with shame and fear. It was not good policy to
call the troops from Scotland, where we could have held the land
for the King, but one had not so much regret if we had been
allowed to strike a blow against the Usurper. Had there been a
heart in my Lord Feversham--it hurts me to reflect on the
King--then the army should have made a quick march into the West,
gathering round it all the loyal gentlemen, and struck a blow at
the Prince before he had established himself in the land. By God's
help we had driven him and his Dutchmen, and the traitors who have
flocked to him, into the sea. But it is with a sore heart I tell
thee, tho' this had better be kept to thy secret council, that
there seemeth to be neither wisdom nor courage amongst us. His
Majesty has been living in the Bishop's Palace, and does nothing
at the time, when to strike quickly is to strike for ever.
Officers in high place are stealing away like thieves, and others
who remain are preaching caution, by which they mean safety for
themselves and their goods. "Damn all caution," say I, to
Feversham and the rest of them, "let us into the saddle and
forward, let us strike hard and altogether, for the King and our
cause!" If we win it will be a speedy end to rebellion and another
Sedgemoor; if we are defeated, and I do not despise the Scots
Brigade with Hugh MacKay, we shall fall with honor and not be a
scorn to coming generations. For myself, were it not for thee,
Jean, I should crave no better end than to fall in a last charge
for the King and the good cause. As it is, unless God put some
heart into our leaders, the army will melt away like snow upon a
dyke in the springtime, and William will have an open road to
London and the throne of England. He may have mair trouble and see
some bloodshed before he lays his hand on the auld crown of
Scotland. When I may get awa to the North countrie I know not yet,
but whether I be in the South, where many are cowards and some are
traitors, or in the North, where the clans at least be true, and
there be also not a few loyal Lowland Cavaliers, my love is ever
with thee, dear heart, and warm upon my breast lies the lock of
your golden hair.

Yours till death,

DUNDEE.

God was not pleased to reenforce the king's advisers, and his cause
fell rapidly to pieces. Claverhouse wi