soon as I had reached the top of the rock, there appeared a great number of people assembled in a glen, to hear the preaching of mas John King, as I understood afterward; whose voice was so loud that it reached the ears of those who were at the greatest distance, which could not, I think, be less than a quarter of a mile; they all standing before him, and the wind favouring the strength of his lungs. When my friend had brought the three prisoners to the top of the rock, where I waited for him, they all broke loose, and ran down to the conventicle; but my friend advancing within about forty yards of that rabble, commanded them, in his majesty's name, to depart to their own homes. Whereupon about forty of their number, with poles in their hands, drew out from the rest, and advanced against us two, who had the courage, or rather the temerity, to face so great a company, which could not be fewer than a thousand. As this party of theirs was preparing with their long poles to attack me and my friend, it happened, very luckily, that a fine gelding, saddled and bridled, with a pillion likewise upon him, came up near us in search of better grass. I caught the horse, and immediately mounted him, which the rest of the conventiclers observing, they broke up, and followed as fast as they could, some on horseback, and the rest on foot, to prevent me from going off with the horse; but I put him to the gallop, and suffering him to choose his own way through the mountain, which was full of bogs and hags, got out of reach. My friend kept up with me as long as he could, but having run a mile through such difficult places, he was quite spent, and the conventiclers hard at his heels; whereupon he called to me for assistance, and I alighting put him upon the horse, bidding him to make the best of his way to the laird of Poddishaw's, about two miles off. By this time we saw twelve covenanters on horseback, who advanced toward us by a shorter cut, and blocked up a gap, through which we were of necessity to pass. I undertook to clear the gap for my friend, and running toward the rogues, with my broad-sword and pistol, soon forced them to open to the right and left: my comrade got through, and was pursued a good way; but he so laid about him with his broad-sword, that the pursuers, being unarmed, durst not seize him. In the mean time, I, who was left on foot, kept the covenanters, who followed me, at a proper distance; but they pelted me with clods, which I sometimes returned, till, at last, after chasing me above a mile, they saw a party of troopers in red passing by at some distance: and then gave over their pursuit.

"The troopers observing my friend galloping and pursued, imagined he was some frantic preacher, till they came to an old woman on a hill, whom my friend had desired to deny his being gone that way; upon which they went off to their quarters, and he got safe to Poddishaw's, whither I soon after arrived. The laird of Poddishaw had been that day to church, from whence, returning with the laird of Pocammock, who lived about a mile off, they both wondered how the horse got thither: for Pocammock was the owner of the horse, and his lady had rode on it that day to the conventicle, without her husband's knowledge, having been seduced thither by some fanatic neighbours, for she had never been at their meetings before. My friend and I

acquainted the two lairds of the whole adventure of that day; and, after dinner, Pocammock requested to let him have the horse home, thereby to stifle any reflection his lady might bring upon him, or herself, by going to a conventicle; he likewise invited us to dine next day at his house, where the horse should be again delivered to me, as justly forfeited by the folly of his wife. We went accordingly, with the laird of Poddishaw, and dined at Pocammock's; where the horse was ordered to be led out into the court, in the same accoutrements as I found him the day before: but observing the lady in tears, I told her, that, if she would give me her promise never to go to a conventicle again, I would bestow her the horse, and conceal what had passed: she readily complied, and so the matter was made up. However, the laird, her husband, assured me that no horse in Scotland should be better paid for; and being a leading man in the country, and his lady discovering the names of those who had been at the conventicle, he sent for them, and persuaded them, as they valued their quiet, to make up a purse for me and my friend, which they accordingly did; and we both lived plentifully a twelvemonth after on the price of that horse."

Among the characters to which we are introduced, are Francis Stuart, (the Serjeant Bothwell of the novelist,) and the redoubted Balfour of Burley.

"For, the seditious humours in the west still increasing, it was thought proper that three independent troops of horse, and as many of dragoons, should be raised to suppress the rebels. Whereupon Mr. Francis Stuart, grandson to the Earl of Bothwell, a private gentleman in the horse-guards like myself, and my intimate acquaintance, was sent for, in haste, by the general; because the council of Scotland was then writing to the king, that his majesty would please to grant commissions to those persons whose names were to be sent up to London that very night. Mr. Stuart gave me notice of this: whereupon, although I was not sent for, I resolved to go up with him to Edinburgh, and solicit for myself. When I arrived there, and attended the general, his first question was, in a humourous manner, "Wha the deel sent for you up?" I answered, that I hoped his excellency would now make good his promise of preferring me, since so fair an opportunity offered at present. On this occasion the general stood my firm friend; and although the sons and brothers of lords and baronets, and other persons of quality, solicited to be made lieutenants and cornets in these new-raised troops, yet the general, in regard to my services, prevailed with the council that I might be appointed lieutenant to Mr. Stuart, who was then made captain of dragoons.

"Soon after this, the archbishop of St. Andrew's was murdered by the laird of Hackston and Balfour, assisted by four poor weavers.'

* "One of them fired a pistol at him, which burnt his coat and gown, but did not go into his body: upon this, they fancied he had a magical secret to secure him against a shot, and they drew him out of

Hackston, before this horrid action, was reputed an honest and gallant man, but his friendship for his brother-in-law, Balfour, drew him in to commit this inhuman murder. Balfour, who had been the archbishop's chamberlain, (for so in Scotland we call a great man's steward), whether by negligence or dishonesty, was short in his payments to his lord; and the fear of being called to an account was a principal motive to assassinate his master: however, he pretended likewise a great zeal for the kirk, whereof he looked upon the archbishop as the greatest oppressor. It is certain that the lower people mortally hated the archbishop, on pretence that his grace had deserted their communion: and the weavers, who were accomplices of Balfour, believed they did God service in destroying an enemy of the kirk; and accordingly all the murderers were esteemed and styled saints by that rebellious faction."

Creichton accompanies Graham of Claverhouse in his expedition against some straggling parties who were making head against the government.

"The rebels at Drumclog were eight or nine thousand strong: their leader, as I have said before, was Robert Hamilton, second brother to the royal house of Preston, but a profligate who had spent all his patrimony. There were likewise among them the lairds of Knockgray and Fruah, with many other gentlemen of fortune, whose names I have forgot. Clavers's men, with the addition of some few that came in to him, did not exceed one hundred and eighty; yet, pursuant to his orders, he was forced to fight the enemy; but being so vastly outnumbered, was soon defeated, with the loss of cornet Robert Graham, and about eight or ten private troopers. The rebels finding the cornet's body, and supposing it to be that of Clavers, because the name of Graham was wrought in the shirt neck, treated it with the utmost inhumanity, cutting off the nose, picking out the eyes, and stabbing it through in a hundred places.

"Clavers, in his flight toward Hamilton and Glasgow, rode a horse that trailed his guts for two miles from the place where the engagement happened; but overtaking his groom with some led horses, he mounted one of them, and with the remains of his small army escaped to Glasgow. The rebels, pursuing as far as Hamilton, advanced that evening within a mile of Glasgow, where they encamped all night. As Clavers was marching after his men up the hill, where he had left mas John King under the guard of a dragoon (who ran off with the first that fled), King, in a sneering way, desired him to stay and take his prisoner with him."

The insurgents make a desperate attack on Clavers, in Glasgow, but are beaten off with great loss; but continuing to

his coach, and murdered him barbarously, repeating their strokes till they were sure he was quite dead." - Burnet's History, vol. ii. 8vo, p.

increase in numbers, the Duke of Monmouth was sent, to take the command, with a reinforcement. General Dalzell refused to serve under him, and remained at Edinburgh until the Duke was superseded.

The affair of Bothwell Bridge followed, when the rebels having neither "the grace to submit, nor the sense to run away, nor the courage to fight it out," presented a cheap conquest to the royal army.

"The pursuers were no sooner returned, and the whole action over, than General Dalziel arrived at the camp from Edinburgh, with a commission renewed, to be commander in chief, which he received that very morning by an express. This commander having learned how the duke had conducted the war, told him publicly, and with great plainness, that he had betrayed the king; that he heartily wished his commission had come a day sooner, for then,' said he, 'these rogues should never have troubled his majesty or the kingdom any more.""

We shall here introduce Creichton's characteristic portrait of this singular veteran:

"Thomas Dalziel, among many other officers, was taken prisoner at the unfortunate defeat at Worcester, and sent to the Tower; from whence, I know not by what means, he made his escape, and went to Muscovy; where the czar then reigning made him his general:* but some time after the restoration of the royal family, he gave up his commission, and repairing to King Charles the Second, was, in consideration of his eminent services, constituted commander in chief of his majesty's forces in Scotland; in which post he continued till his death, excepting only one fortnight, when he was superseded by the Duke of Monmouth, some days before the action at Bothwell Bridge, as I have already related. He was bred up very hardy from his youth, both in diet and clothing. He never wore boots, nor above one coat, which was close to his body, with close sleeves, like those we call jockey coats. He never wore a peruke; nor did he shave his beard, since the murder of King Charles the First. In my time, his head was bald, which he covered only with a beaver hat, the brim of which was not above three inches broad. His beard was white and bushy, and yet reached down to his girdle. He usually went to London once or twice in a year, and then only to kiss the king's hand, who had a great

"He served the emperor of Russia, as one of the generals of his forces against the Polanders and Tartars, till the year 1665, when he was recalled by King Charles the Second; and thereafter did command his majesty's forces at the defeat of the rebels, at Pentland hills in Scotland; and continued lieutenant-general in Scotland, when his majesty had any standing forces in that kingdom, till the year of his death, 1685." Granger, iii. 380.

esteem for his worth and valour. His unusual dress and figure, when he was in London, never failed to draw after him a great crowd of boys, and other young people, who constantly attended at his lodgings, and followed him with huzzas, as he went to court, or returned from it. As a man of humour, he would always thank them for their civilities, when he left them at the door, to go in to the king; and would let them know exactly at what hour he intended to come out again, and return to his lodgings. When the king walked in the park, attended by some of his courtiers, and Dalziel in his company, the same crowds would always be after him, showing their admiration at his beard and dress, so that the king could hardly pass on for the crowd; upon which his majesty bid the Devil take Dalziel, for bringing such a rabble of boys together, to have their guts squeezed out, while they gaped at his long beard and antique habit; requesting him, at the same time, (as Dalziel used to express it), to shave and dress like other Christians, to keep the poor bairns out of danger. All this could never prevail with him to part with his beard; but yet, in compliance to his majesty, he went once to court in the very height of the fashion; but as soon as the king, and those about him, had laughed sufficiently at the strange figure he made, he reassumed his usual habit, to the great joy of the boys, who had not discovered him in his fashionable dress."

Creichton, immediately after the affair of Bothwell, is eager to return to his old amusement of preacher-hunting.

"On Sunday morning, when the army was to march for Glasgow, I desired the General's leave to go with twelve dragoons, in search of some of the rebels, who might probably pass the Clyde, about Dunbarton, to shelter themselves in the Highlands. With these dragoons, clad in grey coats and bonnets, I made haste down the side of the river; and about midnight, after travelling twenty-four miles, I came to a church, and while the soldiers stayed to refresh their horses in the church-yard, I spied a country fellow going by, and asked him in his own dialect, 'Whither gang ye this time of night?' He answered, Wha are ye that speers?' I replied, 'We are your ane fo'ke.' Upon this the fellow came up, and told me, there were eighteen friends with horses, at an old castle, waiting for a boat to pass over into the isle of Arran. I mounted the man behind one of the dragoons, and went toward the place: but the rebels, not finding a boat, were gone off, and the guide dismissed. There was a great dew on the grass, which directed me and my party to follow the track of their horses, for three or four miles, till the dew was gone off; I then inquired of a cow-herd on a hill, whether he saw any of our 'poor fo'ke' travelling that way? he answered, that they had separated on that hill, and gone three several ways, six in a party; adding, that in one party there was ‘a braw, muckle kerl, with a white hat on him, and a great bob of ribands on the cock o't.' Whereupon I sent four of my dragoons after one party, four more after another; and myself, with the remaining four, went in pursuit of him with the white hat. As I went forward, I met