About the month of February, a recruiting party came to our
neighbour town of Irville, to beat up for men to be soldiers against
the rebels; and thus the battle was brought, as it were, to our
gates; for the very first man that took on with them was one Thomas
Wilson, a cottar in our clachan, who, up to that time, had been a
decent and creditable character. He was at first a farmer lad, but
had forgathered with a doited tawpy, whom he married, and had
offspring three or four. For some time it was noticed that he had a
down and thoughtful look, that his cleeding was growing bare, and
that his wife kept an untrig house, which, it was feared by many,
was the cause of Thomas going o'er often to the change-house; he
was, in short, during the greater part of the winter, evidently a
man foregone in the pleasures of this world, which made all that
knew him compassionate his situation.

No doubt, it was his household ills that burdened him past bearing,
and made him go into Irville, when he heard of the recruiting, and
take on to be a soldier. Such a wally-wallying as the news of this
caused at every door; for the red-coats--from the persecuting days,
when the black-cuffs rampaged through the country--soldiers that
fought for hire were held in dread and as a horror among us, and
terrible were the stories that were told of their cruelty and
sinfulness; indeed, there had not been wanting in our time a sample
of what they were, as witness the murder of Jean Glaikit by Patrick
O'Neil, the Irish corporal, anent which I have treated at large in
the memorables of the year 1774.

A meeting of the session was forthwith held; for here was Thomas
Wilson's wife and all his weans, an awful cess, thrown upon the
parish; and it was settled outright among us, that Mr Docken, who