"Under favour, General Dalyel," replied the handsome lieutenant laughing, "I hope not; and Monmouth's cavaliers found lately, that a stand of Scottish pikes are still as firm as when levelled on the fields of Sark or Otterburn. By my faith, their spurred horses recoiled from our solid squares like water from a rock."
"Awa'," replied Sir Thomas sternly; "it beseemeth not a laddie like you to venture an opinion on that fray at Sedgemoor. Had ye seen the field of Smolensko on the day that great battle was fought and won, then might ye speak o' sic matters. There, mair than a hundred thousand matchlocks and petronels rung like thunder in the frosty sky; bombs were bursting, cannon-shot and barbed arrow fleein' thick as hail; while helmet and corslet rang like siller bells to the clink o' cimitar and mace. Oh! for a deep wassail bowl to drink to the brave that fought there, for my auld heart warms to their memory. Like the wind o' their snowy deserts, the squadrons of horse swept with uplifted lances to the heidlong charge. Alexis on the right--Sinboirs on the left, and myself the leal Laird o' Binns, in the centre wi' the eagle--whoop! then came a crash, and all gave way before us, like a Dutchman's dyke when the dam breaks. Loud aboon a' the din o' war thundered the great battle-drum of the Muscovite host, carried on four horses, and having aucht loons loundering on't wi' wooden mells. Sedgemoor!--It was bairns' play to such a field as Smolensko; and gif mortal man gainsayeth it, there is the hand that will right the matter! I mind the fray as if 'twere yesterday; and I assure you, Lady Grisel, that I had a braw supper that night on the field, cooked from a horse's flank by some of the Tartar women I kept about me."
Tired of this conversation, Douglas left the old beaux to do the agreeable to the brocaded dowagers of the Canongate, and lounged through the glittering rooms, continuing his search for Annie Laurie. Leaning on the arm of the handsome Claverhouse, who over a coat of white velvet, richly laced and slashed, wore a sash and gorget of burnished gold, with the collar of the Thistle, the Countess of Dunbarton slowly promenaded past.
"Ah, laird of Finland," said she archly, "I know for whom you are still looking so anxiously."