Wilson, who, as we have already
noticed, was a very strong man, seized two of the soldiers, one with each hand,
and calling at the same time to his companion, »Run, Geordie, run!« threw
himself on a third, and fastened his teeth on the collar of his coat. Robertson
stood for a second as if thunderstruck, and unable to avail himself of the
opportunity of escape; but the cry of »Run, run!« being echoed from many around,
whose feelings surprised them into a very natural interest in his behalf, he
shook off the grasp of the remaining soldier, threw himself over the pew, mixed
with the dispersing congregation, none of whom felt inclined to stop a poor
wretch taking his last chance for his life, gained the door of the church, and
was lost to all pursuit.
    The generous intrepidity which Wilson had displayed on this occasion
augmented the feeling of compassion which attended his fate. The public, where
their own prejudices are not concerned, are easily engaged on the side of
disinterestedness and humanity, admired Wilson's behaviour, and rejoiced in
Robertson's escape. This general feeling was so great, that it excited a vague
report that Wilson would be rescued at the place of execution, either by the mob
or by some of his old associates, or by some second extraordinary and unexpected
exertion of strength and courage on his own part. The magistrates thought it
their duty to provide against the possibility of disturbance. They ordered out,
for protection of the execution of the sentence, the greater part of their own
City Guard, under the command of Captain Porteous, a man whose name became too
memorable from the melancholy circumstances of the day, and subsequent events.
It may be necessary to say a word about this person, and the corps which he
commanded. But the subject is of importance sufficient to deserve another
chapter.
 

                                 Chapter Second

 And thou, great god of aqua-vitæ!
 Wha sways the empire of this city
 (When fou we're sometimes capernoity),
 Be thou prepared,
 To save us frae that black banditti,
 The City Guard!
                                                          Fergusson's Daft Days.
 
Captain John Porteous, a name memorable in the traditions of Edinburgh, as well
as in the records of criminal jurisprudence, was the son of a citizen of
Edinburgh, who endeavoured to breed him up to his own mechanical trade of a
tailor. The youth, however, had a wild and irreclaimable propensity to
dissipation, which finally sent him to serve in the corps long maintained in the
service of the States of Holland, and