that excellent person would have
highly resented the attempt to associate another with him in the slaughter of a
King's Life-Guardsman. Indeed, he would have had the more right to be offended
at losing any share of the glory, since the party against Gordon was already
three to one, besides having the advantage of firearms. The manner in which he
vindicates his claim to the exploit, without committing himself by a direct
statement of it, is not a little amusing. It is as follows: -
»I shall give a brief and true account of that man's death, which I did not
design to do while I was upon the stage; I resolve, indeed (if it be the Lord's
will), to leave a more full account of that and many other remarkable steps of
the Lord's dispensations towards me through my life. It was then commonly said,
that Francis Gordon was a volunteer out of wickedness of principles, and could
not stay with the troop, but was still raging and ranging to catch hiding
suffering people. Meldrum and Airly's troops, lying at Lanark upon the first day
of March 1682, Mr. Gordon and another wicked comrade, with their two servants
and four horses, came to Kilcaigow, two miles from Lanark, searching for William
Caigow and others, under hiding.
Mr. Gordon, rambling throw the town, offered to abuse the women. At night, they
came a mile further to the Easter-Seat, to Robert Muir's, he being also under
hiding. Gordon's comrade and the two servants went to bed, but he could sleep
none, roaring all night for women. When day came, he took only his sword in his
hand, and came to Moss-platt, and some new men (who had been in the fields all
night) seeing him, they fled, and he pursued. James Wilson, Thomas Young, and
myself, having been in a meeting all night, were lying down in the morning. We
were alarmed, thinking there were many more than one; he pursued hard, and
overtook us. Thomas Young said, Sir, what do ye pursue us for? He said, he was
come to send us to hell. James Wilson said, that shall not be, for we will
defend ourselves. He said, that either he or we should go to it now. He run his
sword furiously throw James Wilson's coat. James fired upon him, but missed him.
All this time he cried, Damn his soul! He got a