officers talked of him, marvelling at the cause, for it was not his
wont in other places.

One Sabbath, during the remembering prayer, Mr Pittle put up a few
words for criminals under sentence of death, there being two at the
time in the Ayr jail, at the which petition I happened to look at
Captain Armour, who, with the lave of the officers, were within the
magistrates' loft, and I thought he had, at the moment, a likeness
to poor Jeanie Gaisling, that was executed for the murder of her
bastard bairn.

This notion at the time disturbed me very much, and one thought
after another so came into my head, that I could pay no attention to
Mr Pittle, who certainly was but a cauldrife preacher, and never
more so than on that day. In short, I was haunted with the fancy,
that Captain Armour was no other than the misfortunate lassie's poor
brother, who had in so pathetical a manner attended her and the
magistrates to the scaffold; and, what was very strange, I was not
the only one in the kirk who thought the same thing; for the
resemblance, while Mr Pittle was praying, had been observed by many;
and it was the subject of discourse in my shop on the Monday
following, when the whole history of that most sorrowful concern was
again brought to mind. But, without dwelling at large on the
particularities, I need only mention, that it began to be publicly
jealoused that he was indeed the identical lad, which moved every
body; for he was a very good and gallant officer, having risen by
his own merits, and was likewise much beloved in the regiment.
Nevertheless, though his sister's sin was no fault of his, and could
not impair the worth of his well-earned character, yet some of the
thoughtless young ensigns began to draw off from him, and he was