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
shot in his head out of a pocket-pistol, rather fit for diverting a boy
than killing such a furious, mad, brisk man, which, notwithstanding,
killed him dead. The foresaid William Caigow and Robert Muir came to us.
We searched him for papers, and found a long scroll of sufferers' names,
either to kill or take. I tore it all in pieces. He had also some Popish
books and bonds of money, with one dollar, which a poor man took off the
ground; all which we put in his pocket again. Thus, he was four miles
from Lanark, and near a mile from his comrade