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THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 COL. JAMES GARDINER. 
 
 
 c. 
 
 ''OLONEL JAMES GARDINER was the son of 
 Captain Patrick Gardiner, who served many years ia 
 the armies of King William and Queen Anae; and 
 died abroad with the British forces in Germany. 
 
 The ColoneKs mother was aiady of very excellent 
 character ; but it pleased God to exercise her with 
 uncommon trials; for she lost not only her husband 
 and her brother, in the service of their country, but 
 also Ler eldest son, Mr. R. Gardiner, on the day 
 which compleated his 16th year, at the siege of Namur, 
 in 1695. But ^God blessed these afflictions as tlm 
 means of forming her to an eminent degree of piety. > 
 
 The second son, the subject of this Meii^oir, was 
 born in Linlithgowshire, Jan. 10, 1687-8; the memo- 
 rable year of the glorious revolution, in defence of 
 ^vhich his own life was eventually sacrificed. 
 
 In early life his mother took care to instruct him 
 with great tenderness and affection in the principles of 
 true Christianity. While at the school at Linlithgow^ 
 he made a considerable progress in literature. 
 
-U/M,^7 
 
 '( 2 ) .&2 
 
 M^ 
 
 111 the younger part of his life, the good effects of 
 his mother's prudent and exemplary care were not so 
 conspicuous as she hoped ; yet there is great reason 
 to believe they were not entirely lost. Could she have 
 I prevailed, he would not have thought of a military 
 life ; but it suited his taste ; and the ardour of his 
 spirit, animated by the persuasions of a friend who 
 greatly urged it, was not to be restrained. Nor will 
 the reader wonder at this, when he knows that this 
 lively youth fought three duels before he attained the 
 stature of a man; in one of which, when but eight 
 years old, he received from a boy much older than 
 himself a wound in his right cheek, the scar of which 
 was always very apparent. This false sens^ of honour 
 might seem excusable in those unripened years, and 
 considering the profession of his father ; but he oftea 
 mentioned it with regret. And after his con'versioii 
 he declined accepting a challenge with this truly great 
 reply, which in a man of his experienced bravery, 
 v/as exceedingly graceful : *' I fear sinning," said he, 
 *' though you know I do not fear fighting.'^ 
 
 He served as a cadet very early; and, at 14 years 
 old, he bore an ensign's commission in a Scotch re- 
 giment in the Dutch servrce ; in which he continued 
 till 1702, when he received an ensign's commission 
 from Queen Anne, which lie bore in tiie battle of Ra- 
 milies, in his 19th year. 
 
 On this occasion, our young officer was commanded 
 on what seemed almost a desperate service, to dispos- 
 sess the French of the church-yard at Ramilies, where 
 a considerable number of them were posted to re- 
 markable advantage. They succeeded better than 
 was expected, and Mr. G. was glad of «uch an op- 
 portunity of signalizing himself. Accordingly, he 
 had planted his colours on an advanced ground, and 
 while he was calling -to the men, (probably in that 
 horrid language which is so peculiar a disgrace to our 
 soldiery,) he received a shot ia his mouth, which, with- 
 
(3) 
 
 #ut beating out any of his teetli, or touching the 
 forepart of his tongue, went through his neck. Not 
 feeling, at first, the pain of the stroke, he wondered 
 what was becom-e of the ball, and, in the wildness of 
 his surprise, began to suspect he had svvailowed it ; but, 
 dropping soon after he traced the passage of it by his 
 finger, when he could discover it no other way. 
 
 This accident happened about five or six in the 
 evening, on the 23d of May, in the yei r 1706; and 
 the army pursuing its advantages against the French, 
 without regarding the w^ounded, our young officer 
 lay all night in the field, agitated, as may well be* 
 supposed, with a great variety of thoughts. When 
 Jie reflected upon the circumstances of his wound, 
 that a ball should, as he then conceived it, go through 
 his head without killing him, he thought God had 
 preserved him by a miracle ; and therefore assuredly 
 concluded that he should live, abandoned and despe- 
 rate as his condition then seemed. Yet had he little 
 thoughts of humbling himself before God, and return- 
 ing to him after the wanderings of a life so licenti- 
 ously begun. But hoping he should recover, his mind 
 was taken up with contrivances to secure his gold, of 
 which he had nearly 20 pistoles about him, and had 
 recourse to a very odd expedient. Expecting to be 
 stripped, he took out a handful of clotted gore, of 
 which he was frequently obliged to clear his mouth ; 
 and putting it into his left hand, he took out his mo- 
 ney, and, shutting his hand, besmeared the back of it 
 with blood; in this position he kept it, till the blood 
 so dried, that his hand could not easily fall open. 
 
 In the morning, the French, who were masters of 
 that spot, though defeated at some distance, came to 
 plunder the slain, and seeing him, to appearance, al- 
 most expiring, one of them was just applying a sword 
 to his breast, to destroy the little remainder of life ; 
 when, in the critical moment, a cordelier, who attend- 
 «d them, interposed, taking him by his dress for a 
 
 A 2 
 
(4) 
 
 Frenchman, and said, ** Do not kill the poor child.** 
 Our young soldier heard all that passed, though he was 
 not able to speak one word ; and, opening his eyes, 
 made a sign for something to drink. They gave him 
 a sup of some spirituous liquor, which happened to be 
 at hand ; from which he said he derived more sen- 
 sible refreshment than he could remember from any 
 thing he had ever tasted before or since. Then ask- 
 ing, by signs, the friar to lean down his ear to his 
 mouth, he employed the first efforts of his feeble 
 breath in telling him (what, alas ! was a contrived 
 falsehood) that he was iiej>!iew to the g< vernor of Huy 
 a neutral town in the neighbourhood, and that, if they 
 could convey him thither, he did not doubt but his 
 iincle would liberally reward them. He had indeed a 
 friend there, but the relationship was pretended. 
 However, on hearing this, they laid him on a sort of 
 band-barrow, and scut him with a file of musqueteers 
 towards the place, but the men lost their way, and got 
 into a wood towards the evening, in which they 
 were obliged to continue all night. The poor pa- 
 tient's wound being still undressed, it is not to be 
 wondered at, that by this time it raged violently. 
 The anguish of it engaged him earnestly to beg that 
 they would either kill him outright, or leave him 
 there to die, without the torture of any other 
 motion ;'and indeed they were obliged to rest for a con- 
 siderable time, on account of their own weariness. 
 Thus he spent the second night in the open air, with- 
 out any thing more than a common bandage to staunch 
 the blood, and he often mentioned it as a most a94o- 
 jaishing providence, that he did not bleed to death. 
 
 Judging it quite unsafe to attemj)t 'carrying him^ 
 to Huy, whence they were now several miles distant, 
 bis convoy took him early in the morning to ^ con- 
 vent in the neigbourhood, where he was hospitably 
 received, ^nd treated with great kindness and tender- 
 ness. But tlie cure of his wound was committedto 
 
(5) 
 
 an Ignorant barber suigeon, who lived near the house: 
 The tent which this artist applied was almost like a 
 peg driven into the wound- yet, by the blessing of 
 God, he recovered in a few months. The lady ab-> 
 boss, who called him her son,, treated him with the 
 affection and care of a mother, lie received a great 
 many devout admonitions from the ladies there, and 
 they would fain have persuaded him to acknowledj^e 
 so miraculous a deliverance, by embracing the Ca- 
 tholir Faith, as they were pleased to call it. But, 
 though no religion lay near his heart,, he had too 
 much of the spirit of a gentleoian, lightly to change 
 that form of religion, which he wore loose about him ; 
 as well as too much good sense, to swallow the absur- 
 dities of popery. 
 
 When his jiberty was regained by an exchange of 
 prisoners, and his health established, he was Tar from 
 rendering untoi:he Lord according to the mercy he 
 had experienced. Very little is known of the parti- 
 culars of those wild and thoughtless years which lay 
 between the 19th and 30th of his life; except that he 
 experienced the divine goodness in preserving him in 
 several hot military actions ; and yet, these years were 
 spent in an entire alienation from God, and an eager 
 pursuit of sensual pleasure as his supreme good. 
 
 Amidst all these wanderings from religion, virtue, 
 and happiness, he approved himself so well in his 
 military character, that he was made a lieutenant in 
 1708 ; and, after several intermediate promotions, ap- 
 pointed major of a regiment, commanded by the Earl 
 of Stair. In January 1729-30, he was advanced to the 
 rank of lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment; 
 and here continue^t till April 1743, when he received 
 a coloneFs commission over a regiment of diagoons, 
 at the head of which he valiantly fell, about two years 
 and a half after he received it. 
 
 We now return to that period of his life, which 
 passed at Paris, where he resided in the family of the 
 
(«) 
 
 Earl of Stair, with some interruptions, till about the 
 yeiir 1720, 
 
 The Earl's favour and generosity made him easy 
 in his afiairs, thoug*: he was, part of the time, out of 
 eonnniEsion, the regiment to which he belonged being 
 disbanded. This wf^s, in M probability, the gayest 
 part of his life, and the most criminal. Whatever 
 good examples he might find in the family where he 
 lived, it is certain that the French Court was one of 
 the most desolute under heaven. What, by a wretch- 
 ed abuse of language, have been called intrigues of 
 love and gr;!aiitry, constituted, if not the whole 
 business, at least the whole liappiness of his life ; and 
 his fine constitution, than which, perhaps, there was 
 hardly ever a better, gave him great opportunities of 
 indulging himself in those excesses; while his good 
 spirits enabled him to pursue his pleasures, in such a 
 manner, that multitudes envied him, and called him by 
 a dreadful kind of compliment, '* The happy rake.'' 
 
 Yet the checks of conscience, and some remaining 
 principles of so good an education, would break in 
 upon his most licentious hours: and when some of his 
 dissolute companions were once congratulating him 
 upon his felicity, a dog happening at that time to 
 come into the room, he coujji not forbear groaning 
 inwardly, and saying to himself, "Oh! that I were 
 that dog!" Such tvas then his happiness, and such 
 perhaps is that of hundreds more, who bear themselves 
 highest in the contempt of religion, and glory in that 
 infamous servitude which they affect to call liberty. 
 
 Yet in tlie most abandoned days, he was never fond 
 of intemperate drinking, from which he used to think 
 or msinly pride might be sufficient to preserve persons 
 of sense and spirit: so that, if he ever fell into any ex- 
 «eesses of that kind, it was merely out of complaisance. 
 His frank, obliging, and generous temper, procured 
 liim many friends ; and those principles, which ren- 
 «fered him amiable to others, not being under th^ 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 direction of wisdom and piety, sometimes made Ivin: 
 more uneasy to himself, than he perhaps might have 
 been if he could entirely have outgrown them ; espe- 
 cially as he was never a sceptic in his heart; but still 
 retained a secret apprehension, that natural and re- 
 vealed religion was founded in truth. And with this 
 conviction, his notorious violations of the most esseji- 
 tint precepts of both could not but occasion some secret 
 misgivings /)f heart. His continual neglect of the great 
 Author of his being, of whose perfections he could not 
 doubt, and to whom he knew himself to be under daily 
 and perpetual obligations, gave him, in some moments 
 of involuntary reflection, inexpi-essible remorse; and. 
 this, at times, wrought upon him to such a degree^ 
 that he resolved he would attempt to pay him some 
 acknowledgments. Accordingly, for a few mornings 
 he did it; repeating, in retirement, some passages out 
 of the Psalms and other Scriptures, which he still re- 
 tained in his memory; and owning, in a few strong 
 word?, the many mercies and deliverances he bad 
 received, and the ill returns he made for them. 
 
 But these strains were too devout to continue long 
 in a heart as yet unsanctified : for, how readily soever, 
 he could repeat such acknowledgments of the divine 
 power and goodness, and confess his own follies and 
 faults, he was stopt short by the remonstrances of his 
 conscience, as to the flagrant absurdity of confessing 
 sins he did not desire to forsake, and of pretending 
 to praise Gt)d foe his mercies, when he did not endea- 
 vour to live to his i^ervice^ A model of devotionj^ 
 where such sentiments made no part, his good sense 
 could not digest; and the use of such language before 
 a heartsearching God, merely as a hyprocritical form, 
 while the sentiments of his soul were contrary to it, 
 appeared to him such daring profaheness, that, irre- 
 gular as the state of his mind was, the thought of it 
 struck him with horror. He therefore determined to 
 make no more attemiJts of this sort; and was perhaps 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 cwye of the first that deliberately laid aside pTayer, frara 
 some sense of God's omniscience, and some natural 
 principal of hononr and conscience. 
 
 These secret debates with himself, and ineliectual 
 efforts, uould sometimes return; but they were over- 
 borne, attain and again, by the force of temptation ; 
 and it is no wonder, thai in consequence of them his 
 heart grew sfill harder. Neither was it softened or 
 awakened by tlie very memorable deliverance which 
 at this time he received. Once he was in extreme 
 danger from a fall from his horse. As he was riding 
 fast down a hill, the horse threw him over his head, 
 «nd pitched over him; so that when he rose, the 
 beast lay beyond him, and almost dead. Yet, though 
 he received not the least harm, it made no serious 
 impression on his mind. On his return from England 
 in the packet-boat, but a few weeks after the former 
 accident, a violent storm, that drove them up to 
 Harwich, tossed them from thence for several hours, 
 in a dark niglit, on the coast of Holland, and brought 
 thern into such extremity, that the captain of the ves- 
 sel urged liim to go to prayers immediately, if he 
 ever intended to do it at ail ; for he concluded they 
 -would in a few minutes be at the bottom of the sea. 
 in these circumstances, he did pray, and that very 
 tei venily too ; and it was rernarkeable, that \^hile he 
 he was crying to God for deliverance, the wind fell, 
 and, quickly after, they arrived at Calais. But the 
 Major was so little affected at what had befallen 
 iiim, that, when some of his gay friends, on hearir^g 
 the story, rallied him upon the efficacy of his prayers, 
 he excused himself from the scandal of being thought 
 much in earnest, by saying,*' that it was at midnight, 
 an hour when his good mother and aunt were asleep ; 
 or else he should have left that part of the business to 
 them." 
 
 We now come to the account of his conversion. 
 This memorable event happened towards the niiddk 
 
(9 ) 
 
 ^f Jiily, 1719. The Major had spent the everting, 
 (^hich was the Sabbath,) in some gay company, and 
 had an unhappy assignation with a married lady 
 whom he was to attend exactly at twelve. The 
 company broke up about eleven ; and he went into 
 his chamber to kill the tedious hour. It happened 
 that he took up a religious book (which his good 
 mother or aunt had, w ithout his knowledge, slipped 
 into his portmeanteau,) called, *' The Christian Sol- 
 dier, or Heaven taken by a Storm ;^'' written by Mr, 
 Thomas Watson. Quessing by the title, that he should 
 find some phrases of his own profession spiritualized, 
 in a manner which might afford him some diversion^ 
 he resolved to dip into it; but took no serious notice 
 of any thinj^ he read : and yet, wl^ile this book was 
 in his hand, 311 inapression was made upon his mind, 
 (perhaps God only knows how,) which drew after it 
 a train of the most important and happy consequences. 
 
 Suddenly be thought Jie saw an unusual blaze of 
 light fall on the book while be was reading, which 
 he at first imagined might have happened by some 
 accident in the candle. But lifting up his eyes, he ap- 
 prehended, to his extreme amazement, that there was 
 before him, as it were suspended in the air, a visible 
 representation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the 
 cposs, surrounded witb a glory; and was impressed as 
 if a voice or something equivolent to a voice, had 
 come to him to this effect; " O sinner did I suffer 
 this for thee, and are these the feturns?'^ Birt whe 
 tber this were an audible voice, or only a strong im- 
 pr^ession on his mind equally striking, he did not seem 
 confident, though he judged it to be the former. 
 Struck with so amazing a phaenomenon, there re- 
 mained hardly any life in him ; so that he sunk down 
 in the armchair in 4vhich he sat, and continutd (he 
 knew not exactly how long) insensible, and^ when he 
 opened his eyes saw nothing more than usual. 
 
 iLmay be easily supposed that he was in no condi 
 A 3 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 lion to make any observations upon the time in which 
 he had remained insensible: nor did he, throughout 
 all the remainder of the night, once recollect that crir- 
 niinal assignation which bad before engrossed all his 
 thoughts. He arose in a tumult oi passions not to 
 be conceived and walked to and fro in his chamber, 
 till he was ready to drop down, in unuterable asto- 
 jfiishraent and agony of heart ; appearing to himself 
 the vilest monster in the creation of God, who had, 
 all his lifetime, been crufying Christ afresh by his 
 sins, and now saw, as he assuredly believed, by a 
 miraculous vision, the horror of what he had done.. 
 With this was connected such a view, both of the 
 majesty and goodness of God, as caused him to loathe 
 and abhor himself, and to ** repent'^ as ** in dust and 
 ashes." He immediaetly gave judgment against him- 
 self that he was worthy of eternal damnation ; was asto- 
 nished, that he had not been immediately struck dead 
 in the midst of his wickedness; and (which deserves 
 particular remark) though he assuredly believed that 
 he should, ere long be in hell, and settled it as a point 
 jwith himself for some months, that the wisdom and 
 justice of God did most necessarily require that such 
 an enormous sinner should be made an example of 
 everlasting vengeance, and a spectacle, as such both 
 to angels and men, so that he hardly durst presume to 
 pray for pardon ; yet what then he suffered, was not 
 so much from the fear of hell, though he concluded 
 it must soon be his portion, as from a sense of the 
 horrible ingratitude he had shewn to God of his 
 life, and to that blessed Redeemer who had been in 
 so affecting a manner set forth as crucified before him. 
 In this view, it may naturally be inferred, that he 
 passed the remainder of the night waking; and -he 
 could get but little rest in several tliat followed. His 
 mind was continually taken up in reflecting on the 
 divine purity and goodness; the grace which had 
 feeen proposed to him in the gospel, and which he 
 
( ir ) 
 
 hnd rejected; the singular advantages lie bad enjoyed 
 aad abused; and Ibe many favours of Providence be 
 had received, particularly in rescuing bim from so 
 many imminent dangers of deatb, wbicb be now saw 
 imist bave been attended with such dreadful and 
 hopeless destruction. The priviliges of bis educa- 
 tion, which be bad so much despised, lay with an 
 almost insupportable weight on his mind ; and the 
 folly of that career of sinful pleasure, which be bad 
 so many years being running, with desperate eagerness, 
 filled him with indignation against himself, and 
 against the great deceiver, by whom (to use his own 
 phrase^) be had been ?* so> wretchedly and scanda- 
 lously befooled/' 
 
 The mind of Major Gardiner continued from this 
 remarkable time^ rather more than three months, 
 (but especially th^ two first of them,) in as extraor- 
 dinary a situation as one can well imagine. He knew 
 nothing of the joys arising from a sense of pardon ; 
 bat, pn the contrary, for the greater part of that time, 
 and with very short intervals of hope, towards the 
 end of it, took it for granted that be must, in all 
 probdlity, . quickly perish. Nevertheless he bad 
 such a sense of the evil of sin, of the goodness of the 
 Divine Being, and of the admirable tendency of the 
 Christian revelation^ that he resolved to spend the 
 remainder of his life, while God continued him out 
 of bell, in as rational and as useful a manner as he 
 could ; and to continue casting himself at the feet of 
 Divine Mercy, every day, and often in a day, if per- 
 ,-adventure there might be hope of pardon, of which 
 aU that he could say, was, that he did not absolutely 
 despair. He had, at that time, such a sense of the de- 
 generacy of his own heart, that be hardly durst form 
 any determinate resolution -against sin, or pretend to 
 engage himself by any vow in the presence of God, 
 but was coutinually crying to bim, that he would 
 deliver bim from the bondage of corrnption, «fle 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 perceived in himself a most surprising alteration, w itfj 
 regard to the disposition of his heart; so that, though 
 he lelt ajiittle of the delights of religious duties, he ex- 
 tremely desired opportunities of being engaged in 
 ihem ; and those licentious pleasures which had be- 
 fore been his heaven, were now absolutely his aver- 
 sion, and he was grieved to see human nature, even 
 in those to whom he was a stranger, prostituted to 
 such low and contemptible pursuits. He therefore 
 exerted his natural courage in a new kind of combat, 
 and became an open advocate for religion, in all its 
 principles, so far as he was acquainted with them, 
 and all its precepts, relating to sobriety, righteous- 
 ness, and godliness. Yet he was very desirious, and 
 cautious, that he might not run into an extreme; and 
 Blade it one of his ficst petitions to God, the very 
 day after these imazing impressions had b^en wrought 
 in his mind, that he might not be suffered to behave 
 with such an affected strictness and preciseness, as 
 would lead others about him into mistaken notions 
 of religion, and expose it to reproach or suspicion^, 
 as if it were an unlovely or uncomfortable things 
 For this reason, he endeavoured to appear as cheer- 
 ful in conversation as he conscientiously could :, 
 though, in spite of all his precautions, some traces of 
 that deep inward sense which he had of his guilt and 
 misery would at times appear. He made no secret 
 of it, however, that his views were entirely changed^, 
 though he concealed the particular circumstances at- 
 tending that change. He told his most intimate com- 
 paniouij freely, that he had reflected on the course of 
 life in which he had so long joined thefli, and found, 
 it to be folly and madness, Ainworthy a rational crea- 
 ture; and much more unworthy persons calling them- 
 selves Christians. And he ^et up his standard, upon all 
 occasions, against infidelity and vice, as delerminately 
 as he ever he planted his colours in the field. There 
 was at that time at Paris a certaiu lady Who had im- 
 
i4 
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 bibed the principles of deism, and valued herself mueh 
 upon being the avowed advocate for them. 
 
 The Major with his usual frankness, (though with 
 that politeness which was habitual to him) answered 
 like a man who perfectly saw through the falli^cy of 
 her arguments^ and was grieved to the heart for her 
 delusion. On this, she challenged him to debate the 
 matter at large, and to lix upon a day for that pur- 
 pose, when he should dine with her, attended with 
 any clergyman he might choose. A sense of duty 
 would not allow him to decline this challenge ; and 
 yet he had no sooner accepted it, than he was thrown 
 into great perplexity and distress, lest, being only a 
 Christian of six weeks old,, he should prejudice so 
 good a cause, by his unskilful manner of defending 
 it. Howe\er, he sought his refuge in earnest and 
 repeated prayers to God, that he would graciously 
 enable him, on this occasion, to vindicate his truths 
 in a manner which might carry conviction along 
 with it. He then endeavoured to marshal the argu-? 
 ments in his own mind, as wttW as he could ; anxi ap- 
 prehending that he could not speak with io much, 
 free lorn oefore a number of persons, especially be- 
 ibre -iuch whose province he might in that case seem 
 to invade,^ he waited on the lady aloae apon the day 
 appointed,. 
 
 The Major opened the conference with a view o£ 
 SiUch a arguments of the Chribtian religion as he had 
 digested in his own mind, to prove that the Apostles. 
 were not mistaken themselves, and that they could 
 not have intended to impose upon us ki th€ aeconnts, 
 they giv^ of the grand facts they attest ; with the 
 truth of which facts that of the Christian religion is 
 mo'-t apparently connected. And it was a great en- 
 couragement to him to find that, unaccubtomed as 
 he was to discourses of this nature, he had an unusual^ 
 COiiimaud both of thought^ and expression ; so that 
 fee recolleated and uttered every thing, as he could 
 
( 14 ■) 
 
 have Wisbech: The ladv heard with attention, till he 
 Uid fijiished his design, and waited for her reply,- 
 She then produced some of he objeetioifs, which he 
 cai)vassed in such a manner, that, at length, she burst 
 out into tears, allowed the frrce of bis arguments 
 and replies, and appeared, for some time after, so 
 deeply impressed with the conversation, that it was 
 observed by several of her friends: and there is reason 
 to believe,, that the impression continued, at least sa 
 far as to prevent her from ever appearing under the 
 character,of an unbeliever, era sceptic. This is only 
 one among many of the battles he was ahnost daily 
 called out to fight in the cause of religion and virtue. 
 The continual railleries with whicb he was received, 
 in almost till companies where he had been most, fa- 
 miliar before, did often distress him beyond measuse ; 
 so that he declared, he would much rather have 
 marched up to a battery of the enemy's caiinon, than 
 have been' obliged, so continually as he was, to face- 
 such artillery as this. But, like a brave soldier in 
 the first action wherein he is engaged, he continued 
 resolute, though shuddering at the terror of the assault ; 
 and quickly overcame those impressions which it is 
 not, perhaps^ in nature, wholly to avoid. In a word, 
 he went on as every Christian, by divine grace, may 
 do, till he turned ridicule and opposition into respect 
 and veneration. ^ 
 
 Within about two months after his ntst memorable 
 chaniie, he began to perceive some secret dawnings- 
 of more cheerful hope, that, vile as he then saw him- 
 self to be, he might nevertheless obtajn mercy through 
 a Redeemer ; and, at length, about the end of October 
 1719, Ire found all the burden of his mind taken off 
 at once, by the powerful impression of that memora- 
 ble seripture upon his mind; (Rom, iii. 25, 26.) 
 •' Whom God hath set forth for a propitiation, 
 throuoh faith in his blood, to declare his righteous- 
 Bess for the remission of sins— that he might be just, 
 
(15) 
 
 and the justifier of him that believetb in Jesus/* IT^ 
 had used to imagine, that the justice of God required 
 the damnation of so enormous a sinner, as he saw 
 himself to be : but now he was made deeplv sensible, 
 that the divine justice might not only be vindicated, 
 but glorified, in saving him by the blood of Jesus, 
 even that blood which cleanseth from all sin. He 
 was led to see and feel the richer of redeeming love 
 and grace, in such a manner, as not only engaged 
 him with the utmost pleasure and confidence, to 
 venture his soul upon them : but even swallowed up 
 (as it w^ere) his whole Jieart iri the returns of love, 
 which, from that blessed time, became the genuine 
 and delightful principle of obedience, and animated 
 him with an enlarged heart to run the ways x)f God's 
 commandments. Thus God was pleased, (as he liim- 
 self used to speak,) in an hour, to turn his captivity. 
 All the terrors of his former state were turned into 
 unutterable joy. And though the first extasies of it 
 afterwards subsided into a more calm and composed 
 delight ; yet were the impressions so deep and so per- 
 manent, that he declared, on the word of a Christian 
 and a friend, wonderful as it might seem that for 
 about seven years after this he enjoyed nearly a 
 heaven upon earth. His soul was almost continually 
 filled witli a sense of the love of God in Christ : so 
 that, from the time of his waking in the morning, 
 his heart was rising to God, and triumphing in him ; 
 and these thoughts attended him through all the 
 day, till he lay down on his bed again, and a short 
 parenthesis of sleep (for it was but very short one 
 thai he allowed himself) invigorated his animal pow- 
 ers for renew iiig those thoughts with greater intense- 
 nes? and sensibility. 
 
 A life, any thing like this, could not be entered 
 upt'ii, m the midst of such company as he was 
 obliged to keep, without great opposition He, 
 j^owevei; early began a practice, which • to the last 
 
(160 
 
 c}^ of his life, he retained, of reproving vice and ^ 
 5>rofanenes.^ ; and was never afraid to debale the mat» 
 t€r whh any, under the consciousness of such superiority 
 in rhe goodness of his cause. 
 
 A remarkable instance of this happened about the 
 middle of the year 1720, on 1) is first return to make 
 any considerable abode in England after bis remark- 
 ahle change. He had heard on the other side of the 
 water, liiat it was currenlJy reported among his com- 
 panions at home that he was stark mad ;, a report at 
 which no reader, who knows the wisdom of the 
 world in these matters wil? be much surprised. He 
 hence conclivded that he should have many battles to 
 iigiij, and was willing to dispatch the business as fast 
 as he could. And, therefore, being to spend a few 
 days at the country-house of a pejrson of distinguished . 
 rank,, with whom he had been, very intimate, he 
 begged the favour of him, that he would contrive 
 matters so, that, a day or two after he came down, , 
 several of their former gay companions might meet 
 at his Lordship's table; that he might have an op- ~ 
 portuuity of making his apology to them, and ac- 
 qqaiiitjng them with the Oi^ture and reasons of his - 
 change. . It was accordingly agreed to ; and a pretty 
 large company met on . ttje day appointed, with pre- 
 vious notice that, Major Gardiner would be there - 
 A. good dealof ruiliery passed at dinner, to which the - 
 Major made very little answer. But whea the cloth ? 
 was taken away, and the servants had retired^ he 
 begiijed their patience for a few minutes, and then . 
 plainly and seriously told them what notions he enter- - 
 tained of virtue ai>d religion, and on what cx>nsidera- 
 tioas he had absolutely determined, Jhat, by the grace 
 of G d, he would make them the care and business 
 of his life, whatever he might io^e by it, and whatever 
 eenUire and contempt he might iticur. He well knew , 
 how uproper it was, in sucli compa a , to relate the/ 
 extraordinary manoev in which he was. awakened ; 
 
( 17 ) 
 
 vliicb they would probably have interpreted as n 
 demonstration of lunacy, against all the gravity and 
 solidity of his discourse ; but he contented himself 
 _ with such a rational defence of a righteous, sober, and 
 godly life, as lie knew none of them could with any 
 shadow of reason contest. He then challenged them 
 to propose any thing they could urge, to prove that 
 a life of irreligion and debauchery was preferable to 
 the fear, love, and worship, of the eternal God, and 
 a conduct agreeable to the precepts of his gospel. 
 And he failed not to bear his testimony, from his own 
 experience, (to one part of which many of them had 
 been witnesses,) that, after having run the round of 
 sensual pleasure, with all the advantages the best 
 constitution and spirits could give him, he had never 
 tasted any thing deserving to be called happiness, till 
 he made religion his refuge and delight. He testi- 
 $ed, calmly and boldly, the habitual serenity and 
 peace that he now felt within his own breast, and 
 V the composure and pleasure with which he looked 
 forward to objects which the gayest sinner must ac- 
 knowledge to be equally unavoidable and dreadful. 
 
 Upon this, the master of the table, a person of a 
 very frank and candid disposition, cut short the de- 
 bate by saying, ** Come, let us call another cause : 
 we thought this man mad, and he is in good earnest 
 proving that we are so.'' On the whole, this well- 
 judged circumstance saved him a good deal of fur- 
 ther trouble. When his former acquaintances observed 
 that he was still conversable and innocently cheerful, 
 and that he was immovable in his resolution, they 
 desisted from further importunity. And he declared, 
 that instead of losing any one valuable friend by^ this 
 change in his character, he found himself much more 
 esteemed and regarded by many who could not per- 
 suade themselves to imitate his example. 
 
 Nothing remarkable occurred in the Colonel's life^ 
 from this period till the year 1726, when he marrie(ife 
 
( 18 ) 
 
 the Lady Francis Erskine, daughter to the Earl of 
 Buchan, by whom he had 13 children, (ire of whom 
 survived their father. 
 
 Before the close of these short memoirs, it mv\y 
 not be improper, or without it use, to give the reader 
 a sketch of the character of this excellent man, with 
 reference to his particular relative situations ; in some 
 or other of which the reader may certainly find a 
 model w^orthy of his imitation. 
 
 To view him firsfin the calmness of domestic life, 
 and at the head of his affectionate family— It will na- 
 turally be supposed, that, as soon as he had a house, 
 hej erected an altar in it: that the word of God was 
 read there, and prayers and praises constantly offered. 
 These were not to be omitted on account of any 
 guest ; for he esteemed it a part of due respect to those 
 that remained under his roof, to take it for granted, 
 they would look upon it as a very bad compliment, to 
 imagine they would have been obliged by his ne- 
 glecting the duties of rejigion on their account. As 
 his family increased, he had a minister statedly resi- 
 dent in his house, who discharged the oflices ^ tutor 
 and chaplain, and was always- treated with kindness 
 and respect. He was constant in his attendance on 
 public worship, in which an exemplary care was ta- 
 ken that the children and servants might accompany 
 the heads of the fi^juily. 
 
 The necessity of being so many months together 
 distant from home, hindered him from many of those- 
 condescending labours, in cultivating the minds of 
 his children in early life, which to a soul so benevo- 
 lent so wise and so zealous, would ^undoubtedly have 
 afforded a very exqaisite pleasure: but ^^hen he was 
 with them, he failed not to instruct and admonish 
 them; and the constant deep sense with which he 
 spoke of divine things, and the real unaffected in- 
 difference which he always showed for what this vain > 
 world is most ready to admire, were daily lessons of: 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 wisdom j^nd of piet3\ And it was easy to perceive 
 that the openings of genius, in the young branches of 
 
 his family, gave him great delight, and that he had a 
 secret ambition to see them excel in what they un- 
 dertook. Yet, he was very jealous over his hearty 
 lest he should be too fondly attaclied to^hem, and 
 was an eminent proficient in the blessed science of 
 resignation to the divine will. 
 
 To consider his character in the domestic relation 
 of a master — It is proper to remark, that as his habi- 
 tual meekness, and command of his passions, prevent- 
 ed indecent -^sallies of ungovernable anger tov^ards 
 those in a state of subjection to him, so the natural 
 greatness of his mind made him solicitous to render 
 their inferior stations as ea^y as he could ;r and he had 
 
 Iso such a sense of the dignity and worth of an im- 
 inoftal soul, as engaged him to give his servants fre- 
 quent religious exhortations and instructions. 
 
 To consider him in his millitary character — His 
 bravery was as remarkable i^ the field of battle, as 
 his milder virtues in the domestic circle ; and he was 
 particularly careful to prevent the various duties of 
 religion, and his profession, from interfering with 
 one another, either in himself, or in others. He 
 therefore abhored every thing that should look like 
 a contrivance- to keep the soldiers employed about 
 their horses and their arms, at the season of public 
 worship • far from that, he used to have them drawn 
 up just before it began, and from the parade they 
 went off to the house of God, where they behaved 
 with as much reverence, gravity, and decorum, dur- 
 ing the time of divine service, as any of their fellow- 
 worshippers. 
 
 That his remarkable care to maintain good dis- 
 cipline among them might be the more effectual, he 
 made himself, on all occasions, accessible to them, and 
 expressed a great concern for their interest, temporal 
 as well as spiritual ; yet he had all the firmness 
 
( 20) 
 
 requisite to the infliction of punishment, where he 
 judged it necessary. 
 
 We may notice one instance of his conduct, which 
 happened at Leicester. While part of his regiment 
 was encamped in that neighbourhood, the Colonel 
 went incognito to the camp, in the middle of the 
 night; for he sometimes lodged at his quarters in the 
 town. One of the centinels had abandoned his post,, 
 and, on being seized, broke out into some oaths and 
 profane execrations ae^ainst those that discovered 
 him — a crime of which the Colonel hac[ the greatest^ 
 abhorrence, and on which he never failfjji to aninwid- 
 vert. The man afterwards appeared mtjcii ashamed, 
 and concerned for what he had done. 'But the Co- 
 lonel ordered him to be brought early the next morn- 
 ing to his own quarters, where he had prepared a 
 piquet, on which he appointed him a private sort of 
 penance, and vi'hiie he was put upon it he dis- 
 coursed with him seriously and tenderly upon the 
 evils and aggravations of his faults ; admonishing hiiu 
 of the divine displeasure which he had incurred ; and 
 urged him to argue, from the pain which he then 
 feit, how infinitely more dreadful it imist be to fall 
 into the hands of the livmg God," and to meet the 
 terrors of that damnation which he had been accus- 
 tomed impiously to call upon himself and his^ com- 
 panions. The result of this proceeding was, that 
 the offender accepted his punishment, not only with 
 submission, but with thankfulness; and spoke of it 
 some years after in such a manner, that ther^ seemed 
 reason to hope it had been instrumental in producing 
 a change in his heart, as well as in his life. 
 
 Indeed this excellent othcer afw/^.ys expressed tha» 
 greatest reverence for the name v,f the blessed God; 
 and endeavoured to suppress, and, if possible, to ex-, 
 tirpate, that detestable sin of swearing and cursing,, 
 which is every where so common, and especiallyv 
 among our military men. He often declared hi^ 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 sentiments with respect to this enormity, at the head 
 of the regiment, and urged his captains, and their 
 subalterns, to take the greatest care that they did not 
 give the sanction of their example to that, which by 
 their office they were obliged to punish in others. 
 His zeal on these occasions, wrought in a very active 
 and sometimes in a reuirirably successful manner, 
 among not only his equals but his superiors too. 
 
 Nor was his charity less conspicuous than his zeal. 
 The lively and tender feelings of his heart engaged 
 liim to dispense bis bounties with a liberal hand: and 
 above all, his sincere and ardent love to the Lord 
 Jesus Cbiist led him to feel, with a true sympathy, 
 the concerns of his poor members. In consequence 
 of this, he honoured several of his friends wrlh com- 
 missions for the relief of the poor; and esteemed it 
 an honour which Providence conf^irred upon him, 
 that he should be made the Lord's almoner for the 
 relief of such. 
 
 That heroic contempt of death, which bad often 
 discovered itself in the midst of former dangers, was 
 manifested now in his discourse with several of his 
 most intimate friends. And as he had, in former 
 years, often expressed a desire, ** that, if it were the 
 will of God, he might have some honourable call to 
 sacrafice his life in defence of religion and the liber- 
 ties of his country;" so, when it appeared to him 
 most probably that he might be called to it imme- 
 diately, he met the summons with the greatest readi- 
 ness. This appears from a letter which he wrote 
 only eight days before his death: " The rebels," 
 says he, *' are advancing to cross the Frith; but I 
 trust in the almighty God, who doetb whatsoever he 
 pleases in the armies of heaven, and among the 
 inhabitants of the earth. ^^ 
 
 These sentiments wrought in him, to the last, in 
 
 the most effectual manner. But he' was ordered to 
 
 >3ttarch, ^s fast as possible, to Dunbar; and that hasty 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 retreat, in concurrence with the news which they 
 soon after received of the surrender of Edinburgh to 
 the rebels, struck a visible panic into both the regi- 
 ments of dragoons. This affected the Colonel so 
 much, that, on the Thursday before the fatal action 
 at Preston-Pans, he intimated to an officer of consi- 
 derable rank, that he expected the event would be as 
 in fact it proved, and to a person who visited him, 
 he said, " I cannnot influence the conduct of others 
 as I could wish, but 1 have one life to sacrafice to my 
 country's safety, and 1 shall not spare it." 
 
 On Friday, Sept. 20, (the day before the battle 
 which transmitted him to his immortal crown,) when 
 the whole army was drawn 'up about noon, the Co- 
 lonel rode through all the ranks of his own regiment, 
 addressing them at once in the most respectful and 
 animating manner, both as soldiers and as christians, 
 to engage them to exert themselves courageously in 
 the service of their country, and to neglect nothing 
 that might have a tendency to prepare them for 
 whatever event might happen. Th^y seemed much 
 affected with the address, and expressed a very ardent 
 desire of attacking the enemy immediately; a desire, 
 in which he and another gallant officer of distin- 
 guished character would gladly have gratified them, 
 if it had been in the power of either ; but they were 
 over-ruled, and he spent the remainder of the day 
 in making as good a disposition as circumstances 
 would allow. 
 
 He coniinued all night under arms, wrapped up in 
 his cloak and sheltered under a rick of barley which 
 happened to be in the field. About three in the morn- 
 ing, he called his domestic servants to him, of whom 
 there were four in waiting. He dismissed three of 
 ihem with the most affectionate christian advice, and 
 such solemn charges relative to the performance of 
 their duty, and care of their souls, as seemed plainly 
 to intimate that he apprehended he was, probably. 
 
(23 ) 
 
 taking his last farewell of tlieni. There is grent 
 reason to believe that he spent the little remainder 
 of time, which could not be much above an hour, 
 in those devout exercises of soal, which had so 
 long been habitual to him. The army \7as alarmed, 
 by brealt of day, by the noise of the rebels* approach, 
 and the attack was made before sunrise. As soon as 
 the enemy came within gunshot, they commenced 
 a furious tire ; and the dragoons, which constituted 
 the left wing, immediately fled. The Colonel, at 
 the beginning of the attack, which, in the whole, 
 lasted but a few minutes, received a bullet in his left 
 breast, which made him give a sudden spring in his 
 saddle ; upon which, his servant, who had led the horse 
 would have persuaded him to retreat, but he said it 
 was only a wound in the flesh ; and fought on, though 
 he presently received a shot in the right thigh. The 
 Colonel was, for a few moments, supported by his 
 men, and particularly about fifteen dragoons, who 
 stood by him to the last. But after a faint fire, the 
 regiment in general was seized with a panic ; and 
 though the Colonel and some gallant oflicers did 
 what they could to rally them, once or twice, they 
 at last took a precipitate flight. Just in the moment 
 when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be making a f)ause, 
 to deliberate what duty required him to io in such 
 circumstances, he saw a party of the foot who were 
 then bravely fighting near him, but had no oflicer 
 to head them ; upon which he rode up to them imme- 
 diately, and cried out aloud, " Fire on, my lads, and 
 fear nothing." But just as the words were out of 
 his mouth, a Highhinder advanced to him with a 
 Tscythe fastened to long pole, with which he gave 
 Ihim such a deep wound on his right arm, that his 
 [sword dropped out of his hand ; and, at the same time 
 [several others^ coming about him while he was thus 
 [dreadfully entangled with that cruel weapon, he 
 Iwas dragged oflf his horse. The moment he fell^ 
 
( 24 ) ■ 
 
 another Highlander gave him a stroke, either with a 
 broadsword, or a Lochaber-axe, on the h^ad, which 
 was the mortal blow. All that his faithful attendant 
 saw further at this time was, that, as his hat was 
 falling off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it 
 as a signal for him to retreat, adding, (which were the 
 Inst words he ever heard him speak,) "Take care of 
 yourself:" upon which, the servant immediately fled 
 to a mill, at the distance of about two miles from the 
 spot on which the Colonel fell ; where he changed 
 his dress, and, disguised like a miller's servant, re- 
 turned with a caM about two hours after the engage- 
 ment. The hurry of the action was then pretty well 
 over, and he found his much honoured master hot 
 only plundered of his watch and other things of value, 
 but also stripped of his upper garments and boots, 
 yet still breathing ; and adds, that though he was 
 not capable of speech, yet, on taking him up, he 
 opened his eyes, which makes it something question- 
 able whether he was altogether insensible. In this 
 condition, and in this manner, he conveyed him to 
 the church of Tranent, whence he was immediately 
 taken into the minister's house, andHaid in a bed. 
 where he continued breathing till about eleven in the 
 forenoon, when he took his final leave of pain and 
 sorrow. His remains were interred the Tuesday 
 following. Sept. 21, at the parish church of Trenant, 
 (where he had usually attended divine service,)' with 
 ^reat solemnity. 
 
 B U B L I N: 
 
 Printed and Sold by John Parry^ 
 
 For the Religious Tract Society, 
 At the Depositary, 35^ Anglesea-street, 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
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