as. Suppose one army posted upon the face of a hill, and secured
by high grounds projecting on each flank, with the river Till in
front, a deep and still river, winding through a very extensive
valley called Milfield Plain, and the only passage over it by a
narrow bridge, which the Scots artillery, from the hill, could in
a moment have demolished. Add, that the English must have
hazarded a battle while their troops, which were tumultuously
levied, remained together; and that the Scots, behind whom the
country was open to Scotland, had nothing to do but to wait for
the attack as they were posted. Yet did two thirds of the army,
actuated by the _perfervidum ingenium Scotorum_, rush down and
give an opportunity to Stanley to occupy the ground they had
quitted, by coming over the shoulder of the hill, while the other
third, under Lord Home, kept their ground, and having seen their
king and about 10,000 of their countrymen cut to pieces, retired
into Scotland without loss. For the reason of the bridge not
being destroyed while the English passed, I refer you to
Pitscottie, who narrates at large, and to whom I give credit for
a most accurate and clear description, agreeing perfectly with
the ground.

My uncle drinks the whey here, as I do ever since I understood
{p.165} it was brought to his bedside every morning at six, by a
very pretty dairy-maid. So much for my residence: all the day we
shoot, fish, walk, and ride; dine and sup upon fish struggling
from the stream, and the most delicious heath-fed mutton,
barn-door fowls, poys,[87] milk-cheese, etc., all in perfection;
and so much simplicity resides among these hills, that a pen,
which could write at least, was not to be found about the house,
though belonging to a considerable farmer, till I shot the crow
with whose quill I write this epistle. I wrote to Irving before
leaving Kelso. Poor fellow, I am sure his sister's death must
have hurt him much; though he makes no noise about feelings, yet
still streams always run deepest. I sent a message by him to
Edie,[88] poor devil, adding my mite of consolation to him in his
affliction. I pity poor ******, who is more deserving of
compassion, being his first offence. Write soon, and as long as
the last; you will have Perthshire news, I suppose, soon. Ja