Edinburgh and to call a Convention of Estates at Stirling, as your Majesty had given the Archbishop of St. Andrews, the Viscount of Dundee, and myself the power to do this by a warrant sent by Mr. Brown from Ireland.”

Dundee was anxious to be gone.  He saw that the game was up in the Convention, and there were other reasons.  For many days past troops of strange, fierce-looking men, carrying arms but half-concealed beneath their plaids, had been flocking into Edinburgh.  These were the men of the hill-sides and moorlands of the West, the wild Western Whigs, who feared and hated the name of Claverhouse more than anything on earth.  Their leader was William Cleland, a survivor from the fields of Drumclog and Bothwell, a brave and able young man, of good education and humane above his fellows, but who, it was well known, was burning to have vengeance upon Dundee.  Some of these men had been heard to mutter that the tables were turned now, and “bloodly Clavers” should play the persecutor no more.  Word was brought to Dundee that a plot was on foot to assassinate him and Sir George Mackenzie, the most hated of all James’s lawyers.  Whether the rumour were true or not, it was at least too probable to be disregarded.  Dundee laid the matter before Hamilton, offered to produce his witnesses, and demanded that these armed strangers be ordered to leave the town.  Hamilton (who was, in fact, responsible for their presence) answered that the Convention had more important matters to think of, that the city could not be left defenceless to Gordon and his rebellious garrison, and, it is said, twitted Dundee with imaginary fears unbecoming a brave man.

A meeting of the Jacobites was held.  It was decided to call a fresh Convention at Stirling.  Mar, who held the castle there, professed himself staunch, and Athole promised to have a force of his Highlanders in readiness.  This was on Saturday, March 16th:  it was determined to leave Edinburgh on the following Monday.

When Monday came Athole proposed to wait another day.  As his co-operation was of the greatest importance, his proposal was accepted.  But Dundee would wait no longer.  In vain Balcarres told him that his haste would ruin all their plans.  He answered that he would take no action without the agreement of the rest, but in Edinburgh he would stay no longer.  He had made an appointment for that day with some friends outside the walls, and he could not break it.  His troopers had been in readiness since an early hour, and Dundee returning to his lodgings gave signal to mount.  The streets were thronged with scowling faces, but they shrank to right and left as those stern riders came clattering down the Canongate.  A friend called from the crowd to know whither they went.  Dundee raised his hat from his head and answered:  “Wherever the spirit of Montrose shall direct me.”  When clear of the walls he led his men to the left up the Leith Wynd and along the bank of the North Loch, the ground now occupied