But no flood of loyally-shouting gentry, no bearers of great names drawing the sword for King James III and a gallant, youthful Regent! Each dawn said they will come! Each eve said they have not come! One month from leaving Edinburgh found this army of Highland chiefs and their clans, Lowland Scots, a few Englishmen, a few Irishmen, and a few Frenchmen, led by skilful enough generals and by a Prince the great-grandson of Charles I, deep in England, but little advanced in bulk for all that.

Old cavalier England stayed upon its acres.

Other times, other manners! And how to know when an old vortex begins to disintegrate and a mode of action becomes antiquated, belated?
Wade was to one side with his army, and now there loomed ahead the Duke of Cumberland and ten thousand English troops.

Battle seemed imminent, yet again the Scots force pushed by.

The 4th of December found this strange wedge, of no great mass, but of a tested, rapier-like keenness and hardness, at the town of Derby, with London not a hundred and thirty miles away.