(Vol. ii., pp. 273. 332.)
Will you do me the favour to insert the following attempt to set right and
disentangle the thread {447} of my narrative respecting the death of young
Allen. Certain it is that I was not "an actor nor spectator," in the riots
of 1768, for they occurred some little time before I was born! It is
equally certain that a man well remembered by me as our servant, whose name
was "Mac," was a soldier concerned in the affair of Allen's death. As all
the three soldiers had the prefix of "Mac" to their names, I cannot tell
which of them it was, but it was _not_ the man who really shot Allen, and
_was never again heard of_; for "Mac," whom I so well remember, must have
lived with my father _after_ the affair of 1768, or _I_ could not have
known him. In my youthful remembrance, I have blended the story about him
with the riots which I had witnessed in 1780: this is the best and only
explanation I can give. Sure I am, that all my father related to me of that
man was true. I presume the "Mac" I knew must have been Maclane, as your
correspondent E.B. PRICE thinks probable, because of his trial and
acquittal, which agrees with my father's statement; and especially as he
was singled out and erroneously accused of the crime--as the quotation
above referred to states. All I can say is, I can relate no more; I have
told the story _as I remember it,_ and for myself can only apologise that
(though not so old as to witness the riots of 1768) I am old enough to
experience that Time has laid his hand not only on my head to whiten my
locks, but in this instance compels me to acknowledge that even the
memories of my early days are, like the present, imperfect. The failure is
with me, not with my father.
This vindication of my honourable parent's undoubted veracity reminds me of
a circumstance that I have read or heard in a trial with regard to a right
of way across an inclosure. Several aged men had given their evidence, when
one said, "I remember that a public footpath for more than 100 years." "How
old are you?" said the counsel. "Somewhere about eighty," was as the reply.
"How then do you remember the path for 100 years?" "I remember (said the
old man firmly), when a boy, sitting on my father's knee, and he told me of
a robbery that took place on that footpath; and so I know it existed
_then_, for _my father never told a lie_." The point was carried, and the
footpath remains open to this day, to tell to all generations _the beauty
of truth_.