in our own American wars, were amenable to no discipline and
recognised no principles of humanity. Eight thousand of these savages
were now let loose on the disobedient Lowlanders. The result was,
indeed, not all that had been anticipated at Edinburgh. The Council had
naturally enough expected that the descent of these plaided barbarians
would be the signal for a general insurrection, which would relieve them
of their troubles as certainly and much more conveniently than Dalziel's
dragoons and Perth's thumbkins. While Highlander and Lowlander were
cutting each other's throats, Lauderdale and his colleagues would have
ample leisure to decide on the apportionment of the booty.[13] In this,
however, they were disappointed. No armed resistance was offered. During
the two months these marauders lived at free quarters, without any
distinction between friend and foe, on a land which, compared with their
own barren moors and mountains, was a paradise flowing with milk and
honey, only one life was lost, and that the life of a Highlander. At
length the scandal became too great even for Lauderdale. Hamilton, who,
like his brother before him, had always stood by the Crown, went up to
London with several gentlemen of rank to protest against a tyranny which
they vowed was that of Turks rather than Christians. According to one
account, the King would not see them: according to another, he admitted
Hamilton to an interview, and, after hearing his protest, owned that
many bad things had been done in Scotland, but none, so far as he could
see, contrary to his interests. It was clear, however, that in this
matter Lauderdale had gone too far. The Highlanders were ordered to
return to their homes. They returned accordingly, laden with spoil such
as they had never dreamed of, and of the use of a large part of which
they were as ignorant as a Red Indian or a negro.[14]

The departure of the Highland host leaves the stage free for
Claverhouse. It was at this crisis he returned to Scotland, and here
this summary of one of the most miserable chapters in British history
may fitly end.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] This is, perhaps, the best place to disclaim all intention of
scoffing at this great writer and historian. It is a common impertinence
of the day in which I have no wish to join. It is not, I hope, an
impertinence to say that only those who have, for their own purposes,
been forced to follow closely in his tracks can have any just idea of
the un