hear of the kind and obliging things which my Lord Duke spoke about me to the generals, after I was gone out. I say not this to flatter myself, or to be fuel to vanity, but to stir up thankfulness." Shortly after his liberation from the army, he arrived in London, but it was not a spot to his liking, for “no place I ever was in gives me a greater idea of the vanity of the world than this city: most people walk in a vain show." While here he frequently visited his old commander, then shorn of his military honours, which afforded "a sad emblem of the inconstancy of human things." Scarcely a day passed in which he did not attend public worship, either at the morning lectures, or at some of the religious institutions in the metropolis. He appears to have been much edified by a sermon preached by the celebrated Bishop of Salisbury (Burnet), but complains that impressions speedily wear out, and that his affections grew cold. His journey to Edinburgh lasted more than a fortnight-a lively contrast to the time now occupied. The turmoil of war was exchanged for the rural quiet and retirement of Craigforth, a change more in accordance with his temper and habits; and his leisure hours were occasionally devoted to angling or field sports. The dissensions in religious matters occasioned him much disquietude; his wish, however, is better expressed in his own words: "I would desire to be strict myself in my own walk, but easy and charitable to others that differ in opinions from me. We often take that for zeal, which is nothing but natural temper." Hymeneal festivities did not even escape the contagion: "Going this day to a country wedding. Every public meeting now becomes an occasion of snares and tempta ༡ tions, people are so divided in their opinions. I was cheerful, and perhaps gave too great a swing to raillery, but I hope not light or vain in conversation. I desire always to have my speech seasoned with salt, and ministering profit to the hearers. Sitting up late and merry enough, though I hope innocent; but I will not justify myself." The anticipated invasion in favour of the Pretender caused a corps of volunteers to be raised in the west of Scotland, and Blackader accepted the appointment of Colonel. At the battle of Sheriffmuir, on Sunday, the 13th of November, 1715, he writes, "I saw one of the most melancholy sights I ever beheld in my life-our army flying before their enemies. 0 Lord, what shall we say when Israel turn their backs, and fly before the enemy? But we have sinned." The Glasgow battalion was not in this action, having been ordered to occupy the bridge at Stirling. The rebellion was soon suppressed; and on Colonel Blackader's arrival at Glasgow the people showed great affection for him. He soon became deputy-governor of Stirling Castle; and being returned a member to the General Assembly, afforded him opportunities of trying his talents as a public speaker; but, from his own account, he was slow of speech, and a stammering tongue, and had not the gift of delivering his mind with eloquence. There was a degree of pride about him to become an orator, for he has preserved some of his speeches, which do no discredit to his rhetorical powers, when regarded as the unpremeditated expression of those feelings which arose during the debate. It appears, that on the 18th of February, 1718, F he was betrayed into a fit of passion with one of his servants, for which he did not justify himself, though he believed he had the right on his side; he has registered this circumstance with the remark, that "there is too much self even in our anger, and our zeal against sin. We know not what spirit we are of; there is much fuel within, which would soon break out if left to ourselves. Every one of us carries about with him, as it were, a barrel of gunpowder, and a lighted match to kindle it." His anxiety to rectify disorders in the garrison of Stirling, he was apprehensive would give him the character of being severe : by his journal, it seems that he was on the 13th of October at home writing letters, "but perhaps showing too much teeth in them. I should not be severe to others' faults, as knowing as I have many of my own.' In the following month he was made a justice of the peace, and there is the same seeking for grace to discharge the duties of the appointment. The new year (1721) was commenced by him in a proper manner, for the 6th of January was spent in "writing most part of the day about business, and in recommendations of one who, I believe, is wronged. There is a great pleasure in doing good offices to them that stand in need of us." Here is another instance of the goodness of his heart: "Burying a sergeant in the garrison. I was troubled I did not see him before he died; he was calling for me. I should embrace every opportunity of doing good to poor souls." Perhaps his mind may be considered too sensitive, for at this period he gave up chess-playing, as a diversion "which trifled away too much time, and made the spirit too keen about frivolities." The uniformity of his mode of living, and the routine of his military avocations, made him discontinue his diary at the end of the year 1728, and he closes the register with some cursory remarks on the review of his career. He did not live many months after; his health, although comparatively vigorous, gave way to repeated attacks of the malady which afflicted another celebrated diarist, namely, Samuel Pepys. To the last his mind retained its firmness, and his piety its usual fervour. He died on Sunday morning, the 31st of August, 1729, within a few days of completing his sixty-fifth year. A plain marble tablet in the West Church of Stirling marks the place of his interment. The foregoing extracts have been chiefly selected to show the prominent features of the writer's character; those who would obtain a deeper insight therein would do well to peruse the whole of the diary, wherein will be found not a mere boastful catalogue of his own deeds,-for no one could be less susceptible to mere name-glory; his was a nobler object, which was to treasure up the various phases of his mind, in order to judge of his advance in the Christian's path. The soldier's life is supposed by many to be incompatible with religious principle, but the perusal of this work will teach otherwise. Colonel Blackader has said that camps had been sweet places to him; his choicest mercies had been in them. Doubtless there are many similarly situated who can coincide in this opinion, and with him have kept the anniversaries of their several battles, the preservation of their lives being to them so many "Ebenezers" in the hazardous but honourable path of a soldier's career. |