John Stuart, the titular abbot of Coldingham, a natural son of James V., was importuned to join the Black Band, but had too much regard for Wedderburn to do so. While he was absent in the north with his brother the Regent Moray, his wife, who had a spite at Wedderburn, made a strange kind of demonstration against him. She ‘ordered the men of her faction to be present on a certain day, and to bring along with them wains, carts, and other things fit for carrying off the corns, all of which was carefully done. But Wedderburn with his friends having gathered together about 500 horse, hastens to the fields, and dissipates the scattered troops before they could unite themselves into one, breaks the wagons, looses the horses, and drives them away. On this they all betake themselves to flight, together with Stuart’s wife (she was called Hepburn, and a sister of old Bothwell). A few received some strokes; none were wounded; but so great was the terror struck into them all, that they all sought hiding-places in their flight. Some hid themselves among the furze or broom; others under the banks of the river; some in the fields of corn, and all either in one place or other. One John Edington (commonly called the Liar, as he was always the messenger of strange news, which was commonly false) hid himself in the ambry of a poor old woman, from which he was dislodged, to the great diversion of his enemies and his own great terror. When their fear a little subsided, and it appeared that none were hurt, the affair appeared so ridiculous both to themselves and others, that Hepburn (as she was a woman of a pretty good genius and poetically inclined) described the whole in some verses. Nor was there ever anything afterwards attempted by the confederates.’ [Sidenote: 1574.] David is described as being swift of foot, and fond of foot-races. Horse-racing was also one of his amusements. ‘He collected a number of the swiftest horses both from the north of Scotland and from England, by the assistance of one Graeme, recommended to him by his brother-in-law, Lochinvar. He generally had eight or more of that kind, so that the prize was seldom won by any but those of his family.... He was so great a master of the art of riding, that he would often be beat to-day, and within eight days lay a double wager on the same horses, and come off conqueror.... He went frequently from home to his diversion, sometimes to Haddington, and sometimes to Peebles, the one of which is eighteen, and the other twenty-four miles distant, and sometimes stayed there for several days with numerous attendants, regardless of expense, as being too mean and sordid a care, and below the dignity of one of his rank.