ; and after 
 taking his seat, he leaned his head forward on the 
 pew to repeat over to himself a short ejaculatory 
 prayer, as had always been his custom on entering the 
 house of God. When he had done, he lifted his 
 eyes naturally toward that point on his right hand 
 where the fierce apparition of his brother had been 
 wontlo meet his view : there he was, in the same 
 habit, form, demeanour, and precise point of dis- 
 tance, as usual ! George again laid down his head, 
 and his mind was so astounded, that he had nearly 
 fallen into a swoon. He tried shortly after to mus- 
 ter up courage to look at the speaker, at the con- 
 gregation, and at Captain Kilpatrick's sweetheart 
 in particular; but the fiendish glances of the young 
 man in the black clothes were too appalling to be 
 withstood, — his eye caught them whether he was 
 looking that way or not : at length his courage was 
 fairly mastered, and he was obliged to look down 
 during the remainder of the service. 
 
56 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 By night or by day it was the same. In the 
 gallery of the Parliament House, in the boxes of 
 the play-house, in the church, in the assembly, in 
 the streets, suburbs, and the fields ; and every day, 
 and every hour, from the first rencounter of the 
 two, the attendance became more and more con- 
 stant, more inexplicable, and altogether more alarm- 
 ing and insufferable, until at last George was fairly 
 driven from society, and forced to spend his days 
 in his own and his father's lodgings with closed 
 doors. Even there, he was constantly harassed 
 with the idea, that the next time he lifted his eyes, 
 he would to a certainty see that face, the most re- 
 pulsive to all his feelings of aught the earth con- 
 tained. The attendance of that brother was now 
 become like the attendance of a demon on some de- 
 voted being that had sold himself to destruction ; 
 his approaches as undiscerned, and his looks as 
 fraught with hideous malignity. It was seldom that 
 he saw him either following him in the streets, or 
 entering any house or church after him ; he only ap- 
 peared in his place, George wist not how, or whence ; 
 and, having sped so ill in his first friendly approach- 
 es, he had never spoken to his equivocal attendant 
 a second time. 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 5J 
 
 It came at length into George's head, as he was 
 pondering, by himself, on the circumstances of this 
 extraordinary attendance, that perhaps his brother 
 had relented, and, though of so sullen and unaccom- 
 modating a temper that he would not acknowledge 
 it, or beg a reconciliation, it might be for that very 
 purpose that he followed his steps night and day in 
 that extraordinary manner. " I cannot for my life 
 see for what other purpose it can be,'" thought he. 
 " He never offers to attempt my life ; nor dares he, 
 if he had the inclination ; therefore, although his 
 manner is peculiarly repulsive to me, I shall not 
 'have my mind burdened with the reflection, that my 
 own mother's son yearned for a reconciliation with 
 me, and was repulsed by my haughty and insolent 
 behaviour. The next time he comes to my hand, 
 I am resolved that I will accost him as one brother 
 ought to address another, whatever it may cost me ; 
 and, if I am still flouted with disdain, then shall 
 the blame rest with him." 
 
 After this generous resolution, it was a good while 
 before his gratuitous attendant appeared at his side 
 again ; and George began to think that his visits 
 were discontinued. The hope was a relief that could 
 not be calculated ; but still George had a feeling 
 
58 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 that it was too supreme to last. His enemy had 
 been too pertinacious to abandon his design, what- 
 ever it was. He, however, began to indulge in a 
 little more liberty, and for several days he enjoyed 
 it with impunity. 
 
 George was, from infancy, of a stirring active dis- 
 position, and could not endure confinement ; and, 
 having been of late much restrained in his youthful 
 exercises by this singular persecutor, he grew uneasy 
 under such restraint, and, one morning, chancing 
 to awaken very early, he arose to make an excursion 
 to the top of Arthurs Seat, to breathe the breeze of 
 the dawning, and see the sun arise out of the eastern 
 ocean. The morning was calm and serene ; and 
 as he walked down the south back of the Canongate, 
 toward the Palace, the haze was so close around him 
 that he could not see the houses on the opposite side 
 of the way. As he passed the lord-commissioner's 
 house, the guards were in attendance, who caution- 
 ed him not to go by the Palace, as all the gates would 
 be shut and guarded for an hour to come, on which 
 he went by the back of St. Anthony's gardens, and 
 found his way into that little romantic glade ad- 
 joining to the Saint's chapel and well. He was still 
 involved in a blue haze, like a dense smoke, but yet 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 59 
 
 in the midst of it the respiration was the most re- 
 freshing and delicious. The grass and the flowers 
 were loaden with dew ; and, on taking off his hat to 
 wipe his forehead, he perceived that the black glos- 
 sy fur of which his chaperon was wrought, was all 
 covered with a tissue of the most delicate silver — 
 a fairy web, composed of little spheres, so minute 
 that no eye could discern any one of them; yet there 
 they were shining in lovely millions. Afraid of de- 
 facing so beautiful and so delicate a garnish, he re- 
 placed his hat with the greatest caution, and went 
 on his way light of heart. 
 
 As he approached the swire at the head of the 
 dell, — that little delightful verge from which in 
 one moment the eastern limits and shores of Lo- 
 thian arise on the view, — as he approached it, 
 I say, and a little space from the height, he be- 
 held, to his astonishment, a bright halo in the 
 cloud of haze, that rose in a semi-circle over his 
 head like a pale rainbow. He was struck mo- 
 tionless at the view of the lovely vision ; for it 
 so chanced that he had never seen the same appear- 
 ance before, though common at early morn. But 
 he soon perceived the cause of the phenomenon, and 
 that it proceeded from the rays of the sun from a 
 pure unclouded morning sky striking upon this 
 
60 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 dense vapour which refracted them. But the better 
 all the works of nature are understood, the more they 
 will be ever admired. That was a scene that would 
 have entranced the man of science with delight, but 
 which the uninitiated and sordid man would have 
 regarded less than the mole rearing up his hill in 
 silence and in darkness. 
 
 George did admire this halo of glory, which still 
 grew wider, and less defined, as he approached the 
 surface of the cloud. But, to his utter amazement 
 and supreme delight, he found, on reaching the top 
 of Arthur's Seat, that this sublunary rainbow, this 
 terrestrial glory, was spread in its most vivid hues 
 beneath his feet. Still he could not perceive the bo- 
 dy of the sun, although the light behind him was 
 dazzling ; but the cloud of haze lying dense in that 
 deep dell that separates the hill from the rocks of 
 Salisbury, and the dull shadow of the hill mingling 
 with that cloud, made the dell a pit of darkness. 
 On that shadowy cloud was the lovely rainbow form- 
 ed, spreading itself on a horizontal plain, and hav- 
 ing a slight and brilliant shade of all the colours of 
 the heavenly bow, but all of them paler and less 
 defined. But this terrestrial phenomenon of the 
 early morn cannot be better delineated than by the 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 61 
 
 name given of it by the shepherd boys, " The little 
 wee ghost of the rainbow." 
 
 Such was the description of the morning, and the 
 wild shades of the hill, that George gave to his fa- 
 ther and Mr. Adam Gordon that same day on which 
 he had witnessed them ; and it is necessary that the 
 reader should comprehend something of their nature, 
 to understand what follows. 
 
 He seated himself on the pinnacle of the rocky 
 precipice, a little within the top of the hill to the 
 westward, and, with a light and buoyant heart, view- 
 ed the beauties of the morning, and inhaled its sa- 
 lubrious breeze. " Here, 1 '' thought he, " I can con- 
 verse with nature without disturbance, and without 
 being intruded on by any appalling or obnoxious 
 visitor." The idea of his brother's dark and malevo- 
 lent looks coming at that moment across his mind, 
 he turned his eyes instinctively to the right, to the 
 point where that unwelcome guest was wont to make 
 his appearance. Gracious Heaven ! What an appa- 
 rition was there presented to his view ! He saw, de- 
 lineated in the cloud, the shoulders, arms, and fea- 
 tures of a human being of the most dreadful aspect. 
 The face was the face of his brother, but dilated to 
 twenty times the natural size. Its dark eyes gleam- 
 
62 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ed on him through the mist, while every furrow of its 
 hideous brow frowned deep as the ravines on the 
 brow of the hill. George started, and his hair stood 
 up in bristles as he gazed on this horrible monster. 
 He saw every feature, and every line of the face, dis- 
 tinctly, as it gazed on him with an intensity that 
 was hardly brookable. Its eyes were fixed on him, 
 in the same manner as those of some carnivorous ani- 
 mal fixed on its prey; and yet there was fear and 
 trembling, in these unearthly features, as plainly de- 
 picted as murderous malice. The giant apparition 
 seemed sometimes to be cowering down as in terror, 
 so that nothing but its brow and eyes were seen ; 
 still these never turned one moment from their ob- 
 ject — again it rose imperceptibly up, and began to 
 approach with great caution ; and as it neared, the 
 dimensions of its form lessened, still continuing, 
 however, far above the natural size. 
 
 George conceived it to be a spirit. He could con- 
 ceive it to be nothing else ; and he took it for some 
 horrid demon by which he was haunted, that had 
 assumed the features of his brother in every linea- 
 ment, but in taking on itself the human form, had 
 miscalculated dreadfully on the size, and presented 
 itself thus to him in a blown-up, dilated frame of em- 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE. 63 
 
 bodied air, exhaled from the caverns of death or the 
 regions of devouring fire. He was farther confirm- 
 ed in the belief that it was a malignant spirit, on 
 perceiving that it approached him across the front 
 of a precipice, where there was not footing for thing 
 of mortal frame. Still, what with terror and asto- 
 nishment, he continued rivetted to the spot, till it 
 approached, as he deemed, to within two yards of 
 him ; and then, perceiving that it was setting itself 
 to make a violent spring on him, he started to his 
 feet and fled distractedly in the opposite direction, 
 keeping his eye cast behind him lest he had been 
 seized in that dangerous place. But the very first 
 bolt that he made in his flight he came in contact 
 with a real body of flesh and blood, and that with 
 such violence that both went down among some 
 scragged rocks, and George rolled over the other. 
 The being called out " Murder ;" and, rising, fled 
 precipitately. George then perceived that it was 
 his brother ; and, being confounded between the 
 shadow and the substance, he knew not what he was 
 doing or what he had done ; and there being only 
 one natural way of retreat from the brink of the 
 rock, he likewise arose and pursued the affrighted 
 culprit with all his speed towards the top of the hill. 
 
64 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 Wringhim was braying out " Murder ! murder !" 
 at which George being disgusted, and his spirits all 
 in a ferment from some hurried idea of intended 
 harm, the moment he came up with the craven he 
 seized him rudely by the shoulder, and clapped his 
 hand on his mouth. " Murder, you beast !" said 
 he; " what do you mean by roaring out murder in 
 that way ? Who the devil is murdering you, or of- 
 fering to murder you ?" 
 
 Wringhim forced his mouth from under his brother's 
 hand, and roared with redoubled energy, " Eh ! Egh ! 
 murder ! murder !" &c. George had felt resolute to 
 put down this shocking alarm, lest some one might 
 hear it and fly to the spot, or draw inferences widely 
 different from the truth ; and, perceiving the terror 
 of this elect youth to be so great that expostulation 
 was vain, he seized him by the mouth and nose with 
 his left hand, so strenuously, that he sunk his fingers 
 into his cheeks. But the poltroon still attempting 
 to bray out, George gave him such a stunning blow 
 with his fist on the left temple, that he crumbled, as 
 it were, to the ground, but more from the effects 
 of terror than those of the blow. His nose, how- 
 ever, again gushed out blood, a system of defence 
 which seemed as natural to him as that resorted to 
 
the editor's narrative. 65 
 
 by the race of stinkards. He then raised himself 
 on his knees and hams, and raising up his ghastly 
 face, while the blood streamed over both ears, he be- 
 sought his life of his brother, in the most abject 
 whining manner, gaping and blubbering most pite- 
 ously. 
 
 " Tell me then, Sir," said George, resolved to 
 make the most of the wretch's terror — " tell me for 
 what purpose it is that you thus haunt my steps ? 
 Tell me plainly, and instantly, else I will throw you 
 from the verge of that precipice." 
 
 ** Oh, I will never do it again ! I will never do 
 it again ! Spare my life, dear, good brother ! Spare 
 my life ! Sure I never did you any hurt ?" 
 
 " Swear to me, then, by the God that made you, 
 that you will never henceforth follow after me to 
 torment me with your hellish threatening looks ; 
 swear that you will never again come into my pre- 
 sence without being invited. Will you take an oath 
 to this effect ?" 
 
 " O yes ! I will, I will !" 
 
 " But this is not all : you must tell me for what 
 purpose you sought me out here this morning ?" 
 
 " Oh, brother ! for nothing but your good. I 
 had nothing at heart but your unspeakable profit, 
 and great and endless good." 
 
66 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 " So then, you indeed knew that I was here?" 
 
 " I was told so by a friend, but I did not believe 
 him ; a — a — at least I did not know it was true till 
 I saw you." 
 
 " Tell me this one thing, then, Robert, and all 
 shall be forgotten and forgiven, — Who was that 
 friend ?" 
 
 " You do not know him." 
 
 " How then does he know me ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell." 
 
 " Was he here present with you to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes ; he was not far distant. He came to this 
 hill with me." 
 
 " Where then is he now ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell." 
 
 " Then, wretch, confess that the devil was that 
 friend who told you I was here, and who came here 
 with you ? None else could possibly know of my be- 
 ing here." 
 
 " Ah ! how little you know of him ! Would you 
 argue that there is neither man nor spirit endowed 
 with so much foresight as to deduce natural conclu- 
 sions from previous actions and incidents but the 
 devil ? Alas, brother ! But why should I wonder at 
 such abandoned notions and principles ? It was 
 fore-ordained that you should cherish them, and 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 6^ 
 
 that they should be the ruin of your soul and body, 
 before the world was framed. Be assured of this, 
 however, that I had no aim in seeking you but your 
 
 good r 
 
 " Well, Robert, I will believe it. I am dispos- 
 ed to be hasty and passionate : it is a fault in my 
 nature ; but I never meant, or wished you evil ; 
 and God is my witness that I would as soon stretch 
 out my hand to my own life, or my father's, as to 
 
 yours." At these words, Wringhim uttered a 
 
 hollow exulting laugh, put his hands in his pockets, 
 and withdrew a space to his accustomed distance. 
 George continued : " And now, once for all, I re- 
 quest that we may exchange forgiveness, and that 
 we may part and remain friends." 
 
 " Would such a thing be expedient, think you ? 
 Or consistent with the glory of God ? I doubt it." 
 
 " I can think of nothing that would be more so. 
 Is it not consistent with every precept of the Gos- 
 pel ? Come, brother, say that our reconciliation is 
 complete." 
 
 " O yes, certainly ! I tell you, brother, accord- 
 ing to the flesh : it is just as complete as the lark's 
 is with the adder ; no more so, nor ever can. Re- 
 conciled, forsooth ! To what would I be reconciled?" 
 
 F 2 
 
68 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 As he said this, he strode indignantly away. 
 From the moment that he heard his life was safe, he 
 assumed his former insolence and revengeful looks 
 — and never were they more dreadful than on part- 
 ing with his brother that morning on the top of 
 the hill. " Well, go thy ways," said George ; 
 " some would despise, but I pity thee. If thou 
 art not a limb of Satan, I never saw one." 
 
 The sun had now dispelled the vapours ; and the 
 morning being lovely beyond description, George 
 sat himself down on the top of the hill, and pon- 
 dered deeply on the unaccountable incident that had 
 befallen to him that morning. He could in nowise 
 comprehend it ; but, taking it with other previous 
 circumstances, he could not get quit of a conviction 
 that he was haunted by some evil genius in the 
 shape of his brother, as well as by that dark and 
 mysterious wretch himself. In no other way could 
 he account for the apparition he saw that morning 
 on the face of the rock, nor for several sudden ap- 
 pearances of the same being, in places where there 
 was no possibility of any foreknowledge that he him- 
 self was to be there, and as little that the same be- 
 ing, if he were flesh and blood like other men, could 
 .always start up in the same position with regard to 
 
THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE. 69 
 
 him. He determined, therefore, on reaching home, 
 to relate all that had happened, from beginning to 
 end, to his father, asking his counsel and his as- 
 sistance, although he knew full well that his father 
 was not the fittest man in the world to solve such a 
 problem. He was now involved in party politics, over 
 head and ears ; and, moreover, he could never hear 
 the names of either of the Wringhims mentioned 
 without getting into a quandary of disgust and an- 
 ger; and all that he would deign to say of them was, 
 to call them by all the opprobrious names he could 
 invent. 
 
 It turned out as the young man from the first 
 suggested : old Dalcastle would listen to nothing 
 concerning them with any patience. George com- 
 plained that his brother harassed him with his pre- 
 sence at all times, and in all places. Old Dal ask- 
 ed why he did not kick the dog out of his presence, 
 whenever he felt him disagreeable? George said, he 
 seemed to have some demon for a familiar. Dal 
 answered, that he did not wonder a bit at that, for 
 the young spark was the third in a direct line who 
 had all been children of adultery ; and it was well 
 known that all such were born half deils themselves, 
 and nothing was more likely than that they should 
 f3 
 
70 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 hold intercourse with their fellows. In the same 
 style did he sympathise with all his son's late suffer- 
 ings and perplexities. 
 
 In Mr. Adam Gordon, however, George found 
 a friend who entered into all his feelings, and had 
 seen and knew every thing about the matter. He 
 tried to convince him, that at all events there could 
 be nothing supernatural in the circumstances ; and 
 that the vision he had seen on the rock, among the 
 thick mist, was the shadow of his brother approach- 
 ing behind him. George could not swallow this, 
 for he had seen his own shadow on the cloud, and, 
 instead of approaching to aught like his own figure, 
 he perceived nothing but a halo of glory round a 
 point of the cloud, that was whiter and purer than 
 the rest. Gordon said, if he would go with him to 
 a mountain of his father's, which he named, in 
 Aberdeenshire, he would show him a giant spirit 
 of the same dimensions, any morning at the rising 
 of the sun, provided he shone on that spot. This 
 statement excited George's curiosity exceedingly ; 
 and, being disgusted with some things about Edin- 
 burgh, and glad to get out of the way, he consented 
 to go with Gordon to the Highlands for a space. 
 The day was accordingly set for their departure, 
 
the editor's narrative. 71 
 
 the old laird's assent obtained ; and the two young 
 sparks parted in a state of great impatience for their 
 excursion. 
 
 One of them found out another engagement, how- 
 ever, the instant after this last was determined on. 
 Young Wringhim went off the hill that morning, 
 and home to his upright guardian again, without 
 washing the blood from his face and neck; and there 
 he told a most woful story indeed : How he had gone 
 out to take a morning's walk on the hill, where he 
 had encountered with his reprobate brother among 
 the mist, who had knocked him down and very near 
 murdered him ; threatening dreadfully, and with 
 horrid oaths, to throw him from the top of the cliff. 
 
 The wrath of the great divine was kindled beyond 
 measure. He cursed the aggressor in the name of 
 the Most High ; and bound himself, by an oath, to 
 cause that wicked one's transgressions return upon 
 his own head sevenfold. But before he engaged far- 
 ther in the business of vengeance, he kneeled with 
 his adopted son, and committed the whole cause 
 unto the Lord, whom he addressed as one coming 
 breathing burning coals of juniper, and casting his 
 lightnings before him, to destroy and root out all 
 who had moved hand or tongue against the chil- 
 
72 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 * 
 
 dren of the promise. Thus did he arise confirmed., 
 and go forth to certain conquest. 
 
 We cannot enter into the detail of the events that 
 now occurred, without forestalling a part of the nar- 
 rative of one who knew all the circumstances — was 
 deeply interested in them, and whose relation is of 
 higher value than any thing that can be retailed 
 out of the stores of tradition and old registers ; but, 
 his narrative being different from these, it was judg- 
 ed expedient to give the account as thus publicly 
 handed down to us. Suffice it, that, before even- 
 ing, George was apprehended, and lodged in jail, on 
 a criminal charge of an assault and battery, to the 
 shedding of blood, with the intent of committing 
 fratricide. Then was the old laird in great conster- 
 nation, and blamed himself for treating the thing 
 so lightly, which seemed to have been gone about, 
 from the beginning, so systematically, and with an 
 intent which the villains were now going to realize, 
 namely, to get the young laird disposed of, and then 
 his brother, in spite of the old gentleman's teeth, 
 would be laird himself. 
 
 Old Dal now set his whole interest to work among 
 the noblemen and lawyers of his party. His son's 
 case looked exceedingly ill, owing to the former as- 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE, ^3 
 
 sault before witnesses, and the unbecoming expres- 
 sions made use of by him on that occasion, as well 
 as from the present assault, which George did not 
 deny, and for which no moving cause or motive 
 could be made to appear. 
 
 On his first declaration before the sheriff, matters 
 looked no better : but then the sheriff was a Whig. 
 It is well known how differently the people of the 
 present day, in Scotland, view the cases of their own 
 party-men, and those of opposite political princi- 
 ples. But this day is nothing to that in such mat- 
 ters, although, God knows, they are still sometimes 
 barefaced enough. It appeared, from all the wit- 
 nesses in the first case, that the complainant was 
 the first aggressor — that he refused to stand out of 
 the way, though apprised of his danger ; and when 
 his brother came against him inadvertently, he had 
 aimed a blow at him with his foot, which, if it had 
 taken effect, would have killed him. But as to the 
 story of the apparition in fair day-light — the flying 
 from the face of it — the running foul of his brother 
 — pursuing him, and knocking him down, why the 
 judge smiled at the relation ; and saying, "It was 
 a very extraordinary story," he remanded George 
 to prison, leaving the matter to the High Court of 
 Justiciary. 
 
74 CONFESSIONS OF A S1NNEK. 
 
 When the case came before that court, matters 
 took a different turn. The constant and sullen 
 attendance of the one brother upon the other ex- 
 cited suspicions ; and these were in some manner, 
 confirmed, when the guards at Queensberry-house 
 deponed, that the prisoner went by them on his 
 way to the hill that morning, about twenty minutes 
 before the complainant, and when the latter passed, 
 he asked if such a young man had passed before 
 him, describing the prisoner's appearance to them ; 
 and that, on being answered in the affirmative, he 
 mended his pace and fell a-running. 
 
 The Lord Justice, on hearing this, asked the 
 prisoner if he had any suspicions that his brother 
 had a design on his life. 
 
 He answered, that all along, from the time of 
 their first unfortunate meeting, his brother had 
 dogged his steps so constantly, and so unaccount- 
 ably, that he was convinced it was with some in- 
 tent out of the ordinary course of events ; and that 
 if, as his lordship supposed, it was indeed his 
 shadow that he had seen approaching him through 
 the mist, then, from the cowering and cautious 
 manner that it advanced, there was too little doubt 
 that his brother's design had been to push him 
 headlong from the cliff that morning. 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. *]5 
 
 A conversation then took place between the 
 Judge and the Lord Advocate ; and, in the mean 
 time, a bustle was seen in the hall ; on which the 
 doors were ordered to be guarded, — and, behold, 
 the precious Mr. R. Wringhim was taken into 
 custody, trying to make his escape out of court. 
 Finally it turned out, that George was honourably 
 acquitted, and young Wringhim bound over to 
 keep the peace, with heavy penalties and secu- 
 rities. 
 
 That was a day of high exultation to George 
 and his youthful associates, all of whom abhorred 
 Wringhim ; and the evening being spent in great 
 glee, it was agreed between Mr. Adam Gordon and 
 George, that their visit to the Highlands, though 
 thus long delayed, was not to be abandoned ; and 
 though they had, through the machinations of an 
 incendiary, lost the season of delight, they would 
 still find plenty of sport in deer-shooting. Ac- 
 cordingly, the day was set a second time for their 
 departure ; and, on the day preceding that, all the 
 party were invited by George to dine with him once 
 more at the sign of the Black Bull of Norway. 
 Every one promised to attend, anticipating nothing 
 but festivity and joy. Alas, what short-sighted 
 
76 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 improvident creatures we are, all of us ; and how 
 often does the evening cup of joy lead to sorrow in 
 the morning! 
 
 The day arrived — the party of young noblemen 
 and gentlemen met, and were as happy and jovial 
 as men could be. George was never seen so bril- 
 liant, or so full of spirits ; and exulting to see so 
 many gallant young chiefs and gentlemen about 
 him, who all gloried in the same principles of loyal- 
 ty, (perhaps this word should have been written dis- 
 loyalty,) he made speeches, gave toasts, and sung 
 songs, all leaning slily to the same side, until a 
 very late hour. By that time he had pushed the 
 bottle so long and so freely, that its fumes had taken 
 possession of every brain to such a degree, that they 
 held Dame Reason rather at the staff's end, over- 
 bearing all her counsels and expostulations ; and it 
 was imprudently proposed by a wild inebriated 
 spark, and carried by a majority of voices, that the 
 whole party should adjourn to a bagnio for the re- 
 mainder of the night. 
 
 They did so ; and it appears from what follows, 
 that the house to which they retired, must have 
 been somewhere on the opposite side of the street to 
 the Black Bull Inn, a little farther to the eastward. 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE. 77 
 
 They had not been an hour in that house, till some 
 altercation chanced to arise between George Col- 
 wan and a Mr. Drummond, the younger son of a 
 nobleman of distinction. It was perfectly casual, 
 and no one thenceforward, to this day, could ever 
 tell what it was about, if it was not about the mis- 
 understanding of some word, or term, that the one 
 had uttered. However it was, some high words 
 passed between them ; these were followed by threats; 
 and in less than two minutes from the commence- 
 ment of the quarrel, Drummond left the house in 
 apparent displeasure, hinting to the other that they 
 two should settle that in a more convenient place. 
 
 The company looked at one another, for all was 
 over before any of them knew such a thing was be- 
 gun. " What the devil is the matter ?" cried one. 
 " What ails Drummond ?" cried another. " Who 
 has he quarrelled with ?" asked a third. 
 
 "Don't know; 1 —" Can't tell, on my life:— "He 
 has quarrelled with his wine, I suppose, and is go- 
 ing to send it a challenge." 
 
 Such were the questions, and such the answers, 
 that passed in the jovial party, and the matter was 
 no more thought of. 
 
78 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 But in the course of a very short space, about the 
 length of which the ideas of the company were the 
 next day at great variance, a sharp rap came to the 
 door : It was opened by a female ; but there being 
 a chain inside, she only saw one side of the person 
 at the door. He appeared to be a young gentle- 
 man, in appearance like him who had lately left the 
 house, and asked, in a low whispering voice, " if 
 young Dalcastle was still in the house ?" The wo- 
 man did not know, — " If he is," added he, " pray 
 tell him to speak with me for a few minutes." The 
 woman delivered the message before all the party, 
 among whom there were then sundry courteous ladies 
 of notable distinction, and George, on receiving it, 
 instantly rose from the side of one of them, and 
 said, in the hearing of them all, " I will bet a hun- 
 dred merks that is Drummond." — u Don't go to 
 quarrel with him, George,'" said one. — " Bring 
 him in with you," said another. George stepped 
 out ; the door was again bolted, the chain drawn 
 across, and the inadvertent party, left within, thought 
 no more of the circumstance till the next morning, 
 that the report had spread over the city, that a 
 young gentleman had been slain, on a little wash- 
 ing-green at the side of the North Loch, and at the 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 79 
 
 very bottom of the close where this thoughtless par- 
 ty had been assembled. 
 
 Several of them, on first hearing the report, hast- 
 ed to the dead-room in the old Guard-house, where 
 the corpse had been deposited, and soon discovered 
 the body to be that of their friend and late enter- 
 tainer, George Colwan. Great were the consterna- 
 tion and grief of all concerned, and, in particular, 
 of his old father and Miss Logan; for George 
 had always been the sole hope and darling of both, 
 and the news of the event paralysed them so as to 
 render them incapable of all thought or exertion. 
 The spirit of the old laird was broken by the blow, 
 and he descended at once from a jolly, good-natur- 
 ed, and active man, to a mere driveller, weeping 
 over the body of his son, kissing his wound, his 
 lips, and his cold brow alternately; denouncing 
 vengeance on his murderers, and lamenting that he 
 himself had not met the cruel doom, so that the 
 hope of his race might have been preserved. In 
 short, finding that all further motive of action and 
 object of concern or of love, here below, were for 
 ever removed from him, he abandoned himself to 
 despair, and threatened to go down to the grave 
 with his son. 
 
80 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 But although he made no attempt to discover the 
 murderers, the arm of justice was not idle ; and it 
 being evident to all, that the crime must infallibly 
 be brought home to young Drummond, some of his 
 friends sought him out, and compelled him, sorely 
 against his will, to retire into concealment till the 
 issue of the proof that should be led was made 
 known. At the same time, he denied all knowledge 
 of the incident with a resolution that astonished his 
 intimate friends and relations, who to a man sus- 
 pected him guilty. His father was not in Scot- 
 land, for I think it was said to me that this young 
 man was second son to a John, Duke of Melfort, 
 who lived abroad with the , royal family of the 
 Stuarts ; but this young gentleman lived with 
 the relations of his mother, one of whom, an uncle, 
 was a Lord of Session : these having thoroughly ef- 
 fected his concealment, went away, and listened to 
 the evidence ; and the examination of every new 
 witness convinced them that their noble young re- 
 lative was the slayer of his friend. 
 
 All the young gentlemen of the party were ex- 
 amined, save Drummond, who, when sent for, could 
 not be found, which circumstance sorely confirmed 
 the suspicions against him in the minds of judges 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 81 
 
 and jurors, friends and enemies; and there is 
 little doubt, that the care of his relations in con- 
 cealing him, injured his character, and his cause. 
 The young gentlemen, of whom the party was 
 composed, varied considerably, with respect to 
 the quarrel between him and the deceased. Some 
 of them had neither heard nor noted it ; others 
 had, but not one of them could tell how it be- 
 gan. Some of them had heard the threat utter- 
 ed by Drummond on leaving the house, and one 
 only had noted him lay his hand on his sword. 
 Not one of them could swear that it was Drum- 
 mond who came to the door, and desired to speak 
 with the deceased,, but the general impression on 
 the minds of them all, was to that effect; and 
 one of the women swore that she heard the voice 
 distinctly at the door, and every word that voice 
 pronounced ; and at the same time heard the de- 
 ceased say, that it was Drummond's. 
 
 On the other hand, there were some evidences 
 on Drummond's part, which Lord Craigie, his un- 
 cle, had taken care to collect. He produced the 
 sword which his nephew had worn that night, on 
 which there was neither blood nor blemish ; and 
 above all, he insisted on the evidence of a number 
 
 G 
 
82 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 of surgeons, who declared that both the wounds 
 which the deceased had received, had been given 
 behind. One of these was below the left arm, and 
 a slight one ; the other was quite through the body, 
 and both evidently inflicted with the same weapon, 
 a two-edged sword, of the same dimensions as that 
 worn by Drummond. 
 
 Upon the whole, there was a division in the court, 
 but a majority decided it. Drummond was pro- 
 nounced guilty of the murder ; outlawed for not 
 appearing, and a high reward offered for his appre- 
 hension. It was with the greatest difficulty that 
 he escaped on board of a small trading vessel, which 
 landed him in Holland, and from thence, flying 
 into Germany, he entered into the service of the 
 Emperor Charles VI. Many regretted that he 
 was not taken, and made to suffer the penalty due 
 for such a crime, and the melancholy incident be- 
 came a pulpit theme over a great part of Scotland, 
 being held up as a proper warning to youth to be- 
 ware of such haunts of vice and depravity, the 
 nurses of all that is precipitate, immoral, and base, 
 among mankind. 
 
 After the funeral of this promising and excel- 
 lent young man, his father never more held up his 
 
the editor's narrative. 83 
 
 head. Miss Logan, with all her art, could not get 
 him to attend to any worldly thing, or to make any 
 settlement whatsoever of his affairs, save making 
 her over a present of what disposable funds he had 
 about him. As to his estates, when they were 
 mentioned to him, he wished them all in the bot- 
 tom of the sea, and himself along with them. But 
 whenever she mentioned the circumstance of Tho- 
 mas Drummond having been the murderer of his 
 son, he shook his head, and once made the re- 
 mark, that " It was all a mistake, a gross and 
 fatal error ; but that God, who had permitted such 
 a flagrant deed, would bring it to light in his own 
 time and way." In a few weeks he followed his 
 son to the grave, and the notorious Robert Wring- 
 him took possession of his estates as the lawful son 
 of the late laird, born in wedlock, and under his 
 father's roof. The investiture was celebrated by 
 prayer, singing of psalms, and religious disputation. 
 The late guardian and adopted father, and the 
 mother of the new laird, presided on the grand oc- 
 casion, making a conspicuous figure in all the work 
 of the day ; and though the youth himself indulged 
 rather more freely in the bottle, than he had ever 
 been seen to do before, it was agreed by all present, 
 g2 
 
84 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 that there had never been a festivity so sanctified 
 within the great hall of Dalcastle. Then, after due 
 thanks returned, they parted rejoicing in spirit ; 
 which thanks, by the by, consisted wholly in tell- 
 ing the Almighty what he was ; and informing him, 
 with very particular precision, what they were who 
 addressed him ; for WringhhrTs whole system of 
 popular declamation consisted it seems in this, — to 
 denounce all men and women to destruction, and 
 then hold out hopes to his adherents that they were 
 the chosen few, included in the promises, and who 
 could never fall away. It would appear that this 
 pharisaical doctrine is a very delicious one, and the 
 most grateful of all others to the worst characters. 
 But the ways of heaven are altogether inscruta- 
 ble, and soar as far above and beyond the works 
 and the comprehensions of man, as the sun, flaming 
 in majesty, is above the tiny boy^s evening rocket. 
 It is the controller of Nature alone, that can bring 
 light out of darkness, and order out of confusion. 
 Who is he that causeth the mole, from his secret 
 path of darkness, to throw up the gem, the gold, 
 and the precious ore ? The same, that from the 
 mouths of babes and sucklings can extract the per- 
 fection of praise, and who can make the most ab- 
 
the editor's narrative. 85 
 
 ject of his creatures instrumental in bringing the 
 most hidden truths to light. 
 
 Miss Logan had never lost the thought of her 
 late master's prediction, that Heaven would bring 
 to light the truth concerning the untimely death 
 of his son. She perceived that some strange con- 
 viction, too horrible for expression, preyed on his 
 mind from the moment that the fatal news reached 
 him, to the last of his existence ; and in his last 
 ravings, he uttered some incoherent words about 
 justification by faith alone, and absolute and eter- 
 nal predestination having been the ruin of his house. 
 These, to be sure, were the words of superannua- 
 tion, and of the last and severest kind of it ; but for 
 all that, they sunk deep into Miss Logan's soul, 
 and at last she began to think with herself, " Is it 
 possible the Wringhims, and the sophisticating 
 wretch who is in conjunction with them, the mo- 
 ther of my late beautiful and amiable young mas- 
 ter, can have effected his destruction ? if so, I will 
 spend my days, and my little patrimony, in endea- 
 vours to rake up and expose the unnatural deed." 
 
 In all her outgoings and incomings, Mrs. Logan 
 (as she was now styled) never lost sight of this 
 one object. Every new disappointment only whet- 
 g3 
 
86 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ted her desire to fish up some particulars concern- 
 ing it ; for she thought so long, and so ardently 
 upon it, that by degrees it became settled in her 
 mind as a sealed truth. And as woman is always 
 most jealous of her own sex in such matters, her 
 suspicions were fixed on her greatest enemy, Mrs. 
 Colwan, now the Lady Dowager of Dalcastle. All 
 was wrapt in a chaos of confusion and darkness ; 
 but at last by dint of a thousand sly and secret in- 
 quiries, Mrs. Logan found out where Lady Dal- 
 castle had been, on the night that the murder hap- 
 pened, and likewise what company she had kept, 
 as well as some of the comers and goers ; and she 
 had hopes of having discovered a cue, which, if she 
 could keep hold of the thread, would lead her 
 through darkness to the light of truth. 
 
 Returning very late one evening from a convo- 
 cation of family servants, which she had drawn 
 together in order to fish something out of them, her 
 maid having been in attendance on her all the 
 evening, they found on going home, that the house 
 had been broken, and a number of valuable articles 
 stolen therefrom. Mrs. Logan had grown quite 
 heartless before this stroke, having been altogether 
 unsuccessful in her inquiries, and now she began 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 87 
 
 to entertain some resolutions of giving up the fruit- 
 less search. 
 
 In a few days thereafter, she received intelli- 
 gence that her clothes and plate were mostly reco- 
 vered, and that she for one was bound over to pro- 
 secute the depredator, provided the articles turned 
 out to be hers, as libelled in the indictment, and 
 as a king's evidence had given out. She was like- 
 wise summoned, or requested, I know not which, 
 being ignorant of these matters, to go as far as the 
 town of Peebles on Tweedside, in order to survey 
 these articles on such a day, and make affidavit to 
 their identity before the Sheriff. She went accord- 
 ingly ; but on entering the town by the North Gate, 
 she was accosted by a poor girl in tattered apparel, 
 who with great earnestness inquired if her name 
 was not Mrs. Logan ? On being answered in the 
 affirmative, she said that the unfortunate prisoner 
 in the tolbooth requested her, as she valued all that 
 was dear to her in life, to go and see her before she 
 appeared in court, at the hour of cause, as she (the 
 prisoner) had something of the greatest moment 
 to impart to her. Mrs. Logan's curiosity was ex- 
 cited, and she followed the girl straight to the tol- 
 booth, who by the way said to her, that she would 
 
88 COFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 find in the prisoner a woman of a superior mind, 
 who had gone through all the vicissitudes of life. 
 " She has been very unfortunate, and I fear very 
 wicked," added the poor thing, " but she is my 
 mother, and God knows, with all her faults and 
 failings, she has never been unkind to me. You, 
 madam, have it in your power to save her ; but she 
 has wronged you, and therefore if you will not do 
 it for her sake, do it for mine, and the God of the 
 fatherless will reward you." 
 
 Mrs. Logan answered her with a cast of the head, 
 and a hem ! and only remarked, that H the guilty 
 must not always be suffered to escape, or what a 
 world must we be doomed to live in !" 
 
 She was admitted to the prison, and found a tall 
 emaciated figure, who appeared to have once pos- 
 sessed a sort of masculine beauty in no ordinary 
 degree, but was now considerably advanced in years. 
 She viewed Mrs. Logan with a stern, steady gaze, 
 as if reading her features as a margin to her intel- 
 lect ; and when she addressed her it was not with 
 that humility, and agonized fervor, which are na- 
 tural for one in such circumstances to address to 
 another, who has the power of her life and death 
 in her hands. 
 
the editor's narrative. 89 
 
 "I am deeply indebted to you, for this timely 
 visit, Mrs. Logan," said she. " It is not that I 
 value life, or because I fear death, that I have sent 
 for you so expressly. But the manner of the death 
 that awaits me, has something peculiarly revolting 
 in it to a female mind. Good God ! when I think 
 of being hung up, a spectacle to a gazing, gaping 
 multitude, with numbers of which I have had intima- 
 cies and connections, that would render the moment 
 of parting so hideous, that, believe me, it rends to 
 flinders a soul born for another sphere than that 
 in which it has moved, had not the vile selfishness 
 of a lordly fiend ruined all my prospects, and all 
 my hopes. Hear me then ; for I do not ask your 
 pity : I only ask of you to look to yourself, and 
 behave with womanly prudence. If you deny this 
 day, that these goods are yours, there is no other 
 evidence whatever against my life, and it is safe for 
 the present. For as for the word of the wretch who 
 has betrayed me, it is of no avail ; he has prevari- 
 cated so notoriously to save himself. If you deny 
 them, you shall have them all again to the value of 
 a mite, and more to the bargain. If you swear to 
 the identity of them, the process will, one way and 
 another, cost you the half of what they are worth." 
 
90 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 " And what security have I for that ?" said Mrs. 
 Logan. 
 
 " You have none but my word" said the other 
 proudly, " and that never yet was violated. If you 
 cannot take that, I know the worst you can do — 
 But I had forgot — I have a poor helpless child 
 without, waiting, and starving about the prison door 
 — Surely it was of her that I wished to speak. This 
 shameful death of mine will leave her in a deplor- 
 able state." 
 
 " The girl seems to have candour and strong 
 affections,'" said Mrs. Logan ; " I grievously mis- 
 take if such a child would not be a thousand times 
 better without such a guardian and director." 
 
 " Then will you be so kind as come to the Grass 
 Market, and see me put down ?" said the prisoner. 
 " I thought a woman would estimate a woman's 
 and a mother's feelings, when such a dreadful throw 
 was at stake, at least in part. But you are callous, 
 and have never known any feelings but those of sub- 
 ordination to your old unnatural master. Alas, I 
 have no cause of offence ! I have wronged you ; 
 and justice must take its course. Will you forgive 
 me before we part ?" 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 91 
 
 Mrs. Logan hesitated, for her mind ran on some- 
 thing else : On which the other subjoined, " No, 
 you will not forgive me, I see. But you will pray 
 to God to forgive me ? I know you will do that? 
 
 Mrs. Logan heard not this jeer, but looking at 
 the prisoner with an absent and stupid stare, she 
 said, " Did you know my late master ?" 
 
 " Ay, that I did, and never for any good," said 
 she. " I knew the old and the young spark both, 
 and was by when the latter was slain." 
 
 This careless sentence affected Mrs. Logan in 
 a most peculiar manner. A shower of tears burst 
 from her eyes ere it was done, and when it was, she 
 appeared like one bereaved of her mind. She first 
 turned one way and then another, as if looking for 
 something she had dropped. She seemed to think 
 she had lost her eyes, instead of her tears, and at 
 length, as by instinct, she tottered close up to the 
 prisoner's face, and looking wistfully and joyfully 
 in it, said, with breathless earnestness, " Pray, 
 mistress, what is your name ?" 
 
 " My name is Arabella Calvert," said the other : 
 " Miss, mistress, or widow, as you chuse, for I have 
 been all the three, and that not once nor twice only 
 
92 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 — Ay, and something beyond all these. But as 
 for you, you have never been any thing I!! 
 
 " Ay, ay ! and so you are Bell Calvert ? Well, 
 I thought so — I thought so," said Mrs. Logan ; 
 and helping herself to a seat, she came and sat down 
 close by the prisoner's knee. " So you are indeed 
 Bell Calvert, so called once. Well, of all the world 
 you are the woman whom I have longed and tra- 
 vailed the most to see. But you were invisible ; 
 a being to be heard of, not seen." 
 
 " There have been days, madam," returned she, 
 " when I was to be seen, and when there were few 
 to be seen like me. But since that time there have 
 indeed been days on which I was not to be seen. 
 My crimes have been great, but my sufferings have 
 been greater. So great, that neither you nor the 
 world can ever either know or conceive them. I 
 hope they will be taken into account by the Most 
 High. Mine have been crimes of utter despera- 
 tion. But whom am I speaking to ? You had bet- 
 ter leave me to myself, mistress." 
 
 " Leave you to yourself? That I will be loth to 
 do, till you tell me where you were that night my 
 young master was murdered ?" 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 93 
 
 " Where the devil would, I was ! Will that 
 suffice you ? Ah, it was a vile action ! A night to 
 be remembered that was 1 Won't you be going ? I 
 want to trust my daughter with a commission ." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Calvert, you and I part not, till you 
 have divulged that mystery to me." 
 
 " You must accompany me to the other world, 
 then, for you shall not have it in this." 
 
 " If you refuse to answer me, I can have you 
 before a tribunal, where you shall be sifted to the 
 soul." 
 
 " Such miserable inanity ! What care I for your 
 threatenings of a tribunal ? I who must so soon 
 stand before my last earthly one ? What could the 
 word of such a culprit avail ? Or if it could, where 
 is the judge that could enforce it ?" 
 
 " Did you not say that there was some mode of 
 accommodating matters on that score ?" 
 
 " Yes, I prayed you to grant me my life, which 
 is in your power. The saving of it would not have 
 cost you a plack, yet you refused to do it. The 
 taking of it will cost you a great deal, and yet to 
 that purpose you adhere. I can have no parley with 
 such a spirit. I would not have my life in a present 
 from its motions, nor would I exchange courtesies 
 with its possessor." 
 
94 CONFESSIONS OF A SlNNElt. 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Calvert, since ever we met, I have 
 been so busy thinking about who you might be, 
 that I know not what you have been proposing. I 
 believe, I meant to do what I could to save you. 
 But once for all, tell me every thing that you know 
 concerning that amiable young gentleman's death, 
 and here is my hand there shall be nothing want- 
 ing that I can effect for you." 
 
 " No, I despise all barter with such mean and 
 selfish curiosity ; and, as I believe that passion is 
 stronger with you, than fear is with me, we part on 
 equal terms. Do your worst ; and my secret shall 
 go to the gallows and the grave with me." 
 
 Mrs. Logan was now greatly confounded, and 
 after proffering in vain to concede every thing she 
 could ask in exchange, for the particulars relating 
 to the murder, she became the suppliant in her 
 turn. But the unaccountable culprit, exulting in 
 her advantage, laughed her to scorn ; and finally, 
 in a paroxysm of pride and impatience, called in the 
 jailor and had her expelled, ordering him in her 
 hearing not to grant her admittance a second time, 
 on any pretence. 
 
 Mrs. Logan was now hard put to it, and again 
 driven almost to despair. She might have succeed- 
 
the editor's narrative. 95 
 
 ed in the attainment of that she thirsted for most 
 in life so easily, had she known the character with 
 which she had to deal with — Had she known to have 
 soothed her high and afflicted spirit : but that op- 
 portunity was past, and the hour of examination at 
 hand. She once thought of going and claiming 
 her articles, as she at first intended; but then, when 
 she thought again of the Wringhims swaying it at 
 Dalcastle, where she had been wont to hear them 
 held in such contempt, if not abhorrence, and per- 
 haps of holding it by the most diabolical means, she 
 was withheld from marring the only chance that re- 
 mained of having a glimpse into that mysterious 
 affair. 
 
 Finally, she resolved not to answer to her name 
 in the court, rather than to appear and assert a 
 falsehood, which she might be called on to certify 
 by oath. She did so ; and heard the Sheriff give 
 orders to the officers to make inquiry for Miss Lo- 
 gan from Edinburgh, at the various places of en- 
 tertainment in town, and to expedite her arrival in 
 court, as things of great value were in dependence. 
 She also heard the man who had turned king's evi- 
 dence against the prisoner, examined for the se- 
 cond time, and sifted most cunningly. His ans- 
 
96 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 wers gave any thing but satisfaction to the Sheriff, 
 though Mrs. Logan believed them to be mainly 
 truth. But there were a few questions and answers 
 that struck her above all others. 
 
 " How long is it since Mrs. Calvert and you be- 
 came acquainted ?" 
 
 " About a year and a half." 
 
 " State the precise time, if you please ; the day, 
 or night, according to your remembrance." 
 
 " It was on the morning of the 28th of February, 
 1705." 
 
 u What time of the morning ?" 
 
 " Perhaps about one." 
 
 " So early as that ? At what place did you meet 
 then?" 
 
 " It was at the foot of one of the north wynds 
 of Edinburgh." 
 
 " Was it by appointment that you met ?" 
 
 " No, it was not." 
 
 " For what purpose was it then ?" 
 
 " For no purpose." 
 
 " How is it that you chance to remember the 
 day and hour so minutely, if you met that woman, 
 whom you have accused, merely by chance, and for 
 no manner of purpose, as you must have met others 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 97 
 
 that night, perhaps to the amount of hundreds, in 
 the same way ?" 
 
 " I have good cause to remember it, my lord." 
 
 " What was that cause ? — No answer ? — You 
 don't choose to say what that cause was ?" 
 
 " I am not at liberty to tell." 
 
 The Sheriff then descended to other particu- 
 lars, all of which tended to prove that the fellow 
 was an accomplished villain, and that the princi- 
 pal share of the atrocities had been committed by 
 him. Indeed the Sheriff hinted, that he suspect- 
 ed the only share Mrs. Calvert had in them, was 
 in being too much in his company, and too true to 
 him. The case was remitted to the Court of Jus- 
 ticiary ; but Mrs. Logan had heard enough to con- 
 vince her that the culprits first met at the very 
 spot, and the very hour, on which George Colwan 
 was slain ; and she had no doubt that they were 
 incendiaries set on by his mother, to forward her 
 own and her darling son's way to opulence. Mrs. 
 Logan was wrong, as will appear in the sequel ; but 
 her antipathy to Mrs. Colwan made her watch the 
 event with all care. She never quitted Peebles as 
 long as Bell Calvert remained there, and when she 
 was removed to Edinburgh, the other followed. 
 
98 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 When the trial came on, Mrs. Logan and her maid 
 were again summoned as witnesses before the jury, 
 and compelled by the prosecutor for the Crown to 
 appear. 
 
 The maid was first called ; and when she came 
 into the witnesses'* box, the anxious and hopeless 
 looks of the prisoner were manifest to all : But the 
 girl, whose name, she said, was Bessy Gillies, an- 
 swered in so flippant and fearless a way, that the 
 auditors were much amused. After a number of 
 routine questions, the depute-advocate asked her 
 if she was at home on the morning of the fifth of 
 September last, when her mistress's house was 
 robbed ? 
 
 " Was I at hame, say ye ? Na, faith-ye, lad ! An 
 I had been at hame, there had been mair to dee. 
 I wad hae raised sic a yelloch P 
 
 " Where were you that morning ?" 
 
 " Where was I, say you ? I was in the house 
 where my mistress was, sitting dozing an" half 
 sleeping in the kitchen. I thought aye she would 
 be setting out every minute, for twa hours." 
 
 " And when you went home, what did you 
 
 find r 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 99 
 
 44 What found we ? Be my sooth, we found a 
 broken lock, an" toom kists." 
 
 " Relate some of the particulars, if you please." 
 
 " O, sir, the thieves didna stand upon particu- 
 lars : they were halesale dealers in a' our best 
 wares." 
 
 , " I mean, what passed between your mistress and 
 you on the occasion ?" 
 
 " What passed, say ye ? O, there wasna muckle : 
 I was in a great passion, but she was dung doitri- 
 fied a wee. When she gaed to put the key P the 
 door, up it flew to the fer wa\ — 'Bess, ye jaud, 
 what's the meaning o' this P quo she. * Ye hae left 
 the door open, ye tawpie P quo she. ' The ne'er 
 o' that I did," quo I, i or may my shakel bane 
 never turn another key." When we got the candle 
 lightit, a' the house was in a hoad-road. 1 Bessy, 
 my woman,' quo she, * we are baith ruined and un- 
 done creatures.' ' The deil a bit,' quo I ; ' that I 
 deny positively. H'mh ! to speak o' a lass o' my age 
 being ruined and undone ! I never had muckle ex- 
 cept what was within a good jerkin, an' let the 
 thief ruin me there wha can.' " 
 h2 
 
100 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 " Do you remember ought else that your mfc- 
 tress said on the occasion ? Did you hear her blame 
 any person ?" 
 
 " O, she made a great deal o' grumphing an' 
 groaning about the misfortune, as she ca'd it, an' 
 I think she said it was a part o' the ruin wrought 
 by the Ringans, or some sic name, — * they'll hae't 
 a 1 ! they'll hae't a** !' cried she, wringing her hands ; 
 c they'll hae't a', an' hellwi't, an' they'll get them 
 baith.' ' Aweel, that's aye some satisfaction,' 
 quo I." 
 
 " Whom did she mean by the Ringans, do you 
 know ?" 
 
 " I fancy they are some creatures that she has 
 dreamed about, for I think there canna be as ill 
 folks living as she ca's them." 
 
 u Did you never hear her say that the prisoner 
 at the bar there, Mrs. Calvert, or Bell Calvert, was 
 the robber of her house ; or that she was one of 
 the Ringans ?" 
 
 " Never. Somebody tauld her lately, that ane 
 Bell Calvert robbed her house, but she disna be- 
 lieve it. Neither do I." 
 
 " What reasons have you for doubting it ?" 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 101 
 
 u Because it was nae woman's fingers that broke 
 up the bolts an 1 the locks that were torn open that 
 night." 
 
 " Very pertinent, Bessy. Come then within the 
 bar, and look at these articles on the table. Did 
 you ever see these silver spoons before ?" 
 
 " I hae seen some very like them, and whaever 
 has seen siller spoons, has done the same.'" 
 
 "Can you swear you never saw them before ?" 
 
 " Na, na, I wadna swear to ony siller spoons 
 that ever war made, unless I had put a private 
 mark on them wi' my ain hand, an** that's what I 
 never did to ane." 
 
 " See, they are all marked with a C." 
 
 " Sae are a' the spoons in Argyle, an' the half 
 o' them in Edinburgh I think. A C is a very com- 
 mon letter, an' so are a' the names that begin wi't. 
 Lay them by, lay them by, an' gie the poor wo- 
 man her spoons again. They are marked wi' her 
 ain name, an' I hae little doubt they are hers, an' 
 that she has seen better days." 
 
 " Ah, God bless her heart !" sighed the prisoner ; 
 and that blessing was echoed in the breathings of 
 many a feeling breast. 
 
 h3 
 
102 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 
 
 " Did you ever see this gown before, think 
 you?" 
 
 " I hae seen ane very like it." 
 
 " Could you not swear that gown was your mis- 
 tress's once ?" 
 
 " No, unless I saw her hae't on, an' kend that 
 she had paid for't. I am very scrupulous about an 
 oath. Like is an ill mark. Sae ill indeed, that I 
 wad hardly swear to ony thing." 
 
 " But you say that gown is very like one your 
 mistress used to wear. 
 
 " I never said sic a thing. It is like one I hae 
 seen her hae out airing on the hay raip T the back 
 green. It is very like ane I hae seen Mrs. Butler 
 in the Grass Market wearing too ; I rather think 
 it is the same. Bless you, sir, I wadna swear to 
 my ain fore finger, if it had been as lang out o' my 
 sight, an' brought in an' laid on that table." 
 
 " Perhaps you are not aware, girl, that this scru- 
 pulousness of yours is likely to thwart the purposes 
 of justice, and bereave your mistress of property to 
 the amount of a thousand merks ?" (From the 
 Judge.) 
 
THE EDITORS NARRATIVE. 103 
 
 " I carina help that, my lord : triads her look- 
 out. For my part, I am resolved to keep a clear 
 conscience, till I be married, at any rate." 
 
 " Look over these things and see if there is any 
 one article among them which you can fix on as 
 the property of your mistress." 
 
 " No ane o* them, sir, no ane o' them. An 
 oath is an awftf thing, especially when it is for life 
 or death. Gie the poor woman her things again, 
 an' let my mistress pick up the next she finds : 
 that's my advice." 
 
 When Mrs. Logan came into the box, the 
 prisoner groaned, and laid down her head. But 
 how she was astonished when she heard her deliver 
 herself something to the following purport ! — That 
 whatever penalties she was doomed to abide, she 
 was determined she would not bear witness against 
 a woman's life, from a certain conviction that it 
 could not be a woman who broke her house. " I 
 have no doubt that I may find- some of my own 
 things there," added she, " but if they were found 
 in her possession, she has been made a tool, or the 
 dupe, of an infernal set, who shall be nameless here. 
 I believe she did not rob me, and for that reason 
 I will have no hand in her condemnation." 
 
104 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 The Judge. " This is the most singular per- 
 version I have ever witnessed. Mrs. Logan, I 
 entertain strong suspicions that the prisoner, or her 
 agents, have made some agreement with you on 
 this matter, to prevent the course of justice.'" 
 
 " So far from that, my lord, I went into the 
 jail at Peebles to this woman, whom I had never 
 seen before, and proffered to withdraw my part in 
 the prosecution, as well as my evidence, provided 
 she would tell me a few simple facts ; but she 
 spurned at my offer, and had me turned insolently 
 out of the prison, with orders to the jailor never to 
 admit me again on any pretence." 
 
 The prisoner's counsel, taking hold of this evi- 
 dence, addressed the jury with great fluency ; and 
 finally, the prosecution was withdrawn, and the 
 prisoner dismissed from the bar, with a severe re- 
 primand for her past conduct, and an exhortation 
 to keep better company. 
 
 It was not many days till a caddy came with a 
 large parcel to Mrs. Logan's house, which parcel 
 he delivered into her hands, accompanied with a 
 sealed note, containing an inventory of the articles, 
 and a request to know if the unfortunate Arabella 
 Calvert would be admitted to converse with Mrs. 
 Logan. 
 
the editor's narrative. 105 
 
 Never was there a woman so much overjoy- 
 ed as Mrs. Logan was at this message. She re- 
 turned compliments : Would be most happy to see 
 her ; and no article of the parcel should be looked 
 at, or touched, till her arrival. — It was not long till 
 she made her appearance, dressed in somewhat 
 better style than she had yet seen her ; delivered 
 her over the greater part of the stolen property, 
 besides many things that either never had belong- 
 ed to Mrs. Logan, or that she thought proper to 
 deny, in order that the other might retain them. 
 
 The tale that she told of her misfortunes was of 
 the most distressing nature, and was enough to stir 
 up all the tender, as well as abhorrent feelings in 
 the bosom of humanity. She had suffered every 
 deprivation in fame, fortune, and person. She 
 had been imprisoned ; she had been scourged, and 
 branded as an impostor ; and all on account of her 
 resolute and unmoving fidelity and truth to seve- 
 ral of the very worst of men, every one of whom 
 had abandoned her to utter destitution and shame. 
 
 But this story we cannot enter on at present, as it 
 would perhaps mar the thread of our story, as much 
 
 as it did the anxious anticipations of Mrs. Logan, 
 
106 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 who sat pining and longing for the relation that 
 follows. 
 
 " Now I know, Mrs. Logan, that you are expect- 
 ing a detail of the circumstances relating to the 
 death of Mr George Colwan ; and in gratitude for 
 your unbounded generosity, and disinterestedness, 
 I will tell' you all that I know, although, for causes 
 that will appear obvious to you, I had determined 
 never in life to divulge one circumstance of it. I 
 can tell you, however, that you will be disappoint- 
 ed, for it was not the gentleman who was accused, 
 found guilty, and would have suffered the utmost 
 penalty of the law, had he not made his escape. 
 It was not he, I say, who slew your young master, 
 nor had he any hand in it." 
 
 " I never thought he had. But, pray, how do 
 you come to know this ?" 
 
 " You shall hear. I had been abandoned in 
 York, by an artful and consummate fiend; found 
 guilty of being art and part concerned in the most 
 heinous atrocities, and, in his place, suffered what 
 I yet shudder to think of. I was banished the 
 county — begged my way with my poor outcast 
 child up to Edinburgh, and was there obliged, for 
 the second time in my life, to betake myself to the 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 107 
 
 most degrading of all means to support two wretch- 
 ed lives. I hired a dress, and betook me, shivering, 
 to the High Street, too well aware that my form 
 and appearance would soon draw me suitors enow 
 at that throng and intemperate time of the parlia- 
 ment. On my very first stepping out to the street, 
 a party of young gentlemen was passing. I heard 
 by the noise they made, and the tenor of their 
 speech, that they were more than mellow, and so I 
 resolved to keep near them, in order, if possible, to 
 make some of them my prey. But just as one of 
 them began to eye me, I was rudely thrust into a 
 narrow close by one of the guardsmen. I had heard 
 to what house the party was bound, for the men were 
 talking exceedingly loud, and making no secret of 
 it : so I hasted down the close, and round below to 
 the one where their rendezvous was to be ; but I was 
 too late, they were all housed and the door bolted. 
 I resolved to wait, thinking they could not all stay 
 long ; but I was perishing with famine, and was like 
 to fall down. The moon shone as bright as day, 
 and I perceived, by a sign at the bottom of the close, 
 that there was a small tavern of a certain descrip- 
 tion up two stairs there. I went up and called, 
 telling the mistress of the house my plan. She ap- 
 
108 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 proved of it mainly, and offered me her best apart- 
 ment, provided I could get one of these noble mates 
 to accompany me. She abused Lucky Sudds, as 
 she called her, at the inn where the party was, en- 
 vying her huge profits, no doubt, and giving me af- 
 terward something to drink, for which I really felt 
 exceedingly grateful in my need. I stepped down 
 stairs in order to be on the alert. The moment that 
 I reached the ground, the door of Lucky Sudds' 
 house opened and shut, and down came the Ho- 
 nourable Thomas Drummond, with hasty and im- 
 passioned strides, his sword rattling at his heel. I 
 accosted him in a soft and soothing tone. He was 
 taken with my address ; for he instantly stood still 
 and gazed intently at me, then at the place, and then 
 at me again. I beckoned him to follow me, which 
 he did without farther ceremony, and we soon found 
 ourselves together in the best room of a house where 
 every thing was wretched. He still looked about 
 him, and at me ; but all this while he had never 
 spoken a word. At length, I asked if he would take 
 any refreshment ? ' If you please,' said he. I 
 asked what he would have ? but he only answered, 
 ' Whatever you choose, madam.' If he was taken 
 with my address, I was much more taken with his ; 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE, 109 
 
 for he was a complete gentleman, and a gentleman 
 will ever act as one. At length, he began as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " ' I am utterly at a loss to account for this ad- 
 venture, madam. It seems to me like enchantment, 
 and I can hardly believe my senses. An English 
 lady, I judge, and one, who from her manner and 
 address should belong to the first class of society, in 
 such a place as this, is indeed matter of wonder to 
 me. At the foot of a close in Edinburgh ! and at 
 this time of the night ! Surely it must have been no 
 common reverse of fortune that reduced you to 
 this ?' I wept, or pretended to do so ; on which he 
 added. ' Pray, madam, take heart. Tell me what 
 has befallen you ; and if I can do any thing for 
 you, in restoring you to your country or your friends, 
 you shall command my interest.' 5 
 
 " I had great need of a friend then, and I thought 
 now was the time to secure one. So I began and 
 told him the moving tale I have told you. But I 
 soon perceived that I had kept by the naked truth 
 too unvarnishedly, and thereby quite overshot my 
 mark. When he learned that he was sitting in a 
 wretched corner of an irregular house, with a felon, 
 who had so lately been scourged, and banished as a 
 
110 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 swindler and impostor, his modest nature took the 
 alarm, and he was shocked, instead of being moved 
 with pity. His eye fixed on some of the casual 
 stripes on my arm, and from that moment he be- 
 came restless and impatient to be gone. I tried 
 some gentle arts to retain him, but in vain ; so, af- 
 ter paying both the landlady and me for pleasures 
 he had neither tasted nor asked, he took his leave. 
 I showed him down stairs ; and just as he turned 
 the corner of the next land, a man came rushing 
 violently by him ; exchanged looks with him, and 
 came running up to me. He appeared in great agi- 
 tation, and was quite out of breath ; and, taking my 
 hand in his, we ran up stairs together without speak- 
 ing, and were instantly in the apartment I had left, 
 where a stoup of wine still stood untasted. ' Ah, 
 this is fortunate V said my new spark, and helped 
 himself. In the mean while, as our apartment was 
 a corner one, and looked both east and north, I ran 
 to the easter casement to look after Drummond. 
 Now, note me well : I saw him going eastward in 
 his tartans and bonnet, and the gilded hilt of his 
 claymore glittering in the moon ; and, at the very 
 same time, I saw two men, the one in black, and 
 the other likewise in tartans, coming toward the 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. Ill 
 
 steps from the opposite bank, by the foot of the 
 loch ; and I saw Drummond and they eying each 
 other as they passed. I kept view of him till he 
 vanished towards Leith Wynd, and by that time 
 the two strangers had come close up under our win- 
 dow. This is what I wish you to pay particular 
 attention to. I had only lost sight of Drummond, 
 (who had given me his name and address,) for the 
 short space of time that we took in running up one 
 pair of short stairs ; and during that space he had 
 halted a moment, for, when I got my eye on him 
 again, he had not crossed the mouth of the next en- 
 try; nor proceeded above ten or twelve paces, and, 
 at the same time, I saw the two men coming down 
 the bank on the opposite side of the loch, at about 
 three hundred paces distance. Both he and they 
 were distinctly in my view, and never within speech 
 of each other, until he vanished into one of the 
 wynds leading toward the bottom of the High 
 Street, at which precise time the two strangers came 
 below my window ; so that it was quite clear he 
 neither could be one of them, nor have any com- 
 munication with them. 
 
 " Yet, mark me again ; for of all things I have 
 ever seen, this was the most singular. When I 
 
112 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 looked down at the two strangers, one of them was 
 extremely like Drummond. So like was he, that 
 there was not one item in dress, form, feature, nor 
 voice, by which I could distinguish the one from 
 the other. I was certain it was not he, because I 
 had seen the one going and the other approaching 
 at the same time, and my impression at the moment 
 was, that I looked upon some spirit, or demon, in 
 his likeness. I felt a chillness creep all round my 
 heart, my knees tottered, and, withdrawing my 
 head from the open casement that lay in the dark 
 shade, I said to the man who was with me, ' Good 
 God, what is this V 
 
 " * What is it, my dear?" said he, as much alarm- 
 ed as I was. 
 
 " ' As I live, there stands an apparition V said I. 
 
 " He was not so much afraid when he heard me 
 say so, and peeping cautiously out, he looked and lis- 
 tened a-while, and then drawing back, he said in a 
 whisper, ' They are both living men, and one of 
 them is he I passed at the corner.'' 
 
 " c That he is not,' said I, emphatically. ' To 
 that I will make oath.'' 
 
 " He smiled and shook his head, and then added, 
 ' I never then saw a man before, whom I could not 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 113 
 
 know again, particularly if he was the very last I 
 had seen. But what matters it whether it be or 
 not ? As it is no concern of ours, let us sit down 
 and enjoy ourselves.'' 
 
 " ! But it does matter a very great deal with me, 
 sir," said I. — i Bless me, my head is giddy — my 
 breath quite gone, and I feel as if I were surrounded 
 with fiends. Who are you, sir ? y 
 
 " 6 You shall know that ere we two part, my 
 love,** said he : ' I cannot conceive why the return 
 of this young gentleman to the spot he so lately 
 left, should discompose you ? I suppose he got a 
 glance of you as he passed, and has returned to look 
 after you, and that is the whole secret of the matter.'' 
 " i If you will be so civil as to walk out and join 
 him then, it will oblige me hugely J said I, ' for I 
 never in my life experienced such boding apprehen- 
 sions of evil company. I cannot conceive how you 
 should come up here without asking my permission ? 
 Will it please you to begone, sir ?' — I was within 
 an ace of prevailing. He took out his purse — I 
 need not say more — I was bribed to let him remain. 
 Ah, had I kept by my frail resolution of dismiss- 
 ing him at that moment, what a world of shame and 
 i 
 
114 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 misery had been evited ! But that, though upper- 
 most still in my mind, has nothing ado here. 
 
 " When I peeped over again, the two men were 
 disputing in a whisper, the one of them in violent 
 agitation and terror, and the other upbraiding him, 
 and urging him on to some desperate act. At length 
 I heard the young man in the Highland garb say 
 indignantly, ' Hush, recreant ! It is God's work 
 which you are commissioned to execute, and it must 
 be done. But if you positively decline it, I will do 
 it myself, and do you beware of the consequences.'* 
 
 " i Oh, I will, I will f cried the other in black 
 clothes, in a wretched beseeching tone. < You 
 shall instruct me in this, as in all things else." 
 
 " I thought all this while I was closely concealed 
 from them, and wondered not a little when he in tar- 
 tans gave me a sly nod, as much as to say, ' What 
 do you think of this p or, ' Take note of what 
 you see,' or something to that effect, from which 
 I perceived, that whatever he was about, he did 
 not wish it to be kept a secret. For all that, I was 
 impressed with a terror and anxiety that I could not 
 overcome, but it only made me mark every event 
 with the more intense curiosity. The Highlander, 
 whom I still could not help regarding as the evil 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 115 
 
 genius of Thomas Drummond, performed every ac- 
 tion, as with the quickness of thought. He con- 
 cealed the youth in black in a narrow entry, a little 
 to the westward of my windows, and as he was lead- 
 ing him across the moonlight green by the shoulder, 
 I perceived, for the first time, that both of them 
 were armed with rapiers. He pushed him without 
 resistance into the dark shaded close, made another 
 signal to me, and hasted up the close to Lucky 
 Sudds'* door. The city and the morning were so 
 still, that I heard every word that was uttered, on 
 putting my head out a little. He knocked at the 
 door sharply, and after waiting a considerable space, 
 the bolt was drawn, and the door, as I conceived, 
 edged up as far as the massy chain would let it. 
 6 Is young Dalcastle still in the house ?' said he 
 sharply. 
 
 " I did not hear the answer, but I heard him say, 
 shortly after, ' If he is, pray tell him to speak 
 with me for a few minutes. ? He then withdrew 
 from the door, and came slowly down the close, in a 
 lingering manner, looking oft behind him. Dal- 
 castle came out ; advanced a few steps after him, 
 and then stood still, as if hesitating whether or not 
 he should call out a friend to accompany him ; and 
 i 2 
 
116 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEE. 
 
 that instant the door behind him was closed, chain- 
 ed, and the iron bolt drawn ; on hearing of which, 
 he followed his adversary without farther hesitation. 
 As he passed below my window, I heard him say, 
 ' I beseech you, Tom, let us do nothing in this 
 matter rashly ;' but I could not hear the answer of 
 the other, who had turned the corner. 
 
 " I roused up my drowsy companion, who was 
 leaning on the bed, and we both looked together from 
 the north window. We were in the shade, but the 
 moon shone full on the two young gentlemen. 
 Young Dalcastle was visibly the worse of liquor, 
 and his back being turned toward us, he said some- 
 thing to the other which I could not make out, al- 
 though he spoke a considerable time, and, from 
 his tones and gestures, appeared to be reasoning. 
 When he had done, the tall young man in the tar- 
 tans drew his sword, and his face being straight to 
 us, we heard him say distinctly, ' No more words 
 about it, George, if you please ; but if you be a man, 
 as I take you to be, draw your sword, and let us 
 settle it here.' 
 
 " Dalcastle drew his sword, without changing his 
 attitude ; but he spoke with more warmth, for we 
 heard his words, ' Think you that I fear you, 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 117 
 
 Tom ? Be assured, sir, I would not fear ten of the 
 best of your name, at each other's backs : all that I 
 want is to have friends with us to see fair play, for 
 if you close with me, you are a dead man.'' 
 
 " The other stormed at these words. i You are 
 a braggart, sir,' cried he, ' a wretch — a blot on 
 the cheek of nature — a blight on the Christian 
 world — a reprobate — 111 have your soul, sir — You 
 must play at tennis, and put down elect brethren 
 in another world to-morrow."' As he said this, he 
 brandished his rapier, exciting Dalcastle to offence. 
 He gained his point : The latter, who had previous- 
 ly drawn, advanced in upon his vapouring and li- 
 centious antagonist, and a fierce combat ensued. 
 My companion was delighted beyond measure, and 
 I could not keep him from exclaiming, loud enough 
 to have been heard, ' that's grand! that's excellent !' 
 For me,, my heart quaked like an aspen. Young 
 Dalcastle either had a decided advantage over his 
 adversary, or else the other thought proper to let 
 him have it ; for he shifted, and wore, and flitted 
 from Dalcastle's thrusts like a shadow, uttering 
 ofttimes a sarcastic laugh, that seemed to provoke 
 the other beyond all bearing. At one time, he 
 would spring away to a great distance, then advance 
 i3 
 
118 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNElt. 
 
 again on young Dalcastle with the swiftness of 
 lightning. But that young hero always stood his 
 ground, and repelled the attack : he never gave 
 way, although they fought nearly twice round the 
 bleaching green, which you know is not a very 
 small one. At length they fought close up to the 
 mouth of the dark entry, where the fellow in black 
 stood all this while concealed, and then the combat- 
 ant in tartans closed with his antagonist, or pre- 
 tended to do so ; but the moment they began to 
 grapple, he wheeled about, turning Colwan's back 
 towards the entry, and then cried out, ' Ah, hell 
 has it ! My friend, my friend P 
 
 " That moment the fellow in black rushed from 
 his cover with his drawn rapier, and gave the brave 
 young Dalcastle two deadly wounds in the back, as 
 quick as arm could thrust, both of which I thought 
 pierced through his body. He fell, and rolling him- 
 self on his back, he perceived who it was that had 
 slain him thus foully, and said, with a dying empha- 
 sis, which I never heard equalled, ' Oh, dog of hell, 
 is it you who has done this P 
 
 " He articulated some more, which I could not 
 hear for other sounds ; for the moment that the 
 man in black inflicted the deadly wound, my com- 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 119 
 
 panion called out, ' That's unfair, you rip ! That's 
 damnable ! to strike a brave fellow behind ! One at 
 a time, you cowards ! &c.' to all which the unna- 
 tural fiend in the tartans answered with a loud ex- 
 ulting laugh ; and then, taking the poor paralysed 
 murderer by the bow of the arm, he hurried him in- 
 to the dark entry once more, where I lost sight of 
 them for ever." 
 
 Before this time, Mrs. Logan had risen up ; and 
 when the narrator had finished, she was standing 
 with her arms stretched upward at their full length, 
 and her visage turned down, on which were pour- 
 tray ed the lines of the most absolute horror. " The 
 dark suspicions of my late benefactor have been just, 
 and his last prediction is fulfilled," cried she. " The 
 murderer of the accomplished George Colwan has 
 been his own brother, set on, there is little doubt, by 
 her who bare them both, and her directing angel, 
 the self-justined bigot. Aye, and yonder they sit, 
 enjoying the luxuries so dearly purchased, with per- 
 fect impunity ! If the Almighty do not hurl them 
 down, blasted with shame and confusion, there is 
 no hope of retribution in this life. And, by his 
 might, I will be the agent to accomplish it ! Why 
 
120 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEll. 
 
 did the man not pursue the foul murderers ? Why 
 did he not raise the alarm, and call the watch ?" 
 
 " He ? The wretch ! He durst not move from the 
 shelter he had obtained, — no, not for the soul of 
 him. He was pursued for his life, at the moment 
 when he first flew into my arms. But I did not 
 know it ; no, I did not then know him. May the 
 curse of heaven, and the blight of hell, settle on 
 the detestable wretch ! He pursue for the sake 
 of justice ! No ; his efforts have all been for evil, 
 but never for good. But / raised the alarm ; mi- 
 serable and degraded as I was, I pursued and raised 
 the watch myself. Have you not heard the name 
 of Bell Calvert coupled with that hideous and 
 mysterious affair ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have. In secret often I have heard 
 it. But how came it that you could never be 
 found ? How came it that you never appeared 
 in defence of the Honourable Thomas Drummond ; 
 you, the only person who could have justified him?" 
 
 " I could not, for I then fell under the power 
 and guidance of a wretch, who durst not for the 
 soul of him be brought forward in the affair. And 
 what was worse, his evidence would have overborne 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 121 
 
 mine, for he would have sworn, that the man who 
 called out and fought Colwan, was the same he 
 met leaving my apartment, and there was an end 
 of it. And moreover, it is well known, that this 
 same man, — this wretch of whom I speak, never 
 mistook one man for another in his life, which makes 
 the mystery of the likeness between this incendiary 
 and Drummond the more extraordinary.'" 
 
 " If it was Drummond, after all that you have 
 asserted, then are my surmises still wrong." 
 
 " There is nothing of which I can be more cer- 
 tain, than that it was not Drummond. We have 
 nothing on earth but our senses to depend upon : 
 if these deceive us, what are we to do. I own I 
 cannot account for it ; nor ever shall be able to ac- 
 count for it as long as I live." 
 
 " Could you know the man in black, if you saw 
 him again i" 
 
 " I think I could, if I saw him walk or run : his 
 gait was very particular : He walked as if he had 
 been flat-soled, and his legs made of steel, without 
 any joints in his feet or ancles. V 
 
 " The very same ! The very same ! The very 
 same ! Pray will you take a few days' journey in- 
 to the country with me, to look at such a man ?" 
 
122 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 " You have preserved my life, and for you I 
 will do any thing. I will accompany you with 
 pleasure : and I think I can say that I will know 
 him, for his form left an impression on my heart 
 not soon to be effaced. But of this I am sure, that 
 my unworthy companion will recognize him, and 
 that he will be able to swear to his identity every 
 day as long as he lives." 
 
 "Where is he? Where is he? O! Mrs. Calvert, 
 where is he ?" - 
 
 " Where is he ? He is the wretch whom you 
 heard giving me up to the death ; who, after ex- 
 periencing every mark of affection that a poor 
 ruined being could confer, and after committing a 
 thousand atrocities of which she was ignorant, 
 became an informer to save his diabolical life, and 
 attempted to offer up mine as a sacrifice for all. 
 We will go by ourselves first, and I will tell you 
 if it is necessary to send any farther." 
 
 The two dames, the very next morning, dressed 
 themselves like country goodwives; and, hiring 
 two stout ponies furnished with pillions, they took 
 their journey westward, and the second evening 
 after leaving Edinburgh they arrived at the village 
 about two miles below Dalcastle, where they alight- 
 
the editor's narrative. 123 
 
 ed. But Mrs. Logan, being anxious to have Mrs. 
 Calvert's judgment, without either hint or prepa- 
 ration, took care not to mention that they were so 
 near to the end of their journey. In conformity 
 with this plan, she said, after they had sat a while, 
 " Heigh-ho, but I am weary ! What suppose we 
 should rest a day here before we proceed farther 
 on our journey ?" 
 
 Mrs. Calvert was leaning on the casement, and 
 looking out when her companion addressed these 
 words to her, and by far too much engaged to re- 
 turn any answer, for her eyes were riveted on two 
 young men who approached from the farther end 
 of the village ; and at length, turning round her 
 head, she said, with the most intense interest, " Pro- 
 ceed farther on our journey, did you say ? That 
 we need not do ; for, as I live, here comes the very 
 man !" 
 
 Mrs. Logan ran to the window, and behold, there 
 was indeed Robert Wringhim Colwan (now the 
 Laird of Dalcastle) coming forward almost below 
 their window, walking arm in arm with another 
 young man; and as the two passed, the latter 
 looked up and made a sly signal to the two dames, 
 biting his lip, winking with his left eye, and nod- 
 
124 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. j> 
 
 ding his head. Mrs. Calvert wj£ v astonished at 
 this recognizance, the young man's former compa- 
 nion having made exactly such another signal on 
 the night of the duel, by the light of the moon ; 
 and it struck her, moreover, that she had some- 
 where seen this young man's face before. She 
 looked after him, and he winked over his shoulder 
 to her ; but she was prevented from returning his 
 salute by her companion, who uttered a loud cry, 
 between a groan and shriek, and fell down on the 
 floor with a rumble like a wall that had suddenly 
 been undermined. She had fainted quite away, and 
 required all her companion's attention during the 
 remainder of the evening, for she had scarcely ever 
 well recovered out of one fit before she fell into 
 another, and in the short intervals she raved like 
 one distracted, or in a dream. After falling into 
 a sound sleep by night, she recovered her equani- 
 mity, and the two began to converse seriously on 
 what they had seen. Mrs. Calvert averred that 
 the young man who passed next to the window, was 
 the very man who stabbed George Colwan in the 
 back, and she Said she was willing to take her oath 
 on it at any time when required, and was certain if 
 the wretch Ridsley saw him, that he would make 
 
the editor's narrative. 125 
 
 oath to the same purport, for that his walk was so 
 peculiar, no one of common discernment could mis- 
 take it. 
 
 Mrs. Logan was in great agitation, and said, " It 
 is what I have suspected all along, and what I am 
 sure my late master and benefactor was persuaded 
 of, and the horror of such an idea cut short his 
 days. That wretch, Mrs. Calvert, is the born bro- 
 ther of him he murdered, sons of the same mother 
 they were, whether or not of the same father, the 
 Lord only knows. But, O Mrs. Calvert, that is 
 not the main thing that has discomposed me, and 
 shaken my nerves to pieces at this time. Who do 
 you think the young man was who walked in his 
 company to night ?" 
 
 " I cannot for my life recollect, but am convin- 
 ced I have seen the same fine form and face be- 
 fore." 
 
 " And did not he seem to know us, Mrs. Cal- 
 vert ? You who are able to recollect things as they 
 happened, did he not seem to recollect us, and 
 make signs to that effect ?" 
 
 " He did, indeed, and apparently with great 
 good humour." 
 
126 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 " O, Mrs. Calvert, hold me, else I shall fall into 
 hysterics again ! Who is he ? Who is he ? Tell 
 me who you suppose he is, for I cannot say my 
 own thought." 
 
 " On my life, I cannot remember. " 
 
 " Did you note the appearance of the young 
 gentleman you saw slain that night ? Do you re- 
 collect aught of the appearance of my young mas- 
 ter, George Colwan ?" 
 
 Mrs. Calvert sat silent, and stared the other 
 mildly in the face. Their looks encountered, and 
 there was an unearthly amazement that gleamed 
 from each, which, meeting together, caught real 
 fire, and returned the flame to their heated imagin- 
 ations, till the two associates became like two sta- 
 tues, with their hands spread, their eyes fixed, and 
 their chops fallen down upon their bosoms. An 
 old woman who kept the lodging-house, having 
 been called in before when Mrs. Logan was faint- 
 ish, chanced to enter at this crisis with some cor- 
 dial ; and, seeing the state of her lodgers, she 
 caught the infection, and fell into the same rigid 
 and statue-like appearance. No scene more strik- 
 ing was ever exhibited ; and if Mrs. Calvert had 
 not resumed strength of mind to speak, and break 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 127 
 
 the spell, it is impossible to say how long it might 
 have continued. " It is he, I believe,*" said she, 
 uttering the words as it were inwardly. "It can 
 be none other but he. But, no, it is impossible ! 
 I saw him stabbed through and through the heart ; 
 I saw him roll backward on the green in his own 
 blood, utter his last words, and groan away his 
 soul. Yet, if it is not he, who can it be ?" 
 
 " It is he r cried Mrs. Logan, hysterically. 
 
 " Yes, yes, it is he !" cried the landlady, in 
 unison. 
 
 " It is who ?" said Mrs. Calvert ; " whom do 
 you mean, mistress ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! I don't know ! I was af- 
 frighted." 
 
 " Hold your peace then till you recover your 
 senses, and tell me, if you can, who that young gen- 
 tleman is, who keeps company with the new Laird 
 of Dalcastle ?" 
 
 " Oh, it is he ! it is he P! screamed Mrs. Logan, 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 " Oh, it is he ! it is he !" cried the landlady, 
 wringing hers. 
 
 Mrs. Calvert turned the latter gently and civilly 
 out of the apartment, observing that there seemed 
 
128 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 to be some infection in the air of the room, and 
 she would be wise for herself to keep out of it. 
 
 The two dames had a restless* and hideous 
 night. Sleep came not to their relief; for their 
 conversation was wholly about the dead, who seem- 
 ed to be alive, and their minds were wandering and 
 groping in a chaos of mystery. " Did you attend 
 to his corpse, and know that he positively died and 
 was buried ?" said Mrs. Calvert. 
 
 " O, yes, from the moment that his fair but 
 mangled corpse was brought home, I attended it till 
 that when it was screwed in the coffin. I washed 
 the long stripes of blood from his lifeless form, on 
 both sides of the body — I bathed the livid wound 
 that passed through his generous and gentle heart. 
 There was one through the flesh of his left side 
 too, which had bled most outwardly of them all. 
 I bathed them, and bandaged them up with wax 
 and perfumed ointment, but still the blood oozed 
 through all, so that when he was laid in the coffin 
 he was like one newly murdered. My brave, my 
 generous young master ! he was always as a son to 
 me, and no son was ever more kind or more re- 
 spectful to a mother. But he was butchered — he 
 was cut off from the earth ere he had well reached 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 129 
 
 to manhood — most barbarously and unfairly slain- 
 And how is it, how can it be, that we again 
 see him here, walking arm in arm with his mur- 
 derer ?" 
 
 " The thing cannot be, Mrs. Logan. It is a 
 phantasy of our disturbed imaginations, therefore 
 let us compose ourselves till we investigate this 
 matter farther." 
 
 " It cannot be in nature, that is quite clear,'" 
 said Mrs. Logan ; " yet how it should be that I 
 should think so — I who knew and nursed him from 
 his infancy — there lies the paradox. As you said 
 once before, we have nothing but our senses to de- 
 pend on, and if you and I believe that we see a 
 person, why, we do see him. Whose word, or 
 whose reasoning can convince us against our own 
 senses ? We will disguise ourselves, as poor women 
 selling a few country wares, and we will go up to 
 the Hall, and see what is to see, and hear what we 
 can hear, for this is a weighty business in which 
 we are engaged, namely, to turn the vengeance of 
 the law upon an unnatural monster ; and we will 
 farther learn, if we can, who this is that accompa- 
 nies him." 
 
130 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 Mrs. Calvert acquiesced, and the two dames took 
 their way to Dalcastle, with baskets well furnished 
 with trifles. They did not take the common path 
 from the village, but went about, and approached 
 the mansion by a different way. But it seemed as if 
 some overruling power ordered it, that they should 
 miss no chance of attaining the information they 
 wanted. For ere ever they came within half a mile 
 of Dalcastle, they perceived the two youths coming, 
 as to meet them, on the same path. The road lead- 
 ing from Dalcastle toward the north-east, as all the 
 country knows, goes along a dark bank of brush- 
 wood called the Bogle-heuch. It was by this track 
 that the two women were going ; and when they 
 perceived the two gentlemen meeting them, they 
 turned back, and the moment they were out of 
 their sight, they concealed themselves in a thicket 
 close by the road. They did this because Mrs. 
 Logan was terrified for being discovered, and be- 
 cause they wished to reconnoitre without being 
 seen. Mrs. Calvert now charged her, whatever 
 she saw, or whatever she heard, to put on a resolu- 
 tion, and support it, for if she fainted there and was 
 discovered, what was to become of her ! 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 131 
 
 The two young men came on, in earnest and ve- 
 hement conversation; but the subject they were on 
 was a terrible one, and hardly fit to be repeated in 
 the face of a Christian community. Wringhim was 
 disputing the boundlessness of the true Christian's 
 freedom, and expressing doubts, that, chosen as he 
 knew he was from all eternity, still it might be pos- 
 sible for him to commit acts that would exclude 
 him from the limits of the covenant. The other 
 argued, with mighty fluency, that the thing was ut- 
 terly impossible, and altogether inconsistent with 
 eternal predestination. The arguments of the latter 
 prevailed, and the laird was driven to sullen si- 
 lence. But, to the women's utter surprise, as the 
 conquering disputant passed, he made a signal of 
 recognizance through the brambles to them, as for- 
 merly, and that he might expose his associate fully, 
 and in his true colours, he led him backward and 
 forward by the women more than twenty times, 
 making him to confess both the crimes that he had 
 done, and those he had in contemplation. At 
 length he said to him, " Assuredly I saw some 
 strolling vagrant women on this walk, my dear 
 friend : I wish we could find them, for there is 
 k 2 
 
132 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 little doubt that they are concealed here in your 
 woods.' 1 
 
 " I wish we could find them," answered Wring* 
 him ; " we would have fine sport maltreating and 
 abusing them." 
 
 " That we should, that we should ! Now tell me, 
 Robert, if you found a malevolent woman, the 
 latent enemy of your prosperity y lurking in these 
 woods to betray you, what would you inflict on 
 her?" 
 
 " I would tear her to pieces with my dogs, and 
 feed them with her flesh. O, my dear friend, there 
 is an old strumpet who lived with my unnatural 
 father, whom I hold in such utter detestation, that 
 I stand constantly in dread of her, and would sa- 
 crifice the half of my estate to shed her blood !" 
 
 " What will you give me if I will put her in 
 your power, and give you a fair and genuine excuse 
 for making away with her ; one for which you shall 
 answer at any bar, here or hereafter ?" 
 
 " I should like to see the vile hag put down. 
 She is in possession of the family plate, that is mine 
 by right, as well as a thousand valuable relics, and 
 great riches besides, all of which the old profligate 
 
the editor's narrative. 133 
 
 gifted shamefully away. And it is said, besides all 
 these, that she has sworn my destruction." 
 
 " She has, she has. But I see not how she can 
 accomplish that, seeing the deed was done so sud- 
 denly, and in the silence of the night ?" 
 
 " It was said there were some on-lookers. — But 
 where shall we find that disgraceful Miss Logan ?" 
 
 " I will show you her by and by. But will you 
 then consent to the other meritorious deed ? Come, 
 be a man, and throw away scruples." 
 
 " If you can convince me that the promise is 
 binding, I will." 
 
 " Then step this way, till I give you a piece of 
 information." 
 
 They walked a little way out of hearing, but 
 went not out of sight ; therefore, though the wo- 
 men were in a terrible quandary, they durst not 
 stir, for they had some hopes that this extraordi- 
 nary person was on a mission of the same sort with 
 themselves, knew of them, and was going to make 
 use of their testimony. Mrs. Logan was several 
 times on the point of falling into a swoon, so much 
 did the appearance of the young man impress her, 
 until her associate covered her face that she might 
 
 listen without embarrassment. But this latter dia- 
 k3 
 
134 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 * 
 
 logue aroused different feelings within them ; name- 
 ly, those arising from imminent personal danger. 
 They saw his waggish associate point out the place 
 of their concealment to Wringhim, who came to- 
 ward them, out of curiosity to see what his friend 
 meant by what he believed to be a joke, manifestly 
 without crediting it in the least degree. When he 
 came running away, the other called after him, " If 
 she is too hard for you, call to me." As he said 
 this, he hasted out of sight, in the contrary direc- 
 tion, apparently much delighted with the joke. 
 
 Wringhim came rushing through the thicket im- 
 petuously, to the very spot where Mrs. Logan lay 
 squatted. She held the wrapping close about her 
 head, but he tore it off and discovered her. " The 
 curse of God be on thee V said he : " What fiend 
 has brought thee here, and for what purpose art 
 thou come ? But, whatever has brought thee, / 
 have thee f ' and with that he seized her by the 
 throat. The two women, when they heard what 
 jeopardy they were in from such a wretch, had 
 squatted among the underwood at a small distance 
 from each other, so that he had never observed 
 Mrs. Calvert ; but no sooner had he seized her be- 
 nefactor, than, like a wild cat, she sprung out of 
 
the editor's narrative. 135 
 
 the thicket, and had both her hands fixed at his 
 throat, one of them twisted in his stock, in a 
 twinkling. She brought him back-over among the 
 brushwood, and the two, fixing on him like two 
 harpies, mastered him with ease. Then indeed was 
 he wofully beset. He deemed for a while that his 
 friend was at his back, and turning his bloodshot 
 eyes toward the path, he attempted to call ; but 
 there was no friend there, and the women cut short 
 his cries by another twist of his stock. " Now, 
 gallant and rightful Laird of Dalcastle," said Mrs. 
 Logan, " what hast thou to say for thyself? Lay 
 thy account to dree the weird thou hast so well 
 earned. Now shalt thou suffer due penance for 
 murdering thy brave and only brother.'" 
 
 " Thou liest, thou hag of the pit I I touched 
 not my brother's life. - " 
 
 " I saw thee do it with these eyes that now look 
 thee in the face ; ay, when his back was to thee too, 
 and while he was hotly engaged with thy friend," 
 said Mrs. Calvert. 
 
 " I heard thee confess it again and again this 
 same hour," said Mrs. Logan. 
 
 " Ay, and so did I," said her companion. — 
 " Murder will out, though the Almighty should 
 
136 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 lend hearing to the ears of the willow, and speech 
 to the seven tongues of the woodrifF." 
 
 " You are liars, and witches !" said he, foaming 
 with rage, " and creatures fitted from the begin- 
 ning for eternal destruction. I'll have your bones 
 and your blood sacrificed on your cursed altars !„ 
 O, Gil-Martin ! Gil-Martin ! where art thou now ? 
 Here, here is the proper food for blessed ven- 
 geance ! — Hilloa !" 
 
 There was no friend, no Gil-Martin there to 
 hear or assist him : he was in the two women's mer- 
 cy, but they used it with moderation. They mock- 
 ed, they tormented, and they threatened him ; but, 
 . finally, after putting him in great terror, they 
 bound his hands behind his back, and his feet fast 
 with long straps of garters which they chanced to 
 have in their baskets, to prevent him from pursu- 
 ing them till they were out of his reach. As they 
 left him, which they did in the middle of the path, 
 Mrs. Calvert said, " We could easily put an end 
 to thy sinful life, but our hands shall be free of thy 
 blood. Nevertheless thou art still in our power, 
 and the vengeance of thy country shall overtake 
 thee, thou mean and cowardly murderer, ay, and 
 that more suddenly than thou art aware !" 
 
THE EDITOR S NARRATIVE. 137 
 
 The women posted to Edinburgh ; and as they 
 put themselves under the protection of an English 
 merchant, who was journeying thither with twenty 
 horses loaden, and armed servants, so they had 
 scarcely any conversation on the road. When they 
 arrived at Mrs. Logan's house, then they spoke of 
 what they had seen and heard, and agreed that they 
 had sufficient proof to condemn young Wringhim, 
 who they thought richly deserved the severest doom 
 of the law. 
 
 a I never in my life saw any human being," said 
 Mrs. Calvert, " whom I thought so like a fiend. If 
 a demon could inherit flesh and blood, that youth 
 is precisely such a being as I could conceive that 
 demon to be. The depth and the malignity of his 
 eye is hideous. His breath is like the airs from a 
 charncl house, and his flesh seems fading from his 
 bones, as if the worm that never dies were gnawing 
 it away already.'" 
 
 " He was always repulsive, and every way re- 
 pulsive," said the other ; " but he is now indeed 
 altered greatly to the worse. While we were hand- 
 fasting him, I felt his body to be feeble and emaci- 
 ated ; but yet I know him to be so puffed up with 
 spiritual pride, that I believe he weens every one 
 
138 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 of his actions justified before God, and^instead of 
 having stings of conscience for these, he takes ^great 
 merit to himself in having effected them. Still my 
 thoughts are less about him than the extraordinary 
 being who accompanies him. He does every thing 
 with so much ease and indifference, so much velo- 
 city and effect, that all bespeak him an adept in 
 wickedness. The likeness to my late hapless young 
 master is so striking, that I can hardly believe it 
 to be a chance model ; and I think he imitates him 
 in every thing, for some purpose, or some effect on 
 his sinful associate. Do you know that he is so 
 like in every lineament, look, and gesture, that, 
 against the clearest light of reason, I cannot in my 
 mind separate the one from the other, and have a 
 certain indefinable impression on my mind, that 
 they are one and the same being, or that the one 
 was a prototype of the other." 
 
 " If there is an earthly crime," said Mrs. Calvert, 
 " for the due punishment of which the Almighty 
 may be supposed to subvert the order of nature, it 
 is fratricide. But tell me, dear friend, did you re- 
 mark to what the subtile and hellish villain was en- 
 deavouring to prompt the assassin ?" 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 139 
 
 " No, I could not comprehend it. My senses 
 were altogether so bewildered, that I thought they 
 had combined to deceive me, and I gave them no 
 credit." 
 
 " Then hear me : I am almost certain he was 
 using every persuasion to induce him to make away 
 with his mother ; and I likewise conceive that I 
 heard the incendiary give his consent !" 
 
 " This is dreadful. Let us speak and think no 
 more about it, till we see the issue. In the mean- 
 time, let us do that which is our bounden duty, — go 
 and divulge all that we know relating to this foul 
 murder." 
 
 Accordingly the two women went to Sir Thomas 
 Wallace of Craigie, the Lord Justice Clerk, (who 
 was, I think, either uncle or grandfather to young 
 Drummond, who was outlawed, and obliged to fly 
 his country on account of Colwan's death,) and to 
 that gentleman they related every circumstance of 
 what they had seen and heard. He examined 
 Calvert very minutely, and seemed deeply interest- 
 ed in her evidence — said he knew she was relating 
 the truth, and in testimony of it, brought a letter 
 of young Drummond's from his desk, wherein that 
 young gentleman, after protesting his innocence in 
 
140 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 the most forcible terms, confessed having been with 
 such a woman in such a house, after leaving the 
 company of his friends ; and that on going home, 
 Sir Thomas's servant had let him in, in the dark, 
 and from these circumstances he found it impossi- 
 ble to prove an alibi. He begged of his relative, 
 if ever an opportunity offered, to do his endeavour 
 to clear up that mystery, and remove the horrid 
 stigma from his name in his country, and among 
 his kin, of having stabbed a friend behind his 
 back. 
 
 Lord Craigie, therefore, directed the two women 
 to the proper authorities, and after hearing their 
 evidence there, it was judged proper to apprehend 
 the present Laird of Dalcastle, and bring him to his 
 trial. But before that, they sent the prisoner in 
 the tolbooth, he who had seen the whole transaction 
 along with Mrs. Calvert, to take a view of Wring- 
 him privately ; and his discrimination being so well 
 known as to be proverbial all over the land, they 
 determined secretly to be ruled by his report. They 
 accordingly sent him on a pretended mission of 
 legality to Dalcastle, with orders to see and speak 
 with the proprietor, without giving him a hint what 
 was wanted. On his return, they examined him, 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 141 
 
 and he told them that he found all things at the 
 place in utter confusion and dismay ; that the lady 
 of the place was missing, and could not be found, 
 dead or alive. On being asked if he had ever seen 
 the proprietor before, he looked astounded, and un- 
 willing to answer. But it came out that he had ; 
 and that he had once seen him kill a man on such 
 a spot at such an hour. 
 
 Officers were then despatched, without delay, to 
 apprehend the monster, and bring him to justice. 
 On these going to the mansion, and inquiring for 
 him, they were told he was at home; on which they 
 stationed guards, and searched all the premises, 
 but he was not to be found. It was in vain that 
 they overturned beds, raised floors, and broke open 
 closets : Robert Wringhim Colwan was lost once 
 and for ever. His mother also was lost ; and strong 
 suspicions attached to some of the farmers and 
 house servants, to whom she was obnoxious, relat- 
 ing to her disappearance. The Honourable Thomas 
 Drummond became a distinguished officer in the 
 Austrian service, and died in the memorable year for 
 Scotland, 1715 ; and this is all with which history, 
 justiciary records, and tradition, furnish me relat- 
 ing to these matters. 
 
142 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 I have now the pleasure of presenting my read- 
 ers with an original document of a most singular 
 nature, and preserved for their perusal in a still 
 more singular manner. I offer no remarks on it, 
 and make as few additions to it, leaving every one 
 to judge for himself. We have heard much of the 
 rage of fanaticism in former days, but nothing to 
 this. 
 
PRIVATE MEMOIRS 
 
 AND 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
PRIVATE MEMOIRS 
 
 AND 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 My life has been a life of trouble and turmoil ; 
 of change and vicissitude ; of anger and exultation ; 
 of sorrow and of vengeance. My sorrows have 
 all been for a slighted gospel, and my vengeance 
 has been wreaked on its adversaries. Therefore, 
 in the might of heaven I will sit down and write : 
 I will let the wicked of this world know what I 
 have done in the faith of the promises, and justifi- 
 cation by grace, that they may read and tremble, 
 and bless their gods of silver and of gold, that 
 the minister of heaven was removed from their 
 sphere before their blood was mingled with their 
 sacrifices. 
 
 L 
 
146 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 I was born an outcast in the world, in which I 
 was destined to act so conspicuous a part. My mo- 
 ther was a burning and a shining light, in the com- 
 munity of Scottish worthies, and in the days of her 
 virginity had suffered much in the persecution of 
 the saints. But it so pleased Heaven, that, as a 
 trial of her faith, she was married to one of the 
 wicked ; a man all over spotted with the leprosy of 
 sin. As well might they have conjoined fire and 
 water together, in hopes that they would consort and 
 amalgamate, as purity and corruption : She fled 
 from his embraces the first night after their mar- 
 riage, and from that time forth, his iniquities so 
 galled her upright heart, that she quitted his so- 
 ciety altogether, keeping her own apartments in the 
 same house with him. 
 
 I was the second son of this unhappy marriage, 
 and, long ere ever I was born, my father according 
 to the flesh disclaimed all relation or connection 
 with me, and all interest in me, save what the law 
 compelled him to take, which was to grant me a 
 scanty maintenance ; and had it not been for a faith- 
 ful minister of the gospel, my mother's early in- 
 structor, I should have remained an outcast from 
 the church visible. He took pity on me, admitting 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 147 
 
 me not only into that, but into the bosom of his own 
 household and ministry also, and to him am I in- 
 debted, under Heaven, for the high conceptions and 
 glorious discernment between good and evil, right 
 and wrong, which I attained even at an early age. 
 It was he who directed my studies aright, both in 
 the learning of the ancient fathers, and the doc- 
 trines of the reformed church, and designed me for 
 his assistant and successor in the holy office. I miss- 
 ed no opportunity of perfecting myself particular- 
 ly in all the minute points of theology in which my 
 reverend father and mother took great delight ; but 
 at length I acquired so much skill, that I astonish- 
 ed my teachers, and made them gaze at one another. 
 I remember that it was the custom, in my patron's 
 house, to ask the questions of the Single Catechism 
 round every Sabbath night. He asked the first, 
 my mother the second, and so on, every one saying 
 the question asked, and then asking the next. It 
 fell to my mother to ask Effectual Calling at me. 
 I said the answer with propriety and emphasis. 
 " Now, madam," added I, " my question to you 
 is, What is /^effectual Calling ?" 
 
 " Ineffectual Calling ? There is no such thing, 
 Robert," said she. 
 
 l 2 
 
148 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " But there is, madam," said I ; " and that 
 answer proves how much you say these fundamen- 
 tal precepts by rote, and without any consideration. 
 Ineffectual Calling is, the outward call of the gos- 
 pel without any effect on the hearts of unregener- 
 ated and impenitent sinners. Have not all these 
 the same calls, warnings, doctrines, and reproofs, 
 that we have? and is not this Ineffectual Calling ? 
 Has not Ardinferry the same? Has not Patrick 
 M'Lure the same ? Has not the Laird of Dalcastle 
 and his reprobate heir the same? And will any tell 
 me, that this is not /^effectual Calling ?" 
 
 " What a wonderful boy he is F said my mother. 
 
 " I'm feared he turn out to be a conceited gowk," 
 said old Barnet, the minister's man. 
 
 " No," said my pastor, and father, (as I shall 
 henceforth denominate him,) " No, Barnet, he is a 
 wonderful boy ; and no marvel, for I have prayed 
 for these talents to be bestowed on him from his 
 infancy : and do you think that Heaven would re- 
 fuse a prayer so disinterested ? No, it is impossi- 
 ble. But my dread is, madam," continued he, turn- 
 ing to my mother, " that he is yet in the bond of 
 iniquity." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 149 
 
 " God forbid !" said my mother. 
 
 " I have struggled with the Almighty long and 
 hard," continued he ; " but have as yet had no 
 certain token of acceptance in his behalf. I have 
 indeed fought a hard fight, but have been repuls- 
 ed by him who hath seldom refused my request ; 
 although I cited his own words against him, and 
 endeavoured to hold him at his promise, he hath so 
 many turnings in the supremacy of his power, that 
 I have been rejected. How dreadful is it to think 
 of our darling being still without the pale of the 
 covenant ! But I have vowed a vow, and in that 
 there is hope." 
 
 My heart quaked with terror, when I thought 
 of being still living in a state of reprobation, sub- 
 jected to the awful issues of death, judgment, and 
 eternal misery, by the slightest accident or casual- 
 ty, and I set about the duty of prayer myself with 
 the utmost earnestness. I prayed three times every 
 day, and seven times on the Sabbath ; but the more 
 frequently and fervently that I prayed, I sinned still 
 the more. About this time, and for a long period 
 afterwards, amounting to several years, I lived in 
 a hopeless and deplorable state of mind ; for I said 
 
 to myself, " If my name is not written in the book 
 l3 
 
150 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 of life from all eternity, it is in vain for me to pre- 
 sume that either vows or prayers of mine, or those 
 of all mankind combined, can ever procure its in- 
 sertion now." I had come under many vows, most 
 solemnly taken, every one of which I had broken ; 
 and I saw with the intensity of juvenile grief, that 
 there was no hope for me. I went on sinning every 
 hour, and all the while most strenuously warring 
 against sin, and repenting of every one transgres- 
 sion, as soon after the commission of it as I got 
 leisure to think. But O what a wretched state this 
 unregenerated state is, in which every effort after 
 righteousness only aggravates our offences ! I found 
 it vanity to contend ; for after communing with 
 my heart, the conclusion was as follows : " If I 
 could repent me of all my sins, and shed tears of 
 blood for them, still have I not a load of original 
 transgression pressing on me, that is enough to 
 crush me to the lowest hell. I may be angry with 
 my first parents for having sinned, but how I shall 
 repent me of their sin, is beyond what I am able to 
 comprehend." 
 
 Still, in those days of depravity and corruption, 
 I had some of those principles implanted in my 
 mind, which were afterward to spring up with such 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 151 
 
 amazing fertility among the heroes of the faith and 
 the promises. In particular, I felt great indigna- 
 tion against all the wicked of this world, and often 
 wished for the means of ridding it of such a nox- 
 ious burden. I liked John Barnet, my reverend 
 father's serving-man, extremely ill; but, from a sup- 
 position that he might be one of the justified, I re- 
 frained from doing him any injury. He gave al- 
 ways his word against me, and when we were by 
 ourselves, in the barn or the fields, he rated me with 
 such severity for my faults, that my heart could 
 brook it no longer. He discovered some notorious 
 lies that I had framed, and taxed me with them in 
 such a manner that I could in nowise get off. My 
 cheek burnt with offence, rather than shame ; and 
 he, thinking he had got the mastery of me, exulted 
 over me most unmercifully, telling me I was a sel- 
 fish and conceited blackguard, who made great pre- 
 tences towards religious devotion to cloak a dispo- 
 sition tainted with deceit, and that it would not 
 much astonish him if I brought myself to the gal- 
 lows. 
 
 I gathered some courage from his over severity, 
 and answered him as follows : " Who made thee 
 a judge of the amotions or dispositions of the Al- 
 
152 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 mighty's creatures — thou who art a worm, and no 
 man in his sight ? How it befits thee to deal out 
 judgments and anathemas ! Hath he not made one 
 vessel to honour, and another to dishonour, as in 
 the case with myself and thee ? Hath henotbuild- 
 ed his stories in the heavens, and laid the founda- 
 tions thereof in the earth, and how can a being like 
 thee judge between good and evil, that are both 
 subjected to the workings of his hand ; or of the 
 opposing principles in the soul of man, correcting, 
 modifying, and refining one another ?" 
 
 I said this with that strong display of fervor for 
 which I was remarkable at my years, and expected 
 old Barnet to be utterly confounded ; but he only 
 shook his head, and, with the most provoking grin, 
 said, " There he goes ! sickan sublime and ridi- 
 culous sophistry I never heard come out of ano- 
 ther mouth but ane. There needs nae aiths to be 
 sworn afore the session wha is your father, young 
 goodman. I ne'er, for my part, saw a son sae like 
 a dad, sin' my een first opened.'" With that he went 
 away, saying, with an ill-natured wince, " You 
 made to honour and me to dishonour ! Dirty bow- 
 kail thing that thou be'st !" 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 153 
 
 " I will have the old rascal on the hip for this, 
 if I live," thought I. So I went and asked my 
 mother if John was a righteous man ? She could 
 not tell, but supposed he was, and therefore I got 
 no encouragement from her. I went next to my 
 reverend father, and inquired his opinion, expect- 
 ing as little from that quarter. He knew the elect 
 as it were by instinct, and could have told you of 
 all those in his own, and some neighbouring parishes, 
 who were born within the boundaries of the cove- 
 nant of promise, and who were not. 
 
 " I keep a good deal in company with your ser- 
 vant, old Barnet, father," said I. 
 
 " You do, boy ; you do, I see," said he. 
 
 " I wish I may not keep too much in his com- 
 pany," said I, " not knowing what kind of society 
 I am in ; — is John a good man, father ?" 
 
 " Why, boy, he is but so, so. A morally good 
 man John is, but very little of the leaven of true 
 righteousness, which is faith, within. I am afraid 
 old Barnet, with all his stock of morality, will be a 
 cast-away." 
 
 My heart was greatly cheered by this remark ; 
 and I sighed very deeply, and hung my head to one 
 side. The worthy father observed me, and inquir- 
 
154 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ed the cause ? when I answered as follows : " How 
 dreadful the thought, that I have been going daily 
 in company and fellowship witfi one, whose name 
 is written on the red-letter side of the book of life; 
 whose body and soul have been, from all eternity, 
 consigned over to everlasting destruction, and to 
 whom the blood of the atonement can never, never 
 reach ! Father, this is an awful thing, and beyond 
 my comprehension." 
 
 " While we are in the world, we must mix with 
 the inhabitants thereof," said he ; " and the stains 
 which adhere to us by reason of this admixture, 
 which is unavoidable, shall all be washed away. It 
 is our duty, however, to shun the society of wicked 
 men as much as possible, lest we partake of their 
 sins, and become sharers with them in punishment. 
 John, however, is a morally good man, and may 
 yet get a cast of grace." 
 
 " I always thought him a good man till to day," 
 said I, " when he threw out some reflections on 
 your character, so horrible that I quake to think 
 of the wickedness and malevolence of his heart. 
 He was rating me very impertinently for some 
 supposed fault, which had no being save in his 
 own jealous brain, when I attempted to reason 
 him out of his belief in the spirit of calm 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 155 
 
 Christian argument. But how do you think he 
 answered me? He did so, sir, by twisting his 
 mouth at me, and remarking that such sublime and 
 ridiculous sophistry never came out of another 
 mouth but one, (meaning yours,) and that no oath 
 before a kirk session was necessary to prove who 
 was my dad, for that he had never seen a son so 
 like a father as I was like mine.'" 
 
 " He durst not for his soul's salvation, and for 
 his daily bread, which he values much more, say 
 such a word, boy ; therefore take care what you 
 assert," said my reverend father. 
 
 " He said these very words, and will not deny 
 them, sir," said I. 
 
 My reverend father turned about in great wrath 
 and indignation, and went away in search of 
 John ; but I kept out of the way, and listened at 
 a back window ; for John was dressing the plot of 
 ground behind the house ; and I hope it was no 
 sin in me that I did rejoice in the dialogue which 
 took place, it being the victory of righteousness 
 over error. 
 
 " Well, John, this is a fine day for your delv- 
 ing work." 
 
 " Ey, it's a tolerable day, sir. 1 ' 
 
156 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " Are you thankful in your heart, John, for 
 such temporal mercies as these ?" 
 
 " Aw doubt we're a" ower little thankfu', sir, 
 baith for temporal an" speeritual mercies ; but it 
 isna aye the maist thankfu' heart that, maks the 
 greatest fraze wi' the tongue. 1 " 
 
 " I hope there is nothing personal under that 
 remark, John ?" 
 
 " Gin the bannet fits ony body's head, they're 
 unco welcome to it, sir, for me." 
 
 " John, I do not approve of these innuendoes. 
 You have an arch malicious manner of vending 
 your aphorisms, which the men of the world are 
 too apt to read the wrong way, for your dark hints 
 are sure to have one very bad meaning." 
 
 " Hout na, sir, it's only bad folks that think 
 sae. They find ma bits o' gibes come hame to 
 their hearts wi' a kind o' yerk, an' that gars them 
 wince." 
 
 " That saying is ten times worse than the other, 
 John ; it is a manifest insult : it is just telling 
 me to my face, that you think me a bad man." 
 " A body canna help his thoughts, sir." 
 " No, but a man's thoughts are generally form- 
 ed from observation. Now I should like to know, 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 157 
 
 even from the mouth of a misbeliever, what part 
 of my conduct warrants such a conclusion ?" 
 
 " Nae particular pairt, sir ; I draw a' my conclu- 
 sions frae the haill o' a man's character, an" I'm no 
 that aften far wrang." 
 
 " Well, John, and what sort of general charac- 
 ter do you suppose mine to be ?" 
 
 " Yours is a Scripture character, sir, an' I'll 
 prove it." 
 
 " I hope so, John. Well, which of the Scrip- 
 ture characters do you think approximates nearest 
 to my own ?" 
 
 " Guess, sir, guess ; I wish to lead a proof." 
 
 " Why, if it be an Old Testament character, I 
 hope it is Melchizedek, for at all events you can- 
 not deny there is one point of resemblance : I, like 
 him, am a preacher of righteousness. If it be a 
 New Testament character, I suppose you mean the 
 Apostle of the Gentiles, of whom I am an unwor- 
 thy representative." 
 
 " Na, na, sir, better nor that still, an' fer closer 
 is the resemblance. When ye bring me to the 
 point, I maun speak. Ye are the just Pharisee, 
 sir, that gaed up wi' the poor publican to pray in 
 the Temple ; an' ye're acting the very same pairt at 
 
158 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 this time, an" saying i" your heart, f God, I thank 
 thee that I am not as other men are, an" in nae 
 way like this poor misbelieving unregenerate sin- 
 ner, John Barnet.^ " 
 
 " I hope I may say so indeed." 
 
 " There now ! I tauld you how it was ! But, 
 d'ye hear, maister : Here stands the poor sinner, 
 John Barnet, your beadle an" servant-man, wha 
 wadna change chances wi** you in the neist world, 
 nor consciences in this, for ten times a" that you pos- 
 sess, — your justification by faith an" awthegither." 
 
 u You are extremely audacious and impertinent, 
 John ; but the language of reprobation cannot af- 
 fect me : I came only to ask you one question, 
 which I desire you to answer candidly. Did you 
 ever say to any one that I was the boy Robert's 
 natural father ?" 
 
 " Hout na, sir ! Ha — ha — ha ! Aih, fie na, sir / I 
 durstna say that for my life. I doubt the black 
 stool, an" the sack gown, or maybe the juggs wad 
 hae been my portion had I said sic a thing as that. 
 Hout, hout ! Fie, fie ! Unco-like doings thae for 
 a Melchizedek or a Saint Paul P 
 
 " John, you are a profane old man, and I desire 
 that you will not presume to break your jests on 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 159 
 
 me. Tell me, dare you say, or dare you think, 
 that I am the natural father of that boy ?" 
 
 " Ye canna hinder me to think whatever I like, 
 sir, nor can I hinder myself 
 
 " But did you ever say to any one, that he re- 
 sembled me, and fathered himself well enough ?" 
 
 u I hae said mony a time, that he resembled 
 you, sir. Naebody can mistake that." 
 
 " But, John, there ar.e many natural reasons for 
 such likenesses, besides that of consanguinity. They 
 depend much on the thoughts and affections of the 
 mother;' and, it is probable, that the mother of 
 this boy, being deserted by her worthless husband, 
 having turned her thoughts on me, as likely to be 
 her protector, may have caused this striking re- 
 semblance." 
 
 " Ay, it may be, sir. I coudna say." 
 
 " I have known a lady, John, who was delivered 
 of a blackamoor child, merely from the circumstance 
 of having got a start by the sudden entrance of her 
 negro servant, and not being able to forget him for 
 several hours." 
 
 " It may be, sir ; but I ken this ; — an I had 
 been the laird, I wadna hae ta'en that story in." 
 
160 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " So, then, John, you positively think, from a 
 casual likeness, that this boy is my son ?" 
 
 " Man's thoughts are vanity, sir ; they come 
 unasked, an"* gang away without a dismissal, an* he 
 canna help them. I'm neither gaun to say that I 
 think he's your son, nor that I think he's no your 
 son : sae ye needna pose me nae mair about it." 
 
 " Hear then my determination, John : If you do 
 not promise to me, in faith and honour, that you 
 never will say, or insinuate such a thing again in 
 your life, as that that boy is my natural son, I will 
 take the keys of the church from you, and dismiss 
 you my service." 
 
 John pulled out the keys, and dashed them on 
 the gravel at the reverend minister's feet. " There 
 are the keys o' your kirk, sir ! I hae never had 
 muckle mense o' them sin' ye entered the door o't. 
 I hae carried them this three an thretty year, but 
 they hae aye been like to burn a hole i' my pouch 
 sin' ever they were turned for your admittance. 
 Tak them again, an' gie them to wha you will, and 
 muckle gude may he get o' them. Auld John may 
 dee a beggar in a hay barn, or at the back of a 
 dike, but he sail aye be master o' his ain thoughts, 
 an' gie them vent or no, as he likes." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 161 
 
 He left the manse that day, and I rejoiced in 
 the riddance ; for I disdained to be kept so much 
 under, by one who was in the bond of iniquity, and 
 of whom there seemed no hope, as he rejoiced in 
 his frowardness, and refused to submit to that faith- 
 ful teacher, his master. 
 
 It was about this time that my reverend father 
 preached a sermon, one sentence of which affected 
 me most disagreeably : It was to the purport, that 
 every unrepented sin was productive of a new sin 
 with each breath that a man drew ; and every one 
 of these new sins added to the catalogue in the same 
 manner. I was utterly confounded at the multi- 
 tude of my transgressions ; for I was sensible that 
 there were great numbers of sins of which I had 
 never been able thoroughly to repent, and these 
 momentary ones, by a moderate calculation, had, I 
 saw, long ago, amounted to a hundred and fifty 
 thousand in the minute, and I saw no end to the 
 series of repentances to which I had subjected my- 
 self. A life-time was nothing to enable me to ac- 
 complish the sum, and then being, for any thing 
 I was certain of, in my state of nature, and the 
 grace of repentance withheld from me, — what was I 
 to do, or what was to become of me ? In the 
 
 M 
 
162 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 meantime, I went on sinning without measure ; but 
 I was still more troubled about the multitude than 
 the magnitude of my transgressions, and the small 
 minute ones puzzled me more than those that were 
 more heinous, as the latter had generally some good 
 effects in the way of punishing wicked men, fro- 
 ward boys, and deceitful women ; and I rejoiced, 
 even then in my early youth, at being used as a 
 scourge in the hand of the Lord ; another Jehu, 
 a Cyrus, or a Nebuchadnezzar. 
 
 On the whole, I remember that I got into great 
 confusion relating to my sins and repentances, and 
 knew neither where to begin nor how to proceed, 
 and often had great fears that I was wholly without 
 Christ, and that I would find God a consuming fire 
 to me. I could not help running into new sins 
 continually ; but then I was mercifully dealt with, 
 for I was often made to repent of them most 
 heartily, by reason of bodily chastisements received 
 on these delinquencies being discovered. I was 
 particularly prone to lying, and I cannot but ad- 
 mire the mercy that has freely forgiven me all these 
 juvenile sins. Now that I know them all to be 
 blotted out, and that I am an accepted person, I 
 may the more freely confess them : the truth is, that 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 163 
 
 one lie always paved the way for another, from hour 
 to hour, from day to day, and from year to year ; 
 so that I found myself constantly involved in a 
 labyrinth of deceit, from which it was impossible to 
 extricate myself. If I knew a person to be a god- 
 ly one, I could almost have kissed his feet ; but 
 against the carnal portion of mankind, I set my face 
 continually. I esteemed the true ministers of the 
 gospel ; but the prelatic party, and the preachers 
 up of good works I abhorred, and to this hour I 
 account them the worst and most heinous of all 
 transgressors. 
 
 There was only one boy at Mr. Wilson's class 
 who kept always the upper hand of me in every 
 part of education. I strove against him from year 
 to year, but it was all in vain ; for he was a very 
 wicked boy, and I was convinced he had dealings 
 with the devil. Indeed it was believed all over 
 the country that his mother was a witch ; and I 
 was at length convinced that it was no human in- 
 genuity that beat me with so much ease in the 
 Latin, after I had often sat up a whole night with 
 my reverend father, studying my lesson in all its 
 bearings. I often read as well and sometimes 
 better than he ; but the moment Mr. Wilson began 
 if 2 
 
164 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to examine us, my opponent popped up above me. 
 I determined, (as I knew him for a wicked person, 
 and one of the devil's hand-fasted children,) to be 
 revenged on him, and to humble him by some 
 means or other. Accordingly I lost no opportu- 
 nity of setting the Master against him, and suc- 
 ceeded several times in getting him severely beaten 
 for faults of which he was innocent. I can hardly 
 describe the joy that it gave to my heart to see a 
 wicked creature suffering, for though he deserved 
 it not for one thing, he richly deserved it for 
 others. This may be by some people accounted 
 a great sin in me ; but I deny it, for I did it as a 
 duty, and what a man or boy does for the right, 
 will never be put into the sum of his transgres- 
 sions. 
 
 This boy, whose name was M'Gill, was, at all 
 his leisure hours, engaged in drawing profane pic- 
 tures of beasts, men, women, houses, and trees, 
 and, in short, of all things that his eye encountered. 
 These profane things the Master often smiled at, 
 and admired ; therefore I began privately to try 
 my hand likewise. I had scarcely tried above once 
 to draw the figure of a man, ere I conceived that I 
 had hit the very features of Mr. Wilson. They 
 were so particular, that they could not be easily mis- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 165 
 
 taken, and I was so tickled and pleased with the 
 droll likeness that I had drawn, that I laughed 
 immoderately at it. I tried no other figure but 
 this ; and I tried it in every situation in which a 
 man and a schoolmaster could be placed. I often 
 wrought for hours together at this likeness, nor was 
 it long before I made myself so much master of 
 the outline, that I could have drawn it in any 
 situation whatever, almost off hand. I then took 
 M' Gill's account book of algebra home with me, 
 and at my leisure put down a number of gross cari- 
 catures of Mr. Wilson here and there, several of 
 them in situations notoriously ludicrous. I wait- 
 ed the discovery of this treasure with great impa- 
 tience; but the book, chancing to be one that M'Gill 
 was not using, I saw it might be long enough 
 before I enjoyed the consummation of my grand 
 scheme : therefore, with all the ingenuity I was 
 master of, I brought it before our dominie's eye. 
 But never shall I forget the rage that gleamed in 
 the tyrant's phiz ! I was actually terrified to look 
 at him, and trembled at his voice. M'Gill was 
 called upon, and examined relating to the obnoxious 
 figures. He denied flatly that any of them were 
 
 of his doing. But the Master inquiring at him 
 m 3 
 
166 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 whose they were, he could not tell, but affirmed it 
 to be some trick . Mr. Wilson at one time, began, 
 as I thought, to hesitate ; but the evidence was so 
 strong against M'Gill, that at length his solemn 
 asseverations of innocence only proved an aggrava- 
 tion of his crime. There was not one in the school 
 who had ever been known to draw a figure but him- 
 self, and on him fell the whole weight of the tyrant's 
 vengeance. It was dreadful ; and I was once in 
 hopes that he would not leave life in the culprit. 
 He, however, left the school for several months, re- 
 fusing to return to be subjected to punishment for 
 the faults of others, and I stood king of the class. 
 Matters were at last made up between M 'Gill's 
 parents and the schoolmaster, but by that time I 
 had got the start of him, and never in my life did 
 I exert myself so much as to keep the mastery. It 
 was in vain ; the powers of enchantment prevailed, 
 and I was again turned down with the tear in my 
 eye. I could think of no amends but one, and be- 
 ing driven to desperation, I put it in practice. I 
 told a lie of him. I came boldly up to the mas- 
 ter, and told him that M'Gill had in my hearing 
 cursed him in a most shocking manner, and called 
 him vile names. He called M'Gill, and charg- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 167 
 
 ed him with the crime, and the proud young cox- 
 comb was so stunned at the atrocity of the charge, 
 that his face grew as red as crimson, and the words 
 stuck in his throat as he feebly denied it. His 
 guilt was manifest, and he was again flogged most 
 nobly, and dismissed the school for ever in disgrace, 
 as a most incorrigible vagabond. 
 
 This was a great victory gained, and I rejoiced 
 and exulted exceedingly in it. It had, however, 
 very nigh cost me my life ; for not long thereafter, 
 I encountered M'Gill in the fields, on which he 
 came up and challenged me for a liar, daring me to 
 fight him. I refused, and said that I looked on 
 him as quite below my notice ; but he would not 
 quit me, and finally told me that he should either 
 lick me, or I should lick him, as he had no other 
 means of being revenged on such a scoundrel. I 
 tried to intimidate him, but it would not do ; and 
 I believe I would have given all that I had in the 
 world to be quit of him. He at length went so far 
 as first to kick me, and then strike me on the face; 
 and, being both older and stronger than he, I 
 thought it scarcely became me to take such insults 
 patiently. I was, nevertheless, well aware that the 
 devilish powers of his mother would finally prevail; 
 
168 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 and either the dread of this, or the inward conscious- 
 ness of having wronged him, certainly unnerved my 
 arm, for I fought wretchedly, and was soon wholly 
 overcome. I was so sore defeated, that I kneeled, 
 and was going to beg his pardon ; but another 
 thought struck me momentarily, and I threw my- 
 self on my face, and inwardly begged aid from hea- 
 ven ; at the same time I felt as if assured that my 
 prayer was heard, and would be answered. While 
 I was in this humble attitude, the villain kicked 
 me with his foot and cursed me ; and I being new- 
 ly encouraged, arose and encountered him once more. 
 We had not fought long at this second turn, before 
 I saw a man hastening toward us ; on which I utter- 
 ed a shout of joy, and laid on valiantly; but my very 
 next look assured me, that the man was old John 
 Barnet, whom I had likewise wronged all that was 
 in my power, and between these two wicked per- 
 sons I expected any thing but justice. My arm 
 was again enfeebled, and that of my adversary pre- 
 vailed. I was knocked down and mauled most 
 grievously, and while the ruffian was kicking and 
 cuffing me at his will and pleasure, up came old 
 John Barnet, breathless with running, and at one 
 blow with his open hand, levelled my opponent with 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 169 
 
 the earth. " Tak ye that, maister !" says John, 
 " to learn ye better breeding. Hout awa, man ! an 
 ye will fight, fight fair. Gude sauf us, ir ye a 
 gentleman's brood, that ye will kick an" cuff a lad 
 when he's down ?" 
 
 When I heard this kind and unexpected inter- 
 ference, I began once more to value myself on my 
 courage, and springing up, I made at my adver- 
 sary ; but John, without saying a word, bit his lip, 
 and seizing me by the neck, threw me down. M'Gill 
 begged of him to stand and see fair play, and suf- 
 fer us to finish the battle ; for, added he, " he is a 
 liar, and a scoundrel, and deserves ten times more 
 than I can give him. 1 '' 
 
 " I ken he's a 1 that ye say, an' mair, my man," 
 quoth John : " But am I sure that ye're no as bad, 
 an' waur ? It says nae muckle for ony o' ye to be 
 tearing like tikes at ane anither here." 
 
 John cocked his cudgel and stood between us, 
 threatening to knock the one dead, who first offered 
 to lift his hand against the other ; but, perceiving 
 no disposition in any of us to separate, he drove me 
 home before him like a bullock, keeping close guard 
 behind me, lest M'Gill had followed. I felt great- 
 ly indebted to John, yet I complained of his inter- 
 
170 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ference to my mother, and the old officious sinner 
 got no thanks for his pains. 
 
 As I am writing only from recollection, so I re- 
 member of nothing farther in these early days, in 
 the lest worthy of being recorded. That I was a 
 great, a transcendent sinner, I confess. But still I 
 had hopes of forgiveness, because I never sinned 
 from principle, but accident ; and then I always 
 tried to repent of these sins by the slump, for in- 
 dividually it was impossible ; and though not al- 
 ways successful in my endeavours, I could not help 
 that ; the grace of repentance being withheld from 
 me, I regarded myself as in no degree accountable 
 for the failure. Moreover, there were many of the 
 most deadly sins into which I never fell, for I dread- 
 ed those mentioned in the Revelations as exclud- 
 ing sins, so that I guarded against them continually. 
 In particular, I brought myself to despise, if not 
 to abhor, the beauty of women, looking on it as the 
 greatest snare to which mankind are subjected, and 
 though young men and maidens, and even old wo- 
 men, (my mother among the rest,) taxed me with 
 being an unnatural wretch, I gloried in my acquisi- 
 tion ; and to this day, am thankful for having es- 
 caped the most dangerous of all snares. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 171 
 
 I kept myself also free of the sins of idolatry, 
 and misbelief, both of a deadly nature ; and, upon 
 the whole, I think I had not then broken, that is, 
 absolutely broken, above four out of the ten com- 
 mandments ; but for all that, I had more sense than 
 to regard either my good works, or my evil deeds, 
 as in the smallest degree influencing the eternal 
 decrees of God concerning me, either with regard 
 to my acceptance or reprobation. I depended en- 
 tirely on the bounty of free grace, holding all the 
 righteousness of man as filthy rags, and believing 
 in the momentous and magnificent truth, that the 
 more heavily loaden with transgressions, the more 
 welcome was the believer at the throne of grace. 
 And I have reason to believe that it was this de- 
 pendence and this belief that at last ensured my 
 acceptance there. 
 
 I come now to the most important period of 
 my existence, — the period that has modelled my 
 character, and influenced every action of my life, 
 — without which, this detail of my actions would 
 have been as a tale that hath been told — a mo- 
 notonous farrago — an uninteresting harangue — 
 in short, a thing of nothing. Whereas, lo ! it 
 must now be a relation of great and terrible 
 
172 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 actions, done in the might, and by the commission 
 of heaven. Amen. 
 
 Like the sinful king of Israel, I had been walk- 
 ing softly before the Lord for a season. I had been 
 humbled for my transgressions, and, as far as I re- 
 collect, sorry on account of their numbers and hei- 
 nousness. My reverend father had been, more- 
 over, examining me every day regarding the state 
 of my soul, and my answers sometimes appeared to 
 give him satisfaction, and sometimes not. As for 
 my mother, she would harp on the subject of my 
 faith for ever ; yet, though I knew her to be a 
 Christian, I confess that I always despised her mot- 
 ley instructions, nor had I any great regard for 
 her person. If this was a crime in me, I never 
 could help it. I confess it freely, and believe it 
 was a judgment from heaven inflicted on her for 
 some sin of former days, and that I had no power 
 to have acted otherwise toward her than I did. 
 
 In this frame of mind was I, when my reverend 
 father one morning arose from his seat, and, meet- 
 ing me as I entered the room, he embraced me, and 
 welcomed me into the community of the just upon 
 earth. I was struck speechless, and could make no 
 answer save by looks of surprise. My mother also 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 173 
 
 came to me, kissed, and wept over me ; and after 
 showering unnumbered blessings on my head, she 
 also welcomed me into the society of the just made 
 perfect. Then each of them took me by a hand, 
 and my reverend father explained to me how he 
 had wrestled with God, as the patriarch of old had 
 done, not for a night, but for days and years, and 
 that in bitterness and anguish of spirit, on my ac- 
 count ; but that he had at last prevailed, and had 
 now gained the long and earnestly desired assur- 
 ance of my acceptance with the Almighty, in and 
 through the merits and sufferings of his Son : That 
 I was now a justified person, adopted among the 
 number of God's children — my name written in the 
 Lamb's book of life, and that no bypast transgres- 
 sion, nor any future act of my own, or of other men, 
 could be instrumental in altering the decree. " All 
 the powers of darkness," added he, " shall never 
 be able to pluck you again out of your Redeemer's 
 hand. And now, my son, be strong and stedfast 
 in the truth. Set your face against sin, and sinful 
 men, and resist even to blood, as many of the faith- 
 ful of this land have done, and your reward shall 
 be double. I am assured of your acceptance by 
 the word and spirit of him who cannot err, and 
 
17^ PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 your sanctification and repentance unto life will fol- 
 low in due course. Rejoice and be thankful, for 
 you are plucked as a brand out of the burning, and 
 now your redemption is sealed and sure." 
 
 I wept for joy to be thus assured of my freedom 
 from all sin, and of the impossibility of my ever 
 again falling away from my new state. I bounded 
 away into the fields and the woods, to pour out my 
 spirit in prayer before the Almighty for his kind- 
 ness to me : my whole frame seemed to be renew- 
 ed ; every nerve was buoyant with new life ; I felt 
 as if I could have flown in the air, or leaped over 
 the tops of the trees. An exaltation of spirit lifted 
 me, as it were, far above the earth, and the sinful 
 creatures crawling on its surface ; and I deemed 
 myself as an eagle among the children of men, soar- 
 ing on high, and looking down with pity and con- 
 tempt on the grovelling creatures below. 
 
 As I thus wended my way, I beheld a young 
 man of a mysterious appearance coming towards 
 me. I tried to shun him, being bent on my own 
 contemplations ; but he cast himself in my way, so 
 that I could not well avoid him ; and more than 
 that, I felt a sort of invisible power that drew me 
 towards him, something like the force of enchant- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 175 
 
 ment, which I could not resist. As we approached 
 each other, our eyes met, and I can never describe 
 the strange sensations that thrilled through my 
 whole frame at that impressive moment ; a moment 
 to me fraught with the most tremendous conse- 
 quences ; the beginning of a series of adventures 
 which has puzzled myself, and will puzzle the world 
 when I am no more in it. That time will now soon 
 arrive, sooner than any one can devise who knows 
 not the tumult of my thoughts, and the labour of 
 my spirit ; and when it hath come and passed over, 
 — when my flesh and my bones are decayed, and 
 my soul has passed to its everlasting home, then shall 
 the sons of men ponder on the events of my life ; 
 wonder and tremble, and tremble and wonder how 
 such things should be. 
 
 That stranger youth and I approached each other 
 in silence, and slowly, with our eyes fixed on each 
 other's eyes. We approached till not more than a 
 yard intervened between us, and then stood still and 
 gazed, measuring each other from head to foot. What 
 was my astonishment, on perceiving that he was the 
 same being as myself ! The clothes were the same to 
 the smallest item. The form was the same ; the ap- 
 parent age ; the colour of the hair ; the eyes ; and, 
 
176 PKJLVATE MEM0IKS AND 
 
 as far as recollection could serve me from viewing 
 my own features in a glass, the features too were 
 the very same. I conceived at first, that I saw a 
 vision, and that my guardian angel had appeared to 
 me at this important era of my life ; but this sin- 
 gular being read my thoughts in my looks, an- 
 ticipating the very words that I was going to ut- 
 ter. 
 
 " You think I am your brother," said he ; "or 
 that I am your second self. I am indeed your 
 brother, not according to the flesh, but in my be- 
 lief of the same truths, and my assurance in the 
 same mode of redemption, than which, I hold no- 
 thing so great or so glorious on earth. " 
 
 " Then you are an associate well adapted to my 
 present state," said I. " For this time is a time 
 of great rejoicing in spirit to me. I am on my way 
 to return thanks to the Most High for my redemp- 
 tion from the bonds of sin and misery. If you will 
 join with me heart and hand in youthful thanks- 
 giving, then shall we two go and worship together , 
 but if not, go your way, and I shall go mine." 
 
 " Ah, you little know with how much pleasure 
 I will accompany you, and join with you in your 
 elevated devotions," said he fervently. " Your 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 177 
 
 state is a state to be envied indeed ; but I have 
 been advised of it, and am come to be a humble 
 disciple of yours ; to be initiated into the true way 
 of salvation " by conversing with you, and perhaps 
 by being assisted by your prayers." 
 
 My spiritual pride being greatly elevated by this 
 address, I began to assume the preceptor, and 
 questioned this extraordinary youth with regard 
 to his religious principles, telling him plainly, if he 
 was one who expected acceptance with God at all, 
 on account of good works, that I would hold no 
 communion with him. He renounced these at 
 once, with the greatest vehemence, and declared 
 his acquiescence in my faith. I asked if he believ- 
 ed in the eternal and irrevocable decrees of God, 
 regarding the salvation and condemnation of all 
 mankind ? He answered that he did so : aye, 
 what would signify all things else that he believ- 
 ed, if he did not believe in that ? We then went 
 on to commune about all our points of belief ; and 
 in every thing that I suggested, he acquiesced, and, 
 as I thought that day, often carried them to ex- 
 tremes, so that I had a secret dread he was ad- 
 vancing blasphemies. Yet he had such a way 
 with him, and paid such a deference to all my opi- 
 
 N 
 
178 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 nions, that I was quite captivated, and, at the same 
 time, I stood in a sort of awe of him, which I could 
 not account for, and several times was seized with 
 an involuntary inclination to escape from his pre- 
 sence, by making a sudden retreat. But he seemed 
 constantly to anticipate my thoughts, and was sure 
 to divert my purpose by some turn in the conversa- 
 tion that particularly interested me. He took care 
 to dwell much on the theme of the impossibility of 
 those ever falling away, who were once accepted 
 and received into covenant with God, for he seem- 
 ed to know, that in that confidence, and that trust, 
 my whole hopes were centred. 
 
 We moved about from one place to another, un- 
 til the day was wholly spent. My mind had all 
 the while been kept in a state of agitation resem- 
 bling the motion of a whirlpool, and when we came 
 to separate, I then discovered that the purpose for 
 which I had sought the fields had been neglected, 
 and that I had been diverted from the worship of 
 God, by attending to the quibbles and dogmas of 
 this singular and unaccountable being, who seemed 
 to have more knowledge and information than all 
 the persons I had ever known put together. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 179 
 
 We parted with expressions of mutual regret, 
 and when I left him I felt a deliverance, but at the 
 same time a certain consciousness that I was not 
 thus to get free of him, but that he was like to be 
 an acquaintance that was to stick to me for good or 
 for evil. I was astonished at his acuteness and know- 
 ledge about every thing ; but as for his likeness to 
 me, that was quite unaccountable. He was the 
 same person in every respect, but yet he was not 
 always so ; for I observed several times, when we 
 were speaking of certain divines and their tenets, 
 that his face assumed something of the appearance 
 of theirs ; and it struck me, that by setting his fea- 
 tures to the mould of other people's, he entered at 
 once into their conceptions and feelings. I had 
 been greatly flattered, and greatly interested by his 
 conversation ; whether I had been the better for it 
 or the worse, I could not tell. I had been diverted 
 from returning thanks to my gracious Maker for 
 his great kindness to me, and came home as I went 
 away, but not with the same buoyancy and light- 
 ness of heart. Well may I remember that day in 
 which I was first received into the number, and 
 made an heir to all the privileges of the children 
 of God, and on which I first met this mysterious 
 n 2 
 
180 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 associate, who from that day forth contrived to wind 
 himself into all my affairs, both spiritual and tem- 
 poral, to this day on which I am writing the ac- 
 count of it. It was on the 25th day of March 
 1704, when I had just entered the eighteenth year 
 of my age. Whether it behoves me to bless God 
 for the events of that day, or to deplore them, has 
 been hid from my discernment, though I have in- 
 quired into it with fear and trembling ; and I have 
 now lost all hopes of ever discovering the true im- 
 port of these events until that day when my ac- 
 counts are to make up and reckon for in another 
 world. 
 
 When I came home, I went straight into the par- 
 lour, where my mother was sitting by herself. She 
 started to her feet, and uttered a smothered scream. 
 " What ails you, Robert ?" cried she. " My dear 
 son, what is the matter with you ?" 
 
 " Do you see any thing the matter with me ?" 
 said I. " It appears that the ailment is with your- 
 self, and either in jrour crazed head or your dim 
 eyes, for there is nothing the matter with me." 
 
 " Ah, Robert, you are ill !" cried she ; " you are 
 very ill, my dear boy ; you are quite changed ; 
 your very voice and manner are changed. Ah, 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 181 
 
 Jane, haste you up to the study, and tell Mr. 
 Wringhim to come here on the instant and speak 
 to Robert." 
 
 " I beseech you, woman, to restrain yourself," said 
 I. " If you suffer your frenzy to run away with your 
 judgment in this manner, I will leave the house. 
 What do you mean ? I tell you, there is nothing 
 ails me : I never was better." 
 
 She screamed, and ran between me and the door, 
 to bar my retreat : in the meantime my reverend 
 father entered, and I have not forgot how he gazed, 
 through his glasses, first at my mother, and then 
 at me. I imagined that his eyes burnt like candles, 
 and was afraid of him, which I suppose made my 
 looks more unstable than they would otherwise have 
 been. 
 
 " What is all this for ?" said he. " Mistress ! 
 Robert ! What is the matter here ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, our boy !" cried my mother ; " our 
 dear boy, Mr. Wringhim ! Look at him, and speak 
 to him : he is either dying or translated, sir !" 
 
 He looked at me with a countenance of great 
 
 alarm ; mumbling some sentences to himself, and 
 
 then taking me by the arm, as if to feel my pulse, 
 
 he said, with a faltering voice, " Something has 
 n3 
 
182 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 indeed befallen you, either in body or mind, boy, 
 for you are transformed, since the morning, that I 
 could not have known you for the same person. 
 Have you met with any accident ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have you seen any thing out of the ordinary 
 course of nature ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then, Satan, I fear, has been busy with you, 
 tempting you in no ordinary degree at this mo- 
 mentous crisis of your life ?" 
 
 My mind turned on my associate for the day, 
 and the idea that he might be an agent of the 
 devil, had such an effect on me, that I could make 
 no answer. 
 
 " I see how it is," said he ; " you are troubled 
 in spirit, and I have no doubt that the enemy of 
 our salvation has been busy with you. Tell me 
 this, has he overcome you, or has he not ?" 
 
 '< He has not, my dear father," said I. "In the 
 strength of the Lord, I hope I have withstood him. 
 But indeed, if he has been busy with me, I knew 
 it not. I have been conversant this day with one 
 stranger only, whom I took rather for an angel of 
 light." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 183 
 
 " It is one of the devil's most profound wiles to 
 appear like one," said my mother. 
 
 " Woman, hold thy peace !" said my reverend 
 father : " thou pretendest to teach what thou 
 knowest not. Tell me this, boy : Did this stran- 
 ger, with whom you met, adhere to the religious 
 principles in which I have educated you ?" 
 
 " Yes, to every one of them, in their fullest lati- 
 tude,^ said I. 
 
 " Then he was no agent of the wicked one with 
 whom you held converse," said he ; " for that is 
 the doctrine that was made to overturn the princi- 
 palities and powers, the might and dominion of the 
 kingdom of darkness. — Let us pray." 
 
 After spending about a quarter of an hour in 
 solemn and sublime thanksgiving, this saintly man 
 and minister of Christ Jesus, gave out that the 
 day following should be kept by the family as a 
 day of solemn thanksgiving, and spent in prayer 
 and praise, on account of the calling and election 
 of one of its members ; or rather for the election 
 of that individual being revealed on earth, as well 
 as confirmed in heaven. 
 
 The next day was with me a day of holy exul- 
 tation. It was begun by my reverend father lay- 
 
184 PRIVATE MEMOIRS A1XD 
 
 ing his hands upon my head and blessing me, and 
 then dedicating me to the Lord in the most awful 
 and impressive manner. It was in no common way 
 that he exercised this profound rite, for it was 
 done with all the zeal and enthusiasm of a devotee 
 to the true cause, and a champion on the side he 
 had espoused. He used these remarkable words, 
 which I have still treasured up in my heart : — " I 
 give him unto Thee only, to Thee wholly, and to 
 Thee for ever. I dedicate him unto Thee, soul, 
 body, and spirit. Not as the wicked of this world, or 
 the hirelings of a church profanely called by Thy 
 name, do I dedicate this Thy servant to Thee : 
 Not in words and form, learned by rote, and dic- 
 tated by the limbs of Antichrist, but, Lord, I 
 give him into Thy hand, as a captain putteth a sword 
 into the hand of his sovereign, wherewith to lay 
 waste his enemies. May he be a two-edged wea- 
 pon in Thy hand, and a spear coming out of Thy 
 mouth, to destroy, and overcome, and pass over ; 
 and may the enemies of Thy church fall down be- 
 fore him, and be as dung to fat the land P 
 
 From that moment, I conceived it decreed, not 
 that I should be a minister of the gospel, but a 
 champion of it, to cut off the enemies of the Lord 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 185 
 
 from the face of the earth ; and I rejoiced in the 
 commission, finding it more congenial to my nature 
 to be cutting sinners off with the sword, than to be 
 haranguing them from the pulpit, striving to pro- 
 duce an effect, which God, by his act of absolute 
 predestination, had for ever rendered impracticable. 
 The more I pondered on these things, the more I 
 saw of the folly and inconsistency of ministers, in 
 spending their lives, striving and remonstrating 
 with sinners, in order to induce them to do that 
 which they had it not in their power to do. See- 
 ing that God had from all eternity decided the fate 
 of every individual that was to be born of woman, 
 how vain was it in man to endeavour to save those 
 whom their Maker had, by an unchangeable decree, 
 doomed to destruction. I could not disbelieve the 
 doctrine which the best of men had taught me, and 
 toward which he made the whole of the Scriptures 
 to bear, and yet it made the economy of the Chris- 
 tian world appear to me as an absolute contradic- 
 tion. How much more wise would it be, thought 
 I, to begin and cut sinners off with the sword ! for 
 till that is effected, the saints can never inherit the 
 earth in peace. Should I be honoured as an in- 
 strument to begin this great work of purification, I 
 
186 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 should rejoice in it. But then, where had I the 
 means, or under what direction was I to begin ? 
 There was one thing clear, I was now the Lord's, 
 and it behoved me to bestir myself in his service. 
 
 that I had an host at my command, then would 
 
 1 be as a devouring fire among the workers of ini- 
 quity ! 
 
 Full of these great ideas, I hurried through the 
 city, and sought again the private path through 
 the field and wood of Finnieston, in which my 
 reverend preceptor had the privilege of walking 
 for study, and to which he had a key that was al- 
 ways at my command. Near one of the stiles, I 
 perceived a young man sitting in a devout posture, 
 reading on a Bible. He rose, lifted his hat, and 
 made an obeisance to me, which I returned and 
 walked on. I had not well crossed the stile, till it 
 struck me I knew the face of the youth, and that 
 he was some intimate acquaintance, to whom I ought 
 to have spoken. I walked on, and returned, and 
 walked on again, trying to recollect who he was ; 
 but for my life I could not . There was, however, a 
 fascination in his look and manner, that drew me 
 back toward him in spite of myself, and I resolved 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 187 
 
 to go to him, if it were merely to speak and see 
 who he was. 
 
 I came up to him and addressed him, but he 
 was so intent on his book, that, though I spoke, he 
 lifted not his eyes. I looked on the book also, and 
 still it seemed a Bible, having columns, chapters, 
 and verses ; but it was in a language of which I 
 was wholly ignorant, and all intersected with red 
 lines, and verses. A sensation resembling a stroke 
 of electricity came over me, on first casting my 
 eyes on that mysterious book, and I stood motion- 
 less. He looked up, smiled, closed his book, and 
 put it in his bosom. " You seem strangely affected, 
 dear sir, by looking on my book," said he mildly. 
 
 " In the name of God, what book is that ?" said 
 I : " Is it a Bible F 
 
 " It is my Bible, sir," said he ; " but I will cease 
 reading it, for I am glad to see you. Pray, is not 
 this a day of holy festivity with you ?" 
 
 I stared in his face, but made no answer, for my 
 senses were bewildered. 
 
 " Do you not know me ?" said he. x " You ap- 
 pear to be somehow at a loss. Had not you and I 
 some sweet communion and fellowship yesterday ?" 
 
188 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said I. " But surely 
 if you are the young gentleman with whom I spent 
 the hours yesterday, you have the cameleon art of 
 changing your appearance ; I never could have 
 recognized you." 
 
 " My countenance changes with my. studies and 
 sensations," said he. " It is a natural peculiarity 
 in me, over which I have not full control. If I 
 contemplate a man's features seriously, mine own 
 gradually assume the very same appearance and 
 character. And what is more, by contemplating a 
 face minutely, I not only attain the same likeness, 
 but, with the likeness, I attain the very same ideas 
 as well as the same mode of arranging them, so 
 that, you see, by looking at a person attentively, I 
 by degrees assume his likeness, and by assuming 
 his likeness I attain to the possession of his most 
 secret thoughts. This, I say, is a peculiarity in 
 my nature, a gift of the God that made me ; but 
 whether or not given me for a blessing, he knows 
 himself, and so do I. At all events, I have this 
 privilege, — I can never be mistaken of a character 
 in whom I am interested." 
 
 " It is a rare qualification," replied I, " and I 
 would give worlds to possess it. Then, it appears, 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 189 
 
 that it is needless to dissemble with you, since you 
 can at any time extract our most secret thoughts 
 from our bosoms. You already know my natural 
 character ?" 
 
 " Yes," said he, " and it is that which attaches 
 me to you. By assuming your likeness yesterday, 
 I became acquainted with your character, and was 
 no less astonished at the profundity and range of 
 your thoughts, than at the heroic magnanimity 
 with which these were combined. And now, in ad- 
 dition to these, you are dedicated to the great 
 work of the Lord ; for which reasons I have re- 
 solved to attach myself as closely to you as possi- 
 ble, and to render you all the service of which my 
 poor abilities are capable." 
 
 I confess that I was greatly flattered by these 
 compliments paid to my abilities by a youth of such 
 superior qualifications; by one who, with a mo- 
 desty and affability rare at his age, combined a 
 height of genius and knowledge almost above human 
 comprehension. Nevertheless, I began to assume 
 a certain superiority of demeanour toward him, as 
 judging it incumbent on me to do so, in order to 
 keep up his idea of my exalted character. We con* 
 versed again till the day was near a close ; and the 
 
190 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 things that he strove most to inculcate on my mind, 
 were the infallibility of the elect, and the pre-ordi- 
 nation of all things that come to pass. I pretend- 
 ed to controvert the first of these, for the purpose 
 of showing him the extent of my argumentative 
 powers, and said, that " indubitably there were 
 degrees of sinning which would induce the Al- 
 mighty to throw off the very elect." But behold 
 my hitherto humble and modest companion took 
 up the argument with such warmth, that he put me 
 not only to silence, but to absolute shame. 
 
 " Why, sir," said he, " by vending such an in- 
 sinuation, you put discredit on the great atone- 
 ment, in which you trust. Is there not enough of 
 merit in the blood of Jesus to save thousands of 
 worlds, if it was for these worlds that he died ? Now, 
 when you know, as you do, (and as every one of 
 the elect may know of himself,) that this Saviour 
 died for you, namely and particularly, dare you say 
 that there is not enough of merit in his great atone- 
 ment to annihilate all your sins, let them be as hei- 
 nous and atrocious as they may ? And, moreover, 
 do you not acknowledge that God hath pre-ordain- 
 ed and decreed whatsoever comes to pass ? Then, 
 how is it that you should deem it in your power to 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 191 
 
 eschew one action of your life, whether good or 
 evil ? Depend on it, the advice of the great preach- 
 er is genuine : ' What thine hand findeth to do, do 
 it with all thy might, for none of us knows what a 
 day may bring forth V That is, none of us knows 
 what is pre-ordained, but whatever is pre-ordained 
 we must do, and none of these things will be laid 
 to our charge." 
 
 I could hardly believe that these sayings were 
 genuine or orthodox ; but I soon felt, that, instead 
 of being a humble disciple of mine, this new ac- 
 quaintance was to be my guide and director, and all 
 under the humble guise of one stooping at my feet 
 to learn the right. He said that he saw I was or- 
 dained to perform some great action for the cause 
 of Jesus and his church, and he earnestly coveted 
 being a partaker with me ; but he besought of me 
 never to think it possible for me to fall from the 
 truth, or the favour of him who had chosen me, 
 else that misbelief would baulk every good work to 
 which I set my face. 
 
 There was something so flattering in all this, that 
 I could not resist it. Still, when he took leave of 
 me, I felt it as a great relief; and yet, before the 
 morrow, I wearied and was impatient to see him 
 
192 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 again. We carried on our fellowship from day to 
 day, and all the while I knew not who he was, and 
 still my mother and reverend father kept insisting 
 that I was an altered youth, changed in my appear- 
 ance, my manners, and my whole conduct ; yet 
 something always prevented me from telling them 
 more about my new acquaintance than I had done 
 on the first day we met. I rejoiced in him, was 
 proud of him, and soon could not live without 
 him ; yet, though resolved every day to disclose the 
 whole history of my connection with him, I had it 
 not in my power : Something always prevented me, 
 till at length I thought no more of it, but resolved 
 to enjoy his fascinating company in private, and by 
 all means to keep my own with him. The resolu- 
 tion was vain : I set a bold face to it, but my powers 
 were inadequate to the task ; my adherent, with all 
 the suavity imaginable, was sure to carry his point. 
 I sometimes fumed, and sometimes shed tears at 
 being obliged to yield to proposals against which I 
 had at first felt every reasoning power of my soul 
 rise in opposition ; but, for all that, he never failed 
 in carrying conviction along with him in effect, for 
 he either forced me to acquiesce in his measures, 
 and assent to the truth of his positions, or he put 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 193 
 
 me so completely down, that I had not a word left 
 to advance against them. 
 
 After weeks, and I may say months of intimacy, 
 I observed, somewhat to my amazement, that we had 
 never once prayed together ; and more than that, 
 that he had constantly led my attentions away from 
 that duty, causing me to neglect it wholly. I 
 thought this a bad mark of a man seemingly so much 
 "set on inculcating certain important points of reli- 
 gion, and resolved next day to put him to the test, 
 and request of him to perform that sacred duty in 
 name of us both. He objected boldly ; saying 
 there were very few people indeed, with whom he 
 could join in prayer, and he made a point of never 
 doing- it, as he was sure they were to ask many 
 things of which he disapproved, and that if he 
 were to officiate himself, he was as certain to allude 
 to many things that came not within the range of 
 their faith. He disapproved of prayer altogether, 
 in the manner it was generally gone about, he said. 
 Man made it merely a selfish concern, and was con- 
 stantly employed asking, asking, for every thing. 
 Whereas it became all God's creatures to be con- 
 tent with their lot, and only to kneel before him in 
 order to thank him for such benefits as he saw meet 
 
194 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to bestow. In short, he argued with such energy, 
 that before we parted I acquiesced, as usual, in his 
 position, and never mentioned prayer to him any 
 more. 
 
 Having been so frequently seen in his company, 
 several people happened to mention the circum- 
 stance to my mother and reverend father ; but at 
 the same time had all described him differently. 
 At length, they began to examine me with re- 
 spect to the company I kept, as I absented myself 
 from home day after day. I told them I kept com- 
 pany only with one young gentleman, whose whole 
 manner of thinking on religious subjects, I found 
 so congenial with my own, that I could not live out 
 of his society. My mother began to lay down some 
 of her old hackneyed rules of faith, but I turned 
 from hearing her with disgust ; for, after the energy 
 of my new friend's reasoning, hers appeared so 
 tame I could not endure it. And I confess with 
 shame, that my reverend preceptor's religious dis- 
 sertations began, about this time, to lose their re- 
 lish very much, and by degrees became exceedingly 
 tiresome to my ear. They were so inferior, in 
 strength and sublimity, to the most common obser- 
 vations of my young friend, that in drawing a com- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 195 
 
 parison the former appeared as nothing. He, how- 
 ever, examined me about many things relating to 
 my companion, in all of which I satisfied him, save 
 in one : I could neither tell him who my friend 
 was, what was his name, nor of whom he was de- 
 scended ; and I wondered at myself how I had 
 never once adverted to such a thing, for all the 
 time we had been intimate. 
 
 I inquired the next day what his name was ; as 
 I said I was often at a loss for it, when talking with 
 him. He replied, that there was no occasion for 
 any one friend ever naming another, when their 
 society was held in private, as ours was ; for his part 
 he had never once named me since we first met, 
 and never intended to do so, unless by my own re- 
 quest. " But if you cannot converse without nam- 
 ing me, you may call me Gil for the present," 
 added he ; " and if I think proper to take another 
 name at any future period, it shall be with your 
 approbation." 
 
 " Gil !" said I ; " Have you no name but Gil ? 
 Or which of your names is it ? Your Christian or 
 surname ?" 
 
 " O, you must have a surname too, must you !" 
 
 replied he, " Very well, you may call me Gil-Mar- 
 o 2 
 
196 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 tin. It is not my Christian name; but it is a 
 name which may serve your turn." 
 
 " This is very strange I" said I. " Are you 
 ashamed of your parents, that you refuse to give 
 your real name P? 
 
 " I have no parents save one, whom I do not 
 acknowledge,''' said he proudly ; " therefore, pray 
 drop that subject, for it is a disagreeable one. I 
 am a being of a very peculiar temper, for though I 
 have servants and subjects more than I can num- 
 ber, yet, to gratify a certain whim, I have left 
 them, and retired to this city, and for all the so- 
 ciety it contains, you see I have attached myself 
 only to you. This is a secret, and I tell it you 
 only in friendship, therefore pray let it remain one, 
 and say not another word about the matter." 
 
 I assented, and said no more concerning it ; for 
 it instantly struck me that this was no other than 
 the Czar Peter of Russia, having heard that he 
 had been travelling through Europe in disguise, 
 and I cannot say that I had not thenceforward great 
 and mighty hopes of high preferment, as a defen- 
 der and avenger of the oppressed Christian Church, 
 under the influence of this great potentate. He 
 had hinted as much already, as that it was more hon- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 197 
 
 ourable, and of more avail to put down the wicked 
 with the sword, than try to reform them, and I 
 thought myself quite justified in supposing that he 
 intended me for some great employment, that he 
 had thus selected me for his companion out of all 
 the rest in Scotland, and even pretended to learn 
 the great truths of religion from my mouth. From 
 that time I felt disposed to yield to such a great 
 prince's suggestions without hesitation. 
 
 Nothing ever astonished me so much, as the un- 
 common powers with which he seemed invested. In 
 our walk one day, we met with a Mr. Blanchard, 
 who was reckoned a worthy, pious divine, but quite 
 of the moral cast, who joined us ; and we three 
 walked on, and rested together in the fields. My 
 companion did not seem to like him, but, neverthe- 
 less, regarded him frequently with deep attention, 
 and there were several times, while he seemed con- 
 templating him, and trying to find out his thoughts, 
 that his face became so like Mr. Blanchard's, that 
 it was impossible to have distinguished the one from 
 the other. The antipathy between the two was mu- 
 tual, and discovered itself quite palpably in a short 
 time. When my companion the prince was gone, 
 
 Mr. Blanchard asked me anent him, and I told 
 o3 
 
198 PRIVATE MEM0I11S AND 
 
 him that he was a stranger in the city, but a very 
 uncommon and great personage. Mr. BlancharcTs 
 answer to me was as follows : " I never saw any 
 body I disliked so much in my life, Mr. Robert ; 
 and if it be true that he is a stranger here, which 
 I doubt, believe me he is come for no good." 
 
 " Do you not perceive what mighty powers of 
 mind he is possessed of?" said I, " and also how 
 clear and unhesitating he is on some of the most in- 
 teresting points of divinity ?" 
 
 " It is for his great mental faculties that I dread 
 him," said he. "It is incalculable what evil such a 
 person as he may do, if so disposed. There is a 
 sublimity in his ideas, with which there is to me a 
 mixture of terror ; and when he talks of religion, 
 he does it as one that rather dreads its truths than 
 reverences them. He, indeed, pretends great strict- 
 ness of orthodoxy regarding some of the points of 
 doctrine embraced by the reformed church ; but you 
 do not seem to perceive, that both you and he are 
 carrying these points to a dangerous extremity. 
 Religion is a sublime and glorious thing, the bond 
 of society on earth, and the connector of humanity 
 with the Divine nature ; but there is nothing so 
 dangerous to man as the wresting of any of its prin- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 199 
 
 ciples, or forcing them beyond their due bounds : 
 this is of all others the readiest way to destruction. 
 Neither is there any thing so easily done. There 
 is not an error into which a man can fall, which he 
 may not press Scripture into his service as proof of 
 the probity of, and though your boasted theologian 
 shunned the full discussion of the subject before me, 
 while you pressed it, I can easily see that both you 
 and he are carrying your ideas of absolute predestin- 
 ation, and its concomitant appendages, to an extent 
 that overthrows all religion and revelation together ; 
 or, at least, jumbles them into a chaos, out of which 
 human capacity can never select what is good. Be- 
 lieve me, Mr. Robert, the less you associate with 
 that illustrious stranger the better, for it appears to 
 me that your creed and his carries damnation on 
 the very front of it." 
 
 I was rather stunned at this ; but I pretended to 
 smile with disdain, and said, it did not become 
 youth to control age ; and, as I knew our princi- 
 ples differed fundamentally, it behoved us to drop 
 the subject. He, however, would not drop it, but 
 took both my principles and me fearfully to task, 
 for Blanchard was an eloquent and powerful-mind- 
 ed old man ; and, before we parted, I believe I 
 
200 PltlVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 promised to drop my new acquaintance, and was 
 all but resolved to do it. 
 
 As well might I have laid my account with shun- 
 ning the light of day. He was constant to me as 
 my shadow, and by degrees he acquired such an 
 ascendency over me, that I never was happy out of 
 his company, nor greatly so in it. When I repeat- 
 ed to him all that Mr. Blanchard had said, his 
 countenance kindled with indignation and rage ; 
 and then by degrees his eyes sunk inward, his brow 
 lowered, so that I was awed, and withdrew my eyes 
 from looking at him. A while afterward, as I was 
 addressing him, I chanced to look him again in the 
 face, and the sight of him made me start violently. 
 He had made himself so like Mr. Blanchard, that 
 I actually believed I had been addressing that 
 gentleman, and that I had done so in some absence 
 of mind that I could not account for. Instead of 
 being amused at the quandary I was in, he seemed 
 offended : indeed, he never was truly amused with 
 any thing. And he then asked me sullenly, if I 
 conceived such personages as he to have no other 
 endowments than common mortals ? 
 
 I said I never conceived that princes or poten- 
 tates had any greater share of endowments than 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 201 
 
 other men, and frequently not so much. He shook 
 his head, and bade me think over the subject again ; 
 and there was an end of it. I certainly felt every 
 day the more disposed to acknowledge such a supe- 
 riority in him, and from all that I could gather, I 
 had now no doubt that he was Peter of Russia. 
 Every thing combined to warrant the supposition, 
 and, of course, I resolved to act in conformity with 
 the discovery I had made. 
 
 For several days the subject of Mr. Blanchard's 
 doubts and doctrines formed the theme of our dis- 
 course. My friend deprecated them most devout- 
 ly ; and then again he would deplore them, and 
 lament the great evil that such a man might do 
 among the human race. I joined with him in al- 
 lowing the evil in its fullest latitude; and, at length, 
 after he thought he had fully prepared my nature 
 for such a trial of its powers and abilities, he pro- 
 posed calmly that we two should make away with 
 Mr. Blanchard. I was so shocked, that my bosom 
 became as it were a void, and the beatings of my 
 heart sounded loud and hollow in it ; my breath 
 cut, and my tongue and palate became dry and 
 speechless. He mocked at my cowardice, and be- 
 gan a-reasoning on the matter with such powerful 
 
202 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 eloquence, that before we parted, I felt fully con- 
 vinced that it was my bounden duty to slay Mr. 
 Blanchard ;"but my will was far, very far from con- 
 senting to the deed. 
 
 I spent the following night without sleep, or 
 nearly so ; and the next morning, by the time the 
 sun arose, I was again abroad, and in the company 
 of my illustrious friend. The same subject was re- 
 sumed, and again he reasoned to the following 
 purport : That supposing me placed at the head 
 of an army of Christian soldiers, all bent on put- 
 ting down the enemies of the church, would I have 
 any hesitation in destroying and rooting out these 
 enemies ? — None surely. — Well then, when I saw 
 and was convinced, that here was an individual who 
 was doing more detriment to the church of Christ 
 on earth, than tens of thousands of such warriors 
 were capable of doing, was it not my duty to cut 
 him off, and save the elect ? " He, who would be 
 a champion in the cause of Christ and his Church, 
 my brave young friend," added he, " must begin 
 early, and no man can calculate to what an illus- 
 trious eminence small beginnings may lead. If 
 the man Blanchard is worthy, he is only changing 
 his situation for a better one ; and if unworthy, it 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 203 
 
 is better that one fall, than that a thousand souls 
 perish. Let us be up and doing in our vocations. 
 For me, my resolution is taken ; I have but one 
 great aim in this world, and I never for a moment 
 lose sight of it." 
 
 I was obliged to admit the force of his reason- 
 ing ; for though I cannot from memory repeat his 
 words, his eloquence was of that overpowering na- 
 ture, that the subtility of other men sunk before it ; 
 and there is also little doubt that the assurance I 
 had that these words were spoken by a great poten- 
 tate, who could raise me to the highest eminence, 
 (provided that I entered into his extensive and de- 
 cisive measures,) assisted mightily in dispelling 
 my youthful scruples and qualms of conscience ; 
 and I thought moreover, that having such a power- 
 ful back friend to support me, I hardly needed to 
 be afraid of the consequences. I consented ! But 
 begged a little time to think of it. He said the 
 less one thought of a duty the better ; and we 
 parted. 
 
 But the most singular instance of this wonderful 
 man's power over my mind was, that he had as com- 
 plete influence over me by night as by day. All 
 my dreams corresponded exactly with his sugges- 
 
204 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 tions ; and when he was absent from me, still his 
 arguments sunk deeper in my heart than even when 
 he was present. I dreamed that night of a great 
 triumph obtained, and though the whole scene was 
 but dimly and confusedly denned in my vision, 
 yet the overthrow and death of Mr. Blanchard 
 was the first step by which I attained the eminent 
 station I occupied. Thus, by dreaming of the event 
 by night, and discoursing of it by day, it soon be- 
 came so familiar to my mind, that I almost con- 
 ceived it as done. It was resolved on : which was 
 the first and greatest victory gained ; for there was 
 no difficulty in finding opportunities enow of gut- 
 ting off a man, who, every good day, was to be found 
 walking by himself in private grounds. I went 
 and heard him preach for two days, and in fact I 
 held his tenets scarcely short of blasphemy ; they 
 were such as I had never heard before, and his 
 congregation, which was numerous, were turning 
 up their ears and drinking in his doctrines with the 
 utmost delight ; for O, they suited their carnal na- 
 tures and self-sufficiency to a hair ! He was actu- 
 ally holding it forth, as a fact, that " it was every 
 man's own blame if he was not saved !" What 
 horrible misconstruction ! And then he was al- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER, 205 
 
 leging, and trying to prove from nature and rea- 
 son, that no man ever was guilty of a sinful action* 
 who might not have declined it had he so chosen ! 
 " Wretched controvertist P thought I to myself 
 an hundred times, " shall not the sword of the Lord 
 be moved from its place of peace for such presum- 
 tuous and absurd testimonies as these !" 
 
 When I began to tell the prince about these 
 false doctrines, to my astonishment I found that 
 he had been in the church himself, and had every 
 argument that the old divine had used verbatim ; 
 and he remarked on them with great concern, that 
 these were not the tenets that corresponded with 
 his views in society, and that he had agents in 
 every city, and every land, exerting their powers to 
 put them down. I asked, with great simplicity, 
 " Are all your subjects Christians, prince ?" 
 
 " All my European subjects are, or deem them- 
 selves so," returned he ; " and they are the most 
 faithful and true subjects I have." 
 
 Who could doubt, after this, that he was the Czar 
 of Russia ? I have nevertheless had reasons to 
 doubt of his identity since that period, and which 
 of my conjectures is right, I believe the God of hea- 
 ven only knows, for I do not. I shall go on to write 
 
206 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 such things as I remember, and if any one shall 
 ever take the trouble to read over these confessions, 
 such a one will judge for himself. It will be ob- 
 served, that since ever I fell in with this extraordi- 
 nary person, I have written about him only, and I 
 must continue to do so to the end of this memoir, 
 as I have performed no great or interesting action 
 in which he had not a principal share. 
 
 He came to me one day and said, " We must 
 not linger thus in executing what we have resolved 
 on. We have much before our hands to perform for 
 the benefit of mankind, both civil as well as religious. 
 Let us do what we have to do here, and then we 
 must wend our way to other cities, and perhaps to 
 other countries. Mr. Blanchard is to hold forth 
 in the high church of Paisley on Sunday next, on 
 some particularly great occasion : this must be de- 
 feated ; he must not go there. As he will be busy 
 arranging his discourses, we may expect him to be 
 walking by himself in Finnieston Dell the greater 
 part of Friday and Saturday. Let us go and cut 
 him off. What is the life of a man more than the 
 life of a lamb, or any guiltless animal ? It is not 
 half so much, especially when we consider the im- 
 mensity of the mischief this old fellow is working 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 207 
 
 among our fellow-creatures. Can there be any 
 doubt that it is the duty of one consecrated to God, 
 to cut off such a mildew ?" 
 
 " I fear me, great sovereign," said I, " that your 
 ideas of retribution are too sanguine, and too arbi- 
 trary for the laws of this country. I dispute not 
 that your motives are great and high ; but have 
 you debated the consequences, and settled the re- 
 sult ?" 
 
 " I have," returned he, " and hold myself ame- 
 nable for the action, to the laws of God and of 
 equity; as to the enactments of men I despise them. 
 Fain would I see the weapon of the Lord of Hosts, 
 begin the work of vengeance that awaits it to do !" 
 
 I could not help thinking, that I perceived a 
 little derision of countenance on his face as he said 
 this, nevertheless I sunk dumb before such a man, 
 and aroused myself to the task, seeing he would 
 not have it deferred. I approved of it in theory, 
 but my spirit stood aloof from the practice. I saw 
 and was convinced that the elect of God would be 
 happier, and purer, were the wicked and unbe- 
 lievers all cut off from troubling and misleading 
 them, but if it had not been the instigations of this 
 illustrious stranger, I should never have presumed 
 
208 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to begin so great a work myself. Yet, though he 
 often aroused my zeal to the highest pitch, still my 
 heart at times shrunk from the shedding of life- 
 blood, and it was only at the earnest and unceas- 
 ing instigations of my enlightened and voluntary 
 patron, that I at length put my hand to the con- 
 clusive work. After I said all that I could say, 
 and all had been overborne, (I remember my actions 
 and words as well as it had been yesterday,) I turn- 
 ed round hesitatingly, and looked up to Heaven for 
 direction ; but there was a dimness came over my 
 eyes that I could not see. The appearance was 
 as if their had been a veil drawn over me, so nigh 
 that I put up my hand to feel it ; and then Gil- 
 Martin (as this great sovereign was pleased to have 
 himself called,) frowned, and asked me what I was 
 grasping at ? I knew not what to say, but answer- 
 ed, with fear and shame, " I have no weapons, not 
 one ; nor know I where any are to be found." 
 
 " The God whom thou servest will provide 
 these," said he ; " if thou provest worthy of the 
 trust committed to thee." 
 
 I looked again up into the cloudy veiLthat co- 
 vered us, and thought I beheld golden weapons of 
 every description let down in it, but all with their 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 209 
 
 points towards me. I kneeled, and was going to 
 stretch out my hand to take one, when my patron 
 seized me, as I thought, by the clothes, and drag- 
 ged me away with as much ease as I had been a 
 lamb, saying, with a joyful and elevated voice, — 
 " Come, my friend, let us depart : thou art dream- 
 ing — thou art dreaming. Rouse up all the ener- 
 gies of thy exalted mind, for thou art an highly- 
 favoured one ; and doubt thou not, that he whom 
 thou servest, will be ever at thy right and left hand, 
 to direct and assist thee." 
 
 These words, but particularly the vision I had 
 seen, of the golden weapons descending out of Hea- 
 ven, inflamed my zeal to that height that I was 
 as one beside himself; which my parents perceived 
 that night, and made some motions toward confin- 
 ing me to my room. I joined in the family pray- 
 ers, and then I afterwards sung a psalm and pray- 
 ed by myself; and I had good reasons for believ- 
 ing that that small oblation of praise and prayer 
 was not turned to sin. But there are strange 
 things, and unaccountable agencies in nature : He 
 only who dwells between the Cherubim can un- 
 riddle them, and to him the honour must redound 
 for ever. Amen. 
 
210 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 I felt greatly strengthened and encouraged that 
 night, and the next morning I ran to meet my 
 companion, out of whose eye I had now no life. 
 He rejoiced at seeing me so forward in the great 
 work of reformation by blood, and said many things 
 to raise my hopes of future fame and glory ; and 
 then, producing two pistols of pure beaten gold, 
 he held them out and proffered me the choice of 
 one, saying, " See what thy master hath provided 
 thee !" I took one of them eagerly, for I perceiv- 
 ed at once that they were two of the very weapons 
 that were let down from Heaven in the cloudy veil, 
 the dim tapestry of the firmament ; and I said to 
 myself, " Surely this is the will of the Lord." 
 
 The little splendid and enchanting piece was so 
 perfect, so complete, and so ready for executing 
 the will of the donor, that I now longed to use it 
 in his service. I loaded it with my own hand, as 
 Gil-Martin did the other, and we took our stations 
 behind a bush of hawthorn and bramble on the verge 
 of the wood, and almost close to the walk. My pa- 
 tron was so acute in all his calculations that he 
 never mistook an event. We had not taken our 
 stand above a minute and a half, till old Mr. Blan- 
 chard appeared, coming slowly on the path. When 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 211 
 
 we saw this, we cowered down, and leaned each of us 
 a knee upon the ground, pointing the pistols 
 through the bush, with an aim so steady, that it 
 was impossible to miss our victim. 
 
 He came deliberately on, pausing at times so 
 long, that we dreaded he was going to turn. Gil- 
 Martin dreaded it, and I said I did, but wished in 
 my heart that he might. He, however, came on- 
 ward, and I will never forget the manner in which 
 he came ! No — I don't believe I ever can forget 
 it, either in the narrow bounds of time or the ages 
 of eternity ! He was a boardly ill-shaped man, of 
 a rude exterior, and a little bent with age ; his 
 hands were clasped behind his back, and below 
 his coat, and he walked with a slow swinging air 
 that was very peculiar. When he paused and 
 looked abroad on nature, the act was highly im- 
 pressive : he seemed conscious of being all alone, 
 and conversant only with God and the elements of 
 his creation. Never was there such a picture of 
 human inadvertency ! a man approaching step by 
 step to the one that was to hurl him out of one ex- 
 istence into another, with as much ease and indif- 
 ference as the ox goeth to the stall. Hideous vi- 
 p2 
 
212 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 sion, wilt thou not be gone from my mental sight ! 
 If not, let me bear with thee as I can ! 
 
 When he came straight opposite to the muzzles 
 of our pieces, Gil-Martin called out " Eh !" with 
 a short quick sound. The old man, without start- 
 ing, turned his face and breast toward us, and look- 
 ed into the wood, but looked over our heads. 
 " Now !" whispered my companion, and fired. But 
 my hand refused the office, for I was not at that 
 moment sure about becoming an assassin in the 
 cause of Christ and his Church. I thought I heard 
 a sweet voice behind me, whispering me to beware, 
 and I was going to look round, when my compa- 
 nion exclaimed, " Coward, we are ruined P 
 
 I had no time for an alternative : Gil-Martin's 
 ball had not taken effect, which was altogether 
 wonderful, as the old man's breast was within a few 
 yards of him. " Hilloa ! " cried Blanchard ; " what 
 is that for, you dog !" and with that he came for- 
 ward to look over the bush. I hesitated, as I said, 
 and attempted to look behind me ; but there was 
 no time : the next step discovered two assassins ly- 
 ing in covert, waiting for blood. " Coward, we are 
 ruined !" cried my indignant friend ; and that mo- 
 ment my piece was discharged. The effect was as 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 213 
 
 might have been expected : the old man first stum- 
 bled to one side, and then fell on his back. We 
 kept our places, and I perceived my companion's 
 eyes gleaming with an unnatural joy. The wound- 
 ed man raised himself from the bank to a sitting 
 posture, and I beheld his eyes swimming ; he, how- 
 ever, appeared sensible, for we heard him saying in 
 a low and rattling voice, " Alas, alas ! whom have 
 I offended, that they should have been driven to an 
 act like this ! Come forth and shew yourselves, 
 that I may either forgive you before I die, or curse 
 you in the name of the Lord." He then fell a- 
 groping with both hands on the ground, as if feel- 
 ing for something he had lost, manifestly in the 
 agonies of death ; and, with a solemn and interrupt- 
 ed prayer for forgiveness, he breathed his last. 
 
 I had become rigid as a statue, whereas my as- 
 sociate appeared to be elevated above measure. 
 . "Arise, thou faint-hearted one, and let us be going/'' 
 said he. " Thou hast done well for once ; but 
 wherefore hesitate in such a cause ? This is but 
 a small beginning of so great a work as that of purg- 
 ing the Christian world. But the first victim is a 
 worthy one, and more of such lights must be ex- 
 tinguished immediately." 
 v3 
 
214 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 We touched not our victim, nor any thing per- 
 taining to him, for fear of staining our hands with 
 his blood; and the firing having brought three 
 men within view, who were hasting towards the 
 spot, my undaunted companion took both the pis- 
 tols, and went forward as with intent to meet them, 
 bidding me shift for myself. I ran off in a con- 
 trary direction, till I came to the foot of the Pear- 
 man Sike, and then, running up the hollow of that, 
 I appeared on the top of the bank as if I had been 
 another man brought in view by hearing the shots 
 in such a place. I had a full view of a part of 
 what passed, though not of all. I saw my com- 
 panion going straight to meet the men, apparent- 
 ly with a pistol in every hand, waving in a careless 
 manner. They seemed not quite clear of meet- 
 ing with him, and so he went straight on, and 
 passed between them. They looked after him, 
 and came onward ; but when they came to the old 
 man lying stretched in his blood, then they turn- 
 ed and pursued my companion, though not so 
 quickly as they might have done ; and I under- 
 stood that from the first they saw no more of him. 
 
 Great was the confusion that day in Glasgow. 
 The most popular of all their preachers of morali- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 215 
 
 ty was (what they called) murdered in cold blood, 
 and a strict and extensive search was made for the 
 assassin. Neither of the accomplices was found, 
 however, that is certain, nor was either of them so 
 much as suspected ; but another man was apprehend- 
 ed under circumstances that warranted suspicion. — 
 This was one of the things that I witnessed in 
 my life, which I never understood, and it surely 
 was one of my patron's most dexterous tricks, for 
 I must still say, what I have thought from the be- 
 ginning, that like him there never was a man 
 created. The young man who was taken up was 
 a preacher ; and it was proved that he had pur- 
 chased fire arms in town, and gone out with them 
 that morning. But the far greatest mystery of the 
 whole was, that two of the men, out of the three 
 who met my companion, swore, that that unfortu- 
 nate preacher was the man whom they met with a 
 pistol in each hand, fresh from the death of the 
 old divine. The poor fellow made a confused 
 speech himself, which there is not the least doubt 
 was quite true ; but it was laughed to scorn, and an 
 expression of horror ran through both the hearers 
 and jury. I heard the whole trial, and so did Gil- 
 Martin ; but we left the journeyman preacher to 
 
216 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AN1> 
 
 his fate, and from that time forth I have had no 
 faith in the justice of criminal trials. If once a 
 man is prejudiced on one side, he will swear any 
 thing in support of such prejudice. I tried to ex- 
 postulate with my mysterious friend on the horrid 
 injustice of suffering this young man to die for our 
 act, but the prince exulted in it more than the 
 other, and said the latter was the most dangerous 
 man of the two. 
 
 The alarm in and about Glasgow was prodigi- 
 ous. The country being divided into two politi- 
 cal parties, the court and the country party, the 
 former held meetings, issued proclamations, and 
 offered rewards, ascribing all to the violence of party 
 spirit, and deprecating the infernal measures of 
 their opponents. I did not understand their poli- 
 tical differences ; but it was easy to see that the 
 true Gospel preachers joined all on one side, and 
 the upholders of pure morality and a blameless life 
 on the other, so that this division proved a test to 
 us, and it was forthwith resolved, that we two should 
 pick out some of the leading men of this unsaintly 
 and heterodox cabal, and cut them off one by one, 
 as occasion should suit. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 217 
 
 Now, the ice being broke, I felt considerable zeal 
 in our great work, but pretended much more ; and 
 we might soon have kidnapped them all through 
 the ingenuity of my patron, had not our next at- 
 tempt miscarried, by some awkwardness or mistake 
 of mine. The consequence was, that he was dis- 
 covered fairly, and very nigh seized. I also was 
 seen, and suspected so far, that my reverend father, 
 my mother, and myself were examined privately. 
 I denied all knowledge of the matter ; and they 
 held it in such a ridiculous light, and their con- 
 viction of the complete groundlessness of the sus- 
 picion was so perfect, that their testimony prevail- 
 ed, and the affair was hushed. I was obliged, 
 however, to walk circumspectly, and saw my com- 
 panion the prince very seldom, who was prowl- 
 ing about every day, quite unconcerned about his 
 safety. He was every day a new man, however, 
 and needed not to be alarmed at any danger ; for 
 such a facility had he in disguising himself, that if 
 it had not been for a pass-word which we had be- 
 tween us, for the purposes of recognition, I never 
 could have known him myself. 
 
 It so happened that my reverend father was cal- 
 led to Edinburgh about this time, to assist with 
 
218 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 his council in settling the national affairs. At my 
 earnest request I was permitted to accompany him, 
 at which both my associate and I rejoiced, as we 
 were now about to move in a new and extensive 
 field. All this time I never knew where my illus- 
 trious friend resided. He never once invited me 
 to call on him at his lodgings, nor did he ever 
 come to our house, which made me sometimes to 
 suspect, that if any of our great efforts in the cause 
 of true religion were discovered, he intended leav- 
 ing me in the lurch. Consequently, when we met 
 in Edinburgh (for we travelled not in company) 
 I proposed to go with him to look for lodgings, 
 telling him at the same time what a blessed religi- 
 ous family my reverend instructor and I were set- 
 tled in. He said he rejoiced at it, but he made a 
 rule of never lodging in any particular house, but 
 took these daily, or hourly, as he found it convenient, 
 and that he never was at a loss in any circumstance. 
 
 " What a mighty trouble you put yourself to, 
 great sovereign !" said I, " and all, it would ap- 
 pear, for the purpose of seeing and knowing more 
 and more of the human race." 
 
 " I never go but where I have some great pur- 
 pose to serve,' returned he, " either in the ad- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 219 
 
 vancement of my own power and dominion, or in 
 thwarting my enemies." 
 
 " With all due deference to your great com- 
 prehension, my illustrious friend," said I, " it 
 strikes me that you can accomplish very little 
 either the one way or the other here, in the hum- 
 ble and private capacity you are pleased to occupy." 
 
 " It is your own innate modesty that prompts 
 such a remark," said he. " Do you think the gain- 
 ing of you to my service, is not an attainment wor- 
 thy of being envied by the greatest potentate in 
 Christendom ? Before I had missed such a prize 
 as the attainment of your services, I would have 
 travelled over one half of the habitable globe." — 
 I bowed with great humility, but at the same time 
 how could I but feel proud and highly flattered ? 
 He continued. " Believe me, my dear friend, for 
 such a prize I account no effort too high. For a 
 man who is not only dedicated to the King of Hea- 
 ven, in the most solemn manner, soul, body, and 
 spirit, but also chosen of him from the beginning, 
 justified, sanctified, and received into a communion 
 that never shall be broken, and from which no act 
 of his shall ever remove him, — the possession 
 of such a man, I tell you, is worth kingdoms ; be- 
 
220 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 cause every deed that he performs, he does it with 
 perfect safety to himself and honour to me. 11 — I 
 bowed again, lifting my hat, and he went on. — " I 
 am now going to put his courage in the cause he 
 has espoused, to a severe test — to a trial at which 
 common nature would revolt, but he who is dedi- 
 cated to be the sword of the Lord, must raise him- 
 self above common humanity. You have a father 
 and a brother according to the flesh, what do you 
 know of them ?" 
 
 "lam sorry to say I know nothing good," said 
 I. " They are reprobates, cast-away s, beings de- 
 voted to the wicked one, and, like him, workers of 
 every species of iniquity with greediness." 
 
 " They must both fall P said he, with a sigh 
 and melancholy look : " It is decreed in the coun- 
 cils above, that they must both fall by your hand." 
 
 " The God of heaven forbid it IV. said I. " They 
 are enemies to Christ and his church, that I know 
 and believe ; but they shall live and die in their 
 iniquity for me, and reap their guerdon when their 
 time cometh. There my hand shall not strike." 
 
 " The feeling is natural, and amiable," said he ; 
 " but you must think again. Whether are the 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 221 
 
 bonds of carnal nature, or the bonds and vows of 
 the Lord, strongest ?" 
 
 " I will not reason with you on this head, 
 mighty potentate," said I, " for whenever I do so 
 it is but to be put down. I shall only express my 
 determination, not to take vengeance out of the 
 Lord's hand in this instance. It availeth not. 
 These are men that have the mark of the beast in 
 their foreheads and right hands ; they are lost 
 beings themselves, but have no influence over 
 others. Let them perish in their sins ; for they 
 shall not be meddled with by me." 
 
 " How preposterously you talk, my dear friend !" 
 said he. " These people are your greatest ene- 
 mies ; they would rejoice to see you annihilated. 
 And now that you have taken up the Lord's cause 
 of being avenged on his enemies, wherefore spare 
 those that are your own as well as his ? Besides, 
 you ought to consider what great advantages would 
 be derived to the cause of righteousness and truth, 
 were the estate and riches of that opulent house in 
 your possession, rather than in that of such as op- 
 pose the truth and all manner of holiness." 
 
 This was a portion of the consequence of fol- 
 lowing my illustrious adviser's summary mode of 
 
222 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 procedure, that had never entered into my cal- 
 culation — I disclaimed all idea of being influenced 
 by it ; however, I cannot but say that the desire of 
 being enabled to do so much good, by the posses- 
 sion of these bad men's riches, made some impres- 
 sion on my heart, and I said I would consider of 
 the matter. I did consider it, and that right seri- 
 ously as well as frequently ; and there was scarcely 
 an hour in the day on which my resolves were not 
 animated by my great friend, till at length I be- 
 gan to have a longing desire to kill my brother, in 
 particular. Should any man ever read this scroll, 
 he will wonder at this confession, and deem it sa- 
 vage and unnatural. So it appeared to me at first, 
 but a constant thinking of an event changes every 
 one of its features. I have done all for the best, 
 and as I was prompted, by one who knew right and 
 wrong much better than I did. I had a desire to 
 slay him, it is true, and such a desire too as a thirs- 
 ty man has to drink ; but at the same time, this 
 longing desire was mingled with a certain terror, 
 as if I had dreaded that the drink for which I long- 
 ed was mixed with deadly poison. My mind was 
 so much weakened, or rather softened about this 
 time, that my faith began a little to give way, and 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 223 
 
 I doubted most presumptuously of the least tangible 
 of all Christian tenets, namely, of the infallibility 
 of the elect. I hardly comprehended the great 
 work I had begun, and doubted of my own infalli- 
 bility, or that of any created being. But I was 
 brought over again by the unwearied diligence of 
 my friend to repent of my backsliding, and view 
 once more the superiority of the Almighty's coun- 
 sels in its fullest latitude. Amen. 
 
 I prayed very much in secret about this time, and 
 that with great fervor of spirit, as well as humility ; 
 and my satisfaction at finding all my requests grant- 
 ed is not to be expressed. 
 
 My illustrious friend still continuing to sound in 
 my ears the imperious duty to which I was called, 
 of making away with my sinful relations, and quot- 
 ing many parallel actions out of the Scriptures, 
 and the writings of the holy Fathers, of the pleasure 
 the Lord took in such as executed his vengeance 
 on the wicked, I was obliged to acquiesce in his mea- 
 sures, though with certain limitations. It was not 
 easy to answer his arguments, and yet I was afraid 
 that he soon perceived a leaning to his will on my 
 part. " If the acts of Jehu, in rooting out the 
 whole house of his master, were ordered and appro v- 
 
224 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ed of by the Lord," said he, " would it not have 
 been more praiseworthy if one of AhaVs own sons 
 had stood up for the cause of the God of Israel, 
 and rooted out the sinners and their idols out of the 
 land r 
 
 " It would certainly,'" said I. " To our duty 
 to God all other duties must yield. 1,1 
 
 " Go thou then and do likewise, 1 ' said he. " Thou 
 art called to a high vocation ; to cleanse the sanc- 
 tuary of thy God in this thy native land by the 
 shedding of blood ; go thou forth then like a ruling 
 energy, a master spirit of desolation in the dwell- 
 ings of the wicked, and high shall be your reward 
 both here and hereafter. 11 
 
 My heart now panted with eagerness to look my 
 brother in the face : On which my companion, who 
 was never out of the way, conducted me to a small 
 square in the suburbs of the city, where there were 
 a number of young noblemen and gentlemen play- 
 ing at a vain, idle, and sinful game, at which there 
 was much of the language of the accursed going 
 on ; and among these blasphemers he instantly 
 pointed out my brother to me. I was fired with 
 indignation at seeing him in such company, and so 
 employed ; and I placed myself close beside him 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 225 
 
 to watch all his motions, listen to his words, and 
 draw inferences from what I saw and heard. In 
 what a sink of sin was he wallowing ! I resolved to 
 take him to task, and if he refused to be admonish- 
 ed, to inflict on him some condign punishment ; and 
 knowing that my illustrious friend and director 
 was looking on, I resolved to show some spirit. 
 Accordingly, I waited until I heard him profane 
 his Maker's name three times, and then, my spi- 
 ritual indignation being roused above all restraint, I 
 went up and kicked him. Yes, I went boldly up and 
 struck him with my foot, and meant to have given 
 him a more severe blow than it was my fortune to 
 inflict. It had, however, the effect of rousing up 
 his corrupt nature to quarrelling and strife, instead 
 of taking the chastisement of the Lord in humility 
 and meekness, He ran furiously against me in the 
 choler that is always inspired by the wicked one ; 
 but I overthrew him, by reason of impeding the 
 natural and rapid progress of his unholy feet, run- 
 ning to destruction. I also fell slightly ; but his 
 fall proving a severe one, he arose in wrath, and 
 struck me with the mall which he held in his hand, 
 until my blood flowed copiously ; and from that 
 moment I vowed his destruction in my heart. But 
 
226 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 I chanced to have no weapon at that time, nor any 
 means of inflicting due punishment on the caitiff, 
 which would not have been returned double on my 
 head, by him and his graceless associates. I mix- 
 ed among them at the suggestion of my friend, 
 and following them to their den of voluptuousness 
 and sin, I strove to be admitted among them, in 
 hopes of finding some means of accomplishing my 
 great purpose, while I found myself moved by the 
 spirit within me so to do. But I was not only de- 
 barred, but, by the machinations of my wicked bro- 
 ther and his associates, cast into prison. 
 
 I was not sorry at being thus honoured to suffer 
 in the cause of righteousness, and at the hands of 
 sinful men ; and as soon as I was alone, I betook 
 myself to prayer, deprecating the long-suffering of 
 God toward such horrid sinners. My jailer came 
 to me, and insulted me. He was a rude un- 
 principled fellow, partaking much of the loose and 
 carnal manners of the age ; but I remembered of 
 having read, in the Cloud of Witnesses, of such 
 men formerly, having been converted by the im- 
 prisoned saints ; so I set myself, with all my heart, 
 to bring about this man's repentance and refor- 
 mation. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 227 
 
 " Fat the deil are ye yoolling an"* praying that 
 gate for, man ?" said he, coming angrily in. "I 
 thought the days o' praying prisoners had been a" 
 ower. We had rowth o" them aince ; an" they 
 were the poorest an 1 the blackest bargains that ever 
 poor jailers saw. Gie up your crooning, or 111 pit 
 you to an in-by place, where ye sail get plenty o't." 
 
 " Friend,'" said I, " I am making my appeal at 
 that bar where all human actions are seen and judg- 
 ed, and where you shall not be forgot, sinful as 
 you are. Go in peace, and let me be." 
 
 " Hae ye naebody nearer-hand hame to mak 
 your appeal to, man? 11 said he ; " because an ye hae- 
 na, I dread you an 1 me may be unco weel acquain- 
 ts by an' by ?" 
 
 I then opened up the mysteries of religion to 
 him in a clear and perspicuous manner, but parti- 
 cularly the great doctrine of the election of grace ; 
 and then I added, " Now, friend, you must tell me 
 if you pertain to this chosen number. It is in 
 every man's power to ascertain this, and it is every 
 man's duty to do it." 
 
 " An" fat the better wad you be for the kenning 
 o' this, man ?" said he. 
 
 a 2 
 
228 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " Because, if you are one of my brethren, I will 
 take you into sweet communion and fellowship," 
 returned I ; " but if you belong to the unregener- 
 ate, I have a commission to slay you." 
 
 " The deil you hae, callant !" said he, gaping 
 and laughing. " An' pray now, fa was it that 
 gae you siccan a braw commission ?" 
 
 " My commission is sealed by the signet 
 above," said I, " and that I will let you and all 
 sinners know. I am dedicated to it by the most 
 solemn vows and engagements. I am the sword of 
 the Lord, and Famine and Pestilence are my sis- 
 ters. Wo then to the wicked of this land, for they 
 must fall down dead together, that the church may 
 be purified !" 
 
 " Oo, foo, foo ! I see how it is," said he ; " yours 
 is a very braw commission, but you will have the 
 small opportunity of carrying it through here. 
 Take my advising, and write a bit of a letter to 
 your friends, and I will send it, for this is no place 
 for such a great man. If you cannot steady your 
 hand to write, as I see you have been at your great 
 work, a word of a mouth may do ; for I do assure 
 you this is not the place at all, of any in, the world, 
 for your operations." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 229 
 
 The man apparently thought I was deranged in 
 my intellect. He could not swallow such great 
 truths at the first morsel. So I took his advice, 
 and sent a line to my reverend father, who was not 
 long in coming, and great was the jailer's wonder- 
 ment when he saw all the great Christian noblemen 
 of the land sign my bond of freedom. 
 
 My reverend father took this matter greatly to 
 heart, and bestirred himself in the good cause till 
 the transgressors were ashamed to shew their faces. 
 My illustrious companion was not idle : I wonder- 
 ed that he came not to me in prison, nor at my 
 release ; but he was better employed, in stirring up 
 the just to the execution of God's decrees ; and he 
 succeeded so well, that my brother and all his as- 
 sociates had nearly fallen victims to their wrath : 
 But many were wounded, bruised, and imprisoned, 
 and much commotion prevailed in the city. For 
 my part, I was greatly strengthened in my resolu- 
 tion by the anathemas of my reverend father, who, 
 privately, (that is in a family capacity,) in his pray- 
 ers, gave up my father and brother, according to the 
 flesh, to Satan, making it plain to all my senses of 
 perception, that they were beings given up of God, 
 to be devoured by fiends or men, at their will and 
 d3 
 
230 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 pleasure, and that whosoever should slay them, 
 would do God good service. 
 
 The next morning my illustrious friend met me 
 at an early hour, and he was greatly overjoyed at 
 hearing my sentiments now chime so much in uni- 
 son with his own. I said, " I longed for the day 
 and the hour that I might look my brother in the 
 face at Gilgal, and visit on him the iniquity of his 
 father and himself, for that I was now strengthen- 
 ed and prepared for the deed." 
 
 " I have been watching the steps and movements 
 of the profligate one," said he ; " and lo, I will take 
 you straight to his presence. Let your heart be as 
 the heart of the lion, and your arms strong as the 
 shekels of brass, and swift to avenge as the bolt 
 that descendeth from Heaven, for the blood of the 
 just and the good hath long flowed in Scotland. But 
 already is the day of their avengement begun ; the 
 hero is at length arisen, who shall send all such as 
 bear enmity to the true church, or trust in works 
 of their own, to Tophet !" 
 
 Thus encouraged, I followed my friend, who led 
 me directly to the same court in which I had chas- 
 tised the miscreant on the foregoing day ; and be- 
 hold, there was the same group again assembled. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNE11. 231 
 
 They eyed me with terror in their looks, as I walk- 
 ed among them and eyed them with looks of dis- 
 approbation and rebuke ; and I saw that the very 
 eye of a chosen one lifted on these children of Be- 
 lial, was sufficient to dismay and put them to flight. 
 I walked aside to my friend, who stood at a distance 
 looking on, and he said to me, " What thinkest 
 thou now ff and I answered in the words of the 
 venal prophet, " Lo now, if I had a sword into 
 mine hand, I would even kill him." 
 
 " Wherefore lackest thou it ?" said he. " Dost 
 thou not see that they tremble at thy presence, 
 knowing that the avenger of blood is among them." 
 
 My heart was lifted up on hearing this, and 
 again I strode into the midst of them, and eyeing 
 them with threatening looks, they were so much 
 confounded, that they abandoned their sinful pas- 
 time, and fled every one to his house ! 
 
 This was a palpable victory gained over the 
 wicked, and I thereby knew that the hand of the 
 Lord was with me. My companion also exulted, 
 and said, " Did not I tell thee ? Behold thou 
 dost not not know one half of thy might, or of the 
 great things thou art destined to do. Come with 
 me and I will show thee more than this, for these 
 
232 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 young men cannot subsist without the exercises of 
 sin. I listened to their councils, and I know where 
 they will meet again." 
 
 Accordingly he led me a little farther to the 
 south, and we walked aside till by degrees we saw 
 some people begin to assemble ; and in a short 
 time we perceived the same group stripping off 
 their clothes to make them more expert in the prac- 
 tice of madness and folly. Their game was begun 
 before we approached, and so also were the oaths 
 and cursing. I put my hands in my pockets, and 
 walked with dignity and energy into the midst of 
 them. It was enough : Terror and astonishment 
 seized them. A few of them cried out against me, 
 but their voices were soon hushed amid the mur- 
 murs of fear. One of them, in the name of the 
 rest, then came and besought of me to grant them 
 liberty to amuse themselves ; but I refused peremp- 
 torily, dared the whole multitude so much as to 
 touch me with one of their fingers, and dismissed 
 them in the name of the Lord. 
 
 Again they all fled and dispersed at my eye, and 
 I went home in triumph, escorted by my friend, 
 and some well-meaning young Christians, who, how- 
 ever, had not learned to deport themselves with so- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 233 
 
 berness and humility. But my ascendency over 
 my enemies was great indeed ; for wherever I ap- 
 peared I was hailed with approbation, and where- 
 ever my guilty brother made his appearance, he was 
 hooted and held in derision, till he was forced to 
 hide his disgraceful head, and appear no more in 
 public. 
 
 Immediately after this I was seized with a strange 
 distemper, which neither my friends nor physicians 
 could comprehend, and it confined me to my cham- 
 ber for many days ; but I knew, myself, that I was 
 bewitched, and suspected my fathers reputed con- 
 cubine of the deed. I told my fears to my rever- 
 end protector, who hesitated concerning them, but 
 I knew by his words and looks that he was con- 
 scious I was right. I generally conceived myself 
 to be two people. When I lay in bed, I deemed 
 there were two of us in it ; when I sat up, I always 
 beheld another person, and always in the same po- 
 sition from the place where I sat or stood, which 
 was about three paces off me towards my left side. 
 It mattered not how many or how few were pre- 
 sent: this my second self was sure to be present 
 in his place ; and this occasioned a confusion in all 
 my words and ideas that utterly astounded my 
 
234 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 friends, who all declared, that instead of being de- 
 ranged in my intellect, they had never heard my 
 conversation manifest so much energy or sublimity 
 of conception ; but for all that, over the singular 
 delusion that I was two persons, my reasoning fa- 
 culties had no power. The most perverse part of 
 it was, that I rarely conceived myself to be any of 
 the two persons. I thought for the most part that 
 my companion was one of them, and my brother the 
 other ; and I found, that to be obliged to speak 
 and answer in the character of another man, was a 
 most awkward business at the long run. 
 
 Who can doubt, from this statement, that I was 
 bewitched, and that my relatives were at the ground 
 of it ? The constant and unnatural persuasion that 
 I was my brother, proved it to my own satisfaction, 
 and must, I think, do so to every unprejudiced 
 person. This victory of the wicked one over me 
 kept me confined in my chamber, at Mr. Millar's 
 house, for nearly a month, until the prayers of the 
 faithful prevailed, and I was restored. I knew it 
 was a chastisement for my pride, because my heart 
 was lifted up at my superiority over the enemies 
 of the church ; nevertheless, I determined to make 
 short work with the aggressor, that the righteous 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 235 
 
 might not be subjected to the effect of his diabolical 
 arts again. 
 
 I say I was confined a month. I beg he that 
 readeth to take note of this, that he may estimate 
 how much the word, or even the oath, of a wicked 
 man, is to depend on. For a month I saw no one 
 but such as came into my room, and for all that, 
 it will be seen, that there were plenty of the same 
 set to attest upon oath that I saw my brother every 
 day during that period ; that I persecuted him with 
 my presence day and night, while all the time I 
 never saw his face, save in a delusive dream. I 
 cannot comprehend what manoeuvres my illustrious 
 friend was playing off with them about this time ; 
 for he, having the art of personating whom he 
 chose, had peradventure deceived them, else so ma- 
 ny of them had never all attested the same thing. 
 I never saw any man so steady in his friendships 
 and attentions as he ; but as he made a rule of 
 never calling at private houses, for fear of some 
 discovery being made of his person, so I never saw 
 him while my malady lasted ; but as soon as I grew 
 better, I knew I had nothing ado but to attend at 
 some of our places of meeting, to see him again. 
 He was punctual, as usual, and I had not to wait. 
 
236 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 My reception was precisely as I apprehended. 
 There was no flaring, no flummery, nor bombastical 
 pretensions, but a dignified return to my obeisance, 
 and an immediate recurrence, in converse, to the 
 important duties incumbent on us, in our stations, 
 as reformers and purifiers of the Church. 
 
 "I have marked out a number of most danger- 
 ous characters in this city,'" said he, " all of whom 
 must be cut off from cumbering the true vineyard 
 before we leave this land. And if you bestir not 
 yourself in the work to which you are called, I must 
 raise up others who shall have the honour of it." 
 
 "I am, most illustrious prince, wholly at your 
 service," said I. " Show but what ought to be 
 done, and here is the heart to dare, and the hand 
 to execute. You pointed out my relations, accord- 
 ing to the flesh, as brands fitted to be thrown into 
 the burning. I approve peremptorily of the award ; 
 nay, I thirst to accomplish it ; for I myself have 
 suffered severely from their diabolical arts. When 
 once that trial of my devotion to the faith is ac- 
 complished, then be your future operations dis- 
 closed." 
 
 " You are free of your words and promises," 
 said he. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SIN NEK. 237 
 
 " So will I be of my deeds in the service of my 
 master, and that shalt thou see," said L " I lack 
 not the spirit, nor the will, but I lack experience 
 wofully ; and because of that shortcoming, must 
 bow to your suggestions.'''' 
 
 " Meet me here to-morrow betimes,'" said he, 
 '* and perhaps you may hear of some opportunity 
 of displaying your zeal in the cause of righteous- 
 ness.'''' 
 
 I met him as he desired me ; and he addressed 
 me with a hurried and joyful expression, telling me 
 that my brother was astir, and that a few minutes 
 ago he had seen him pass on his way to the moun- 
 tain. " The hill is wrapped in a cloud," added 
 he, " and never was there such an opportunity of 
 executing divine justice on a guilty sinner. You 
 may trace him in the dew, and shall infallibly find 
 him on the top of some precipice ; for it is only 
 in secret that he dares show his debased head to 
 the sun." 
 
 " I have no arms, else assuredly I would pursue 
 him and discomfit 11™," said I. 
 
 " Here is a small dagger,'*'' said he ; ft I have 
 nothing of weapon-kind about me save that, but it 
 
238 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 is a potent one ; and should you require it, there is 
 nothing more ready or sure." 
 
 " Will not you accompany me ?" said I : " Sure 
 you will ?" 
 
 " I will be with you, or near you," said he. " Go 
 you on before." 
 
 I hurried away as he directed me, and impru- 
 dently asked some of Queensberry's guards if such 
 and such a young man passed by them going out 
 from the city. I was answered in the affirmative, 
 and till then had doubted of my friend's intelli- 
 gence, it was so inconsistent with a profligate's life 
 to be so early astir. When I got the certain in- 
 telligence that my brother was before me, I fell a- 
 running, scarcely knowing what I did ; and look- 
 ing several times behind me, I perceived nothing 
 of my zealous and arbitrary friend. The conse- 
 quence of this was, that by the time I reached St. 
 Anthony's well, my resolution began to give way. 
 It was not my courage, for now that I had once 
 shed blood in the cause of the true faith, I was ex- 
 ceedingly bold and ardent; but whenever I was 
 left to myself, I was subject to sinful doubtings. 
 These always hankered on one point : I doubted 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 239 
 
 if the elect were infallible, and if the Scripture pro- 
 mises to them were binding in all situations and 
 relations. I confess this, and that it was a sinful 
 and shameful weakness in me, but my nature was 
 subject to it, and I could not eschew it. I never 
 doubted that I was one of the elect myself; for, 
 besides the strong inward and spiritual conviction 
 that I possessed, I had my kind father's assurance ; 
 and these had been revealed to him in that way 
 and measure that they could not be doubted. 
 
 In this desponding state, I sat myself down on a 
 stone, and bethought me of the rashness of my un- 
 derstanding. I tried to ascertain, to my own satisfac- 
 tion, whether or not I really had been commission- 
 ed of God to perpetrate these crimes in his behalf, 
 for in the eyes, and by the laws of men, they were 
 great and crying transgressions. While I sat pon- 
 dering on these things, I was involved in a veil of 
 white misty vapour, and looking up to heaven, I 
 was just about to ask direction from above, when I 
 heard as it were a still small voice close by me, 
 which uttered some words of derision and chiding. 
 I looked intensely in the direction whence it seem- 
 ed to come, and perceived a lady, robed in white, 
 who hasted toward me. She regarded me with a 
 
240 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 severity of look and gesture that appalled me so 
 much, I could not address her; but she waited not 
 for that, but coming close to my side, said, without 
 stopping, " Preposterous wretch ! how dare you lift 
 your eyes to heaven with such purposes in your 
 heart ? Escape homeward, and save your soul, or 
 farewell for ever!" 
 
 These were all the words that she uttered, as far 
 as I could ever recollect, but my spirits were kept 
 in such a tumult that morning, that something 
 might have escaped me. I followed her eagerly 
 with my eyes, but in a moment she glided over the 
 rocks above the holy well, and vanished. I per- 
 suaded myself that I had seen a vision, and that 
 the radiant being that had addressed me was one 
 of the good angels, or guardian spirits, commission- 
 ed by the Almighty to watch over the steps of the 
 just. My first impulse was to follow her advice, 
 and make my escape home ; for I thought to my- 
 self, " How is this interested and mysterious fo- 
 reigner, a proper judge of the actions of a free 
 Christian ?" 
 
 The thought was hardly framed, nor had I mov- 
 ed in a retrograde direction six steps, when I saw 
 my illustrious friend and great adviser descending 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 241 
 
 the ridge towards me with hasty and impassioned 
 strides. My heart fainted within me ; and when 
 he came up and addressed me, I looked as one 
 caught in a trespass. " What hath detained thee, 
 thou desponding trifler ?" said he. " Verily now 
 shall the golden opportunity be lost which may 
 never be recalled. I have traced the reprobate to 
 his sanctuary in the cloud, and lo he is perched on 
 the pinnacle of a precipice an hundred fathoms 
 high. One ketch with thy foot, or toss with thy 
 finger, shall throw him from thy sight into the fold- 
 ings of the cloud, and he shall be no more seen, 
 till found at the bottom of the cliff dashed to pieces. 
 Make haste therefore, thou loiterer, if thou wouldst 
 ever prosper and rise to eminence in the work of 
 thy Lord and master." 
 
 " I go no farther on this work," said I, " for I 
 have seen a vision that has reprimanded the deed." 
 
 " A vision ?" said he : " Was it that wench who 
 descended from the hill ?" 
 
 " The being that spake to me, and warned me 
 of my danger, was indeed in the form of a lady," 
 said I. 
 
 " She also approached me and said a few words," 
 returned he ; " and I thought there was something 
 
242 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 mysterious in her manner. Pray, what did she 
 say ? for the words of such a singular message, 
 and from such a messenger, ought to be attended 
 to. If I understood her aright, she was chiding us 
 for our misbelief and preposterous delay ." 
 
 I recited her words, but he answered that I had 
 been in a state of sinful doubting at the time, and 
 it was to these doubtings she had adverted. In 
 short, this wonderful and clear-sighted stranger 
 soon banished all my doubts and despondency, 
 making me utterly ashamed of them, and again I 
 set out with him in the pursuit of my brother. He 
 showed me the traces of his footsteps in the dew, 
 and pointed out the spot where I should find him. 
 " You have nothing more to do than go softly 
 down behind him," said he ; " which you can do to 
 within an ell of him y without being seen ; then rush 
 upon him, and throw him from his seat, where 
 there is neither footing nor hold. I will go, mean- 
 while, and amuse his sight by some exhibition in 
 the contrary direction, and he shall neither know 
 nor perceive who has done him this kind office : 
 for, exclusive of more weighty concerns, be assur- 
 ed of this, that the sooner he falls, the fewer crimes 
 will he have to answer for, and his estate in the 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 243 
 
 other world will be proportionally more tolerable, 
 than if he spent a long unregenerate life steeped 
 in iniquity to the loathing of the soul." 
 
 " Nothing can be more plain or more pertinent, V 
 said I : " therefore I fly to perform that which is 
 both a duty toward God and toward man !" 
 
 " You shall yet rise to great honour and pre- 
 ferment," said he. 
 
 " I value it not, provided I do honour and jus- 
 tice to the cause of my master here," said I. 
 
 " You shall be lord of your father's riches and 
 demesnes," added he. 
 
 " I disclaim and deride every selfish motive 
 thereto relating,'" said I, " farther than as it ena- 
 bles me to do good." 
 
 " Ay, but that is a great and a heavenly consi- 
 deration, that longing for ability to do good" said 
 he ; — and as he said so, I could not help remarking 
 a certain derisive exultation of expression which I 
 could not comprehend ; and indeed I have noted 
 this very often in my illustrious friend, and some- 
 times mentioned it civilly to him, but he has never 
 failed to disclaim it. On this occasion I said no- 
 thing, but concealing his poniard in my clothes, I 
 
 hasted up the mountain, determined to execute my 
 
 r2 
 
244 PllIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 purpose before any misgivings should again visit 
 me ; and I never had more ado, than in keeping 
 firm my resolution. I could not help my thoughts, 
 and there are certain trains and classes of thoughts 
 that have great power in enervating the mind. I 
 thought of the awful thing of plunging a fellow 
 creature from the top of a cliff into the dark and 
 misty void below— of his being dashed to pieces 
 on the protruding rocks, and of hearing his shrieks 
 as he descended the cloud, and beheld the shag- 
 ged points on which he was to alight. Then I 
 thought of plunging a soul so abruptly into hell, 
 or, at the best, sending it to hover on the confines 
 of that burning abyss— of its appearance at the bar 
 of the Almighty to receive its sentence. And then 
 I thought, " Will there not be a sentence pronounc- 
 ed against me there, by a jury of the just made per- 
 fect, and written down in the registers of heaven ?* 
 These thoughts, I say, came upon me unasked, 
 and instead of being able to dispel them, they mus- 
 tered, upon the summit of my imagination, in thicker 
 and stronger array : and there was another that im- 
 pressed me in a very particular manner, though, I 
 have reason to believe, not so strongly as those 
 above written. It was this : " What if I should 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 245 
 
 fail in my first effort ? Will the consequence not 
 be that I am tumbled from the top of the rock my- 
 self ?" and then all the feelings anticipated, with re- 
 gard to both body and soul, must happen to me ! 
 This was a spine-breaking reflection ; and yet, 
 though the probability was rather on that side, my 
 zeal in the cause of godliness was such that it car- 
 ried me on, maugre all danger and dismay. 
 
 I soon came close upon my brother, sitting on 
 the dizzy pinnacle, with his eyes fixed stedfastly in 
 the direction opposite to me. I descended the lit- 
 tle green ravine behind him with my feet foremost, 
 and every now and then raised my head, and watch- 
 ed his motions. His posture continued the same, 
 until at last I came so near him I could have heard 
 him breathe, if his face had been towards me. I laid 
 my cap aside, and made me ready to spring upon 
 him, and push him over. I could not for my life 
 accomplish it ! I do not think it was that / durst 
 not, for I have always felt my courage equal to any 
 thing in a good cause. But I had not the heart, 
 or something that I ought to have had. In short, 
 it was not done in time, as it easily might have 
 been. These thoughts are hard enemies where- 
 with to combat ! And I was so grieved that I could 
 r3 
 
24(5 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 not effect my righteous purpose, that I laid me 
 down on my face and shed tears. Then, again, I 
 thought of what my great enlightened friend and 
 patron would say to me, and again my resolution 
 rose indignant, and indissoluble save by blood. I 
 arose on my right knee and left foot, and had just 
 begun to advance the latter forward : the next 
 step my great purpose had been accomplished, and 
 the culprit had suffered the punishment due to 
 his crimes. But what moved him I knew not : in 
 the critical moment he sprung to his feet, and dash- 
 ing himself furiously against me, he overthrew me, 
 at the imminent peril of my life. I disencumber- 
 ed myself by main force, and fled, but he overhied 
 me, knocked me down, and threatened, with 
 dreadful oaths, to throw me from the cliff. After 
 I was a little recovered from the stunning blow, I 
 aroused myself to the combat ; and though I do 
 not recollect the circumstances of that deadly scuf- 
 fle very minutely, I know that I vanquished him so 
 far as to force him to ask my pardon, and crave a 
 reconciliation. I spurned at both, and left him to 
 the chastisements of his own wicked and corrupt 
 heart. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 247 
 
 My friend met me again on the hill, and derided 
 me, in a haughty and stern manner, for my imbeci- 
 lity and want of decision. I told him how nearly 
 I had effected my purpose, and excused myself as 
 well as I was able. On this, seeing me bleeding, 
 he advised me to swear the peace against my bro- 
 ther, and have him punished in the mean time, he 
 being the first aggressor. I promised compliance, 
 and we parted, for I was somewhat ashamed of my 
 failure, and was glad to be quit for the present of 
 one of whom I stood so much in awe. 
 
 When my reverend father beheld me bleeding a se- 
 cond time by the hand of a brother, he was moved 
 to the highest point of displeasure ; and, relying 
 on his high interest and the justice of his cause, 
 he brought the matter at once before the courts. 
 My brother and I were first examined face to face. 
 His declaration was a mere romance : mine was 
 not the truth ; but as it was by the advice of my 
 reverend father, and that of my illustrious friend, 
 both of whom I knew to be sincere Christians and 
 true believers, that I gave it, I conceived myself 
 completly justified on that score. I said, I had gone 
 up into the mountain early on the morning to pray, 
 and had withdrawn myself, for entire privacy, in- 
 
248 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to a little sequestered dell — had laid aside my cap, 
 and was in the act of kneeling, when I was rudely 
 attacked by my brother, knocked over, and nearly 
 slain. They asked my brother if this was true. 
 He acknowledged that it was; that I was bare-head- 
 ed, and in the act of kneeling when he ran foul of 
 me without any intent of doing so. But the judge 
 took him to task on the improbability of this, and 
 put the profligate sore out of countenance. The 
 rest of his tale told still worse, insomuch that he 
 was laughed at by all present, for the judge re- 
 marked to him, that granting it was true that he 
 had at first run against me on an open mountain^ 
 and overthrown me by accident, how was it, that 
 after I had extricated myself and fled, that he had 
 pursued, overtaken, and knocked me down a second 
 time ? Would he pretend that all that was like- 
 wise by chance ? The culprit had nothing to 
 say for himself on this head, and I shall not forget 
 my exultation and that of my reverend father, when 
 the sentence of the judge was delivered. It was, 
 that my wicked brother should be thrown into pri- 
 son, and tried on a criminal charge of assault and 
 battery, with the intent of committing murder. This 
 was a just and righteous judge, and saw things 
 
? 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 249 
 
 in their proper bearings, that is, he could discern 
 between a righteous and a wicked man, and then 
 there could be no doubt as to which of the two were 
 acting right, and which wrong. 
 
 Had I not been sensible that a justified person 
 could do nothing wrong, I should not have been 
 at my ease concerning the statement I had been 
 induced to give on this occasion. I could easily 
 perceive, that by rooting out the weeds from the gar- 
 den of the Church, I heightened the growth of 
 righteousness; but as to the tardy way of giving false 
 evidence on matters of such doubtful issue, I con- 
 fess I saw no great propriety in it from the begin- 
 ning. But I now only moved by the will and man- 
 date of my illustrious friend: I had no peace or com- 
 fort when out of his sight, nor have I ever been 
 able to boast of much in his presence ; so true is it 
 that a Christian's life is one of suffering. 
 
 My time was now much occupied, along with my 
 reverend preceptor, in making ready for the ap- 
 proaching trial, as the prosecutors. Our counsel as- 
 sured us of a complete victory, and that banish- 
 ment would be the mildest award of the law on the 
 offender. Mark how different was the result I From 
 the shifts and ambiguities of a wicked Bench, who 
 
250 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 had a fellow-feeling of iniquity with the defenders, 
 — my suit was cast, the graceless libertine was ab- 
 solved, and I was incarcerated, and bound over to 
 keep the peace, with heavy penalties, before I was 
 set at liberty. 
 
 I was exceedingly disgusted at this issue, and 
 blamed the counsel of my friend to his face. He 
 expressed great grief, and expatiated on the wick- 
 edness of our judicatories, adding, " I see I can- 
 not depend on you for quick and summary measures, 
 but for your sake I shall be revenged on that wick- 
 ed judge, and that you shall see in a few days."" 
 The Lord Justice Clerk died that same week ! But 
 he died in his own house and his own bed, and by 
 what means my friend effected it, I do not know. 
 He would not tell me a single word of the matter, 
 but the judged sudden death made a great noise, 
 and I made so many curious inquiries regarding 
 the particulars of ir, that some suspicions were 
 like to attach to our family, of some unfair means 
 used. For my part I know nothing, and rather 
 think he died byahe visitation of Heaven, and that 
 my friend had foreseen it, by symptoms, and sooth- 
 ed me by promises of complete revenge. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 251 
 
 It was some days before he mentioned my bro- 
 ther's meditated death to me again, and certainly 
 he then found me exasperated against him person- 
 ally to the highest degree. But I told him that I 
 could not now think any more of it, owing to the 
 late judgment of the court, by which, if my brother 
 were missing or found dead, I would not only for- 
 feit my life, but my friends would be ruined by the 
 penalties. 
 
 " I suppose you know and believe in the perfect 
 safety of your soul," said he, " and that that is a 
 matter settled from the beginning of time, and now 
 sealed and ratified both in heaven and earth ?" 
 
 " I believe in it thoroughly and perfectly," said 
 I ; " and whenever I entertain doubts of it, I am 
 sensible of sin and weakness." 
 
 " Very well, so then am I," said he. " I think 
 I can now divine, with all manner of certainty, what 
 will be the high and merited guerdon of your immor- 
 tal part. Hear me then farther : I give you my 
 solemn assurance, and bond of blood, that no hu- 
 man hand shall ever henceforth be able to injure 
 your life, or shed one drop of your precious blood, 
 but it is on the condition that you walk always by 
 my directions.". 
 
252 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " I will do so with cheerfulness," said I ; " for 
 without your enlightened counsel, I feel that I can 
 do nothing. But as to your power of protecting 
 my life, you must excuse me for doubting of it. 
 Nay, were we in your own proper dominions, you 
 could not ensure that." 
 
 " In whatever dominion or land I am, my 
 power accompanies me," said he ; " and it is on- 
 ly against human might and human weapon that I 
 ensure your life ; on that will I keep an eye, and on 
 that you may depend. I have never broken word or 
 promise with you. Do you credit me ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do," said I ; " for I see you are in 
 earnest. I believe, though I do not comprehend 
 you." 
 
 " Then why do you not at once challenge your 
 brother to the field of honour ? Seeing you now act 
 without danger, cannot you also act without fear ?" 
 " It is not fear," returned I ; " believe me, I 
 hardly know what fear is. It is a doubt, that on all 
 these emergencies constantly haunts my mind, that 
 in performing such and such actions I may fall 
 from my upright state. This makes fratricide a 
 fearful task." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 253 
 
 " This is imbecility itself," said he. " We have 
 settled, and agreed on that point an hundred times. 
 I would therefore advise that you challenge your 
 brother to single combat. I shall ensure your safe- 
 ty, and he cannot refuse giving you satisfaction." 
 
 " But then the penalties ?" said I. 
 
 " We will try to evade these," said he ; " and 
 supposing you should be caught, if once you are 
 Laird of Dalcastle and Balgrennan, what are the 
 penalties to you ?" 
 
 " Might we not rather pop him off in private 
 and quietness, as we did the deistical divine?" 
 said I. 
 
 " The deed would be alike meritorious, either 
 way," said he. " But may we not wait for years 
 before we find an opportunity ? My advice is to 
 challenge him, as privately as you will, and there 
 cut him off." 
 
 " So be it then," said I. " When the moon is 
 at the full, I will send for him forth to speak with 
 one, and there will I smite him and slay him, and 
 he shall trouble the righteous no more." 
 
 " Then this is the very night," said he. " The 
 moon is nigh to the full, and this night your bro- 
 ther and his sinful mates hold carousal ; for there 
 
254 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 is an intended journey to-morrow. The exulting 
 profligate leaves town, where we must remain till 
 the time of my departure hence ; and then is he 
 safe, and must live to dishonour God, and not only 
 destroy his own soul, but those of many others. 
 Alack, and wb is me ! The sins that he and his 
 friends will commit this very night, will cry to hea- 
 ven against us for our shameful delay ! When shall 
 our great work of cleansing the sanctuary be finish- 
 ed, if we proceed at this puny rate ?" 
 
 " I see the deed must be done, then," said I ; 
 " and since it is so, it shall be done. I will arm 
 myself forthwith, and from the midst of his wine 
 and debauchery you shall call him forth to me, and 
 there will I smite him with the edge of the sword, 
 that our great work be not retarded. " 
 
 " If thy execution were equal to thy intent, how 
 great a man you soon might be !" said he. " We 
 shall make the attempt once more ; and if it fail 
 again, why, I must use other means to bring about 
 my high purposes relating to mankind. — IJome and 
 make ready. I will go and procure what informa- 
 tion I can regarding their motions, and will meet 
 you in disguise twenty minutes hence, at the first 
 turn of Hewie's lane beyond the loch. r> 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 255 
 
 u I have nothing to make ready," said I ; " for 
 I do not choose to go home. Bring me a sword, 
 that we may consecrate it with prayer and vows, 
 and if I use it not to the bringing down of the 
 wicked and profane, then may the Lord do so to 
 me, and more also P 
 
 We parted, and there was I left again to the 
 multiplicity of my own thoughts for the space of 
 twenty minutes, a thing my friend never failed in 
 subjecting me to, and these were worse to contend 
 with than hosts of sinful men. I prayed inwardly, 
 that these deeds of mine might never be brought to 
 the knowledge of men who were incapable of ap- 
 preciating the high motives that led to them ; and 
 then I sung part of the 10th Psalm, likewise in 
 spirit ; but for all these efforts, my sinful doubts 
 returned, so that when my illustrious friend joined 
 me, and proffered me the choice of two gilded ra- 
 piers, I declined accepting any of them, and began, 
 in a very bold and energetic manner, to express my 
 doubts regarding the justification of all the deeds 
 of perfect men. He chided me severely, and brand- 
 ed me with cowardice, a thing that my nature never 
 was subject to; and then he branded me with 
 
256' PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 falsehood, and breach of the most solemn engage- 
 ments both to God and man. 
 
 I was compelled to take the rapier, much against 
 my inclination ; but for all the arguments, threats, 
 and promises that he could use, I would not con- 
 sent to send a challenge to my brother by his mouth. 
 There was one argument only that he made use of 
 which had some weight with me, but yet it would 
 not preponderate. He told me my brother was 
 gone to a notorious and scandalous habitation of 
 women, and that if I left him to himself for ever 
 so short a space longer, it might embitter his state 
 through ages to come. This was a trying concern 
 to me; but I resisted it, and reverted to my doubts. 
 On this he said that he had meant to do me ho- 
 nour, but since I put it out of his power, he would 
 do the deed, and take the responsibility on him- 
 self. " I have with sore travail procured a guard- 
 ship of your life," added he. " For my own, I 
 have not ; but, be that as it will, I shall not be 
 baffled in my attempts to benefit my friends with- 
 out a trial. You will at all events accompany me, 
 and see that I get justice ?" 
 
 " Certes, I will do thus much," said I ; " and 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 257 
 
 wo be to him if his arm prevail against my friend 
 and patron !" 
 
 His lip curled with a smile of contempt, which 
 I could hardly brook ; and I began to be afraid 
 that the eminence to which I had been destined by 
 him was already fading from my view. And I 
 thought what I should then do to ingratiate myself 
 again with him, for without his countenance I had 
 no life. " I will be a man in act," thought I, 
 " but in sentiment I will not yield, and for this he 
 must surely admire me the more.'" 
 
 As we emerged from the shadowy lane into the 
 fair moonshine, I started so that my whole frame 
 underwent the most chilling vibrations of surprise. 
 I again thought I had been taken at unawares, and 
 was conversing with another person. My friend 
 was equipped in the Highland garb, and so com- 
 pletely translated into another being, that, save by 
 his speech, all the senses of mankind could not 
 have recognized him. I blessed myself, and asked 
 whom it was his pleasure to personify to-night ? He 
 answered me carelessly, that it was a spark whom 
 he meant should bear the blame of whatever might 
 fall out to-night ; and that was all that passed on 
 the subject. 
 
258 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 We proceeded by some stone steps at the foot of 
 the North Loch, in hot argument all the way. I 
 was afraid that our conversation might be over- 
 heard, for the night was calm and almost as light 
 as day, and we saw sundry people crossing us as 
 we advanced. But the zeal of my friend was so 
 high, that he disregarded all danger, and continued 
 to argue fiercely and loudly on my delinquency, as 
 he was pleased to call it. I stood on one argument 
 alone, which was, u that I did not think the Scrip- 
 ture promises to the elect, taken in their utmost 
 latitude, warranted the assurance that they could 
 do no wrong ; and that, therefore, it behoved every 
 man to look well to his steps. " 
 
 There was no religious scruple that irritated my 
 enlightened friend and master so much as this. He 
 could not endure it. And the sentiments of our 
 great covenanted reformers being on his side, there 
 is not a doubt that I was wrong. He lost all pa- 
 tience on hearing what I advanced on this matter, 
 and taking hold of me, he led me into a darksome 
 booth in a confined entry ; and, after a friendly but 
 cutting reproach, he bade me remain there in secret 
 and watch the event; " and if I fall," said he, 
 " you will not fail to avenge my death ?" 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 259 
 
 I was so entirely overcome with vexation that I 
 could make no answer, on which he left me ab- 
 ruptly, a prey to despair ; and I saw or heard no 
 more, till he came down to the moonlight green 
 followed by my brother. They had quarrelled be- 
 fore they came within my hearing, for the first 
 words I heard were those of my brother, who was 
 in a state of intoxication, and he was urging a re- 
 conciliation, as was his wont on such occasions. My 
 friend spurned at the suggestion, and dared him to 
 the combat ; and after a good deal of boastful al- 
 tercation, which the turmoil of my spirits prevent- 
 ed me from remembering, my brother was compell- 
 ed to draw his sword and stand on the defensive. 
 It was a desperate and terrible engagement. I at 
 first thought that the royal stranger and great 
 champion of the faith would overcome his opponent 
 with ease, for I considered heaven as on his side, 
 and nothing but the arm of sinful flesh against 
 him. But I was deceived : The sinner stood firm 
 as a rock, while the assailant flitted about like a 
 shadow, or rather like a spirit. I smiled inwardly, 
 conceiving that these lightsome manoeuvres were all 
 a sham to show off his art and mastership in the 
 exercise, and that whenever they came to close 
 
260 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 fairly, that instant my brother would be overcome. 
 Still I was deceived : My brothers arm seemed in- 
 vincible, so that the closer they fought the more 
 palpably did it prevail. They fought round the 
 green to the very edge of the water, and so round, 
 till they came close up to the covert where I stood. 
 There being no more room to shift ground, my 
 brother then forced him to come to close quarters, 
 on which, the former still having the decided ad- 
 vantage, my friend quitted his sword, and called 
 out. I could resist no longer ; so, springing from 
 my concealment, I rushed between them with my 
 sword drawn, and parted them as if they had been 
 two schoolboys : then turning to my brother, I ad- 
 dressed him as follows : — " Wretch ! miscreant ! 
 knowest thou what thou art attempting ? Wouldst 
 thou lay thine hand on the Lord's anointed, or shed 
 his precious blood ? Turn thee to me, that I may 
 chastise thee for all thy wickedness, and not for the 
 many injuries thou hast done to me !" To it we 
 went, with full thirst of vengeance on every side. 
 The duel was fierce ; but the might of heaven pre- 
 vailed, and not my might. The ungodly and re- 
 probate young man fell, covered with wounds, and 
 with curses and blasphemy in his mouth, while I 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 261 
 
 escaped uninjured. Thereto his power extended 
 not. 
 
 I will not deny, that my own immediate impres- 
 sions of this affair in some degree differed from 
 this statement. But this is precisely as my illus- 
 trious friend described it to me afterwards, and I 
 can rely implicitly on his information, as he was 
 at that time a looker-on, and my senses all in a 
 state of agitation, and he could have no motive for 
 saying what was not the positive truth. 
 
 Never till my brother was down did we perceive 
 that there had been witnesses to the whole business. 
 Our ears were then astounded by rude challenges 
 of unfair play, which were quite appalling to me ; 
 but my friend laughed at them, and conducted me 
 off in perfect safety. As to the unfairness of the 
 transaction, I can say thus much, that my royal 
 friend's sword was down ere ever mine was present- 
 ed. But if it still be accounted unfair to take up 
 a conqueror, and punish him in his own way, I 
 answer : That if a man is sent on a positive mis- 
 sion by his master, and hath laid himself under 
 vows to do his work, he ought not to be too nice 
 in the means of accomplishing it ; and farther, I 
 
 appeal to holy writ, wherein many instances are re- 
 
 s3 
 
262 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 corded of the pleasure the Lord takes in the final 
 extinction of the wicked and profane ; and this posi- 
 tion I take to be unanswerable. 
 
 I was greatly disturbed in my mind for many 
 days, knowing that the transaction had been wit- 
 nessed, and sensible also of the perilous situation I 
 occupied, owing to the late judgment of the court 
 against me. But, on the contrary, I never saw my 
 enlightened friend in such high spirits. He as- 
 sured me there was no danger ; and again repeated, 
 that he warranted my life against the power of man. 
 I thought proper, however, to remain in hiding for 
 a week ; but, as he said, to my utter amazement, 
 the blame fell on another, who was not only ac- 
 cused, but pronounced guilty by the general voice, 
 and outlawed for non-appearance ! how could I 
 doubt, after this, that the hand of heaven was aid- 
 ing and abetting me ? The matter was beyond my 
 comprehension ; and as for my friend, he never ex- 
 plained any thing that was past, but his activity 
 and art were without a parallel. 
 
 He enjoyed our success mightily ; and for his 
 sake I enjoyed it somewhat, but it was on account 
 of his comfort only, for I could not for my life per- 
 ceive in what degree the church was better or purer 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 263 
 
 than before these deeds were done. He continued 
 to flatter me with great things, as to honours, fame, 
 and emolument ; and, above all, with the blessing 
 and protection of him to whom my body and soul 
 were dedicated. But after these high promises, I 
 got no longer peace ; for he began to urge the death 
 of my father with such an unremitting earnestness, 
 that I found I had nothing for it but to comply. 
 I did so ; and cannot express his enthusiasm of 
 approbation. So much did he hurry and press me 
 in this, that I was forced to devise some of the most 
 openly violent measures, having no alternative. 
 Heaven spared me the deed, taking, in that in- 
 stance, the vengeance in its own hand ; for before 
 my arm could effect the sanguine but meritorious 
 act, the old man followed his son to the grave. 
 My illustrious and zealous friend seemed to regret 
 this somewhat ; but he comforted himself with 
 the reflection, that still I had the merit of it, 
 having not only consented to it, but in fact effected 
 it, for by doing the one action I had brought about 
 both. 
 
 No sooner were the obsequies of the funeral over, 
 than my friend and I went to Dalcastle, and took 
 undisputed possession of the houses, lands, and ef- 
 
264 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 fects that had been my father's ; but his plate, and 
 vast treasures of ready money, he had bestowed on 
 a voluptuous and unworthy creature, who had lived 
 long with him as a mistress. Fain would I have 
 sent her after her lover, and gave my friend some 
 hints on the occasion ; but he only shook his head, 
 and said that we must lay all selfish and interested 
 motives out of the question. 
 
 For a long time, when I awaked in the morning, 
 I could not believe my senses, that I was indeed 
 the undisputed and sole proprietor of so much 
 wealth and grandeur ; and I felt so much gratified, 
 that I immediately set about doing all the good I 
 was able, hoping to meet with all approbation and 
 encouragement from my friend, I was mistaken : 
 He checked the very first impulses towards such a 
 procedure, questioned my motives, and uniformly 
 made them out to be wrong. There was one morn- 
 ing that a servant said to me, there was a lady in 
 the back chamber who wanted to speak with me, 
 but he could not tell me who it was, for all the old 
 servants had left the mansion, every one on hearing 
 of the death of the late laird, and those who had 
 come knew none of the people in the neighbour, 
 hood. From several circumstances, I had suspL 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 265 
 
 cions of private confabulations with women, and 
 refused to go to her, but bid the servant inquire 
 what she wanted. She would not tell ; she could 
 only state the circumstances to me ; so I, being 
 sensible that a little dignity of manner became me 
 in my elevated situation, returned for answer, that 
 if it was business that could not be transacted by 
 my steward, it must remain untransacted. The an- 
 swer which the servant brought back was of a threat- 
 ening nature. She stated that she must see me, 
 and if I refused her satisfaction there, she would 
 compel it where I should not evite her. 
 
 My friend and director appeared pleased with 
 my dilemma, and rather advised that I should hear 
 what the woman had to say ; on which I consent- 
 ed, provided she would deliver her mission in his 
 presence. She came in with manifest signs of an- 
 ger and indignation, and began with a bold and di- 
 rect charge against me of a shameful assault on one 
 of her daughters ; of having used the basest of 
 means in order to lead her aside from the paths of 
 rectitude ; and on the failure of these, of having 
 resorted to the most unqualified measures. 
 
 I denied the charge in all its bearings, assuring 
 the dame that I had never so much as seen either 
 
266 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 of her daughters to my knowledge, far less wronged 
 them ; on which she got into great wrath, and 
 abused me to my face as an accomplished vaga- 
 bond, hypocrite, and sensualist ; and she went so 
 far as to tell me roundly, that if I did not marry 
 her daughter, she would bring me to the gallows, 
 and that in a very short time. 
 
 " Marry your daughter, honest woman V said I, 
 " on the faith of a Christian, I never saw your 
 daughter ; and you may rest assured in this, that 
 I will neither marry you nor her. Do you con- 
 sider how short a time I have been in this place ? 
 How much that time has been occupied ? And how 
 there was even a possibility that I could have ac- 
 complished such villainies ?" 
 
 " And how long does your Christian reverence 
 suppose you have remained in this place since the 
 late laird's death ?" said she. 
 
 " That is too well known to need recapitulation," 
 said I : " only a very few days, though I cannot 
 at present specify the exact number ; perhaps from 
 thirty to forty, or so. But in all that time, certes, 
 I have never seen either you or any of your two 
 daughters that you talk of. You must be quite 
 sensible of that." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 267 
 
 My friend shook his head three times during this 
 short sentence, while the woman held up her hands 
 in amazement and disgust, exclaiming, " There 
 goes the self-righteous one ! There goes the con- 
 secrated youth, who cannot err ! You, sir, know, 
 and the world shall know of the faith that is in this 
 most just, devout, and religious miscreant ! Can 
 you deny that you have already been in this place 
 four months and seven days ? Or that in that time 
 you have been forbid my house twenty times ? Or 
 that you have persevered in your endeavours to 
 effect the basest and most ungenerous of purposes ? 
 Or that you have attained them ? hypocrite and 
 deceiver as you are! Yes, sir; I say, dare you 
 deny that you have attained your vile, selfish, and 
 degrading purposes towards a young, innocent, and 
 unsuspecting creature, and thereby ruined a poor 
 widow^s only hope in this world ? No, you cannot 
 look in my face, and deny aught of this." 
 
 " The woman is raving mad !" said I. " You, 
 illustrious sir, know, that in the first instance, I 
 have not yet been in this place one month." My 
 friend shook his head again, and answered me, 
 " You are wrong, my dear friend ; you are wrong. 
 It is indeed the space of time that the lady hath 
 
268 PHIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 stated, to a day, since you came here, and I came 
 with you ; and I am sorry that I know for certain 
 that you have been frequently haunting her house, 
 and have often had private correspondence with one 
 of the young ladies too. Of the nature of it I pre- 
 sume not to know.'' 1 
 
 " You are mocking me, 1 ' said I. " But as well 
 may you try to reason me out of my existence, as 
 to convince me that I have been here even one 
 month, or that any of those things you allege 
 against me has the shadow of truth or evidence to 
 support it. I will swear to you, by the great God 
 that made me ; and by * 
 
 " Hold, thou most abandoned profligate !" cried 
 she violently, " and do not add perjury to your other 
 detestable crimes. Do not, for mercy's sake, any 
 more profane that name whose attributes you have 
 wrested and disgraced. But tell me what repara- 
 tion you propose offering to my injured child ?" 
 
 " I again declare, before heaven, woman, that to 
 the best of my knowledge and recollection, I never 
 saw your daughter. I now think I have some faint 
 recollection of having seen your face, but where, 
 or in what place, puzzles me quite." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 269 
 
 " And, why ?" said she. " Because for months 
 and days you have been in such a state of extreme 
 inebriety, that your time has gone over like a dream 
 that has been forgotten. I believe, that from the 
 day you came first to my house, you have been in 
 a state of utter delirium, and that principally from 
 the fumes of wine and ardent spirits." 
 
 " It is a manifest falsehood !" said. I ; " I have 
 never, since I entered on the possession of Dal- 
 castle, tasted wine or spirits, saving once, a few 
 evenings ago ; and, I confess to my shame, that I 
 was led too far ; but I have craved forgiveness and 
 obtained it. I take my noble and distinguished 
 friend there for a witness to the truth of what I 
 assert ; a man who has done more, and sacrificed 
 more for the sake of genuine Christianity, than any 
 this world contains. Him you will believe." 
 
 " I hope you have attained forgiveness," said he, 
 seriously. " Indeed it would be next to blasphemy 
 to doubt it. But, of late, you have been very much 
 addicted to intemperance. I doubt if, from the first 
 night you tasted the delights of drunkenness, that 
 you have ever again been in your right mind until 
 Monday last. Doubtless you have been for a good 
 
270 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 while most diligent in your addresses to this lady's 
 daughter."" 
 
 " This is unaccountable," said I. " It is im- 
 possible that I can have been doing a thing, and 
 not doing it at the same time. But indeed, honest 
 woman, there have several incidents occurred to me 
 in the course of my life which persuade me I have 
 a second self ; or that there is some other being who 
 appears in my likeness." 
 
 Here my friend interrupted me with a sneer, 
 and a hint that I was talking insanely ; and then 
 he added, turning to the lady, " I know my 
 friend Mr. Colwan will do what is just and right. 
 Go and bring the young lady to him, that he may 
 see her, and he will then recollect all his former 
 amours with her." 
 
 " I humbly beg your pardon, sir," said I. " But 
 the mention of such a thing as amours with any 
 woman existing, to me, is really so absurd, so far 
 from my principles, so far from the purity of na- 
 ture and frame to which I was born and consecra- 
 ted, that I hold it as an insult, and regard it with 
 contempt." 
 
 I would have said more in reprobation of such 
 an idea, had not my servant entered, and said, that 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 271 
 
 a gentleman wanted to see me on business. Being 
 glad of an opportunity of getting quit of my lady 
 visitor, I ordered the servant to show him in ; 
 and forthwith a little lean gentleman, with a long 
 acquiline nose, and a bald head, daubed all over 
 with powder and pomatum, entered. I thought I 
 recollected having seen him too, but could not re- 
 member his name, though he spoke to me with the 
 greatest familiarity ; at least, that sort of familiari- 
 ty that an official person generally assumes. He 
 bustled about and about, speaking to every one, 
 but declined listening for a single moment to any. 
 The lady offered to withdraw, but he stopped her. 
 " No, no, Mrs. Keeler, you need not go ; you 
 need not go ; you must not go, madam. The bu- 
 siness I came about, concerns you — yes, that it 
 does — Bad business yon of Walker's ? Eh ? Could 
 not help it — did all I could, Mr. Wringhim. Done 
 your business. Have it all cut and dry here, sir — 
 No, this is not it — Have it among them, though — 
 Fin at a little loss for your name, sir, (addressing 
 my friend,) — seen you very often, though — exceed- 
 ingly often — quite well acquainted with you." 
 
 " No, sir, you are not," said my friend, sternly. 
 — The intruder never regarded him ; never so much 
 
272 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 as lifted his eyes from his bundle of law papers, 
 among which he was bustling with great hurry and 
 importance, but went on — 
 
 " impossible ! Have seen a face very like it, 
 then — what did you say your name was, sir? — 
 very like it indeed. Is it not the young laird who 
 was murdered whom you resemble so much ?" 
 
 Here Mrs. Keeler uttered a scream, which so 
 much startled me, that it seems I grew pale. And 
 on looking at my friend's face, there was something 
 struck me so forcibly in the likeness between him 
 and my late brother, that I had very nearly faint- 
 ed. The woman exclaimed, that it was my bro- 
 ther's spirit that stood beside me. 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed the attorney ; " at 
 least I hope not, else his signature is not worth a 
 pin. There is some balance due on yon business, 
 madam. Do you wish your account ? because I 
 have it here, ready discharged, and it does not suit 
 letting such things lie over. This business of Mr. 
 Colwan's will be a severe one on you, madam, 
 — rather a severe one." 
 
 " What business of mine, if it be your will, sir," 
 said I. " For my part I never engaged you in 
 business of any sort, less or more." He never 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 273 
 
 regarded me, but went on. "You may appeal, 
 though : Yes, yes, there are such things as appeals 
 for the refractory. Here it is, gentlemen, — here 
 they are all together — Here is, in the first place, sir, 
 your power of attorney, regularly warranted, sealed, 
 and signed with your own hand.'" 
 
 " I declare solemnly that I never signed that do- 
 cument," said I. 
 
 " Ay, ay, the system of denial is not a bad one 
 in general" said my attorney ; " but at present 
 there is no occasion for it. You do not deny your 
 own hand ?" 
 
 " I deny every thing connected with the busi- 
 ness," cried I ; "I disclaim it in toto, and declare 
 that I know no more about it than the child un- 
 born." 
 
 " That is exceedingly good H exclaimed he; 
 " I like your pertinacity vastly ! I have three of 
 your letters, and three of your signatures ; that part 
 is all settled, and I hope so is the whole affair ; for 
 here is the original grant to your father, which he 
 has never thought proper to put in requisition. 
 Simple gentleman ! But here have I, Lawyer 
 Linkum, in one hundredth part of the time that any 
 other notary, writer, attorney, or writer to the sig- 
 
274« PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 net in Britain, would have done it, procured the 
 signature of his Majesty's commissioner, and there- 
 by confirmed the charter to you and your house, 
 sir, for ever and ever, — Begging your pardon, ma- 
 dam." The lady, as well as myself, tried sever- 
 al times to interrupt the loquacity of Linkum, but 
 in vain : he only raised his hand with a quick flou- 
 rish, and went on : — 
 
 " Here it is : — ' James, by the grace of God, 
 King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, to his 
 right trust cousin, sendeth greeting : And where- 
 as his right leal and trust-worthy cousin, George 
 Colwan, of Dalcastle and Balgrennan, hath suffered 
 great losses, and undergone much hardship, on be- 
 half of his Majesty's rights and titles ; he there- 
 fore, for himself, and as prince and steward of Scot- 
 land, and by the consent of his right trusty cousins 
 and councillors, hereby grants to the said George 
 Colwan, his heirs and assignees whatsomever, heri- 
 tably and irrevocably, all and haill the lands and 
 others underwritten : To wit, All and haill, the 
 five merk land of Kipplerig ; the five pound land 
 of Easter Knockward, with all the towers, fortalices, 
 manor-places, houses, biggings, yards, orchards, 
 tofts, crofts, mills, woods, fishings, mosses, muirs, 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 275 
 
 meadows, commonties, pasturages, coals, coal- 
 heughs, tenants, tenantries, services of free tenants, 
 annexes, connexes, dependencies, parts, pendicles, 
 and pertinents of the same whatsomever ; to be 
 peaceably brooked, joysed, set, used, and disposed 
 of by him and his aboves, as specified, heritably 
 and irrevocably, in all time coming : And, in testi- 
 mony thereof, His Majesty, for himself, and as 
 prince and steward of Scotland, with the advice 
 and consent of his foresaids, knowledge, proper 
 motive, and kingly power, makes, erects, creates, 
 unites, annexes, and incorporates, the whole lands 
 above mentioned in an haill and free barony, by 
 all the rights, miethes, and marches thereof, old 
 and divided, as the same lies, in length and breadth, 
 in houses, biggings, mills, multures, hawking, 
 hunting, fishing ; with court, plaint, herezeld, fock, 
 fork, sack, sock, thole, thame, vert, wraik, waith, 
 wair, venison, outfang thief, infang thief, pit and 
 gallows, and all and sundry other commodities. 
 Given at our Court of Whitehall, &c. &c. God 
 save the King. 
 
 1 Compositio 5 lib. 13. 8. 
 ' Registrate 26th September, 1687^ 
 t 2 
 
276 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " See, madam, here are ten signatures of privy 
 councillors of that year, and here are other ten of 
 the present year, with his Grace the Duke of Queens- 
 berry at the head. All right — See here it is, sir, 
 — all right — done your work. So you see, madam, 
 this gentleman is the true and sole heritor of all 
 the land that your father possesses, with all the 
 rents thereof for the last twenty years, and up- 
 wards — Fine job for my employers ! — sorry on your 
 account, madam — can't help it." 
 
 I was again going to disclaim all interest or con- 
 nection in the matter, but my friend stopped me ; 
 and the plaints and lamentations of the dame be- 
 came so overpowering, that they put an end to all 
 farther colloquy ; but Lawyer Linkum followed me, 
 and stated his great outlay, and the important ser- 
 vices he had rendered me, until I was obliged to 
 subscribe an order to him for d^lOO on my banker. 
 
 I was now glad to retire with my friend, and ask 
 seriously for some explanation of all this. It was 
 in the highest degree unsatisfactory. He confirm- 
 ed all that had been stated to me ; assuring me, 
 that I had not only been assiduous in my endea- 
 vours to seduce a young lady of great beauty, which 
 it seemed I had effected, but that I had taken coun- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 277 
 
 sel, and got this supposed, old, false, and forged 
 grant, raked up and new signed, to ruin the young 
 lady's family quite, so as to throw her entirely on 
 myself for protection, and be wholly at my will. 
 
 This was to me wholly incomprehensible. I 
 could have freely made oath to the contrary of eve- 
 ry particular. Yet the evidences were against me, 
 and of a nature not to be denied. Here I must 
 confess, that, highly as I disapproved of the love 
 of women, and all intimacies and connections with 
 the sex, I felt a sort of indefinite pleasure, an un- 
 gracious delight in having a beautiful woman sole- 
 ly at my disposal. But I thought of her spiritual 
 good in the meantime. My friend spoke of my 
 backslidings with concern ; requesting me to make 
 sure of my forgiveness, and to forsake them ; and 
 then he added some words of sweet comfort. But 
 from this time forth I began to be sick at times of 
 my existence. I had heart-burnings, longings, and 
 yearnings, that would not be satisfied ; and I seem- 
 ed hardly to be an accountable creature ; being 
 thus in the habit of executing transactions of the 
 utmost moment, without being sensible that I did 
 them. I was a being incomprehensible to myself. 
 Either I had a second self, who transacted business 
 t3 
 
278 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 in my likeness, or else my body was at times pos- 
 sessed by a spirit over which it had no controul, 
 and of whose actions my own soul was wholly un- 
 conscious. This was an anomaly not to be ac- 
 counted for by any philosophy of mine, and I was 
 many times, in contemplating it, excited to terrors 
 and mental torments hardly describable. To be 
 in a state of consciousness and unconsciousness, at 
 the same time, in the same body and same spirit, 
 was impossible. I was under the greatest anxiety, 
 dreading some change would take place momently in 
 my nature ; for of dates I could make nothing : one- 
 half, or two-thirds of my time, seemed to me to be 
 totally lost. I often, about this time, prayed with 
 great fervour, and lamented my hopeless condition, 
 especially in being liable to the commission of 
 crimes, which I was not sensible of, and could not 
 eschew. And I confess, notwithstanding the pro- 
 mises on which I had been taught to rely, I began 
 to have secret terrors, that the great enemy of man's 
 salvation was exercising powers over me, that might 
 eventually lead to my ruin. These were but tempo- 
 rary and sinful fears, but they added greatly to my 
 unhappiness. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNElt. 279 
 
 The worst thing of all was, what hitherto I had 
 never felt, and, as yet, durst not confess to myself, 
 that the presence of my illustrious and devoted 
 friend was becoming irksome to me. When I was 
 by myself, I breathed freer, and my step was light- 
 er ; but, when he approached, a pang went to my 
 heart, and, in his company, I moved and acted as 
 if under a load that I could hardly endure. What 
 a state to be in ! And yet to shake him off was im- 
 possible — we were incorporated together — identifi- 
 ed with one another, as it were, and the power was 
 not in me to separate myself from him. I still 
 knew nothing who he was, farther than that he 
 was a potentate of some foreign land, bent on 
 establishing some pure and genuine doctrines of 
 Christianity, hitherto only half understood, and 
 less than half exercised. Of this I could have no 
 doubts, after all that he had said, done, and suffer- 
 ed in the cause. But, alongst with this, I was al- 
 so certain, that he was possessed of some superna- 
 tural power, of the source of which I was wholly 
 ignorant. That a man could be a Christian, and 
 at the same time a powerful necromancer, appear- 
 ed inconsistent, and adverse to every principle 
 taught in our church ; and from this I was led to 
 
280 PRIVATE MEMOIltS AND 
 
 believe, that he inherited his powers from on high, 
 for I could not doubt either of the soundness of his 
 principles, or that he accomplished things impossi- 
 ble to account for. 
 
 Thus was I sojourning in the midst of a chaos 
 of confusion. I looked back on my bypast life 
 with pain, as one looks back on a perilous journey, 
 in which he has attained his end, without gaining 
 any advantage either to himself, or others ; and I 
 looked forward, as on a darksome waste, full of re- 
 pulsive and terrific shapes, pitfalls, and precipices, 
 to which there was no definite bourne, and from 
 which I turned with disgust. With my riches, my 
 unhappiness was increased tenfold ; and here, with' 
 another great acquisition of property, for which I 
 had pleaed, and which I had gained in a dream, 
 my miseries and difficulties were increasing. My 
 principal feeling, about this time, was an insatiable 
 longing for something that I cannot describe or 
 denominate properly, unless I say it was for utter 
 oblivion that I longed. I desired to sleep ; but it 
 was for a deeper and longer sleep, than that in 
 which the senses were nightly steeped. I longed 
 to be at rest and quiet, and close my eyes on the 
 past and the future alike, as far as this frail life 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 281 
 
 was concerned. But what had been formerly and 
 finally settled in the counsels above, I presumed 
 not to call in question. 
 
 In this state of irritation and misery, was I drag- 
 ging on an existence, disgusted with all around 
 me, and in particular with my mother, who, with 
 all her love and anxiety, had such an insufferable 
 mode of manifesting them, that she had by this 
 time rendered herself exceedingly obnoxious to me. 
 The very sound of her voice at a distance, went to 
 my heart like an arrow, and made all my nerves to 
 shrink; and as for the beautiful young lady of 
 whom they told me I had been so much enamour- 
 ed, I shunned all intercourse with her or hers, as 
 I would have done with the devil. I read some 
 of their letters and burnt them, but refused to see 
 either the young lady or her mother, on any ac- 
 count. 
 
 About this time it was, that my worthy and re- 
 verend parent came with one of his elders to see my 
 mother and myself. His presence always brought 
 joy with it into our family, for my mother was up- 
 lifted, and I had so few who cared for me, or for whom 
 I cared, that I felt rather gratified at seeing him. 
 My illustrious friend was also much more attached 
 
282 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to him, than any other person, (except myself,) for 
 their religious principles tallied in every point, 
 and their conversation was interesting, serious, and 
 sublime. Being anxious to entertain well and high- 
 ly the man to whom I had been so much indebted, 
 and knowing that with all his integrity and right- 
 eousness, he disdained not the good things of this 
 life, I brought from the late laird's well-stored cel- 
 lars, various fragrant and salubrious wines, and we 
 drank and became merry, and I found that my 
 miseries and overpowering calamities, passed away 
 over my head like a shower that is driven by the 
 wind. I became elevated and happy, and welcomed 
 my guests an hundred times ; and then I joined 
 them in religious conversation, with a zeal and en- 
 thusiasm which I had not often experienced, and 
 which made all their hearts rejoice, so that I said 
 to myself, " Surely every gift of God is a blessing, 
 and ought to be used with liberality and thankful- 
 ness.'" 
 
 The next day I waked from a profound and fe- 
 verish sleep, and called for something to drink. 
 There was a servant answered whom I had never 
 seen before, and he was clad in my servant's clothes 
 and livery. I asked for Andrew Handyside, the 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 283 
 
 servant who had waited at table the night before ; 
 but the man answered with a stare and a smile. 
 
 M What do you mean, sirrah," said I. " Pray 
 what do you here ? or what are you pleased to laugh 
 at ? I desire you to go about your business, and 
 send me up Handyside. I want him to bring me 
 something to drink.'" 
 
 " Ye sanna want a drink, maister," said the fel- 
 low : " Tak a hearty ane, and see if it will wau- 
 ken ye up something, sae that ye dinna ca"* for 
 ghaists through your sleep. Surely ye haena for- 
 gotten that Andrew Handyside has been in his 
 grave these six months ?* 
 
 This was a stunning blow to me. I could not 
 answer farther, but sunk back on my pillow as if I 
 had been a lump of lead, refusing to take a drink 
 or any thing else at the feuWs hand, who seemed 
 thus mocking me with so grave a face. The man 
 seemed sorry, and grieved at my being offended, 
 but I ordered him away, and continued sullen and 
 thoughtful. Could I have again been for a sea- 
 son in utter oblivion to myself, and transacting busi- 
 ness which I neither approved of, nor had any con- 
 nection with ! I tried to recollect something in which 
 I might have been engaged, but nothing was pour- 
 
284 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 trayed on my mind subsequent to the parting with 
 my friends at a late hour the evening before. The 
 evening before it certainly was : but if so, how 
 came it, that Andrew Handyside, who served at 
 table that evening, should have been in his grave 
 six months ! This was a circumstance somewhat 
 equivocal ; therefore, being afraid to arise lest ac- 
 cusations of I knew not what might come against 
 me, I was obliged to call once more in order to 
 come at what intelligence I could. The same fellow 
 appeared to receive my orders as before, and I set 
 about examining him with regard to particulars. 
 He told me his name was Scrape ; that I hired 
 him myself; of whom I hired him; and at whose 
 recommendation. I smiled, and nodded so as to 
 let the knave see I understood he was telling me 
 a chain of falsehoods, but did not choose to begin 
 with any violent asseverations to the contrary. 
 
 u And where is my noble friend and compa- 
 nion ?" said I. " How has he been engaged in the 
 interim ?" 
 
 " I dinna ken him, sir," said Scrape ; " but have 
 heard it said, that the strange mysterious person 
 that attended you, him that the maist part of folks 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 285 
 
 countit uncanny, had gane awa wi" a Mr. Ring- 
 an o" Glasko last year, and had never returned." 
 
 I thanked the Lord in my heart for this intelli- 
 gence, hoping that the illustrious stranger had re- 
 turned to his own land and people, and that I 
 should thenceforth be rid of his controlling and 
 appalling presence. " And where is my mother ?" 
 said I. — The man's breath cut short, and he look- 
 ed at me without returning any answer. — " I ask 
 you where my mother is ?" said I. 
 
 " God only knows, and not I, where she is," re- 
 turned he. " He knows where her soul is, and as 
 for her body, if you dinna ken something o' it, 
 I suppose nae man alive does." 
 
 "What do you mean, you knave?" said I. "What 
 dark hints are these you are throwing out ? Tell 
 me precisely and distinctly what you know of my 
 mother ?" 
 
 II It is unco queer o' ye to forget, or pretend to 
 forget every thing that gate, the day, sir," said he. 
 " I'm sure you heard enough about it yestreen ; 
 an' I can tell you, there are some gayan ill-faurd 
 stories gaun about that business. But as the thing 
 is to be tried afore the circuit lords, it wad be far 
 wrang to say either this or that to influence the public 
 
286 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 mind ; it is best just to let justice tak its swee. I 
 hae naething to say, sir. Ye hae been a good 
 enough maister to me, and paid my wages regular- 
 ly, but ye hae muckle need to be innocent, for 
 there are some heavy accusations rising against 
 you." 
 
 " I fear no accusations of man," said I, " as 
 long as I can justify my cause in the sight of Hea- 
 ven; and that I can do this I am well aware. Go 
 you and bring me some wine and water, and some 
 other clothes than these gaudy and glaring ones." 
 
 I took a cup of wine and water ; put on my black 
 clothes, and walked out. For all the perplexity 
 that surrounded me, I felt my spirits considerably 
 buoyant. It appeared that I was rid of the two 
 greatest bars to my happiness, by what agency I 
 knew not. My mother, it seemed, was gone, who 
 had become a grievous thorn in my side of late, and 
 my great companion and counsellor, who tyrannized 
 over every spontaneous movement of my heart, had 
 likewise taken himself off. This last was an un- 
 speakable relief ; for I found that for a long season 
 I had only been able to act by the motions of his 
 mysterious mind and spirit. I therefore thanked 
 God for my deliverance, and strode through my 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 287 
 
 woods with a daring and heroic step ; with inde- 
 pendence in my eye, and freedom swinging in my 
 right hand. 
 
 At the extremity of the Colwan wood, I perceiv- 
 ed a figure approaching me with slow and dignified 
 motion. The moment that I beheld it, my whole 
 frame received a shock as if the ground on which I 
 walked had sunk suddenly below me. Yet, at that 
 moment, I knew not who it was ; it was the air and 
 motion of some one that I dreaded, and from whom 
 I would gladly have escaped ; but this I even had 
 not power to attempt. It came slowly onward, and 
 I advanced as slowly to meet it ; yet when we came 
 within speech, I still knew not who it was. It 
 bore the figure, air, and features of my late brother, 
 I thought, exactly ; yet in all these there were traits 
 so forbidding, so mixed with an appearance of 
 misery, chagrin, and despair, that I still shrunk 
 from the view, not knowing on whose face I looked. 
 But when the being spoke, both my mental and bo- 
 dily frame received another shock more terrible 
 than the first, for it was the voice of the great per- 
 sonage I had so long denominated my friend, of 
 whom I had deemed myself for ever freed, and 
 whose presence and counsels I now dreaded more 
 
288 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 than hell. It was his voice, but so altered — I shall 
 never forget it till my dying day. Nay, I can scarce 
 conceive it possible that any earthly sounds could 
 be so discordant, so repulsive to every feeling of a 
 human soul, as the tones of the voice that grated on 
 my ear at that moment. They were the sounds of 
 the pit, wheezed through a grated cranny, or seem- 
 ed so to my distempered imagination. 
 
 " So ! Thou shudder est at my approach now, 
 dost thou?" said he. " Is this all the gratitude that 
 you deign for an attachment of which the annals of 
 the world furnish no parallel ? An attachment 
 which has caused me to forego power and domi- 
 nion, might, homage, conquest and adulation, all 
 that I might gain one highly valued and sanctified 
 spirit, to my great and true principles of reforma- 
 tion among mankind. Wherein have I offended ? 
 What have I done for evil, or what have I not 
 done for your good, that you would thus shun my 
 presence ?" 
 
 " Great and magnificent prince," said I humbly, 
 " let me request of you to abandon a poor worthless 
 wight to his own wayward fortune, and return to 
 the dominion of your people. I am unworthy of 
 the sacrifices you have made for my sake ; and after 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 289 
 
 all your efforts, I do not feel that you have render- 
 ed me either more virtuous or more happy. For 
 the sake of that which is estimable in human na- 
 ture, depart from me to your own home, before you 
 render me a being either altogether above, or below 
 the rest of my fellow creatures. Let me plod on 
 towards heaven and happiness in my own way, like 
 those that have gone before me, and I promise to 
 stick fast by the great principles which you have 
 so strenuously inculcated, on condition that you 
 depart and leave me for ever." 
 
 " Sooner shall you make the mother abandon 
 the child of her bosom ; nay, sooner cause the 
 shadow to relinquish the substance, than separate 
 me from your side. Our beings are amalgamated, 
 as it were, and consociated in one, and never shall 
 I depart from this country until I can carry you 
 in triumph with me. 11 
 
 I can in nowise describe the effect this appalling 
 speech had on me. It was like the announcement 
 of death to one who had of late deemed himself 
 free, if not of something worse than death, and of 
 longer continuance. There was I doomed to remain 
 in misery, subjugated, soul and body, to one whose 
 presence was become more intolerable to me than 
 
290 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ought on earth could compensate : And at that mo- 
 ment, when he beheld the anguish of my soul, he 
 could not conceal that he enjoyed it. I was troub- 
 led for an answer, for which he was waiting : it be- 
 came incumbent on me to say something after such 
 a protestation of attachment ; and, in some degree 
 to shake the validity of it, I asked, with great sim- 
 plicity, where he had been all this while ? 
 
 " Your crimes and your extravagancies forced 
 me from your side for a season," said he ; " but 
 now that I hope the day of grace is returned, I am 
 again drawn towards you by an affection that has 
 neither bounds nor interest ; an affection for which 
 I receive not even the poor return of gratitude, and 
 which seems to have its radical sources in fascina- 
 tion. I have been far, far abroad, and have seen 
 much, and transacted much, since I last spoke with 
 you. During that space, I grievously suspect that 
 you have been guilty of great crimes and misde- 
 meanours, crimes that would have sunk an unre- 
 generated person to perdition ; but as I knew it to 
 be only a temporary falling off, a specimen of that 
 liberty by which the chosen and elected ones are 
 made free, I closed my eyes on the wilful debase- 
 ment of our principles, knowing that the transgres- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 291 
 
 sions could never be accounted to your charge, and 
 that in good time you would come to your senses, 
 and throw the whole weight of your crimes on the 
 shoulders that had voluntarily stooped to receive 
 the load. 1 ' 
 
 " Certainly I will," said I, " as I and all the 
 justified have a good right to do. But what crimes ? 
 What misdemeanours and transgressions do you talk 
 about ? For my part, I am conscious of none, and 
 am utterly amazed at insinuations which I do not 
 comprehend. 1 ' 
 
 " You have certainly been left to yourself for a 
 season," returned he, " having gone on rather like 
 a person in a delirium, than a Christian in his so- 
 ber senses. You are accused of having made away 
 with your mother privately ; as also of the death of 
 a beautiful young lady, whose affections you had se- 
 duced." 
 
 " It is an intolerable and monstrous falsehood If 
 cried I, interrupting him ; " I never laid a hand 
 on a woman to take away her life, and have even 
 shunned their society from my childhood : I know 
 nothing of my mother's exit, nor of that young 
 lady's whom you mention — Nothing whatever." 
 
 " I hope it is so," said he. " But it seems there 
 u2 
 
292 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 are some strong presumptuous proofs against you, 
 and I came to warn you this day that a precognition 
 is in progress, and that unless you are perfectly 
 convinced, not only of your innocence, but of your 
 ability to prove it, it will be the safest course for 
 you to abscond, and let the trial go on without 
 you." 
 
 " Never shall it be said that I shrunk from such 
 a trial as this," said I. "It would give grounds 
 for suspicions of guilt that never had existence, 
 even in thought. I will go and show myself in 
 every public place, that no slanderous tongue may 
 wag against me. I have shed the blood of sinners, 
 but of these deaths I am guiltless; therefore, I 
 will face every tribunal, and put all my accusers 
 down." 
 
 " Asseveration will avail you but little," answered 
 he, composedly : " It is, however, justifiable in its 
 place, although to me it signifies nothing, who 
 know too well that you did commit both crimes, in 
 your own person, and with your own hands. Far 
 be it from me to betray you ; indeed, I would rather 
 endeavour to palliate the offences ; for though ad- 
 verse to nature, I can prove them not to be so to 
 the cause of pure Christianity, by the mode of which 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 293 
 
 we have approved of it, and which we wish to pro- 
 mulgate." 
 
 " If this that you tell me be true," said I, " then 
 is it as true that I have two souls, which take posses- 
 sion of my bodily frame by turns, the one being all 
 unconscious of what the other performs ; for as sure 
 as I have at this moment a spirit within me, fashion- 
 ed and destined to eternal felicity, as sure am I ut- 
 terly ignorant of the crimes you now lay to my 
 charge." 
 
 " Your supposition may be true in effect," said 
 he. " We are all subjected to two distinct natures 
 in the same person. I myself have suffered grie- 
 vously in that way. The spirit that now directs my 
 energies is not that with which I was endowed at 
 my creation. It is changed within me, and so is 
 my whole nature. My former days were those 
 of grandeur and felicity. But, would you be- 
 lieve it ? / was not then a Christian. Now I 
 am. I have been converted to its truths by pass- 
 ing through the fire, and since my ferial conversion, 
 my misery has been extreme. You complain that 
 I have not been able to render you more happy 
 than you were. Alas ! do you expect it in the dif- 
 ficult and exterminating career which you have 
 u3 
 
294 PRIVATE MEMOIKS AND 
 
 begun. I, however, promise you this — a portion 
 of the only happiness which I enjoy, sublime in its 
 motions, and splendid in its attainments — I will 
 place you on the right hand of my throne, and show 
 you the grandeur of my domains, and the felicity 
 of my millions of true professors." 
 
 I was once more humbled before this mighty po- 
 tentate, and promised to be ruled wholly by his 
 directions, although at that moment my nature 
 shrunk from the concessions, and my soul longed 
 rather to be inclosed in the deeps of the sea, or in- 
 volved once more in utter oblivion. I was like 
 Daniel in the den of lions, without his faith in di- 
 vine support, and wholly at their mercy. I felt as 
 one round whose body a deadly snake is twisted, 
 which continues to hold him in its fangs, without 
 injuring him, farther than in moving its scaly in- 
 fernal folds with exulting delight, to let its victim 
 feel to whose power he has subjected himself; and 
 thus did I for a space drag an existence from day 
 to day, in utter weariness and helplessness; at 
 one time worshipping with great fervour of spirit, 
 and at other times so wholly left to myself, as to 
 work all manner of vices and follies with greediness. 
 In these my enlightened friend never accompanied 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 295 
 
 me, but I always observed that he was the first to 
 lead me to every one of them, and then leave me 
 in the lurch. The next day, after these my fall- 
 ings off, he never failed to reprove me gently, bla- 
 ming me for my venial transgressions ; but then he 
 had the art of reconciling all, by reverting to my 
 justified and infallible state, which I found to prove 
 a delightful healing salve for every sore. 
 
 But, of all my troubles, this was the chief: I 
 was every day and every hour assailed with accu- 
 sations of deeds of which I was wholly ignorant ; 
 of acts of cruelty, injustice, defamation, and de- 
 ceit ; of pieces of business which I could not be 
 made to comprehend ; with law-suits, details, ar- 
 restments of judgment, and a thousand intermin- 
 able quibbles from the mouth of my loquacious and 
 conceited attorney. So miserable was my life ren- 
 dered by these continued attacks, that I was often 
 obliged to lock myself up for days together, never 
 seeing any person save my man Samuel Scrape, 
 who was a very honest blunt fellow, a staunch Ca- 
 meronian, but withal very little conversant in reli- 
 gious matters. He said he came from a place call- 
 ed Penpunt, which I thought a name so ludicrous, 
 that I called him by the name of his native village, 
 
296 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 an appellation of which he was very proud, and 
 answered every thing with more civility and per- 
 spicuity when I denominated him Penpunt, than 
 Samuel, his own Christian name. Of this peasant 
 was I obliged to make a companion on sundry oc- 
 casions, and strange indeed were the details which 
 he gave me concerning myself, and the ideas of the 
 country people concerning me. I took down a few 
 of these in writing, to put off the time, and here 
 leave them on record to show how the best and 
 greatest actions are misconstrued among sinful and 
 ignorant men. 
 
 " You say, Samuel, that I hired you myself — 
 that I have been a good enough master to you, 
 and have paid you your weekly wages punctually. 
 Now, how is it that you say this, knowing, as you 
 do, that I never hired you, and never paid you a 
 sixpence of wages in the whole course of my life, 
 excepting this last month ?" 
 
 w ' Ye may as weel say, master, that water's no 
 water, or that stanes are no stanes. But that's just 
 your gate, an' it is a great pity aye to do a thing 
 an' profess the clean contrair. Weel then, since you 
 havena paid me ony wages, an" I can prove day 
 and date when I was hired, an' came hame to your 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 297 
 
 service, will you be sae kind as to pay me now ? 
 That's the best way o' curing a man o' the mortal 
 disease o' leasing-making that I ken o'." 
 
 " I should think that Penpunt and Cameronian 
 principles, would not admit of a man taking twice 
 payment for the same article." 
 
 " In sic a case as this, sir, it disna hinge upon 
 principles, but a piece o' good manners ; an 1 I can 
 tell you that at sic a crisis, a Cameronian is a gay- 
 an weel-bred man. He's driven to this, that he 
 maun either make a breach in his friend's good 
 name, or in his purse ; an' O, sir, whilk o' thae, 
 think you, is the most precious ? For instance, an a 
 Galloway drover had corned to the town o' Penpunt, 
 an' said to a Cameronian, (the folk's a' Cameronians 
 there,) ' Sir, I want to buy your cow.' ' Vera weel,' 
 says the Cameronian, ' I just want to sell the cow, 
 sae gie me twanty punds Scots, an' take her w'ye.' 
 It's a bargain. The drover takes away the cow, 
 an' gies the Cameronian his twanty pund Scots. 
 But after that, he meets him again on the white 
 sands, amang a' the drovers an' dealers o' the land, 
 an' the Gallowayman, he says to the Cameronian, 
 afore a' thae witnesses, ' Come, Master Whiggam, 
 I hae never paid you for yon bit useless cow, that 
 
298 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AN1> 
 
 I bought, 111 pay her the day, but you maun 
 mind the luck-penny ; there's muckle need fort, — or 
 something to that purpose. The Cameronian then 
 turns out to be a civil man, an" canna bide to make 
 the man baith a feele an** liar at the same time, afore 
 a** his associates ; an* therefore he pits his princi- 
 ples afF at the side, to be a kind o' sleepin partner, 
 as it war, an' brings up his good breeding to stand 
 at the counter : he pockets the money, gies the 
 Galloway drover time o" day, an' comes his way. 
 An* wha's to blame ? Man mind yoursel is the 
 first commandment. A Cameronian's principles 
 never came atween him an 1 his purse, nor sanna in 
 the present case ; for as I canna bide to make 
 you out a leear, 111 thank you for my wages.''' 
 
 " Well, you shall have them, Samuel, if you de- 
 clare to me that I hired you myself in this same 
 person, and bargained with you with this same 
 tongue, and voice, with which I speak to you just 
 now." 
 
 " That I do declare, unless ye hae twa persons 
 
 o" the same appearance, and twa tongues to the 
 
 same voice. But, od saif us, sir, do you ken what 
 
 the auld wives o 1 the clachan say about you ?" 
 
 " How should I, when no one repeats it to me ?" 
 
CONFESSIONS OJb A SINNER. 299 
 
 u Oo, I trow it's a' stuff; — folk shouldna heed 
 what's said by auld crazy kimmers. But there are 
 some o' them weel kend for witches too ; an** they 
 say, — lord have a care o 1 us ! — they say the deil's of- 
 ten seen gaun sidie for sidie w'ye, whiles in ae 
 shape, an 1 whiles in another. An" they say that he 
 whiles takes your ain shape, or else enters into you, 
 and then you turn a deil yoursel." 
 
 " I was so astounded at this terrible idea that 
 had gone abroad, regarding my fellowship with 
 the prince of darkness, that I could make no an- 
 swer to the fellow's information, but sat like one in 
 a stupor ; and if it had not been for my well-found- 
 ed faith, and conviction that I was a chosen and 
 elected one before the world was made, I should at 
 that moment have given into the popular belief, 
 and fallen into the sin of despondency ; but I was 
 preserved from such a fatal error by an inward and 
 unseen supporter. Still the insinuation was so like 
 what I felt myself, that I was greatly awed and 
 confounded. 
 
 The poor fellow observed this, and tried to do 
 away the impression by some farther sage remarks 
 of his own. 
 
300 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 " Hout, dear sir, it is balderdash, there's nae 
 doubt o't. It is the crownhead o' absurdity to tak 
 in the havers o' auld wives for gospel. I told them 
 that my master was a peeous man, an* a sensible 
 man ; an' for praying, that he could ding auld Mac- 
 millan himsel. ' Sae could the deil,' they said, 
 6 when he liket, either at preaching or praying, if 
 these war to answer his ain ends.'' ' Na, na,' says 
 I, ? but he's a strick believer in a' the truths o' 
 Christianity, my master.' They said, sae was Sa- 
 tan, for that he was the firmest believer in a' the 
 truths of Christianity that was out o' heaven ; an' 
 that, sin' the Revolution that the gospel had turn- 
 ed sae rife, he had been often driven to the shift 
 o' preaching it himsel, for the purpose o' getting 
 some wrang tenets introduced into it, and thereby 
 turning it into blasphemy and ridicule." 
 
 I confess, to my shame, that I was so overcome 
 by this jumble of nonsense, that a dullness came 
 over me, and in spite of all my efforts to shake off 
 the impresssion it had made, I fell into a faint. 
 Samuel soon brought me to myself, and after a deep 
 draught of wine and water, I was greatly revived, 
 and felt my spirit rise above the sphere of vulgar 
 conceptions, and the restrained views of unrege- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 301 
 
 nerate men. The shrewd but loquacious fellow, per- 
 ceiving this, tried to make some amends for the 
 pain he had occasioned to me, by the following 
 story, which I noted down, and which was brought 
 on by a conversation to the following purport : — 
 
 " Now, Penpunt, you may tell me all that pass- 
 ed between you and the wives of the clachan. I 
 am better of that stomach qualm, with which I am 
 sometimes seized, and shall be much amused by 
 hearing the sentiments of noted witches regarding 
 myself and my connections." 
 
 " Weel, you see, sir, I says to them, ' It will be 
 lang afore the deil intermeddle wi' as serious a pro- 
 fessor, and as fervent a prayer as my master, for 
 gin he gets the upper hand o 1 sickan men, wha^s to 
 be safe ?** An*, what think ye they said, sir ? There 
 was ane Lucky Shaw set up her lang lantern chafts, 
 an 1 answered me, an' a' the rest shanned and nod- 
 dit in assent an' approbation : ' Ye silly, sauchless, 
 Cameronian cuif P quo she, ' is that a 1 that ye ken 
 about the wiles and doings o" the prince o"* the air, 
 that rules an" works in the bairns of disobedience ? 
 Gin ever he observes a proud professor, wha has 
 mae than ordinary pretensions to a divine calling, 
 and that reards and prays till the very howlets learn 
 
302 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 his preambles, thafs the man Auld Simmie fixes on 
 to mak a dishclout o\ He canna get rest in hell, 
 if he sees a man, or a set of men o" this stamp, an** 
 when he sets fairly to wark, it is seldom that he 
 disna bring them round till his ain measures by 
 hook or by crook. Then, O it is a grand prize 
 for him, an* a proud deil he is, when he gangs 
 hame to his ain ha", wi" a batch o"* the souls o* sic 
 strenuous professors on his back. Ay, I trow, auld 
 Ingleby, the Liverpool packman, never came up 
 Glasco street wi' prouder pomp, when he had ten 
 horse-laids afore him o 1 Flanders lace, arC Hollin 
 lawn, an 1 silks an 1 satins frae the eastern Indians, 
 than Satan wad strodge into hell with a pack-laid 
 c? the souls o' proud professors on his braid shoul- 
 ders. Ha, ha, ha ! I think I see how the auld 
 thief wad be gaun through his gizened dominions, 
 crying his wares, in derision, f Wha will buy a 
 fresh, cauler divine, a bouzy bishop, a fasting zea- 
 lot, or a piping priest ? For 2? their prayers an" 
 their praises, their aumuses, atf their penances, their 
 whinings, their howlings, their rantings, an' their 
 ravings, here they come at last ! Behold the end ! 
 Here go the rare and precious wares ! A fat pro- 
 fessor for a bodle, an" a lean ane for half a merk V 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER, 303 
 
 I declare, I trembled at the auld hag's ravings, 
 but the lave o' the kimmers applauded the sayings 
 as sacred truths. An' then Lucky went on : ' There 
 are many wolves in sheep's claithing, among us, 
 my man ; mony deils aneath the masks o" zealous 
 professors, roaming about in kirks and meeting- 
 houses o' the land. It was but the year afore the 
 last, that the people o* the town o 1 Auchtermuchty 
 grew so rigidly righteous, that the meanest hind 
 among them became a shining light in ither towns 
 an' parishes. There was nought to be heard, nei- 
 ther night nor day, but preaching, praying, argu- 
 mentation, an' catechising in a 1 the famous town o^ 
 Auchtermuchty. The young men wooed their 
 sweethearts out o' the Song o' Solomon, an 1 the 
 girls returned answers in strings o 1 verses out o 1 
 the Psalms. At the lint-swinglings, they said ques- 
 tions round ; and read chapters, and sang hymns 
 at bridals ; auld and young prayed in their dreams, 
 an 1 prophesied in their sleep, till the deils in the 
 farrest nooks o 1 hell were alarmed, and moved to 
 commotion. Gin it hadna been an auld carl, Ro- 
 bin Ruthven, Auchtermuchty wad at that time hae 
 been ruined and lost for ever. But Robin was a 
 cunning man, an' had rather mae wits than his ain, 
 
304 . PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 for he had been in the hands o" the fairies when he 
 was young, an* a? kinds o 1 spirits were visible to his 
 een, an 1 their language as familiar to him as his ain 
 mother tongue. Robin was sitting on the side o 1 
 the West Lowmond, ae still gloomy night in Sep- 
 tember, when he saw a bridal o 1 corbie craws com- 
 ing east the lift, just on the edge o 1 the gloaming. 
 The moment that Robin saw them, he kenned, by 
 their movements, that they were craws o** some ither 
 warld than this ; so he signed himself, and crap in- 
 to the middle o" his bourock. The corbie craws 
 came a 1 an" 1 sat down round about him, an 1 they 
 poukit their black sooty wings, an 1 spread them out 
 to the breeze to cool ; and Robin heard ae corbie 
 speaking, an* another answering him ; and the tane 
 said to the tither : ' Where will the ravens find a 
 prey the night ?' — i On the lean crazy souls o' 
 Auchtermuchty,'' quo the tither. — \ I fear they will 
 be o^er weel wrappit up in the warm flannens o' 
 faith, an* clouted wi** the dirty duds o 1 repentance, 
 for us to mak a meal oY quo the first. — c Whaten 
 vile sounds are these that I hear coming bumming 
 up the hill P 1 ' O these are the hymns and praises o 1 
 the auld wives and creeshy louns o* Auchtermuchty, 
 wha are gaun crooning their way to heaven ; an* gin 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 305 
 
 it warna for the shame o 1 being beat, we might let 
 our great enemy tak them. For sic a prize as he will 
 hae ! Heaven, forsooth ! What shall we think o' hea- 
 ven, if it is to be filled wi 1 vermin like thae, amang 
 whom there is mair poverty and pollution, than 
 I can name." ' No matter for that,' said the first, 
 ? we cannot have our power set at defiance ; though 
 we should put them in the thief's hole, we must 
 catch them, and catch them with their own bait too. 
 Come all to church to-morrow, and 111 let you hear 
 how I'll gull the saints of Auchtermuchty. In the 
 mean time, there is a feast on the Sidlaw hills to- 
 night, below the hill of Macbeth, — Mount, Diabo- 
 lus, and fly." Then, with loud croaking and crowing, 
 the bridal of corbies again scaled the dusky air, 
 and left Robin Ruthven in the middle of his cairn. 
 " The next day the congregation met in the kirk 
 of Auchtermuchty, but the minister made not his 
 appearance. The elders ran out and in, making in- 
 quiries; but they could learn nothing, save that the 
 minister was missing. They ordered the clerk to 
 sing a part of the 119th Psalm, until they saw if 
 the minister would cast up. The clerk did as he 
 was ordered, and by the time he reached the 77 tn 
 
 verse, a strange divine entered the church, by the 
 x 
 
306 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 western door, and advanced solemnly up to the 
 pulpit. The eyes of all the congregation were ri- 
 veted on the sublime stranger, who was clothed in 
 a robe of black sackcloth, that flowed all around 
 him, and trailed far behind, and they weened him 
 an angel, come to exhort them, in disguise. He 
 read out his text from the Prophecies of Ezekiel, 
 which consisted of these singular words : ' I will 
 overturn, overturn, overturn it ; and it shall be no 
 more, until he come, whose right it is, and I will 
 give it him. 1 
 
 " 'From these words he preached such a sermon as 
 never was heard by human ears, at least never by 
 ears of Auchtermuchty. It was a true, sterling, 
 gospel sermon — it was striking, sublime, and awful 
 in the extreme. He finally made out the it, men- 
 tioned in the text, to mean, properly and positively, 
 the notable town of Auchtermuchty. He proved 
 all the people in it, to their perfect satisfaction, to 
 be in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, 
 and he assured them, that God would overturn 
 them, their principles, and professions ; and that 
 they should be no more, until the devil, the town's 
 greatest enemy, came, and then it should be given 
 unto him for a prey, for it was his right, and to him 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 307 
 
 it belonged, if there was not forthwith a radical 
 change made in all their opinions and modes of 
 worship. 
 
 " ' The inhabitants of Auchtermuchty were elec- 
 trified — they were charmed ; they were actually ra- 
 ving mad about the grand and sublime truths de- 
 livered to them, by this eloquent and impressive 
 preacher of Christianity. ' He is a prophet of the 
 Lord,' said one, ' sent to warn us, as Jonah was sent 
 to the Ninevites.' ' O, he is an angel sent from hea- 
 ven, to instruct this great city," said another, ' for no 
 man ever uttered truths so sublime before. f The 
 good people of Auchtermuchty were in perfect rap- 
 tures with the preacher, who had thus sent them 
 to hell by the slump, tag, rag, and bobtail ! No- 
 thing in the world delights a truly religious people 
 so much, as consigning them to eternal damnation. 
 They wondered after the preacher — they crowded 
 together, and spoke of his sermon with admiration, 
 and still as they conversed, the wonder and the ad- 
 miration increased ; so that honest Robin Ruth- 
 ven's words would not be listened to. It was in vain 
 that he told them he heard a raven speaking, and 
 another raven answering him : the people laughed 
 him to scorn, and kicked him out of their assem- 
 x2 
 
308 ntlVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 blies, as a one who spoke evil of dignities ; and they 
 called him a warlock, an" a daft body, to think to 
 mak language out o" 1 the crouping o - * craws. 
 
 ". The sublime preacher could not be heard of, al- 
 though all the country was sought for him, even to the 
 minutest corner of St. Johnston and Dundee; but as 
 he had announced another sermon on the same text, 
 on a certain day, all the inhabitants of that popu- 
 lous country, far and near, flocked to Auchtermuch- 
 ty. Cupar, Newburgh, and Strathmiglo, turned out 
 men, women, and children. Perth and Dundee 
 gave their thousands ; and from the East Nook 
 of Fife to the foot of the Grampian hills, there was 
 nothing but running and riding that morning to 
 Auchtermuchty. The kirk would not hold the 
 thousandth part of them. A splendid tent was erect- 
 ed on the brae north of the town, and round that 
 the countless congregation assembled. When they 
 were all waiting anxiously for the great preacher, 
 behold, Robin Ruthven set up his head in the tent, 
 and warned his countrymen to beware of the doc- 
 trines they were about to hear, for he could prove, 
 to their satisfaction, that they were all false, and 
 tended to their destruction ! 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 309 
 
 " The whole multitude raised a cry of indignation 
 against Robin, and dragged him from the tent, the 
 elders rebuking him, and the multitude threatening 
 to resort to stronger measures ; and though he told 
 them a plain and unsophisticated tale of the black 
 corbies, he was only derided. The great preacher 
 appeared once more, and went through his two dis- 
 courses with increased energy and approbation. All 
 who heard him were amazed, and many of them 
 went into fits, writhing and foaming in a state of 
 the most horrid agitation. Robin Ruthven sat on 
 the outskirts of the great assembly, listening with 
 the rest, and perceived what they, in the height of 
 their enthusiasm, perceived not, — the ruinous ten- 
 dency of the tenets so sublimely inculcated. Robin 
 kenned the voice of his friend the corby-craw again, 
 and was sure he could not be wrang : sae when 
 public worship was finished, a" the elders an" a 1 the 
 gentry flocked about the great preacher, as he stood 
 on the green brae in the sight of the hale congrega- 
 tion, an" a** war alike anxious to pay him some mark 
 o 1 respect. Robin Ruthven came in amang the 
 thrang, to try to effect what he had promised ; and, 
 with the greatest readiness and simplicity, just took 
 haud o 1 the side an" wide gown, an" in sight of a 1 
 
310 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 present, held it aside as high as the preacher's knee, 
 and behold, there was a pair o' cloven feet ! The 
 auld thief was fairly catched in the very height o' 
 his proud conquest, an'' put down by an auld carl. 
 He could feign nae mair, but gnashing on Robin 
 wi' his teeth, he dartit into the air like a fiery dra- 
 gon, an" keust a reid rainbow our the taps o' the 
 Lowmonds. 
 
 " 6 A' the auld wives an* weavers o' Auchtermuchty 
 fell down flat wi' affright, an" betook them to their 
 prayers aince again, for they saw the dreadfu' dan- 
 ger they had escapit, an" frae that day to this it is 
 a hard matter to gar an Auchtermuchty man listen 
 to a sermon at a', an' a harder ane still to gar him 
 applaud ane, for he thinks aye that he sees the clo- 
 ven foot peeping out frae aneath ilka sentence. 
 
 " ' Now, this is a true story, my man," quo the 
 auld wife ; ' an' whenever you are doubtfu' of a man, 
 take auld Robin Ruthven's plan, an" look for the clo- 
 ven foot, for it's a thing that winna weel hide ; an" 
 it appears whiles where ane wadna think o't. It 
 will keek out frae aneath the parson's gown, the 
 lawyer's wig, and the Cameronian's blue bannet ; 
 but still there is a gouden rule whereby to detect 
 it, an' that never, never fails.' — The auld witch 
 
CONFESSIONS OJb A S1NNE11. 
 
 311 
 
 didna gie me the rule, an' though I hae heard tell 
 o't often an" often, shame fa" me an I ken what it 
 is ! But ye will ken it well, an 1 it wad be nae the 
 waur of a trial on some o' your friends, maybe ; 
 for they say there's a certain gentleman seen 
 walking wi' you whiles, that, wherever he sets his 
 foot, the grass withers as gin it war scoudered wi' a 
 het ern. His presence be about us ! What's the 
 matter wi' you, master ? Are ye gaun to take the 
 calm o' the stamock again ?" 
 
 The truth is, that the clown's absurd story, with 
 the still more ridiculous application, made me sick 
 at heart a second time. It was not because I 
 thought my illustrious friend was the devil, or 
 that I took a fool's idle tale as a counterbalance to 
 divine revelation, that had assured me of my justi- 
 fication in the sight of God before the existence of 
 time. But, in short, it gave me a view of my own 
 state, at which I shuddered, as indeed I now al- 
 ways did, when the image of my devoted friend and 
 ruler presented itself to my mind. I often com- 
 muned with my heart on this, and wondered how 
 a connection, that had the well-being of mankind 
 solely in view, could be productive of fruits so bitter. 
 I then went to try my works by the Saviour's gol- 
 
312 1UUVATE MEMOIES AND 
 
 den rule, as my servant had put it into my head to 
 do ; and, behold, not one of them would stand the 
 test. I had shed blood on a ground on which I 
 could not admit that any man had a right to shed 
 mine ; and I began to doubt the motives of my ad- 
 viser once more, not that they were intentionally 
 bad, but that his was some great mind led astray 
 by enthusiasm, or some overpowering passion. 
 
 He seemed to comprehend every one of these 
 motions of my heart, for his manner towards me al- 
 tered every day. It first became any thing but 
 agreeable, then supercilious, and finally, intoler- 
 able ; so that I resolved to shake him off, cost what 
 it would, even though I should be reduced to beg 
 my bread in a foreign land. To do it at home was 
 impossible, as he held my life in his hands, to sell 
 it whenever he had a mind ; and besides, his as- 
 cendancy over me was as complete as that of a 
 huntsman over his dogs. I was even so weak, as, 
 the next time I met with him, to look stedfastly at 
 his foot, to see if it was not cloven into two hoofs. 
 It was the foot of a gentleman, in every respect, so 
 far as appearances went, but the form of his counsels 
 was somewhat equivocal, and if not double, they 
 were amazingly crooked* 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 313 
 
 But, if I had taken my measures to abscond and 
 fly from my native place, in order to free myself of 
 this tormenting, intolerant, and bloody reformer, 
 he had likewise taken his to expel me, or throw me 
 into the hands of justice. It seems, that about 
 this time, I was haunted by some spies connected 
 with my late father and brother, of whom the mis- 
 tress of the former was one. My brother's death 
 had been witnessed by two individuals ; indeed, I 
 always had an impression that it was witnessed by 
 more than one, having some faint recollection of 
 hearing voices and challenges close beside me ; and 
 this woman had searched about until she found 
 these people ; but, as I shrewdly suspected, not 
 without the assistance of the only person in my se- 
 cret, — my own warm and devoted friend. I say this, 
 because I found that he had them concealed in the 
 neighbourhood, and then took me again and again 
 where I was fully exposed to their view, without 
 being aware. One time in particular, on pretence 
 of gratifying my revenge on that base woman, he 
 knew so well where she lay concealed, that he led 
 me to her, and left me to the mercy of two viragos, 
 who had very nigh taken my life. My time of re- 
 sidence at Dalcastle was wearing to a crisis. I could 
 
314 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 no longer live with my tyrant, who haunted me like 
 my shadow ; and besides, it seems there were proofs 
 of murder leading against me from all quarters. Of 
 part of these I deemed myself quite free, but the 
 world deemed otherwise; and how the matter would 
 have gone, God only knows, for, the case never 
 having undergone a judicial trial, I do not. It 
 perhaps, however, behoves me here to relate all 
 that I know of it, and it is simply this : 
 
 On the first of June 1712, (well may I remem- 
 ber the day,) I was sitting locked in my secret 
 chamber, in a state of the utmost despondency, re- 
 volving in my mind what I ought to do to be free 
 of my persecutors, and wishing myself a worm, or 
 a moth, that I might be crushed and at rest, when 
 behold Samuel entered, with eyes like to start out 
 of his head, exclaiming, " For God's sake, master, 
 fly and hide yourself, for your mother's found, an" 
 as sure as you're a living soul, the blame is gaun 
 to fa' on you !" 
 
 " My mother found !" said I. " And, pray, 
 where has she been all this while ?" In the mean 
 time, I was terribly discomposed at the thoughts of 
 her return. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 315 
 
 " Been, sir j Been ? Why, she has been where 
 ye pat her, it seems, — lying buried in the sands 
 o" the linn. I can tell you, ye will see her a fright- 
 some figure, sic as I never wish to see again. An 1 
 the young lady is found too, sir : an" it is said the 
 devil — I beg pardon sir, your friend, I mean, — 
 it is said your friend has made the discovery, an" 
 the folk are away to raise officers, an" they will be 
 here in an hour or two at the farthest, sir ; an* 
 sae you hae not a minute to lose, for there's proof, 
 sir, strong proof, an' sworn proof, that ye were 
 last seen wi' them baith ; sae, unless ye can gie a 1 
 the better an account o' baith yoursel an* them, ei- 
 ther hide, or flee for your bare life. r> 
 
 " I will neither hide nor fly," said I ; " for I 
 am as guiltless of the blood of these women as the 
 child unborn.'" 
 
 " The country disna think sae, master ; an* I 
 can assure you, that should evidence fail, you run a 
 risk o" being torn limb frae limb. They are bring- 
 ing the corpse here, to gar ye touch them baith 
 afore witnesses, an 1 plenty o" witnesses there will 
 be!" 
 
 " They shall not bring them here," cried I, shock- 
 ed beyond measure at the experiment about to be 
 
316 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 made : " Go, instantly, and debar them from enter- 
 ing my gate with their bloated and mangled car- 
 cases.'''' 
 
 " The body of your own mother, sir f" said the 
 fellow emphatically. I was in terrible agitation ; 
 and, being driven to my wifs end, I got up and 
 strode furiously round an' round the room. Sa- 
 muel wist not what to do, but I saw by his staring he 
 deemed me doubly guilty. A tap came to the cham- 
 ber door: we both started like guilty ereatures ; 
 and as for Samuel, his hairs stood all on end with 
 alarm, so that when I motioned to him, he could 
 scarcely advance to open the door. He did so at 
 length, and who should enter but my illustrious 
 friend, manifestly in the utmost state of alarm. The 
 moment that Samuel admitted him, the former made 
 his escape by the prince's side as he entered, seem- 
 ingly in a state of distraction. I was little better, 
 when I saw this dreaded personage enter my cham- 
 ber, which he had never before attempted; and 
 being unable to ask his errand, I suppose I stood 
 and gazed on him like a statue. 
 
 " I come with sad and tormenting tidings to you, 
 my beloved and ungrateful friend,''' said he ; u but 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 317 
 
 having only a minute left to save your life, I have 
 come to attempt it. There is a mob coming to- 
 wards you with two dead bodies, which will place 
 you in circumstances disagreeable enough : but that 
 is not the worst, for of that you may be able to 
 clear yourself. At this moment there is a party of 
 officers, with a Justiciary warrant from Edinburgh, 
 surrounding the house, and about to begin the 
 search of it, for you. If you fall into their hands, 
 you are inevitably lost ; for I have been making 
 earnest inquiries, and find that every thing is in 
 train for your ruin." 
 
 " Ay, and who has been the cause of all this ?" 
 said I, with great bitterness. But he stopped me 
 short, adding, " There is no time for such reflec- 
 tions at present : I gave you my word of honour 
 that your life should be safe from the hand of man. 
 So it shall, if the power remain with me to save it. 
 I am come to redeem my pledge, and to save your 
 life by the sacrifice of my own. Here, — Not one 
 word of expostulation, change habits with me, and 
 you may then pass by the officers, and guards, and 
 even through the approaching mob, with the most 
 perfect temerity. There is a virtue in this garb, 
 and instead of offering to detain you, they shall pay 
 
318 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 you obeisance. Make haste, and leave this place 
 for the present, flying where you best may, and if 
 I escape from these dangers that surround me, I 
 will endeavour to find you out, and bring you what 
 intelligence I am able. 
 
 I put on his green frock coat, buff belt, and a 
 sort of a turban that he always wore on his head, 
 somewhat resembling a bishop's mitre : he drew his 
 hand thrice across my face, and I withdrew as he 
 continued to urge me. My hall door and postern 
 gate were both strongly guarded, and there were 
 sundry armed people within, searching the closets ; 
 but all of them made way for me, and lifted their 
 caps as I passed by them. Only one superior offi- 
 cer accosted me, asking if I had seen the culprit ? 
 I knew not what answer to make, but chanced to 
 say, with great truth and propriety, " He is safe 
 enough." The man beckoned with a smile, as much 
 as to say, " Thank you, sir, that is quite sufficient ;" 
 and I walked deliberately away. 
 
 I had not well left the gate, till, hearing a great 
 noise coming from the deep glen toward the east, 
 I turned that way, deeming myself quite secure in 
 this my new disguise, to see what it was, and if 
 matters were as had been described to me. There 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 319 
 
 I met a great mob, sure enough, coming with two 
 dead bodies stretched on boards, and decently co- 
 vered with white sheets. I would fain have ex- 
 amined their appearance, had I not perceived the 
 apparent fury in the looks of the men, and judged 
 from that how much more safe it was for me not to 
 intermeddle in the affray. I cannot tell how it was, 
 but I felt a strange and unwonted delight in view- 
 ing this scene, and a certain pride of heart in being 
 supposed the perpetrator of the unnatural crimes 
 laid to my charge. This was a feeling quite new 
 to me ; and if there were virtues in the robes of 
 the illustrious foreigner, who had without all dis- 
 pute preserved my life at this time ; I say, if there 
 was any inherent virtue in these robes of his, as he 
 had suggested, this was one of their effects, that 
 they turned my heart towards that which was evil, 
 horrible, and disgustful. 
 
 I mixed with the mob to hear what they were 
 saying. Every tongue was engaged in loading me 
 with the most opprobrious epithets ! One called me 
 a monster of nature ; another an incarnate devil ; 
 and another a creature made to be cursed in time 
 and eternity. I retired from them, and winded 
 my way southward, comforting myself with the as- 
 
320 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 surance, that so mankind had used and persecuted 
 the greatest fathers and apostles of the Christian 
 churchy and that their vile opprobrium could not 
 alter the counsels of heaven concerning me. 
 
 On going over that rising ground called Doring- 
 ton Moor, I could not help turning round and ta- 
 king a look of Dalcastle. I had little doubt that 
 it would be my last look, and nearly as little ambi- 
 tion that it should not. I thought how high my 
 hopes of happiness and advancement had been 
 on entering that mansion, and taking possession of 
 its rich and extensive domains, and how miserably 
 I had been disappointed. On the contrary, I had 
 experienced nothing but chagrin, disgust, and ter- 
 ror ; and I now consoled myself with the hope that 
 I should henceforth shake myself free of the chains 
 of my great tormentor, and for that privilege was 
 I willing to encounter any earthly distress. I could 
 not help perceiving, that I was now on a path which 
 was likely to lead me into a species of distress 
 hitherto unknown, and hardly dreamed of by me, 
 and that was total destitution. For all the riches 
 I had been possessed of a few hours previous to 
 this, I found that here I was turned out of my lord- 
 ly possessions without a single merk, or the power 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 321 
 
 of lifting and commanding the smallest sum, with- 
 out being thereby discovered and seized. Had it 
 been possible for me to have escaped in my own 
 clothes, I had a considerable sum secreted in these, 
 but, by the sudden change, I was left without a 
 coin for present necessity. But I had hope in hea- 
 ven, knowing that the just man would not be left 
 destitute; and that though many troubles surround- 
 ed him, he would at last be set free from them all. 
 I was possessed of strong and brilliant parts, and a 
 liberal education ; and though I had somehow un- 
 accountably suffered my theological qualifications 
 to fall into desuetude, since my acquaintance with 
 the ablest and most rigid of all theologians, I had 
 nevertheless hopes that, by preaching up redemp- 
 tion by grace, pre-ordination, and eternal purpose, 
 I should yet be enabled to benefit mankind in some 
 country, and rise to high distinction. 
 
 These were some of the thoughts by which I 
 consoled myself as I posted on my way southward, 
 avoiding the towns and villages, and falling into the 
 cross ways that led from each of the great roads 
 passing east and west, to another. I lodged the 
 first night in the house of a country weaver, into 
 which I stepped at a late hour, quite overcome with 
 
 Y 
 
322 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 hunger and fatigue, having travelled not less than 
 thirty miles from my late home. The man recei- 
 ved me ungraciously, telling me of a gentleman's 
 house at no great distance, and of an inn a little 
 farther away ; but I said I delighted more in the 
 society of a man like him, than that of any gentle- 
 man of the land, for my concerns were with the 
 poor of this world, it being easier for a camel to go 
 through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven. The weaver's 
 wife, who sat with a child on her knee, and had not 
 hitherto opened her mouth, hearing me speak in 
 that serious and religious style, stirred up the fire, 
 with her one hand ; then drawing a chair near it, 
 she said, " Come awa, honest lad, in by here; sin'* 
 it be sae that you belang to Him wha gies us a" that 
 we hae, it is but right that you should share a part. 
 You are a stranger, it is true, but them that winna 
 entertain a stranger will never entertain an angel 
 unawares.' 1 
 
 I never was apt to be taken with the simplicity 
 of nature ; in general I despised it ; but, owing to 
 my circumstances at the time, I was deeply affected 
 by the manner of this poor woman's welcome. The 
 weaver continued in a churlish mood throughout 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 323 
 
 the evening, apparently dissatisfied with what his 
 wife had done in entertaining me, and spoke to her 
 in a manner so crusty that I thought proper to re- 
 buke him, for the woman was comely in her person, 
 and virtuous in her conversation ; but the weaver 
 her husband was large of make, ill-favoured, and 
 pestilent ; therefore did I take him severely to task 
 for the tenor of his conduct ; but the man was fro- 
 ward, and answered me rudely, with sneering and 
 derision, and, in the height of his caprice, he said 
 to his wife, " Whan focks are sae keen of a chance 
 o 1 entertaining angels, gudewife, it wad maybe be 
 worth their while to tak tent what kind o' angels 
 they are. It wadna wonder me vera muckle an 
 ye had entertained your friend the deil the night, 
 for aw thought aw fand a saur o" reek an 1 brimstane 
 about him. He's nane o" the best o" angels, an' 
 focks winna hae muckle credit by entertaining 
 him." 
 
 Certainly, in the assured state I was in, I had as 
 little reason to be alarmed at mention being made 
 of the devil as any person on earth : of late, how- 
 ever, I felt that the reverse was the case, and that 
 any allusion to my great enemy, moved me ex- 
 ceedingly. The weaver's speech had such an effect 
 y2 
 
324' PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 on me, that both he and his wife were alarmed at 
 my looks. The latter thought I was angry, and 
 chided her husband gently for his rudeness ; but 
 the weaver himself rather seemed to be confirmed 
 in his opinion that I was the devil, for he looked 
 round like a startled roe-buck, and immediately be- 
 took him to the family Bible. 
 
 I know not whether it was on purpose to prove 
 my identity or not, but I think he was going to de- 
 sire me either to read a certain portion of Scrip- 
 ture that he had sought out, or to make family wor- 
 ship, had not the conversation at that instant taken 
 another turn ; for the weaver, not knowing how to 
 address me, abruptly asked my name, as he was 
 about to put the Bible into my hands. Never ha- 
 ving considered myself in the light of a malefactor, 
 but rather as a champion in the cause of truth, 
 and finding myself perfectly safe under my dis- 
 guise, I had never once thought of the utility of 
 changing my name, and when the man asked me, I 
 hesitated ; but being compelled to say something, 
 I said my name was Cowan. The man stared at 
 me, and then at his wife, with a look that spoke a 
 knowledge of something alarming or mysterious. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 325 
 
 " Ha ! Cowan ?" said he. " That's most ex- 
 trordinar ! Not Colwan, I hope ?" 
 
 " No : Cowan is my sirname," said I. " But 
 why not Colwan, there being so little difference in 
 the sound ?" 
 
 " I was feared ye might be that waratch that 
 the deil has taen the possession o', an" eggit him 
 on to kill baith his father an* his mother, his only 
 brother, an' his sweetheart," said he ; " an* to say 
 the truth, I'm no that sure about you yet, for I see 
 you're gaun wi' arms on ye." 
 
 " Not I, honest man," said I ; " I carry no arms ; 
 a man conscious of his innocence and uprightness 
 of heart, needs not to carry arms in his defence 
 now." 
 
 " Ay, ay, maister," said he ; " an 1 pray what 
 div ye ca' this bit windlestrae that's appearing 
 here ?" With that he pointed to something on 
 the inside of the breast of my frock-coat. I look- 
 ed at it, and there certainly was the gilded haft of 
 a poniard, the same weapon I had seen and hand- 
 led before, and which I knew my illustrious com- 
 panion always carried about with him ; but till that 
 moment I knew not that I was in possession of it. 
 I drew it out : a more dangerous or insidious 
 
 looking weapon could not be conceived. The wea- 
 y 3 
 
326 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ver and his wife were both frightened, the latter 
 in particular ; and she being my friend, and I de- 
 pendant on their hospitality, for that night, I said, 
 " I declare I knew not that I carried this small 
 rapier, which has been in my coat by chance, and 
 not by any design of mine. But lest you should 
 think that I meditate any mischief to any under 
 this roof, I give it into your hands, requesting of 
 you to lock it by till to-morrow, or when I shall 
 next want it." 
 
 The woman seemed rather glad to get hold of it ; 
 and, taking it from me, she went into a kind of 
 pantry out of my sight, and locked the weapon up ; 
 and then the discourse went on. 
 
 " There cannot be such a thing in reality," said 
 I, " as the story you were mentioning just now, of 
 a man whose name resembles mine." 
 
 " It's likely that you ken a wee better about the 
 story than I do, maister," said he, " suppose you 
 do leave the L out of your name. An* yet I think 
 sic a waratch, an** a murderer, wad hae taen a name 
 wi** some gritter difference in the sound. But the 
 story is just that true, that there were twa o' the 
 Queen's officers here nae mair than an hour ago, 
 in pursuit o > the vagabond, for they gat some in- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 327 
 
 telligence that he had fled this gate ; yet they said 
 he had been last seen wi' black claes on, an" they 
 supposed he was clad in black. His ain servant is 
 wi' them, for the purpose o' kennin the scoundrel, 
 an* they're galloping through the country like mad- 
 men. I hope in God they'll get him, an" rack his 
 neck for him !" 
 
 I could not say Amen to the weaver's prayer, 
 and therefore tried to compose myself as well as I 
 could, and made some religious comment on the 
 causes of the nation's depravity. But suspecting 
 that my potent friend had betrayed my flight and 
 disguise, to save his life, I was very uneasy, and 
 gave myself up for lost. I said prayers in the fa- 
 mily, with the tenor of which the wife was delight- 
 ed, but the weaver still dissatisfied ; and, after a 
 supper of the most homely fare, he tried to start an 
 argument with me, proving, that every thing for 
 which I had interceded in my prayer, was irrele- 
 vant to man's present state. But I, being weary 
 and distressed in mind, shunned the contest, and 
 requested a couch whereon to repose. 
 
 I was conducted into the other end of the house, 
 among looms, treadles, pirns, and confusion with- 
 out end ; and there, in a sort of box, was I shut up 
 
328 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 for my night's repose, for the weaver, as he left me, 
 cautiously turned the key of my apartment, and 
 left me to shift for myself among the looms, deter- 
 mined that I should escape from the house with 
 nothing. After he and his wife and children were 
 crowded into their den, I heard the two mates con- 
 tending furiously about me in suppressed voices, 
 the one maintaining the probability that I was the 
 murderer, and the other proving the impossibility 
 of it. The husband, however, said as much as let 
 me understand, that he had locked me up on pur- 
 pose to bring the military, or officers of justice, to 
 seize me. I was in the utmost perplexity, yet, for 
 all that, and the imminent danger I was in, I fell 
 asleep, and a more troubled and tormenting sleep 
 never enchained a mortal frame. I had such 
 dreams that they will not bear repetition, and early 
 in the morning I awaked, feverish, and parched 
 with thirst. 
 
 I went to call mine host, that he might let me 
 out to the open air, but before doing so, I thought 
 it necessary to put on some clothes. In attempt- 
 ing to do this, a circumstance arrested my attention, 
 (for which I could in nowise account, which to this 
 day I cannot unriddle, nor shall I ever be able to 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 329 
 
 comprehend it while I live,) the frock and turban, 
 which had furnished my disguise on the preceding 
 day, were both removed, and my own black coat 
 and cocked hat laid down in their place. At first 
 I thought I was in a dream, and felt the weaver's 
 beam, web, and treadle-strings with my hands, to 
 convince myself that I was awake. I was certain- 
 ly awake ; and there was the door locked firm and 
 fast as it was the evening before. I carried my 
 own black coat to the small window, and examined 
 it. It was my own in verity ; and the sums of mo- 
 ney, that I had concealed in case of any emergency, 
 remained untouched. I trembled with astonish- 
 ment ; and on my return from the small window, 
 went doiting in amongst the weaver's looms, till I 
 entangled myself, and could not get out again with- 
 out working great deray amongst the coarse linen 
 threads that stood in warp from one end of the apart- 
 ment unto the other. I had no knife whereby to cut 
 the cords of this wicked man, and therefore was obli- 
 ged to call out lustily for assistance. The weaver 
 came half naked, unlocked the door, and, setting 
 in his head and long neck, accosted me thus: 
 
 " What now, Mr. Satan ? What for are ye roar- 
 ing that gate ? Are you fawn inna little hell, instead 
 
330 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 o" the big muckil ane ? Deil be in your reistit 
 trams ! What for have ye abscondit yoursel into 
 ma leddy's wab for ?" 
 
 ** Friend, I beg your pardon," said I ; "I want- 
 ed to be at the light, and have somehow unfortu- 
 nately involved myself in the intricacies of your 
 web, from which I cannot get clear without doing 
 you a great injury. Pray do, lend your experien- 
 ced hand to extricate me." 
 
 " May aw the pearls o' damnation light on your 
 silly snout, an I dinna estricat ye weel enough ! 
 Ye ditit, donnart, deiFs burd that ye be ! what 
 made ye gang howkin in there to be a poor man's 
 ruin ? Come out, ye vile rag-of-a-muffin, or I gar 
 ye come out wP mair shame and disgrace, an > fewer 
 haill banes in your body." 
 
 My feet had slipped down through the double 
 warpings of a web, and not being able to reach the 
 ground with them, (there being a small pit below,) 
 I rode upon a number of yielding threads, and there 
 being nothing else that I could reach, to extricate 
 myself was impossible. I was utterly powerless ; 
 and besides, the yarn and cords hurt me very much. 
 For all that, the destructive weaver seized a loom- 
 spoke, and began a-beating me most unmercifully, 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 331 
 
 while, entangled as I was, I could do nothing but 
 shout aloud for mercy, or assistance, whichever 
 chanced to be within hearing. The latter, at length, 
 made its appearance, in the form of the weavers 
 wife, in the same state of dishabille with himself, 
 who instantly interfered, and that most strenuous- 
 ly, on my behalf. Before her arrival, however, I 
 had made a desperate effort to throw myself out of 
 the entanglement I was in ; for the weaver continu- 
 ed repeating his blows and cursing me so, that I 
 determined to get out of his meshes at any risk. 
 This effect made my case worse ; for my feet being 
 wrapt among the nether threads, as I threw myself 
 from my saddle on the upper ones, my feet brought 
 the others up through these, and I hung with my 
 head down, and my feet as firm as they had been 
 in a vice. The predicament of the web being 
 thereby increased, the weaver's wrath was doubled 
 in proportion, and he laid on without mercy. 
 
 At this critical juncture the wife arrived, and 
 without hesitation rushed before her offended lord, 
 withholding his hand from injuring me farther, al- 
 though then it was uplifted along with the loom- 
 spoke in overbearing ire. " Dear Johnny ! I think 
 ye be gaen dementit this morning. Be quiet, my 
 
332 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 dear, an" dinna begin a Boddel Brigg business in 
 your ain house. What for ir ye persecutin' a ser- 
 vant o? the Lord's that gate, an" pitting the life out 
 o' him wi' his head down an" his heels up ?" 
 
 " Had ye said a servant o' the deil's, Nans, ye 
 wad hae been nearer the nail, for gin he binna the 
 auld ane himsel, he's gayan sib till him. There, 
 didna I lock him in on purpose to bring the military 
 on him ; an* in place o' that, hasna he keepit me 
 in a sleep a" this while as deep as death ? An" here 
 do I find him abscondit like a speeder i' the mids 
 o' my teddy's wab, an' me dreamin' a' the night that 
 I had the deil i' my house, an' that he was clapper- 
 clawin me ayont the loom. Have at you, ye brun- 
 stane thief!" and, in spite of the good woman's 
 struggles, he lent me another severe blow. 
 
 "Now, Johnny Dods, my man ! O Johnny Dods, 
 think if that be like a Christian, and ane o' the 
 heroes o' Boddel Brigg, to entertain a stranger, an' 
 then bind him in a web wi' his head down, an' mell 
 him to death ! O Johnny Dods, think what you are 
 about ! Slack a pin, an' let the good honest religi- 
 ous lad out." 
 
 The weaver was rather overcome, but still stood 
 to his point that I was the deil, though in better 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 333 
 
 temper ; and as he slackened the web to release me, 
 he remarked, half laughing, " Wha wad hae 
 thought that John Dods should hae escapit a" the 
 snares an 1 dangers that circumfauldit him, an' at 
 last should hae weaved a net to catch the deil." 
 
 The wife released me soon, and carefully whis- 
 pered me, at the same time, that it would be as 
 well for me to dress and be going. I was not long 
 in obeying, and dressed myself in my black clothes, 
 hardly knowing what I did, what to think, or 
 whither to betake myself. I was sore hurt by the 
 blows of the desperate ruffian ; and, what was worse, 
 my ankle was so much strained, that I could hardly 
 set my foot to the ground. I was obliged to ap- 
 ply to the weaver once more, to see if I could learn 
 any thing about my clothes, or how the change was 
 effected. " Sir," said I, " how comes it that you 
 have robbed me of my clothes, and put these down 
 in their place over night ?" 
 
 "Ha! thae claes? Me pit down thae claes!" 
 said he, gaping with astonishment, and touching 
 the clothes with the point of his fore-finger ; " I 
 never saw them afore, as I have death to meet wT : 
 So help me God !" 
 
334 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 He strode into the work-house where I slept, 
 to satisfy himself that my clothes were not there, 
 and returned perfectly aghast with consternation. 
 " The doors were baith fast lockit," said he. . " I 
 could hae defied a rat either to hae gotten out or in. 
 My dream has been true ! My dream has been 
 true ! The Lord judge between thee and me ; but, 
 in his name, I charge you to depart out o' this 
 house ; an', gin it be your will, dinna tak the braid- 
 side o't w'ye, but gang quietly out at the door wi' 
 your face foremost. Wife, let nought o" this en- 
 chanter's remain i" the house, to be a curse, an" a 
 snare to us ; gang an" bring him his gildit weapon, 
 an" may the Lord protect a 1 his ain against its hel- 
 lish an' deadly point !" 
 
 The wife went to seek my poniard, trembling so 
 excessively that she could hardly walk, and short- 
 ly after, we heard a feeble scream from the pantry. 
 The weapon had disappeared with the clothes, 
 though under double lock and key ; and the terror 
 of the good people having now reached a disgusting 
 extremity, I thought proper to make a sudden re- 
 treat, followed by the weaver's anathemas. 
 
 My state both of body and mind was now truly 
 deplorable. I was hungry, wounded, and lame ; 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 335 
 
 an outcast and a vagabond in society ; my life 
 sought after with avidity, and all for doing that to 
 which I was predestined by him who fore-ordains 
 whatever comes to pass. I knew not whither to 
 betake me. I had purposed going into England, 
 and there making some use of the classical educa- 
 tion I had received, but my lameness rendered this 
 impracticable for the present. I was therefore ob- 
 liged to turn my face towards Edinburgh, where I 
 was little known — where concealment was more 
 practicable than by skulking in the country, and 
 where I might turn my mind to something that was 
 great and good. I had a little money, both Scots 
 and English, now in my possession, but not one 
 friend in the whole world on whom I could rely. 
 One devoted friend, it is true, I had, but he was 
 become my greatest terror. To escape from him, 
 I now felt that I would willingly travel to the far- 
 thest corners of the world, and be subjected to every 
 deprivation ; but after the certainty of what had 
 taken place last night, after I had travelled thirty 
 miles by secret and bye-ways, I saw not how es- 
 cape from him was possible. 
 
 Miserable, forlorn, and dreading every person 
 that I saw, either behind or before me, I hasted on 
 
336 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 towards Edinburgh, taking all the bye and unfre- 
 quented paths ; and the third night after I left the 
 weaver's house, I reached the West Port, without 
 meeting with any thing remarkable. Being ex- 
 ceedingly fatigued and lame, I took lodgings in the 
 first house I entered, and for these I was to pay 
 two groats a-week, and to board and sleep with a 
 young man who wanted a companion to make his 
 rent easier. I liked this ; having found from ex- 
 perience, that the great personage who had attach- 
 ed himself to me, and was now become my greatest 
 terror among many surrounding evils, generally 
 haunted me when I was alone, keeping aloof from 
 all other society. 
 
 My fellow lodger came home in the evening, and 
 was glad at my coming. His name was Linton, 
 and I changed mine to Elliot. He was a flippant 
 unstable being, one to whom nothing appeared a 
 difficulty, in his own estimation, but who could ef- 
 fect very little, after all. He was what is called 
 by some a compositor, in the Queen's printing 
 house, then conducted by a Mr. James Watson. In 
 the course of our conversation that night, I told 
 him that I was a first-rate classical scholar, and 
 would gladly turn my attention to some business 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 337 
 
 wherein my education might avail me something ; 
 and that there was nothing would delight me so 
 much as an engagement in the Queen's printing of- 
 fice. Linton made no difficulty in bringing about 
 that arrangement. His answer was. " Oo, gud sir, 
 you are the very man we want. Gud bless your 
 breast and your buttons, sir ! Ay, that's neither 
 here nor there — That's all very well — Ha-ha-ha — 
 A byeword in the house, sir. But, as I was saying, 
 you are the very man we want — You will get any 
 money you like to ask, sir — Any money you like, 
 sir. God bless your buttons ! — That's settled — All 
 done— Settled, settled — I'll do it, I'll do it — No 
 more about it ; no more about it. Settled, settled.'" 
 The next day I went with him to the office, and 
 he presented me to Mr. Watson as the most won- 
 derful genius and scholar ever known. His recom- 
 mendation had little sway with Mr. Watson, who 
 only smiled at Linton's extravagancies, as one does 
 at the prattle of an infant. I sauntered about the 
 printing office for the space of two or three hours, 
 during which time Watson bustled about with 
 green spectacles on his nose, and took no heed of 
 me. But seeing that I still lingered, he addressed 
 me at length, in a civil gentlemanly way, and in- 
 
338 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 quired concerning my views. I satisfied him with 
 all my answers, in particular those to his questions 
 about the Latin and Greek languages ; but when 
 he came to ask testimonials of my character and 
 acquirements, and found that I could produce none,, 
 he viewed me with a jealous eye, and said he dread- 
 ed I was some ne^er-do-weel, run from my parents or 
 guardians, and he did not chuse to employ any such. 
 I said my parents were both dead ; and that being 
 thereby deprived of the means of following out my 
 education, it behoved me to apply to some busi- 
 ness in which my education might be of some use 
 to me. He said he would take me into the office, 
 and pay me according to the business I performed, 
 and the manner in which I deported myself; but 
 he could take no man into her Majesty 's printing 
 office upon a regular engagement, who could not 
 produce the most respectable references with regard 
 to morals. 
 
 I could not but despise the man in my heart who 
 laid such a stress upon morals, leaving grace out of 
 the question ; and viewed it as a deplorable instance 
 of human depravity and self conceit ; but for all 
 that, I was obliged to accept of his terms, for I had 
 an inward thirst and longing to distinguish myself 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 339 
 
 in the great cause of religion, and I thought if once 
 I could print my own works, how I would astonish 
 mankind, and confound their self wisdom and their 
 esteemed morality — blow up the idea of any de- 
 pendence on good works, and morality, forsooth ! 
 And I weened that I might thus get me a name 
 even higher than if I had been made a general of 
 the Czar Peter's troops against the infidels. 
 
 I attended the office some hours every day, but 
 got not much encouragement, though I was ea- 
 ger to learn every thing, and could soon have set 
 types considerably well. It was here that I first 
 conceived the idea of writing this journal, and hav- 
 ing it printed, and applied to Mr. Watson to print 
 it for me, telling him it was a religious parable 
 such as the Pilgrim's Progress. He advised me to 
 print it close, and make it a pamphlet, and then if 
 it did not sell, it would not cost me much ; but 
 that religious pamphlets, especially if they had a 
 shade of allegory in them, were the very rage of 
 the day. I put my work to the press, and wrote 
 early and late ; and encouraging my companion to 
 work at odd hours, and on Sundays, before the 
 press-work of the second sheet was begun, we had 
 the work all in types, corrected, and a clean copy 
 
 thrown off for farther revisal. The first sheet was 
 z 2 
 
340 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 wrought off'; and I never shall forget how my heart 
 exulted when at the printing house this day, I saw 
 what numbers of my works were to go abroad among 
 mankind, and I determined with myself that I 
 would not put the Border name of Elliot, which I 
 had assumed, to the work. 
 
 Thus far have my History and Confessions been 
 carried. 
 
 I must now furnish my Christian readers with a 
 key to the process, management, and winding up of 
 the whole matter ; which I propose, by the assis- 
 tance of God, to limit to a very few pages. 
 
 Chest 'ers, July 27, 1712. — My hopes and pro- 
 spects are a wreck. My precious journal is lost ! 
 consigned to the flames ! My enemy hath found 
 me out, and there is no hope of peace or rest for 
 me on this side the grave. 
 
 In the beginning of the last week, my fellow lod- 
 ger came home, running in a great panic, and told 
 me a story of the devil having appeared ' twice in 
 the printing house, assisting the workmen at the 
 printing of my book, and that some of them had 
 been frightened out of their wits. That the story was 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 341 
 
 told to Mr. Watson, who till that time had never 
 paid any attention to the treatise, but who, out of 
 curiosity, began and read a part of it, and thereup- 
 on flew into a great rage, called my work a medley 
 of lies and blasphemy, and ordered the whole to 
 be consigned to the flames, blaming his foreman, and 
 all connected with the press, for letting a work 
 go so far, that was enough to bring down the ven- 
 geance of heaven on the concern. 
 
 If ever I shed tears through perfect bitterness of 
 spirit it was at that time, but I hope it was more 
 for the ignorance and folly of my countrymen than 
 the overthrow of my own hopes. But my attention 
 was suddenly aroused to other matters, by Linton 
 mentioning that it was said by some in the office 
 the devil had inquired for me. 
 
 " Surely you are not such a fool," said I, "as 
 to believe that the devil really was in the printing 
 office ?" 
 
 " Oo, gud bless you sir! saw him myself, gave him 
 a nod, and good-day. Rather a gentlemanly per- 
 sonage — Green Circassian hunting coat and turban 
 —Like a foreigner — Has the power of vanishing in 
 one moment though — Rather a suspicious circum- 
 z 3 
 
342 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 stance that. Otherwise, his appearance not much 
 against him." 
 
 If the former intelligence thrilled me with grief, 
 this did so with terror. I perceived who the per- 
 sonage was that had visited the printing house in 
 order to further the progress of my work ; and at 
 the approach of every person to our lodgings, I from 
 that instant trembled every bone, lest it should be 
 my elevated and dreaded friend. I could not say 
 I had ever received an office at his hand that was 
 not friendly, yet these offices had been of a strange 
 tendency ; and the horror with which I now re- 
 garded him was unaccountable to myself. It was 
 beyond description, conception, or the soul of man 
 to bear. I took my printed sheets, the only copy of 
 my unfinished work existing ; and, on pretence of 
 going straight to Mr. Watson's office, decamped 
 from my lodgings at Portsburgh a little before the 
 fall of evening, and took the road towards England. 
 
 As soon as I got clear of the city, I ran with a 
 velocity I knew not before I had been capable of. 
 I flew out the way towards Dalkeith so swiftly, that 
 I often lost sight of the ground, and I said to my- 
 self, " O that I had the wings of a dove, that I 
 might fly to the farthest corners of the earth, to 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 343 
 
 hide me from those against whom I have no power 
 to stand !" 
 
 I travelled all that night and the next morning, 
 exerting myself beyond my power ; and about noon 
 the following day I went into a yeoman's house, 
 the name of which was Ellanshaws, and requested 
 of the people a couch of any sort to lie down on, for 
 I was ill, and could not proceed on my journey. 
 They showed me to a stable-loft where there were two 
 beds, on one of which I laid me down ; and, falling 
 into a sound sleep, I did not awake till the even- 
 ing, that other three men came from the fields to 
 sleep in the same place, one of whom lay down be- 
 side me, at which I was exceedingly glad. They 
 fell all sound asleep, and I was terribly alarmed 
 at a conversation I overheard somewhere outside 
 the stable. I could not make out a sentence, but 
 trembled to think I knew one of the voices at least, 
 and rather than not be mistaken, I would that any 
 man had run me through with a sword. I fell in- 
 to a cold sweat, and once thought of instantly 
 putting hand to my own life, as my only means 
 of relief, (May the rash and sinful thought be in 
 mercy forgiven !) when I heard as it were two per- 
 sons at the door, contending, as I thought, about 
 their right and interest in me. That the one was 
 
344 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 forcibly preventing the admission of the other, I 
 could hear distinctly, and their language was mix- 
 ed with something dreadful and mysterious. In 
 an agony of terror, I awakened my snoring com- 
 panion with great difficulty, and asked him, in a 
 low whisper, who these were at the door ? The man 
 lay silent, and listening, till fairly awake, and then 
 asked if I had heard any thing ? I said I had 
 heard strange voices contending at the door. 
 
 " Then I can tell you, lad, it has been something 
 neither good nor canny ," said he : " It's no for 
 naething that our horses are snorking that gate.'''' 
 
 For the first time, I remarked that the animals 
 were snorting and rearing as if they wished to break 
 through the house. The man called to them by 
 their names, and ordered them to be quiet ; but 
 they raged still the more furiously. He then roused 
 his drowsy companions, who were alike alarmed at 
 the panic of the horses, all of them declaring that 
 they had never seen either Mause or Jolly start in 
 their lives before. My bed-fellow and another then 
 ventured down the ladder, and I heard one of them 
 then saying, " Lord be wi' us ! What can be i 1 the 
 house ? The sweafs rinning off the poor beasts like 
 water." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 345 
 
 They agreed to sally out together, and if possible 
 to reach the kitchen and bring a light. I was glad 
 at this, but not so much so when I heard the one 
 man saying to the other, in a whisper, " I wish 
 that stranger man may be canny enough.'" 
 
 " God kens P? said the other : " It doesnae look 
 unco weel. r> 
 
 The lad in the other bed, hearing this, set up 
 his head in manifest affright as the other two de- 
 parted for the kitchen ; and, I believe, he would 
 have been glad to have been in their company. 
 This lad was next the ladder, at which I was ex- 
 tremely glad, for had he not been there, the world 
 should not have induced me to wait the return of 
 these two men. They were not well gone, before I 
 heard another distinctly enter the stable, and come 
 towards the ladder. The lad who was sitting up 
 in his bed, intent on the watch, called out, " Wha's 
 that there ? Walker, is that you ? Purdie, I say, 
 is it you ?" 
 
 The darkling intruder paused for a few moments, 
 and then came towards the foot of the ladder. The 
 horses broke loose, and snorting and neighing for 
 terror, raged through the house. In all my life I 
 never heard so frightful a commotion. The being 
 
346 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 that occasioned it all, now began to mount the 
 ladder toward our loft, on which the lad in the bed 
 next the ladder sprung from his couch, crying 
 
 out, " the L— -d A y preserve us ! what can 
 
 it be ?" With that he sped across the loft, and by 
 my bed, praying lustily all the way ; and, throw- 
 ing himself from the other end of the loft into a 
 manger, he darted, naked as he was, through among 
 the furious horses, and making the door, that stood 
 open, in a moment he vanished and left me in the 
 lurch. Powerless with terror, and calling out fear- 
 fully, I tried to follow his example ; but not know- 
 ing the situation of the places with regard to one 
 another, I missed the manger, and fell on the pave- 
 ment in one of the stalls. I was both stunned and 
 lamed on the knee ; but terror prevailing, I got up 
 and tried to escape. It was out of my power ; for 
 there were divisions and cross divisions in the 
 house, and mad horses smashing every thing be- 
 fore them, so that I knew not so much as on what 
 side of the house the door was. Two or three 
 times was I knocked down by the animals, but all 
 the while I never stinted crying out with all my 
 power. At length, I was seized by the throat and 
 hair of the head, and dragged away, I wist not 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 34<7 
 
 whither. My voice was now laid, and all my 
 powers, both mental and bodily, totally overcome ; 
 and I remember no more till I found myself lying 
 naked on the kitchen table of the farm house, and 
 something like a horse's rug thrown over me. The 
 only hint that I got from the people of the house 
 on coming to myself was, that my absence would 
 be good company ; and that they had got me in a 
 woful state, one which they did not chuse to de- 
 scribe, or hear described. 
 
 As soon as day-light appeared, I was packed 
 about my business, with the hisses and execrations 
 of the yeoman's family, who viewed me as a being 
 to be shunned, ascribing to me the visitations of 
 that unholy night. Again was I on my way south- 
 ward, as lonely, hopeless, and degraded a being as 
 was to be found on life's weary round. As I limp- 
 ed out the way, I wept, thinking of what I might 
 have been, and what I really had become : of my 
 high and flourishing hopes, when I set out as the 
 avenger of God on the sinful children of men ; of 
 all that I had dared for the exaltation and progress 
 of the truth ; and it was with great difficulty that 
 my faith remained unshaken, yet was I preserved 
 from that sin, and comforted myself with the cer- 
 
348 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 tainty, that the believer's progress through life is 
 one of warfare and suffering. 
 
 My case was indeed a pitiable one. I was lame, 
 hungry, fatigued, and my resources on the very eve 
 of being exhausted. Yet these were but second- 
 ary miseries, and hardly worthy of a thought, com- 
 pared with those I suffered inwardly. I not only 
 looked around me with terror at every one that ap- 
 proached, but I was become a terror to myself; or 
 rather, my body and soul were become terrors to 
 each other ; and, had it been possible, I felt as if 
 they would have gone to war. I dared not look at 
 my face in a glass, for I shuddered at my own im- 
 age and likeness. I dreaded the dawning, and 
 trembled at the approach of night, nor was there 
 one thing in nature that afforded me the least de- 
 light. 
 
 In this deplorable state of body and mind, was 
 I jogging on towards the Tweed, by the side of 
 the small river called Elian, when, just at the nar- 
 rowest part of the glen, whom should I meet full in 
 the face, but the very being in all the universe of 
 God I would the most gladly have shunned. I had 
 no power to fly from him, neither durst I, for the 
 spirit within me, accuse him of falsehood, and re- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNEK. 349 
 
 nounce his fellowship. I stood before him like a 
 condemned criminal, staring him in the face, ready 
 to be winded, twisted, and tormented as he plea- 
 sed. He regarded me with a sad and solemn look. 
 How changed was now that majestic countenance, 
 to one of haggard despair — changed in all save the 
 extraordinary likeness to my late brother, a resem- 
 blance which misfortune and despair tended only to 
 heighten. There were no kind greetings passed 
 between us at meeting, like those which pass be- 
 tween the men of the world ; he looked on me with 
 eyes that froze the currents of my blood, but spoke 
 not, till I assumed as much courage as to articu- 
 late — " You here ! I hope you have brought me 
 tidings of comfort ?" 
 
 " Tidings of despair !" said he. " But such 
 tidings as the timid and the ungrateful deserve, 
 and have reason to expect. You are an outlaw, 
 and a vagabond in your country, and a high reward 
 is offered for your apprehension. The enraged 
 populace have burnt your house, and all that is 
 within it ; and the farmers on the land bless them- 
 selves at being rid of you. So fare it with every 
 one who puts his hand to the great work of man's 
 restoration to freedom, and draweth back, contem- 
 
350 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ning the light that is within him ! Your enormi- 
 ties caused me to leave you to yourself for a sea- 
 son, and you see what the issue has been. You 
 have given some evil ones power over you, who long 
 to devour you, both soul and body, and it has re- 
 quired all my power and influence to save you. 
 Had it not been for my hand, you had been torn in 
 pieces last night ; but for once I prevailed. We 
 must leave this land forthwith, for here there is 
 neither peace, safety, nor comfort for us. Do you 
 now, and here, pledge yourself to one who has so 
 often saved your life, and has put his own at stake 
 to do so ? Do you pledge yourself that you will 
 henceforth be guided by my counsel, and follow me 
 whithersoever I chuse to lead ?" 
 
 " I have always been swayed by your counsel,"" 
 said I, " and for your sake, principally, am I sor- 
 ry, that all our measures have proved abortive. But 
 I hope still to be useful in my native isle, therefore 
 let me plead that your highness will abandon a poor 
 despised and outcast wretch to his fate, and betake 
 you to your realms, where your presence cannot but 
 be greatly wanted." 
 
 " Would that I could do so !" said he wofully. 
 " But to talk of that is to talk of an impossibility. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 351 
 
 I am wedded to you so closely, that I feel as if I 
 were the same person. Our essences are one, our 
 bodies and spirits being united, so, that I am drawn 
 towards you as by magnetism, and wherever you 
 are, there must my presence be with you." 
 
 Perceiving how this assurance affected me, he 
 began to chide me most bitterly for my ingrati- 
 tude ; and then he assumed such looks, that it was 
 impossible for me longer to bear them ; therefore I 
 staggered out the way, begging and beseeching of 
 him to give me up to my fate, and hardly knowing 
 what I said ; for it struck me, that, with all his 
 assumed appearance of misery and wretchedness, 
 there were traits of exultation in his hideous coun- 
 tenance, manifesting a secret and inward joy at my 
 utter despair. 
 
 It was long before I durst look over my should- 
 er, but when I did so, I perceived this ruined and 
 debased potentate coming slowly on the same path, 
 and I prayed that the lord would hide me in the 
 bowels of the earth, or depths of the sea. When 
 I crossed the Tweed, I perceived him still a little 
 behind me ; and my despair being then at its 
 height, I cursed the time I first met with such a 
 tormentor ; though, on a little recollection it oc- 
 
352 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 curred, that it was at that blessed time when I was 
 solemnly dedicated to the Lord, and assured of my 
 final election, and confirmation, by an eternal de- 
 cree never to be annulled. This being my sole and 
 only comfort, I recalled my curse upon the time, 
 and repented me of my rashness. 
 
 After crossing the Tweed, I saw no more of my 
 persecutor that day, and had hopes that he had left 
 me for a season ; but, alas, what hope was there of 
 my relief after the declaration I had so lately heard ! 
 I took up my lodgings that night in a small miser- 
 able inn in the village of Ancrum, of which the 
 people seemed alike poor and ignorant. Before 
 going to bed, I asked if it was customary with them 
 to have family worship of evenings ? The man 
 answered, that they were so hard set with the world, 
 they often could not get time, but if I would be so 
 kind as officiate they would be much obliged to me. 
 I accepted the invitation, being afraid to go to rest 
 lest the commotions of the foregoing night might 
 be renewed, and continued the worship as long as in 
 decency I could. The poor people thanked me, 
 hoped my prayers would be heard both on their 
 account and my own, seemed much taken with my 
 abilities, and wondered how a man of my powerful 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 353 
 
 eloquence chanced to be wandering about in a con- 
 dition so forlorn. I said I was a poor student of 
 theology, on my way to Oxford. They stared at 
 one another with expressions of wonder, disappoint- 
 ment, and fear. I afterwards came to learn, that 
 the term theology was by them quite misunderstood, 
 and that they had some crude conceptions that no- 
 thing was taught at Oxford but the black arts, 
 which ridiculous idea prevailed over all the south 
 of Scotland. For the present I could not under- 
 stand what the people meant, and less so, when 
 the man asked me, with deep concern, " If I was 
 seiious in my intentions of going to Oxford ? He 
 hoped not, and that I would be better guided." 
 
 I said my education wanted finishing ; — but he 
 remarked, that the Oxford arts were a bad finish 
 for a religious man's education. — Finally, I request- 
 ed him to sleep with me, or in my room all the 
 night, as I wanted some serious and religious con- 
 versation with him, and likewise to convince him 
 that the study of the fine arts, though not absolute- 
 ly necessary, were_not incompatible with the cha- 
 racter of a Christian divine. He shook his head, 
 and wondered how I could call them fine arts — 
 hoped I did not mean to convince him by any ocu- 
 2 A 
 
354 P1UVATE MEM OIKS AND 
 
 lar demonstration, and at length reluctantly con- 
 descended to sleep with me, and let the lass and 
 wife sleep together for one night. I believe he 
 would have declined it, had it not been some hints 
 from his wife, stating, that it was a good arrange- 
 ment, by which I understood there were only two 
 beds in the house, and that when I was preferred 
 to the lass's bed, she had one to shift for. 
 
 The landlord and I accordingly retired to our 
 homely bed, and conversed for some time about in- 
 different matters, till he fell sound asleep. Not so 
 with me : I had that within which would not suf- 
 fer me to close my eyes ; and about the dead of 
 night, I again heard the same noises and conten- 
 tion begin outside the house, as I had heard the 
 night before ; and again I heard it was about a 
 sovereign and peculiar right in me. At one time 
 the noise was on the top of the house, straight 
 above our bed, as if the one party were breaking 
 through the roof, and the other forcibly preventing 
 it ; at another time it was at the door, and at a third 
 time at the window ; but still mine host lay sound 
 by my side, and did not waken. I was seized with 
 terrors indefinable, and prayed fervently, but did 
 not attempt rousing my sleeping companion until I 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 355 
 
 saw if no better could be done. The women, how- 
 ever, were alarmed, and, rushing into our apart- 
 ment, exclaimed that all the devils in hell were be- 
 sieging the house. Then, indeed, the landlord 
 awoke, and it was time for him, for the tumult had 
 increased to such a degree, that it shook the house 
 to its foundations, being louder and more furious 
 than I could have conceived the heat of battle to 
 be when the volleys of artillery are mixed with 
 groans, shouts, and blasphemous cursing. It thun- 
 dered and lightened; and there were screams, 
 groans, laughter, and execrations, all intermingled. 
 
 I lay trembling and bathed in a cold perspiration, 
 but was soon obliged to bestir myself, the inmates 
 attacking me one after the other. 
 
 " O, Tarn Douglas ! Tarn Douglas ! haste ye 
 an 1 rise out fra-yont that incarnal devil !" cried the 
 wife : " Ye are in ayont the auld ane himsel, for 
 our lass Tibbie saw his cloven cloots last night." 
 
 " Lord forbid !" roared Tarn Douglas, and dart- 
 ed over the bed like a flying fish. Then, hearing 
 the unearthly tumult with which he was surround- 
 ed, he returned to the side of the bed, and address- 
 ed me thus, with long and fearful intervals : 
 2 a 2 
 
356 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 u If ye be the deil, rise up, an* depart in peace 
 out o' this house — afore the bedstrae take kindling 
 about ye, an* than it 11 maybe be the waur for ye — 
 Get up — an* gang awa out amang your cronies, like 
 a good — lad — There's nae body here wishes you 
 ony ill — D'ye hear me ?" 
 
 " Friend," said I, " no Christian would turn 
 out a fellow creature on such a night as this, and 
 in the midst of such a commotion of the villagers." 
 
 M Na, if ye be a mortal man," said he, " which 
 I rather think, from the use you made of the holy 
 book — Nane o" your practical jokes on strangers 
 an' honest foks. These are some o' your Oxford 
 tricks, an' 111 thank you to be ower wi** them. — Gra- 
 cious heaven, they are brikkin through the house 
 at a" the four corners at the same time !" 
 
 The lass Tibby, seeing the innkeeper was not 
 going to prevail with me to rise, flew toward the bed 
 in desperation, and seizing me by the waist, soon 
 landed me on the floor, saying : " Be ye deil, be 
 ye chiel, ye's no lie there till baith the house an" us 
 be swallowed up !" 
 
 Her master and mistress applauding the deed, I 
 was obliged to attempt dressing myself, a task to 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 357 
 
 which my powers were quite inadequate in the state 
 I was in, but I was readily assisted by every one 
 of the three ; and as soon as they got my clothes 
 thrust on in a loose way, they shut their eyes lest 
 they should see what might drive them distracted, 
 and thrust me out to the street, cursing me, and 
 calling on the fiends to take their prey and begone. 
 The scene that ensued is neither to be described, 
 nor believed, if it were. I was momently surround- 
 ed by a number of hideous fiends, who gnashed on 
 me with their teeth, and clenched their crimson 
 paws in my face ; and at the same instant I was 
 seized by the collar of my coat behind, by my dread- 
 ed and devoted friend, who pushed me on, and, 
 with his gilded rapier waving and brandishing 
 around me, defended me against all their united 
 attacks. Horrible as my assailants were in appear- 
 ance, (and they had all monstrous shapes,) I felt 
 that I would rather have fallen into their hands, 
 than be thus led away captive by my defender at 
 his will and pleasure, without having the right or 
 power to say my life, or any part of my will, was 
 my own. I could not even thank him for his po- 
 tent guardianship, but hung down my head, and 
 moved on I knew not whither, like a criminal led 
 2 a3 
 
358 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 to execution, and still the infernal combat continu- 
 ed, till about the dawning, at which time I looked 
 up, and all the fiends were expelled but one, who 
 kept at a distance ; and still my persecutor and de- 
 fender pushed me by the neck before him. 
 
 At length he desired me to sit down and take 
 some rest, with which I complied, for I had great 
 need of it, and wanted the power to withstand what 
 he desired. There, for a whole morning did he 
 detain me, tormenting me with reflections on the 
 past, and pointing out the horrors of the future, 
 until a thousand times I wished myself non-exis- 
 tent. " I have attached myself to your wayward 
 fortune," said he ; "and it has been my ruin as well 
 as thine. Ungrateful as you are, I cannot give 
 you up to be devoured ; but this is a life that it is 
 impossible to brook longer. Since our hopes are 
 blasted in this world, and all our schemes of gran- 
 deur overthrown ; and since our everlasting desti- 
 ny is settled by a decree which no act of ours can 
 invalidate, let us fall by our own hands, or by the 
 hands of each other ; die like heroes ; and, throw- 
 ing off this frame of dross and corruption, mingle 
 with the pure ethereal essence of existence, from 
 which we derived our being." 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 359 
 
 I shuddered at a view of the dreadful alterna- 
 tive, yet was obliged to confess that in my present 
 circumstances existence was not to be borne. It 
 was in vain that I reasoned on the sinfulness of 
 the deed, and on its damning nature ; he made me 
 condemn myself out of my own mouth, by allow- 
 ing the absolute nature of justifying grace, and 
 the impossibility of the elect ever falling from the 
 faith, or the glorious end to which they were call- 
 ed ; and then he said, this granted, self-destruction 
 was the act of a hero, and none but a coward would 
 shrink from it, to suffer a hundred times more eve- 
 ry day and night that passed over his head. 
 
 I said I was still contented to be that coward ; 
 and all that I begged of him was, to leave me to 
 my fortune for a season, and to the just judgment 
 of my creator ; but he said his word and honour 
 were engaged on my behoof, and these, in such a 
 case, were not to be violated. " If you will not 
 pity yourself, have pity on me," added he : " turn 
 your eyes on me, and behold to what I am redu- 
 ced." 
 
 Involuntarily did I turn round at the request, 
 and caught a half glance of his features. May no 
 eye destined to reflect the beauties of the New Je- 
 
360 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 rusalem inward upon the beatific soul, behold such 
 a sight as mine then beheld ! My immortal spirit, 
 blood, and bones, were all withered at the blasting 
 sight ; and I arose and withdrew, with groanings 
 which the pangs of death shall never wring from 
 me. 
 
 Not daring to look behind me, I crept on my 
 way, and that night reached this hamlet on the 
 Scottish border ; and being grown reckless of dan- 
 ger, and hardened to scenes of horror, I took up 
 my lodging with a poor hind, who is a widower, 
 and who could only accommodate me with a bed 
 of rushes at his fire-side. At midnight I heard 
 some strange sounds, too much resembling those 
 to which I had of late been inured ; but they 
 kept at a distance, and I was soon persuaded that 
 there was a power protected that house superior to 
 those that contended for, or had the mastery over 
 me. Overjoyed at finding such an asylum, I re- 
 mained in the humble cot. This is the third day I 
 have lived under the roof, freed of my hellish as- 
 sailants, spending my time in prayer, and writing 
 out this my journal, which I have fashioned to 
 stick in with my printed work, and to which I in- 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 361 
 
 tend to add portions while I remain in this pilgri- 
 mage state, which, I find too well, cannot be long. 
 August 3, 1712. — This morning the hind has 
 brought me word from Redesdale, whither he had 
 been for coals, that a stranger gentleman had been 
 traversing that country, making the most earnest 
 inquiries after me, or one of the same appearance ; 
 and from the description that he brought of this 
 stranger, I could easily perceive who it was. Re- 
 joicing that my tormentor has lost traces of me for 
 once, I am making haste to leave my asylum, on 
 pretence of following this stranger, but in reality 
 to conceal myself still more completely from his 
 search. Perhaps this may be the last sentence 
 ever I am destined to write. If so, farewell Chris- 
 tian reader ! May God grant to thee a happier des- 
 tiny than has been allotted to me here on earth, and 
 the same assurance of acceptance above ! Amen. 
 
 Ault-Righ, August 24, 1712. — Here am I, set 
 down on the open moor to add one sentence more 
 to my woful journal ; and then, farewell all be- 
 neath the sun ! 
 
 On leaving the hind's cottage on the Border, I 
 hasted to the north-west, because in that quarter I 
 perceived the highest and wildest hills before me. 
 
362 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 As I crossed the mountains above Hawick, I ex- 
 changed clothes with a poor homely shepherd, whom 
 I found lying on a hill side, singing to himself 
 some woful love ditty. He was glad of the change, 
 and proud, of his saintly apparel; and I was no 
 less delighted with mine, by which I now supposed 
 myself completely disguised; and I found more- 
 over that in this garb of a common shepherd I was 
 made welcome in every house. I slept the first 
 night in a farm-house nigh to the church of Ro- 
 berton, without hearing or seeing aught extraordi- 
 nary ; yet I observed next morning that all the ser- 
 vants kept aloof from me, and regarded me with 
 looks of aversion. The next night I came to this 
 house, where the farmer engaged me as a shepherd ; 
 and finding him a kind, worthy, and religious man, 
 I accepted of his terms with great gladness. I had 
 not, however, gone many times to the sheep, before 
 all the rest of the shepherds told my master, that I 
 knew nothing about herding, and begged of him 
 to dismiss me. He perceived too well the truth of 
 their intelligence ; but being much taken with my 
 learning, and religious conversation, he would not 
 put me away, but set me to herd his cattle. 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 363 
 
 It was lucky for me, that before I came here, a 
 report had prevailed, perhaps for an age, that this 
 farm-house was haunted at certain seasons by a 
 ghost. I say it was lucky for me, for I had not been 
 in it many days before the same appalling noises 
 began to prevail around me about midnight, often 
 continuing till near the dawning. Still they kept 
 aloof, and without doors; for this gentleman's 
 house, like the cottage I was in formerly, seemed 
 to be a sanctuary from all demoniacal power. He 
 appears to be a good man and a just, and mocks at 
 the idea of supernatural agency, and he either does 
 not hear these persecuting spirits, or will not ac- 
 knowledge it, though of late he appears much per- 
 turbed. 
 
 The consternation of the menials has been ex- 
 treme. I They ascribe all to the ghost, and tell 
 frightful stories of murders having been committed 
 there long ago. Of late, however, they are be- 
 ginning to suspect that it is I that am haunted ; 
 and as I have never given them any satisfactory 
 account of myself, they are whispering that I am a 
 murderer, and haunted by the spirits of those I have 
 slain. 
 
364 PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 August 30. — This day I have been informed, 
 that I am to be banished the dwelling-house by 
 night, and to sleep in an out-house by myself, to 
 try if the family can get any rest when freed of my 
 presence. I have peremptorily refused acquies- 
 cence, on which my master's brother struck me, 
 and kicked me with his foot. My body being quite 
 exhausted by suffering, I am grown weak and feeble 
 both in mind and bodily frame, and actually unable 
 to resent any insult or injury. I am the child of 
 earthly misery and despair, if ever there was one 
 existent. My master is still my friend ; but there 
 are so many masters here, and every one of them 
 alike harsh to me, that I wish myself in my grave 
 every hour of the day. If I am driven from the 
 family sanctuary by night, I know I shall be torn 
 in pieces before morning ; and then who will deign 
 or dare to gather up my mangled limbs, and give 
 them honoured burial. 
 
 My last hour is arrived : I see my tormentor 
 once more approaching me in this wild. Oh, that 
 the earth would swallow me up, or the hill fall and 
 cover me ! Farewell for ever ! 
 
 September 7> 1712. — My devoted, princely, 
 but sanguine friend, has been with me again and 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 365 
 
 again. My time is expired, and I find a relief be- 
 yond measure, for he has fully convinced me that 
 no act of mine can mar the eternal counsel, or in 
 the smallest degree alter or extenuate one event 
 which was decreed before the foundations of the 
 world were laid. He said he had watched over me 
 with the greatest anxiety, but perceiving my rooted 
 aversion towards him, he had forborn troubling me 
 with his presence. But now, seeing that I was 
 certainly to be driven from my sanctuary that night, 
 and that there would be a> number of infernals 
 watching to make a prey of my body, he came to 
 caution me not to despair, for that he would pro- 
 tect me at all risks, if the power remained with 
 him. He then repeated an ejaculatory prayer, 
 which I was to pronounce, if in great extremity. I 
 objected to the words as equivocal, and susceptible 
 of being rendered in a meaning perfectly dreadful ; 
 but he reasoned against this, and all reasoning with 
 him is to no purpose. He said he did not ask me 
 to repeat the words, unless greatly straitened ; and 
 that I saw his strength and power giving way, and 
 when perhaps nothing else could save me. 
 
 The dreaded hour of night arrived; and, as he 
 said, I was expelled from the family residence, and 
 
366 TRIVATE MEMOIRS AND 
 
 ordered to a byre, or cow-house, that stood parallel 
 with the dwelling-house behind, where, on a divot 
 loft, my humble bedstead stood, and the cattle 
 grunted and puffed below me. How unlike the 
 splendid halls of Dalcastle ! And to what I am now 
 reduced, let the reflecting reader judge. Lord, 
 thouknowest all that I have done for thy cause on 
 earth ! Why then art thou laying thy hand so sore 
 upon me ? Why hast thou set me as a butt of thy 
 malice ? But thy will must be done ! Thou wilt 
 repay me in a better world. Amen. 
 
 September 8. — My first night of trial in this 
 place is overpast ! Would that it were the last that 
 I should ever see in this detested world ! If the 
 horrors of hell are equal to those I have suffered, 
 eternity will be of short duration there, for no crea- 
 ted energy can support them for one single month, 
 or week. I have been buffeted as never living 
 creature was. My vitals have all been torn, and 
 every faculty and feeling of my soul racked, and 
 tormented into callous insensibility. I was even 
 hung by the locks over a yawning chasm, to which 
 I could perceive no bottom, and then — not till 
 then, did I repeat the tremendous prayer ! — I was 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 367 
 
 instantly at liberty ; and what I now am, the Al- 
 mighty knows ! Amen. 
 
 September 18, 1712. — Still am I living, though 
 liker to a vision than a human being ; but this is 
 my last day of mortal existence. Unable to resist 
 any longer, I pledged myself to my devoted friend, 
 that on this day we should die together, and trust 
 to the charity of the children of men for a grave. 
 I am solemnly pledged ; and though I dared to re- 
 pent, I am aware he will not be gainsaid, for he is 
 raging with despair at his fallen and decayed ma- 
 jesty, and there is some miserable comfort in the 
 idea that my tormentor shall fall with me. Farewell, 
 world, with all thy miseries ; for comforts or enjoy- 
 ments hast thou none ! Farewell, woman, whom 
 I have despised and shunned; andman,whomI have 
 hated ; whom, nevertheless, I desire to leave in 
 charity ! And thou, sun, bright emblem of a far 
 brighter effulgence, I bid farewell to thee also ! 
 I do not now take my last look of thee, for to thy 
 glorious orb shall a poor suicide's last earthly look 
 be raised. But, ah ! who is yon that I see ap- 
 proaching furiously — his stern face blackened with 
 horrid despair ! My hour is at hand. — Almighty 
 God, what is this that I am about to do ! The 
 
368 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 hour of repentance is past, and now my fate is in- 
 evitable. — Amen, for ever ! I will now seal up 
 my little book, and conceal it ; and cursed be he 
 who trieth to alter or amend ! 
 
 END OF THE MEMOIR. 
 
 What can this work be ? Sure, you will say, it 
 must be an allegory ; or (as the writer calls it) a 
 religious parable, showing the dreadful danger of 
 self-righteousness ? I cannot tell. Attend to the se- 
 quel : which is a thing so extraordinary, so unpre- 
 cedented, and so far out of the common course of hu- 
 man events, that if there were not hundreds of living 
 witnesses to attest the truth of it, I would not bid 
 any rational being believe it. 
 
 In the first place, take the following extract from 
 an authentic letter, published in Blackwood's Ma- 
 gazine for August, 1823. 
 
 " On the top of a wild height called Cowans- 
 croft, where the lands of three proprietors meet all 
 at one point, there has been for long and many 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 369 
 
 years the grave of a suicide marked out by a stone 
 standing at the head, and another at the feet. Of- 
 ten have I stood musing over it myself, when a 
 shepherd on one of the farms, of which it formed 
 the extreme boundary, and thinking what could in- 
 duce a young man, who had scarcely reached the 
 prime of life, to brave his Maker, and rush into his 
 presence by an act of his own erring hand, and one 
 so unnatural and preposterous. But it never once 
 occurred to me, as an object of curiosity, to dig up 
 the mouldering bones of the culprit, which I con- 
 sidered as the most revolting of all objects. The 
 thing was, however, done last month, and a disco- 
 very made of one of the greatest natural phenome- 
 na that I have heard of in this country. 
 
 " The little traditionary history that remains of 
 this unfortunate youth, is altogether a singular one. 
 He was not a native of the place, nor would he ever 
 tell from what place he came ; but he was remark* 
 able for a deep, thoughtful, and sullen disposition. 
 There was nothing against his character that any 
 body knew of here, and he had been a considerable 
 time in the place. The last service he was in was 
 with a Mr. Anderson of Eltrive, (Ault-Righ, the 
 King's burn,) who died about 100 years ago, and 
 2 B 
 
370 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 who had hired him during the summer to herd a 
 stock of young cattle in Eltrive Hope. It hap- 
 pened one day in the month of September, that 
 James Anderson, his master's son, went with this 
 young man to the Hope to divert himself. The 
 herd had his dinner along with him, and about 
 one o'clock, when the boy proposed going home, 
 the former pressed him very hard to stay and take 
 share of his dinner ; but the boy refused, for fear 
 his parents might be alarmed about him, and said 
 he would go home : on which the herd said to him, 
 ' Then, if ye winna stay with me, James, ye may 
 depend on't I'll cut my throat afore ye come back 
 again.'* 
 
 " I have heard it likewise reported, but only by 
 one person, that there had been some things stolen 
 out of his master's house a good while before, and 
 that the boy had discovered a silver knife and fork, 
 that was a part of the stolen property, in the herd's 
 possession that day, and that it was this discovery 
 that drove him to despair. 
 
 " The boy did not return to the Hope that after- 
 noon ; and, before evening, a man coming in at the 
 pass called The Hart Loup, with a drove of lambs, 
 on the way for Edinburgh, perceived something 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 371 
 
 like a man standing in a strange frightful position 
 at the side of one of Eldinhope hay-ricks. The dri- 
 ver's attention was riveted on this strange uncouth 
 figure, and as the drove-road passed at no great 
 distance from the spot, he first called, but recei- 
 ving no answer, he went up to the spot, and behold 
 it was the above-mentioned young man, who had 
 hung himself in the hay rope that was tying down 
 the rick. \ 
 
 " This was accounted a great wonder ; and every 
 one said, if the devil had not assisted him it was im- 
 possible the thing could have been done ; for, in 
 general, these ropes are so brittle, being made of 
 green hay, that they will scarcely bear to be bound 
 over the rick. And the more to horrify the good 
 people of this neighbourhood, the driver said, when 
 he first came in view, he could almost give his oath 
 that he saw two people busily engaged at the hay- 
 rick, going round it and round it, and he thought 
 they were dressing it. 
 
 " If this asseveration approximated at all to truth, 
 it makes this evident at least, that the unfortunate 
 young man had hanged himself after the man with 
 the lambs came in view. He was, however, quite 
 dead when he cut him down. He had fastened 
 2 b2 
 
372 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 two of the old hay-ropes at the bottom of the rick 
 on one side, (indeed they are all fastened so when 
 first laid on,) so that he had nothing to do but to 
 loosen two of the ends on the other side. These 
 he had tied in a knot round his neck, and then 
 slackening his knees, and letting himself down 
 gradually, till the hay-rope bore all his weight, he 
 had contrived to put an end to his existence in that 
 way. Now the fact is, that if you try all the ropes 
 that are thrown over all the outfield hay-ricks in . 
 Scotland, there is not one among a thousand of them 
 will hang a colley dog ; so that the manner of this 
 wretches death was rather a singular circumstance. 
 " Early next morning, Mr. Anderson's servants 
 went reluctantly away, and, taking an old blanket 
 with them for a winding sheet, they rolled up the 
 body of the deceased, first in his own plaid, letting 
 the hay-rope still remain about his neck, and then 
 rolling the old blanket over all, they bore the loath- 
 ed remains away to the distance of three miles or so, 
 on spokes, to the top of CowanVCroft, at the very 
 point where the Duke of Buccleuch's land, the 
 Laird of Drummelzier's, and Lord Napier's, meet, 
 and there they buried him, with all that he had on 
 and about him, silver knife and fork and altogether. 
 
.• the editor's narrative. 373 
 
 Thus far went tradition, and no one ever disputed 
 one jot of the disgusting oral tale. 
 
 " A nephew of that Mr. Anderson's who was with 
 the hapless youth that day he died, says, that, as 
 far as he can gather from the relations of friends 
 that he remembers, and of that same uncle in par- 
 ticular, it is one hundred and five years next month, 
 (that is September, 1823,) since that event hap- 
 pened ; and I think it likely that this gentleman's 
 information is correct. But sundry other people, 
 much older than he, whom I have consulted, pre- 
 tend that it is six or seven years more. They say 
 they have heard that Mr. James Anderson was 
 then a boy ten years of age ; that he lived to an 
 old age, upwards of fourscore, and it is two and 
 forty years since he died. Whichever way it may 
 be, it was about that period some way, of that there 
 is no doubt. 
 
 "It so happened, that two young men, William 
 Shiel and W. Sword, were out, on an adjoining 
 height, this summer, casting peats, and it came in- 
 to their heads to open this grave in the wilderness, 
 and see if there were any of the bones of the sui- 
 cide of former ages and centuries remaining. They 
 did so, but opened only one half of the grave, be- 
 2b3 
 
374 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ginning at the head and about the middle at the 
 same time. It was not long till they came upon 
 the old blanket — I think they said not much more 
 than a foot from the surface. They tore that open, 
 and there was the hay rope lying stretched down 
 alongst his breast, so fresh that they saw at first 
 sight that it was made of risp, a sort of long sword- 
 grass that grows about marshes and the sides of 
 lakes. One of the young men seized the rope and 
 pulled by it, but the old enchantment of the devil 
 remained, — it would not break ; and so he pulled 
 and pulled at it, till behold the body came up in- 
 to a sitting posture, with a broad blue bonnet on 
 its head, and its plaid around it, all as fresh as that 
 day it was laid in ! I never heard of a preserva- 
 tion so wonderful, if it be true as was related to 
 me, for still I have not had the curiosity to go and 
 view the body myself. The features were all so 
 plain, that an acquaintance might easily have known 
 him. One of the lads gripped the face of the 
 corpse with his finger and thumb, and the cheeks 
 felt quite soft and fleshy, but the dimples remain- 
 ed and did not spring out again. He had fine yel- 
 low hair, about nine inches long ; but not a hair of 
 it could they pull out till they cut part of it off 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 3*]5 
 
 with a knife. They also cut off* some portions of 
 his clothes, which were all quite fresh, and distri- 
 buted them among their acquaintances, sending a 
 portion to me, among the rest, to keep as natural 
 curiosities. Several gentlemen have in a manner 
 forced me to give them fragments of these enchan- 
 ted garments : I have, however, retained a small 
 portion for you, which I send along with this, 
 being a piece of his plaid, and another of his waist- 
 coat breast, which you will see are still as fresh as 
 that day they were laid in the grave. 
 
 " His broad blue bonnet was sent to Edinburgh 
 several weeks ago, to the great regret of some gen- 
 tlemen connected with the land, who wished to 
 have it for a keep-sake. For my part, fond as I 
 am of blue bonnets, and broad ones in particular, 
 I declare I durst not have worn that one. There 
 was nothing of the silver knife and fork discovered, 
 that I heard of, nor was it very likely it should : 
 but it would appear he had been very near run of 
 cash, which I daresay had been the cause of his 
 utter despair; for, on searching his pockets, no- 
 thing was found but three old Scots halfpennies. 
 These young men meeting with another shepherd 
 afterwards, his curiosity was so much excited that 
 
376 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 they went and digged up the curious remains a 
 second time, which was a pity, as it is likely that 
 by these exposures to the air, and from the impos- 
 sibility of burying it up again as closely as it was 
 before, the flesh will now fall to dust.'" 
 
 * * * # * *• 
 
 The letter from which the above is an extract, 
 is signed James Hogg, and dated from Altrive 
 Lake, August \st, 1823. It bears the stamp of 
 authenticity in every line ; yet, so often had I been 
 hoaxed by the ingenious fancies displayed in that 
 Magazine, that when this relation met my eye, I 
 did not believe it ; but from the moment that I 
 perused it, I half formed the resolution of investi- 
 gating these wonderful remains personally, if any 
 such existed ; for, in the immediate vicinity of the 
 scene, as I supposed, I knew of more attractive me- 
 tal than the dilapidated remains of mouldering sui- 
 cides. 
 
 Accordingly, having some business in Edin- 
 burgh in September last, and being obliged to 
 wait a few days for the arrival of a friend from 
 London, I took that opportunity to pay a visit to 
 
 my townsman and fellow collegian, Mr. L 1 of 
 
 C d, advocate. I mentioned to him Hogg's 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARRATIVE. 377 
 
 letter, asking him if the statement was founded at 
 all on truth. His answer was, " I suppose so. For 
 my part I never doubted the thing, having been 
 told that there has been a deal of talking about it 
 up in the Forest for some time past. But, God 
 knows ! Hogg has imposed as ingenious lies on the 
 public ere now." 
 
 I said, if it was within reach, I should like ex- 
 ceedingly to visit both the Shepherd and the Scots 
 
 mummy he had described. Mr. L 1 assented 
 
 at the first proposal, saying he had no objections 
 to take a ride that length with me, and make the 
 fellow produce his credentials : That we would 
 have a delightful jaunt through a romantic and 
 now classical country, and some good sport into 
 the bargain, provided he could procure a horse for 
 me, from his father-in-law, next day. He sent up 
 to a Mr. L- w to inquire, who returned for an- 
 swer, that there was an excellent pony at my ser- 
 vice, and that he himself would accompany us, be- 
 ing obliged to attend a great sheep fair at Thirle- 
 stane ; and that he was certain the Shepherd would 
 be there likewise. 
 
 Mr. L 1 said that was the very man we want- 
 ed to make our party complete ; and at an early 
 
378 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 hour next morning we started for the ewe fair of 
 Thirlestane, taking Blackwood's Magazine for Au- 
 gust along with us. We rode through the ancient 
 royal burgh of Selkirk, — halted and corned our 
 horses at a romantic village, nigh to some deep 
 linns on the Ettrick, and reached the market 
 ground at Thirlestane-green a little before mid- 
 day. We soon found Hogg, standing near the 
 foot of the market, as he called it, beside a great 
 drove of paulies, a species of stock that I never 
 heard of before. They were small sheep, striped 
 on the backs with red chalk. Mr. L 1 intro- 
 duced me to him as a great wool-stapler, come to 
 raise the price of that article ; but he eyed me with 
 distrust, and turning his back on us, answered, " I 
 hae seird mine.'" 
 
 I followed, and shewing him the above-quoted 
 letter, said I was exceedingly curious to have a 
 look of these singular remains he had so ingenious- 
 ly described ; but he only answered me with the 
 remark, that "It was a queer fancy for a woo-stap- 
 pler to tak." 
 
 His two friends then requested him to accom- 
 pany us to the spot, and to take some of his shep- 
 herds with us to assist in raising the body ; but 
 
THE EDITOR^ NARRATIVE. 379 
 
 he spurned at the idea, saying, " Od bless ye, lad ! 
 I hae ither matters to mind. I hae a' thae paulies 
 to sell, an" a 1 yon Highland stotts down on the 
 green every ane ; an"* then I hae ten scores o' yowes 
 to buy after, an 1 if I canna first sell my ain stock, 
 I canna buy nae ither body's. I hae mair ado 
 than I can manage the day, foreby ganging to 
 houk up hunder-year-auld banes." 
 
 Finding that we could make nothing of him, we 
 left him with his paulies. Highland stotts, grey 
 jacket, and broad blue bonnet, to go in search of some 
 other guide. L w soon found one, for he seem- 
 ed acquainted with every person in the fair. We 
 
 got a fine old shepherd, named W m B— e, 
 
 a great original, and a very obliging and civil man, 
 who asked no conditions but that we should not 
 speak of it, because he did not wish it to come to 
 his master's ears, that he had been engaged in sic a 
 profane thing. We promised strict secrecy ; and 
 accompanied by another farmer, Mr. S — t, and 
 
 old B e, we proceeded to the grave, which 
 
 B e described as about a mile and a half dis- 
 tant from the market ground. 
 
 We went into a shepherd's cot to get a drink of 
 milk, when I read to our guide Mr. Hogg's de- 
 
380 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER . 
 
 scription, asking him if he thought it correct ? He 
 said there was hardly a bit o't correct, for the grave 
 was not on the hill of Cowan' s-Croft, nor yet on the 
 point where three lairds' lands met, but on the top 
 of a hill called the Faw-Law, where there was no 
 land that was not the Duke of Buccleuch's within 
 a quarter of a mile. He added that it was a won- 
 der how the poet could be mistaken there, who once 
 herded the very ground where the grave is, and saw 
 both hills from his own window. Mr. L w tes- 
 tified great surprise at such a singular blunder, as 
 also how the body came not to be buried at the 
 meeting of three or four lairds' lands, which had 
 always been customary in the south of Scotland. 
 Our guide said he had always heard it reported, 
 that the Eltrive men, with Mr. David Anderson 
 at their head, had risen before day on the Monday 
 morning, it having been on the Sabbath day that 
 the man put down himself ; and that they set out 
 with the intention of burying him on Cowan's- 
 Croft, where three marches met at a point. But 
 it having been an invariable rule to bury such lost 
 sinners before the rising of the sun, these five 
 men were overtaken by day-light, as they passed 
 the house of Berry-Knowe ; and by the time they 
 
the editor's narrative. 381 
 
 reached the top of the Faw-Law, the sun was be- 
 ginning to skair the east. On this they laid down 
 the body, and digged a deep grave with all expe- 
 dition ; but when they had done, it was too short, 
 and the body being stiff, it would not go down, on 
 which Mr. David Anderson looking to the east, 
 and perceiving that the sun would be up on them 
 in a few minutes, set his foot on the suicide's brow, 
 and tramped down his head into the grave with 
 his iron-heeled shoe, until his nose and skull crash- 
 ed again, and at the same time uttered a terrible 
 curse on the wretch who had disgraced the family, 
 and given them all this trouble. This anecdote, 
 our guide said, he had heard when a boy, from 
 the mouth of Robert Laidlaw, one of the five men 
 who buried the body. 
 
 We soon reached the spot, and I confess I felt 
 a singular sensation, when I saw the grey stone 
 standing at the head, and another at the feet, and 
 the one half of the grave manifestly new digged, 
 and closed up again as had been described. I 
 could still scarcely deem the thing to be a reality, 
 for the ground did not appear to be wet, but a kind 
 of dry rotten moss. On looking around, we found 
 some fragments of clothes, some teeth, and part of 
 
382 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 a pocket-book, which had not been returned into the 
 grave, when the body had been last raised, for it 
 had been twice raised before this, but only from 
 the loins upward. 
 
 To work we fell with two spades, and soon clear- 
 ed away the whole of the covering. The part of 
 the grave that had been opened before, was filled 
 with mossy mortar, which impeded us exceedingly, 
 and entirely prevented a proper investigation of 
 the fore parts of the body. I will describe every 
 thing as I saw it before four respectable witnesses, 
 whose riames I shall publish at large if permitted. 
 A number of the bones came up separately ; for 
 with the constant flow of liquid stuff into the deep 
 grave, we could not see to preserve them in their 
 places. At length great loads of coarse clothes, 
 blanketing, plaiding, &c. appeared; we tried to 
 lift these regularly up, and on doing so, part of a 
 skeleton came up, but no flesh, save a little that 
 was hanging in dark flitters about the spine, but 
 which had no consistence ; it was merely the appear- 
 ance of flesh without the substance. The head was 
 wanting ; and I being very anxious to possess the 
 skull, the search was renewed among the mortar 
 and rags. We first found a part of the scalp, with 
 
the editor's narrative. 383 
 
 the long hair firm on it ; which, on being cleaned, 
 is neither black nor fair, but of a darkish dusk, the 
 most common of any other colour. Soon afterwards 
 we found the skull, but it was not complete. A 
 spade had damaged it, and one of the temple quar- 
 ters was wanting. I am no phrenologist, not know- 
 ing one organ from another, but I thought the 
 skull of that wretched man no study. If it was 
 particular for any thing, it was for a smooth, al- 
 most perfect rotundity, with only a little protuber- 
 ance above the vent of the ear. 
 
 When we came to that part of the grave that had 
 never been opened before, the appearance of every 
 thing was quite different. There the remains lay 
 under a close vault of moss, and within a vacant 
 space ; and I suppose, by the digging in the for- 
 mer part of the grave, that part had been deepen- 
 ed, and drawn the moisture away from this part, 
 for here all was perfect. The breeches still suited 
 the thigh, the stocking the leg, and the garters 
 were wrapt as neatly and as firm below the knee as 
 if they had been newly tied. The shoes were all 
 opened in the seams, the hemp having decayed, but 
 the soles, upper leathers 2 and wooden heels, which 
 were made of birch, were all as fresh as any of those 
 
384 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 we wore. There was one thing I could not help 
 remarking, that in the inside of one of the shoes 
 there was a layer of cow's dung, about one eighth of 
 an inch thick, and in the hollow of the sole fully 
 one fourth of an inch. It was firm, green, and 
 fresh ; and proved that he had been working in a 
 byre. His clothes were all of a singular ancient 
 cut, and no less singular in their texture. Their 
 durability certainly would have been prodigious ; 
 for in thickness, coarseness, and strength, I never 
 saw any cloth in the smallest degree to equal them. 
 His coat was a frock coat, of a yellowish drab colour, 
 with wide sleeves. It is tweeled, milled, and thick- 
 er than a carpet. I cut off two of the skirts and 
 brought them with me. His vest was of striped 
 serge, such as I have often seen worn by country 
 people. It was lined and backed with white stuff. 
 The breeches were a sort of striped plaiding, which 
 I never saw worn, but which our guide assured us 
 was very common in the country once, though, 
 from the old clothes which he had seen remaining 
 of it, he judged that it could not be less than 200 
 years since it was in fashion. His garters were of 
 worsted, and striped with black or blue ; his stock- 
 ings gray, and wanting the feet. I brought samples 
 
the editor's narrative. 385 
 
 of all along with me. I have likewise now got pos- 
 session of the bonnet, which puzzles me most of all. 
 It is not conformable with the rest of the dress. It 
 is neither a broad bonnet, nor a Border bonnet ; for 
 there is an open behind, for tying, which no genu- 
 ine Border bonnet, I am told, ever had. It seems 
 to have been a Highland bonnet, worn in a flat 
 way like a scone on the crown, such as is sometimes 
 still seen in the west of Scotland. All the limbs, 
 from the loins to the toes, seemed perfect and en- 
 tire, but they could not bear handling. Before we 
 got them returned again into the grave, they were 
 all shaken to pieces, except the thighs, which con- 
 tinued to retain a kind of flabby form. 
 
 All his clothes that were sewed with linen yarn 
 were lying in separate portions, the thread having 
 rotten; but such as were sewed with worsted re- 
 mained perfectly firm and sound. Among such a 
 confusion, we had hard work to find out all his 
 pockets, and our guide supposed, that, after all, we 
 did not find above the half of them. In his vest 
 pocket was a long clasp knife, very sharp ; the haft 
 was thin, and the scales shone as if there had been 
 silver inside. Mr. Sc — t took it with him, and 
 presented it to his neighbour, Mr. R — — n of 
 2c 
 
386 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 W — n L — e, who still has it in his possession. We 
 found a comb, a gimblet, a vial, a small neat square 
 board, a pair of plated knee-buckles, and several 
 samples of cloth of different kinds, rolled neatly up 
 within one another. At length, while we were busy 
 
 on the search, Mr. L 1 picked up a leathern case, 
 
 which seemed to have been wrapped round and round 
 by some ribbon, or cord, that had been rotten from 
 it, for the swaddling marks still remained. Both 
 
 L w and B e called out that " it was the 
 
 tobacco spleuchan, and a well-filled ane too ;" but 
 on opening it out, we found, to our great astonish- 
 ment, that it contained a printed pamphlet. We 
 were all curious to see what sort of a pamphlet 
 such a person would read ; what it could contain 
 that he seemed to have had such a care about ? for 
 the slough in which it was rolled, was fine chamois 
 leather; what colour it had been, could not be 
 known. But the pamphlet was wrapped so close to- 
 gether, and so damp, rotten, and yellow, that it 
 seemed one solid piece. We all concluded, from 
 some words that we could make out, that it was a 
 religious tract, but that it would be impossible to 
 
 make any thing of it. Mr. L w remarked that 
 
 it was a great pity if a few sentences could not be 
 
the editor's "narrative. 387 
 
 made out, for that it was a question what might be 
 contained in that little book ; and then he request- 
 ed Mr. L 1 to give it to me, as he had so many 
 
 things of literature and law to attend to, that he 
 would never think more of it. He replied, that 
 either of us were heartily welcome to it, for that he 
 had thought of returning it into the grave, if he 
 could have made out but a line or two, to have seen 
 what was its tendency. 
 
 " Grave, man !" exclaimed L w, who speaks 
 
 excellent strong broad Scots : " My truly, but ye 
 grave weel ! I wad esteem the contents o' that 
 spleuchan as the most precious treasure. I'll tell 
 you what it is, sir : I hae often wondered how it was 
 that this man's corpse has been miraculously pre- 
 served frae decay, a hunder times langer than ony 
 other body's, or than even a tanner's. But now I 
 could wager a guinea, it has been for the preserva- 
 tion o' that little book. And Lord kens what may 
 be in't ! It will maybe reveal some mystery that 
 mankind disna ken naething about yet." 
 
 " If there be any mysteries in it," returned the 
 other, " it is not for your handling, my dear 
 friend, who are too much taken up about myste- 
 ries already." And with these words he presented 
 2 c 2 
 
388 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 the mysterious pamphlet to me. With very little 
 trouble, save that of a thorough drying, I unrolled 
 it all with ease, and found the very tract which I 
 have here ventured to lay before the public, part of 
 it in small bad print, and the remainder in manu- 
 script. The title page is written, and is as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS 
 
 AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 OF A JUSTIFIED SINNER : 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 FIDELI CERTA MERCES. 
 
 And, alongst the head, it is the same as given in 
 the present edition of the work. I altered the 
 title to A Self-justified Sinner, but my booksellers 
 did not approve of it ; and there being a curse pro- 
 nounced by the writer on him that should dare to 
 alter or amend, I have let it stand as it is. Should 
 it be thought to attach discredit to any received 
 principle of our church, I am blameless. The 
 printed part ends at page 340, and the rest is in a 
 fine old hand, extremely small and close. I have 
 ordered the printer to procure a fac-simile of it, to 
 be bound in with the volume. 
 
THE EDITOR'S NARK ATI VE. 389 
 
 With regard to the work itself, I dare not ven- 
 ture a judgment, for I do not understand it. I 
 believe no person, man or woman, will ever peruse 
 it with the same attention that I have done, and 
 yet I confess that I do not comprehend the. writer's 
 drift. It is certainly impossible that these scenes 
 could ever have occurred, that he describes as ha- 
 ving himself transacted. I think it may be pos- 
 sible that he had some hand in the death of his 
 brother, and yet I am disposed greatly to doubt 
 it; and the numerous distorted traditions, &c. which 
 remain of that event, maybe attributable to the work 
 having been printed and burnt, and of course the 
 story known to all the printers, with their families 
 and gossips. That the young Laird of Dalcastle 
 came by a violent death, there remains no doubt ; 
 but that this wretch slew him> there is to me a good 
 deal. However, allowing this to have been the 
 case, I account all the rest either dreaming or mad- 
 ness; or, as he says to Mr. Watson, a religious 
 parable, on purpose to illustrate something scarce- 
 ly tangible, but to which he seems to have attach- 
 ed great weight. Were the relation at all consist- 
 ent with reason, it corresponds so minutely with 
 
 traditionary facts, that it could scarcely have miss- 
 2c3 
 
390 CONFESSIONS OF A SINNER. 
 
 ed to have been received as authentic ; but in this 
 day, and with the present generation, it will not go 
 down, that a man should be daily tempted by the 
 devil, in the semblance of a fellow-creature ; and 
 at length lured to self-destruction, in the hopes 
 that this same fiend and tormentor was to suffer 
 and fall along with him. It was a bold theme 
 for an allegory, and would have suited that age 
 well had it been taken up by one fully qualified 
 for the task, which this writer was not. In short, 
 we must either conceive him not only the greatest 
 fool, but the greatest wretch, on whom was ever 
 stamped the form of humanity ; or, that he was a 
 religious maniac, who wrote and wrote about a de- 
 luded creature, till he arrived at that height of mad- 
 ness, that he believed himself the very object whom 
 he had been all along describing. And in order 
 to escape from an ideal tormentor, committed that 
 act for which, according to the tenets he embrac- 
 ed, there was no remission, and which consigned 
 his memory and his name to everlasting detesta- 
 tion. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 PRINTED BY JAMES CLARKE & CO. 
 EDINBURGH, 1824. 
 
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