At this time there was a great feeling of jealousy between the two Houses of Parliament, and the Commons, resenting the action of the Upper House in calling special attention to this Bill, seized the opportunity of picking a quarrel, and appointed a Committee to report whether there were any precedents for specially recommending Bills. The Committee reported that there were several precedents. Bills had been sent with such recommendations, both from the Lords to the Commons, and from the Commons to the Lords. Nevertheless the Commons rejected the Union Bill upon the second reading.[125] During the summer of 1700 Scotland was in a state of dangerous excitement. “The Scotch look,” Vernon writes, “as if they were ready for any mischief, and that nothing will please them but setting up for themselves.” For the last five years the crops had failed. Thousands had perished from famine. Thousands more had been driven to emigrate. The treasury was exhausted. On the balance of trade there was an annual loss. The Bank of Scotland, established in 1695, found that the whole business of the country could be conducted on a capital of thirty thousand pounds; and so limited was the trade, that neither Glasgow, Dundee, nor Aberdeen could support a branch of the bank.[126] So frightful was the state of things that Fletcher of Saltoun, whose whole mind and soul were given up to an intense love for Scotland, thought that no foundation could be laid for better times except by reducing a great part of the population to slavery. The Estates had not met for two years. An address calling upon the king to assemble a new Parliament was sent up to London; and it was openly said, that if he refused, a national convention would meet, and meet moreover at Perth, where the members would have “Athol and a part of the Highlands at their backs.” The staunch Whigs of the Lowlands laughed in public at the idea of a rebellion; but they were well aware that society in Scotland was deeply tainted with that Jacobite feeling which afterwards gave so much trouble. It appears, from a letter written by Melville to Carstares, that attempts had been made to tamper even with persons who were known and avowed Whigs. The Duke of Hamilton, “upon his lady’s birthday,” was entertaining a party of his friends, among whom were Queensberry, Argyll, and Leven. After dinner he began to speak in a very confidential manner to Leven, telling him “that he loved him,” that he would do all he could to save him, and that he “would obtain a pardon for him.” Leven asked him what he meant, saying that he had done nothing to require a pardon from King William, and as for King James, he would not accept one from him. Hamilton saw he had gone too far, and explained away what he had said. “It is true,” says Melville, “the duke was very drunk; but _post vinum veritas_.”[127]