As the Southron formed their long ranks into lines, each man occupying his place as by magic, and preparing to cover themselves by large shields, called pavesses, which they planted before them, I again felt a strange breathlessness, and some desire to go home for a glass of distilled waters.

But as I looked aside, I saw the worthy Kempe of Kinfauns bending a large crossbow, and I thought it pity he should waste the bolt on a true hearted Scotsman, when so many English were in presence; so I e'en staid where I was, being in a comfortable angle, formed by two battlements.

The English then strode forward, and drew their bowstrings--not to the breast, as your Highland kerne do, but to the ear--and sent off their volleys of swallow tails before we could call on St.Andrew.I winked when I saw them haul up their tackle, and I believe I started as the shafts began to rattle against the parapet.
But looking round me, and seeing none hurt but John Squallit, the town crier, whose jaws were pierced through with a cloth yard shaft, I took heart of grace, and shot in my turn with good will and good aim.

A little man I shot at, who had just peeped out from behind his target, dropt with a shaft through his shoulder.

The provost cried, 'Well stitched, Simon Glover!' 'St.John, for his own town, my fellow craftsmen!' shouted I, though I was then but an apprentice.