that a party was out in quest of him, he
returned home, and escaped the fate designed for him, which befell his patron
the Archbishop.
 
11 The leader of this party was David Hackston of Rathillet, a gentleman of
ancient birth and good estate. He had been profligate in his younger days, but
having been led from curiosity to attend the conventicles of the nonconforming
clergy, he adopted their principles in the fullest extent. It appears that
Hackston had some personal quarrel with Archbishop Sharp, which induced him to
decline the command of the party when the slaughter was determined upon, fearing
his acceptance might be ascribed to motives of personal enmity. He felt himself
free in conscience, however, to be present; and when the archbishop, dragged
from his carriage, crawled towards him on his knees for protection, he replied
coldly, »Sir, I will never lay a finger on you.« It is remarkable that Hackston,
as well as a shepherd who was also present, but passive, on the occasion, were
the only two of the party of assassins who suffered death by the hands of the
executioner.
On Hackston's refusing the command, it was by universal suffrage conferred on
John Balfour of Kinloch, called Barley, who was Hackston's brother-in-law. He is
described »as a little man, squint-eyed, and of a very fierce aspect.« - »He
was,« adds the same author, »by some reckoned none of the most religious; yet he
was always reckoned zealous and honest-hearted, courageous in every enterprise,
and a brave soldier, seldom any escaping that came into his hands. He was the
principal actor in killing that arch-traitor to the Lord and his church, James
Sharp.«
 
12 A masculine retainer of this kind, having offended his master extremely, was
commanded to leave his service instantly. »In troth and that will I not,«
answered the domestic; »if your honour disna ken when ye hae a gude servant, I
ken when I hae a gude master, and go away I will not.« On another occasion of
the same nature, the master said, »John, you and I shall never sleep under the
same roof again;« to which John replied, with much naïveté, »Whare the deil can
your honour be ganging?«
 
13 Regimental music is never played at night. But who can assure us that such
was not the custom in Charles the Second's time? Till I am well informed on this
point, the kettle-drums shall clash