The regular forces of Scotland were cantoned in and around the capital, ready at an hour's notice to march for England, a measure which was vigorously and wisely opposed in council by Colin, Earl of Balcarris, the Lord High Treasurer. Malcontents were secretly flocking to Edinburgh from all quarters; and Master Magnus Prince, the sycophantic Provost, with his bench of baillies, sent a dutiful letter to James VII., assuring him "of their most hearty devotion to his service, and being ready with their lives and fortunes to stand by his sacred person upon all occasions, and praying for the continuation of his princely goodness and love towards his ancient city."
The presbyterians conducted themselves with more than their ordinary boldness, and in the streets openly chanted Psalms and _Lillibulero bullen a la_; the Government and its friends were full of anxiety, and remained on the alert. The whigs spoke boldly, and the cavaliers with somewhat less confidence, of the great preparations of the Dutch for the invasion of Great Britain--of the frigates, fireships, transports, horse, foot, and artillery assembled at Nimguen, and of the Scottish and English noblesse who in exile crowded beneath the unfurled banner of the Stadtholder. Thus,
"While great events were on the gale, And each hour brought a varying tale;"
none were more loyal in drinking His Majesty's health in Hugh Blair's best Burgundy, and the Hocheim of the White Horse, than Walter Fenton and his cavalier comrades of the Scots' Musqueteers; none squeezed the orange more emphatically, and none handled so roughly those luckless wights whom they found chaunting _Lillibulero_, and none drained their vast bumpers more earnestly to the undamning and double damning of the pumpkin-headed and twenty-breeched Dutch.
It was the afternoon of a September day; the last detachment of Dunbarton's Foot had marched into Edinburgh, from the famous expedition against the Macdonalds of Keppoch, in attacking whom they had been co-operating with a battalion of the Guards, and the horsemen of the celebrated Captain Crichton, whose memoirs were edited by Dean Swift; and now to enjoy a complete military re-union, all the cavalier officers of the ancient corps sat down to a banquet in the great dining hall of the White Horse Cellar.