been in confinement for a few days, a mechanic, who had the appearance of being a mason, entered his cell about the breakfast hour along with the turnkey, and gave him a clap on the shoulder. Says he, "I believe, Sir, you are a deserter." My father replied, "you may say what you please, but if you be so good as bring me pen, ink, and paper, I'll let the civic rulers of this town know whom they have in custody." The other simply said, "you may depend upon receiving what you wish to-morrow about this time, if it be in my power." He was as good as his word. My father wrote a letter to his Colonel, John William Keir, Marquis of Lothian, Colonel of King George the Third's Body Guards, and told him the awkward circumstance in which he was placed, and an answer was sent to the Magistrates in the course of a few days. My father was then liberated and called before a meeting of the Council, and as he entered the door of the hall, he was saluted by some of the officials, who said, "Mr. Dickson, pull in a chair and sit down," and was received graciously, and treated to a glass of wine, and paid for the time he was in imprisonment, when my father made his bow and retired.
Before the corps was disembodied, the incidents that happened were numerous. There was an English troop, consisting of the same number of men as the Scotch, who were often at variance the one with the other, so much, that they sometimes came to blows. One of the English troopers sent a challenge that he
