Morton now galloped hastily towards the main body of the insurgents, but
was surprised and shocked at the scene of confusion and clamour which it
exhibited, at the moment when good order and concord were of such
essential consequence. Instead of being drawn up in line of battle, and
listening to the commands of their officers, they were crowding together
in a confused mass, that rolled and agitated itself like the waves of the
sea, while a thousand tongues spoke, or rather vociferated, and not a
single ear was found to listen. Scandalized at a scene so extraordinary,
Morton endeavoured to make his way through the press to learn, and, if
possible, to remove, the cause of this so untimely disorder. While he is
thus engaged, we shall make the reader acquainted with that which he was
some time in discovering.

The insurgents had proceeded to hold their day of humiliation, which,
agreeably to the practice of the puritans during the earlier civil war,
they considered as the most effectual mode of solving all difficulties,
and waiving all discussions. It was usual to name an ordinary week-day
for this purpose, but on this occasion the Sabbath itself was adopted,
owing to the pressure of the time and the vicinity of the enemy. A
temporary pulpit, or tent, was erected in the middle of the encampment;
which, according to the fixed arrangement, was first to be occupied by
the Reverend Peter Poundtext, to whom the post of honour was assigned, as
the eldest clergyman present. But as the worthy divine, with slow and
stately steps, was advancing towards the rostrum which had been prepared
for him, he was prevented by the unexpected apparition of Habakkuk
Mucklewrath, the insane preacher, whose appearance had so much startled
Morton at the first council of the insurgents after their victory at
Loudon-hill. It is not known whether he was acting under the influence
and instigation of the Cameronians, or whether he was merely compelled by
his own agitated imagination, and the temptation of a vacant pulpit
before him, to seize the opportunity of exhorting so respectable a
congregation. It is only certain that he took occasion by the forelock,
sprung into the pulpit, cast his eyes wildly round him, and, undismayed
by the murmurs of many of the audience, opened the Bible, read forth as
his text from the thirteenth chapter of Deuteronomy, "Certain men, the
children of Belial, are gone out from among you, and have withdrawn the
inhabitants of their city, saying, let us go and serve other gods, which
you have not known;" and then rushed at once into the midst of his
subject.

The harangue of Mucklewrath was as wild and extravagant as his intrusion
was unauthorized and untimely; but it was provokingly coherent, in so far
as it turned entirely upon the very subjects of discord, of which it had
been agreed to adjourn the consideration until some more suitable
opportunity. Not a single topic did he omit which had offence in it; and,
after charging the moderate party with heresy, with crouching to tyranny,
with seeking to be at peace with God's enemies, he applied to Morton, by
name, the charge that he had been one of those men of Belial, who, in the
words of his text, had gone out from amongst them, to withdraw the
inhabitants of his city, and to go astray after false gods. To him, and
all who followed him, or approved of his conduct, Mucklewrath denounced
fury and vengeance, and exhorted those who would hold themselves pure and
undefiled to come up from the midst of them.

"Fear not," he said, "because of the neighing of horses, or the
glittering of breastplates. Seek not aid of the Egyptians, because of the
enemy, though they may be numerous as locusts, and fierce as dragons.
Their trust is not as our trust, nor their rock as our rock; how else
shall a thousand fly before one, and two put ten thousand to the flight!
I dreamed it in the visions of the night, and the voice said, 'Habakkuk,
take thy fan and purge the wheat from the chaff, that they be not both
consumed with the fire of indignation and the lightning of fury.'
Wherefore, I say, take this Henry Morton--this wretched Achan, who hath
brought the accursed thing among ye, and made himself brethren in the
camp of the enemy--take him and stone him with stones, and thereafter
burn him with fire, that the wrath may depart from the children of the
Covenant. He hath not taken a Babylonish garment, but he hath sold the
garment of righteousness to the woman of Babylon--he hath not taken two
hundred shekels of fine silver, but he hath bartered the truth, which is
more precious than shekels of silver or wedges of gold."

At this furious charge, brought so unexpectedly against one of their most
active commanders, the audience broke out into open tumult, some
demanding that there should instantly be a new election of officers, into
which office none should hereafter be admitted who had, in their phrase,
touched of that which was accursed, or temporized more or less with the
heresies and corruptions of the times. While such was the demand of the
Cameronians, they vociferated loudly, that those who were not with them
were against them,--that it was no time to relinquish the substantial
part of the covenanted testimony of the Church, if they expected a
blessing on their arms and their cause; and that, in their eyes, a
lukewarm Presbyterian was little better than a Prelatist, an
Anti-Covenanter, and a Nullifidian.

The parties accused repelled the charge of criminal compliance and
defection from the truth with scorn and indignation, and charged their
accusers with breach of faith, as well as with wrong-headed and
extravagant zeal in introducing such divisions into an army, the joint
strength of which could not, by the most sanguine, be judged more than
sufficient to face their enemies. Poundtext, and one or two others, made
some faint efforts to stem the increasing fury of the factious,
exclaiming to those of the other party, in the words of the
Patriarch,--"Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee,
and between thy herdsmen and my herdsmen, for we be brethren." No
pacific overture could possibly obtain audience. It was in vain that
even Burley himself, when he saw the dissension proceed to such ruinous
lengths, exerted his stern and deep voice, commanding silence and
obedience to discipline. The spirit of insubordination had gone forth,
and it seemed as if the exhortation of Habakkuk Mucklewrath had
communicated a part of his frenzy to all who heard him. The wiser, or
more timid part of the assembly, were already withdrawing themselves
from the field, and giving up their cause as lost. Others were
moderating a harmonious call, as they somewhat improperly termed it, to
new officers, and dismissing those formerly chosen, and that with a
tumult and clamour worthy of the deficiency of good sense and good order
implied in the whole transaction. It was at this moment when Morton
arrived in the field and joined the army, in total confusion, and on the
point of dissolving itself. His arrival occasioned loud exclamations of
applause on the one side, and of imprecation on the other.

"What means this ruinous disorder at such a moment?" he exclaimed to
Burley, who, exhausted with his vain exertions to restore order, was now
leaning on his sword, and regarding the confusion with an eye of resolute
despair.

"It means," he replied, "that God has delivered us into the hands of our
enemies."

"Not so," answered Morton, with a voice and gesture which compelled many
to listen; "it is not God who deserts us, it is we who desert him, and
dishonour ourselves by disgracing and betraying the cause of freedom and
religion.--Hear me," he exclaimed, springing to the pulpit which
Mucklewrath had been compelled to evacuate by actual exhaustion--"I bring
from the enemy an offer to treat, if you incline to lay down your arms. I
can assure you the means of making an honourable defence, if you are of
more manly tempers. The time flies fast on. Let us resolve either for
peace or war; and let it not be said of us in future days, that six
thousand Scottish men in arms had neither courage to stand their ground
and fight it out, nor prudence to treat for peace, nor even the coward's
wisdom to retreat in good time and with safety. What signifies
quarrelling on minute points of church-discipline, when the whole edifice
is threatened with total destruction? O, remember, my brethren, that the
last and worst evil which God brought upon the people whom he had once
chosen--the last and worst punishment of their blindness and hardness of
heart, was the bloody dissensions which rent asunder their city, even
when the enemy were thundering at its gates!"

Some of the audience testified their feeling of this exhortation, by loud
exclamations of applause; others by hooting, and exclaiming--"To your
tents, O Israel!"

Morton, who beheld the columns of the enemy already beginning to appear
on the right bank, and directing their march upon the bridge, raised his
voice to its utmost pitch, and, pointing at the same time with his hand,
exclaimed,--"Silence your senseless clamours, yonder is the enemy! On
maintaining the bridge against him depend our lives, as well as our hope
to reclaim our laws and liberties.--There shall at least one Scottishman
die in their defence.--Let any one who loves his country follow me!"

The multitude had turned their heads in the direction to which he
pointed. The sight of the glittering files of the English Foot-Guards,
supported by several squadrons of horse, of the cannon which the
artillerymen were busily engaged in planting against the bridge, of the
plaided clans who seemed to search for a ford, and of the long succession
of troops which were destined to support the attack, silenced at once
their clamorous uproar, and struck them with as much consternation as if
it were an unexpected apparition, and not the very thing which they ought
to have been looking out for. They gazed on each other, and on their
leaders, with looks resembling those that indicate the weakness of a
patient when exhausted by a fit of frenzy. Yet when Morton, springing
from the rostrum, directed his steps towards the bridge, he was followed
by about an hundred of the young men who were particularly attached to
his command.

Burley turned to Macbriar--"Ephraim," he said, "it is Providence points
us the way, through the worldly wisdom of this latitudinarian youth.--He
that loves the light, let him follow Burley!"

"Tarry," replied Macbriar; "it is not by Henry Morton, or such as he,
that our goings-out and our comings-in are to be meted; therefore tarry
with us. I fear treachery to the host from this nullifidian Achan--Thou
shalt not go with him. Thou art our chariots and our horsemen."

"Hinder me not," replied Burley; "he hath well said that all is lost, if
the enemy win the bridge--therefore let me not. Shall the children of
this generation be called wiser or braver than the children of the
sanctuary?--Array yourselves under your leaders--let us not lack supplies
of men and ammunition; and accursed be he who turneth back from the work
on this great day!"

Having thus spoken, he hastily marched towards the bridge, and was
followed by about two hundred of the most gallant and zealous of his
party. There was a deep and disheartened pause when Morton and Burley
departed. The commanders availed themselves of it to display their lines
in some sort of order, and exhorted those who were most exposed to throw
themselves upon their faces to avoid the cannonade which they might
presently expect. The insurgents ceased to resist or to remonstrate; but
the awe which had silenced their discords had dismayed their courage.
They suffered themselves to be formed into ranks with the docility of a
flock of sheep, but without possessing, for the time, more resolution or
energy; for they experienced a sinking of the heart, imposed by the
sudden and imminent approach of the danger which they had neglected to
provide against while it was yet distant. They were, however, drawn out
with some regularity; and as they still possessed the appearance of an
army, their leaders had only to hope that some favourable circumstance
would restore their spirits and courage.

Kettledrummle, Poundtext, Macbriar, and other preachers, busied
themselves in their ranks, and prevailed on them to raise a psalm. But
the superstitious among them observed, as an ill omen, that their song of
praise and triumph sunk into "a quaver of consternation," and resembled
rather a penitentiary stave sung on the scaffold of a condemned criminal,
than the bold strain which had resounded along the wild heath of
Loudon-hill, in anticipation of that day's victory. The melancholy melody
soon received a rough accompaniment; the royal soldiers shouted, the
Highlanders yelled, the cannon began to fire on one side, and the
musketry on both, and the bridge of Bothwell, with the banks adjacent,
were involved in wreaths of smoke.





CHAPTER XI.

                    As e'er ye saw the rain doun fa',
                    Or yet the arrow from the bow,
                    Sae our Scots lads fell even down,
                    And they lay slain on every knowe.
                                        Old Ballad.

Ere Morton or Burley had reached the post to be defended, the enemy had
commenced an attack upon it with great spirit. The two regiments of
Foot-Guards, formed into a close column, rushed forward to the river; one
corps, deploying along the right bank, commenced a galling fire on the
defenders of the pass, while the other pressed on to occupy the bridge.
The insurgents sustained the attack with great constancy and courage; and
while part of their number returned the fire across the river, the rest
maintained a discharge of musketry upon the further end of the bridge
itself, and every avenue by which the soldiers endeavoured to approach
it. The latter suffered severely, but still gained ground, and the head
of their column was already upon the bridge, when the arrival of Morton
changed the scene; and his marksmen, commencing upon the pass a fire as
well aimed as it was sustained and regular, compelled the assailants to
retire with much loss. They were a second time brought up to the charge,
and a second time repulsed with still greater loss, as Burley had now
brought his party into action. The fire was continued with the utmost
vehemence on both sides, and the issue of the action seemed very dubious.

Monmouth, mounted on a superb white charger, might be discovered on the
top of the right bank of the river, urging, entreating, and animating the
exertions of his soldiers. By his orders, the cannon, which had hitherto
been employed in annoying the distant main body of the presbyterians,
were now turned upon the defenders of the bridge. But these tremendous
engines, being wrought much more slowly than in modern times, did not
produce the effect of annoying or terrifying the enemy to the extent
proposed. The insurgents, sheltered by copsewood along the bank of the
river, or stationed in the houses already mentioned, fought under cover,
while the royalists, owing to the precautions of Morton, were entirely
exposed. The defence was so protracted and obstinate, that the royal
generals began to fear it might be ultimately successful. While Monmouth
threw himself from his horse, and, rallying the Foot-Guards, brought them
on to another close and desperate attack, he was warmly seconded
by Dalzell, who, putting himself at the head of a body of
Lennox-Highlanders, rushed forward with their tremendous war-cry of
Loch-sloy.

     [Note: This was the slogan or war-cry of the MacFarlanes, taken from
     a lake near the head of Loch Lomond, in the centre of their ancient
     possessions on the western banks of that beautiful inland sea.]

The ammunition of the defenders of the bridge began to fail at this
important crisis; messages, commanding and imploring succours and
supplies, were in vain dispatched, one after the other, to the main body
of the presbyterian army, which remained inactively drawn up on the open
fields in the rear. Fear, consternation, and misrule, had gone abroad
among them, and while the post on which their safety depended required
to be instantly and powerfully reinforced, there remained none either to
command or to obey.

As the fire of the defenders of the bridge began to slacken, that of the
assailants increased, and in its turn became more fatal. Animated by the
example and exhortations of their generals, they obtained a footing upon
the bridge itself, and began to remove the obstacles by which it was
blockaded. The portal-gate was broke open, the beams, trunks of trees,
and other materials of the barricade, pulled down and thrown into the
river. This was not accomplished without opposition. Morton and Burley
fought in the very front of their followers, and encouraged them with
their pikes, halberds, and partisans, to encounter the bayonets of the
Guards, and the broadswords of the Highlanders. But those behind the
leaders began to shrink from the unequal combat, and fly singly, or in
parties of two or three, towards the main body, until the remainder were,
by the mere weight of the hostile column as much as by their weapons,
fairly forced from the bridge. The passage being now open, the enemy
began to pour over. But the bridge was long and narrow, which rendered
the manoeuvre slow as well as dangerous; and those who first passed had
still to force the houses, from the windows of which the Covenanters
continued to fire. Burley and Morton were near each other at this
critical moment.

"There is yet time," said the former, "to bring down horse to attack
them, ere they can get into order; and, with the aid of God, we may thus
regain the bridge--hasten thou to bring them down, while I make the
defence good with this old and wearied body."

Morton saw the importance of the advice, and, throwing himself on the
horse which cuddie held in readiness for him behind the thicket, galloped
towards a body of cavalry which chanced to be composed entirely of
Cameronians. Ere he could speak his errand, or utter his orders, he was
saluted by the execrations of the whole body.

"He flies!" they exclaimed--"the cowardly traitor flies like a hart from
the hunters, and hath left valiant Burley in the midst of the slaughter!"

"I do not fly," said Morton. "I come to lead you to the attack. Advance
boldly, and we shall yet do well."

"Follow him not!--Follow him not!"--such were the tumultuous exclamations
which resounded from the ranks;--"he hath sold you to the sword of the
enemy!"

And while Morton argued, entreated, and commanded in vain, the moment was
lost in which the advance might have been useful; and the outlet from the
bridge, with all its defences, being in complete possession of the enemy,
Burley and his remaining followers were driven back upon the main body,
to whom the spectacle of their hurried and harassed retreat was far from
restoring the confidence which they so much wanted.

In the meanwhile, the forces of the King crossed the bridge at their
leisure, and, securing the pass, formed in line of battle; while
Claverhouse, who, like a hawk perched on a rock, and eyeing the time to
pounce on its prey, had watched the event of the action from the opposite
bank, now passed the bridge at the head of his cavalry, at full trot,
and, leading them in squadrons through the intervals and round the flanks
of the royal infantry, formed them in line on the moor, and led them to
the charge, advancing in front with one large body, while other two
divisions threatened the flanks of the Covenanters. Their devoted army
was now in that situation when the slightest demonstration towards an
attack was certain to inspire panic. Their broken spirits and
disheartened courage were unable to endure the charge of the cavalry,
attended with all its terrible accompaniments of sight and sound;--the
rush of the horses at full speed, the shaking of the earth under their
feet, the glancing of the swords, the waving of the plumes, and the
fierce shouts of the cavaliers. The front ranks hardly attempted one
ill-directed and disorderly fire, and their rear were broken and flying
in confusion ere the charge had been completed; and in less than five
minutes the horsemen were mixed with them, cutting and hewing without
mercy. The voice of Claverhouse was heard, even above the din of
conflict, exclaiming to his soldiers--"Kill, kill--no quarter--think on
Richard Grahame!" The dragoons, many of whom had shared the disgrace of
Loudon-hill, required no exhortations to vengeance as easy as it was
complete. Their swords drank deep of slaughter among the unresisting
fugitives. Screams for quarter were only answered by the shouts with
which the pursuers accompanied their blows, and the whole field presented
one general scene of confused slaughter, flight, and pursuit.

About twelve hundred of the insurgents who remained in a body a little
apart from the rest, and out of the line of the charge of cavalry, threw
down their arms and surrendered at discretion, upon the approach of the
Duke of Monmouth at the head of the infantry. That mild-tempered nobleman
instantly allowed them the quarter which they prayed for; and, galloping
about through the field, exerted himself as much to stop the slaughter as
he had done to obtain the victory. While busied in this humane task he
met with General Dalzell, who was encouraging the fierce Highlanders and
royal volunteers to show their zeal for King and country, by quenching
the flame of the rebellion with the blood of the rebels.

"Sheathe your sword, I command you, General!" exclaimed the Duke, "and
sound the retreat. Enough of blood has been shed; give quarter to the
King's misguided subjects."

"I obey your Grace," said the old man, wiping his bloody sword and
returning it to the scabbard; "but I warn you, at the same time, that
enough has not been done to intimidate these desperate rebels. Has not
your Grace heard that Basil Olifant has collected several gentlemen and
men of substance in the west, and is in the act of marching to join
them?"

"Basil Olifant?" said the Duke; "who, or what is he?"

"The next male heir to the last Earl of Torwood. He is disaffected to
government from his claim to the estate being set aside in favour of Lady
Margaret Bellenden; and I suppose the hope of getting the inheritance has
set him in motion."

"Be his motives what they will," replied Monmouth, "he must soon disperse
his followers, for this army is too much broken to rally again.
Therefore, once more, I command that the pursuit be stopped."

"It is your Grace's province to command, and to be responsible for your
commands," answered Dalzell, as he gave reluctant orders for checking the
pursuit.

But the fiery and vindictive Grahame was already far out of hearing of
the signal of retreat, and continued with his cavalry an unwearied and
bloody pursuit, breaking, dispersing, and cutting to pieces all the
insurgents whom they could come up with.

Burley and Morton were both hurried off the field by the confused tide of
fugitives. They made some attempt to defend the streets of the town of
Hamilton; but, while labouring to induce the fliers to face about and
stand to their weapons. Burley received a bullet which broke his
sword-arm.

"May the hand be withered that shot the shot!" he exclaimed, as the sword
which he was waving over his head fell powerless to his side. "I can
fight no longer." [Note: This incident, and Burley's exclamation, are
taken from the records.]

Then turning his horse's head, he retreated out of the confusion. Morton
also now saw that the continuing his unavailing efforts to rally the
fliers could only end in his own death or captivity, and, followed by the
faithful Cuddie, he extricated himself from the press, and, being well
mounted, leaped his horse over one or two enclosures, and got into the
open country.

From the first hill which they gained in their flight, they looked back,
and beheld the whole country covered with their fugitive companions, and
with the pursuing dragoons, whose wild shouts and halloo, as they did
execution on the groups whom they overtook, mingled with the groans and
screams of their victims, rose shrilly up the hill.

"It is impossible they can ever make head again," said Morton.

"The head's taen aff them, as clean as I wad bite it aff a sybo!"
rejoined Cuddie. "Eh, Lord! see how the broadswords are flashing! war's
a fearsome thing. They'll be cunning that catches me at this wark
again.--But, for God's sake, sir, let us mak for some strength!"

Morton saw the necessity of following the advice of his trusty squire.
They resumed a rapid pace, and continued it without intermission,
directing their course towards the wild and mountainous country, where
they thought it likely some part of the fugitives might draw together,
for the sake either of making defence, or of obtaining terms.





CHAPTER XII.

                            They require
               Of Heaven the hearts of lions, breath of tigers,
               Yea and the fierceness too.
                                             Fletcher.

Evening had fallen; and, for the last two hours, they had seen none of
their ill-fated companions, when Morton and his faithful attendant gained
the moorland, and approached a large and solitary farmhouse, situated in
the entrance of a wild glen, far remote from any other habitation.

"Our horses," said Morton, "will carry us no farther without rest or
food, and we must try to obtain them here, if possible."

So speaking, he led the way to the house. The place had every appearance
of being inhabited. There was smoke issuing from the chimney in a
considerable volume, and the marks of recent hoofs were visible around
the door. They could even hear the murmuring of human voices within the
house. But all the lower windows were closely secured; and when they
knocked at the door, no answer was returned. After vainly calling and
entreating admittance, they withdrew to the stable, or shed, in order to
accommodate their horses, ere they used farther means of gaining
admission. In this place they found ten or twelve horses, whose state of
fatigue, as well as the military yet disordered appearance of their
saddles and accoutrements, plainly indicated that their owners were
fugitive insurgents in their own circumstances.

"This meeting bodes luck," said Cuddie; "and they hae walth o' beef,
that's ae thing certain, for here's a raw hide that has been about the
hurdies o' a stot not half an hour syne--it's warm yet."

Encouraged by these appearances, they returned again to the house, and,
announcing themselves as men in the same predicament with the inmates,
clamoured loudly for admittance.

"Whoever ye be," answered a stern voice from the window, after a long and
obdurate silence, "disturb not those who mourn for the desolation and
captivity of the land, and search out the causes of wrath and of
defection, that the stumbling-blocks may be removed over which we have
stumbled."

"They are wild western whigs," said Cuddie, in a whisper to his master,
"I ken by their language. Fiend hae me, if I like to venture on them!"

Morton, however, again called to the party within, and insisted on
admittance; but, finding his entreaties still disregarded, he opened one
of the lower windows, and pushing asunder the shutters, which were but
slightly secured, stepped into the large kitchen from which the voice had
issued. Cuddie followed him, muttering betwixt his teeth, as he put his
head within the window, "That he hoped there was nae scalding brose on
the fire;" and master and servant both found themselves in the company of
ten or twelve armed men, seated around the fire, on which refreshments
were preparing, and busied apparently in their devotions.

In the gloomy countenances, illuminated by the fire-light, Morton had no
difficulty in recognising several of those zealots who had most
distinguished themselves by their intemperate opposition to all moderate
measures, together with their noted pastor, the fanatical Ephraim
Macbriar, and the maniac, Habakkuk Mucklewrath. The Cameronians neither
stirred tongue nor hand to welcome their brethren in misfortune, but
continued to listen to the low murmured exercise of Macbriar, as he
prayed that the Almighty would lift up his hand from his people, and not
make an end in the day of his anger. That they were conscious of the
presence of the intruders only appeared from the sullen and indignant
glances which they shot at them, from time to time, as their eyes
encountered.

Morton, finding into what unfriendly society he had unwittingly intruded,
began to think of retreating; but, on turning his head, observed with
some alarm, that two strong men had silently placed themselves beside the
window, through which they had entered. One of these ominous sentinels
whispered to Cuddie, "Son of that precious woman, Mause Headrigg, do not
cast thy lot farther with this child of treachery and perdition--Pass on
thy way, and tarry not, for the avenger of blood is behind thee."

With this he pointed to the window, out of which Cuddie jumped without
hesitation; for the intimation he had received plainly implied the
personal danger he would otherwise incur.

"Winnocks are no lucky wi' me," was his first reflection when he was in
the open air; his next was upon the probable fate of his master. "They'll
kill him, the murdering loons, and think they're doing a gude turn! but
I'se tak the back road for Hamilton, and see if I canna get some o' our
ain folk to bring help in time of needcessity."

So saying, Cuddie hastened to the stable, and taking the best horse he
could find instead of his own tired animal, he galloped off in the
direction he proposed.

The noise of his horse's tread alarmed for an instant the devotion of the
fanatics. As it died in the distance, Macbriar brought his exercise to a
conclusion, and his audience raised themselves from the stooping posture,
and louring downward look, with which they had listened to it, and all
fixed their eyes sternly on Henry Morton.

"You bend strange countenances on me, gentlemen," said he, addressing
them. "I am totally ignorant in what manner I can have deserved them."

"Out upon thee! out upon thee!" exclaimed Mucklewrath, starting up: "the
word that thou hast spurned shall become a rock to crush and to bruise
thee; the spear which thou wouldst have broken shall pierce thy side; we
have prayed, and wrestled, and petitioned for an offering to atone the
sins of the congregation, and lo! the very head of the offence is
delivered into our hand. He hath burst in like a thief through the
window; he is a ram caught in the thicket, whose blood shall be a
drink-offering to redeem vengeance from the church, and the place shall
from henceforth be called Jehovah-Jireh, for the sacrifice is provided.
Up then, and bind the victim with cords to the horns of the altar!"

There was a movement among the party; and deeply did Morton regret at
that moment the incautious haste with which he had ventured into their
company. He was armed only with his sword, for he had left his pistols at
the bow of his saddle; and, as the whigs were all provided with
fire-arms, there was little or no chance of escaping from them by
resistance. The interposition, however, of Macbriar protected him for the
moment.

"Tarry yet a while, brethren--let us not use the sword rashly, lest the
load of innocent blood lie heavy on us.--Come," he said, addressing
himself to Morton, "we will reckon with thee ere we avenge the cause thou
hast betrayed.--Hast thou not," he continued, "made thy face as hard as
flint against the truth in all the assemblies of the host?"

"He has--he has," murmured the deep voices of the assistants.

"He hath ever urged peace with the malignants," said one.

"And pleaded for the dark and dismal guilt of the Indulgence," said
another.

"And would have surrendered the host into the hands of Monmouth," echoed
a third; "and was the first to desert the honest and manly Burley, while
he yet resisted at the pass. I saw him on the moor, with his horse bloody
with spurring, long ere the firing had ceased at the bridge."

"Gentlemen," said Morton, "if you mean to bear me down by clamour, and
take my life without hearing me, it is perhaps a thing in your power; but
you will sin before God and man by the commission of such a murder."

"I say, hear the youth," said Macbriar; "for Heaven knows our bowels have
yearned for him, that he might be brought to see the truth, and exert his
gifts in its defence. But he is blinded by his carnal knowledge, and has
spurned the light when it blazed before him."

Silence being obtained, Morton proceeded to assert the good faith which
he had displayed in the treaty with Monmouth, and the active part he had
borne in the subsequent action.

"I may not, gentlemen," he said, "be fully able to go the lengths you
desire, in assigning to those of my own religion the means of tyrannizing
over others; but none shall go farther in asserting our own lawful
freedom. And I must needs aver, that had others been of my mind in
counsel, or disposed to stand by my side in battle, we should this
evening, instead of being a defeated and discordant remnant, have
sheathed our weapons in an useful and honourable peace, or brandished
them triumphantly after a decisive victory."

"He hath spoken the word," said one of the assembly--"he hath avowed his
carnal self-seeking and Erastianism; let him die the death!"

"Peace yet again," said Macbriar, "for I will try him further.--Was it
not by thy means that the malignant Evandale twice escaped from death and
captivity? Was it not through thee that Miles Bellenden and his garrison
of cut-throats were saved from the edge of the sword?"

"I am proud to say, that you have spoken the truth in both instances,"
replied Morton.

"Lo! you see," said Macbriar, "again hath his mouth spoken it.--And didst
thou not do this for the sake of a Midianitish woman, one of the spawn of
prelacy, a toy with which the arch-enemy's trap is baited? Didst thou not
do all this for the sake of Edith Bellenden?"

"You are incapable," answered Morton, boldly, "of appreciating my
feelings towards that young lady; but all that I have done I would have
done had she never existed."

"Thou art a hardy rebel to the truth," said another dark-brow'd man; "and
didst thou not so act, that, by conveying away the aged woman, Margaret
Bellenden, and her grand-daughter, thou mightest thwart the wise and
godly project of John Balfour of Burley for bringing forth to battle
Basil Olifant, who had agreed to take the field if he were insured
possession of these women's worldly endowments?"

"I never heard of such a scheme," said Morton, "and therefore I could not
thwart it.--But does your religion permit you to take such uncreditable
and immoral modes of recruiting?"

"Peace," said Macbriar, somewhat disconcerted; "it is not for thee to
instruct tender professors, or to construe Covenant obligations. For the
rest, you have acknowledged enough of sin and sorrowful defection, to
draw down defeat on a host, were it as numerous as the sands on the
sea-shore. And it is our judgment, that we are not free to let you pass
from us safe and in life, since Providence hath given you into our hands
at the moment that we prayed with godly Joshua, saying, 'What shall we
say when Israel turneth their backs before their enemies?'--Then camest
thou, delivered to us as it were by lot, that thou mightest sustain the
punishment of one that hath wrought folly in Israel. Therefore, mark my
words. This is the Sabbath, and our hand shall not be on thee to spill
thy blood upon this day; but, when the twelfth hour shall strike, it is a
token that thy time on earth hath run! Wherefore improve thy span, for it
flitteth fast away.--Seize on the prisoner, brethren, and take his
weapon."

The command was so unexpectedly given, and so suddenly executed by those
of the party who had gradually closed behind and around Morton, that he
was overpowered, disarmed, and a horse-girth passed round his arms,
before he could offer any effectual resistance. When this was
accomplished, a dead and stern silence took place. The fanatics ranged
themselves around a large oaken table, placing Morton amongst them bound
and helpless, in such a manner as to be opposite to the clock which was
to strike his knell. Food was placed before them, of which they offered
their intended victim a share; but, it will readily be believed, he had
little appetite. When this was removed, the party resumed their
devotions. Macbriar, whose fierce zeal did not perhaps exclude some
feelings of doubt and compunction, began to expostulate in prayer, as if
to wring from the Deity a signal that the bloody sacrifice they proposed
was an acceptable service. The eyes and ears of his hearers were
anxiously strained, as if to gain some sight or sound which might be
converted or wrested into a type of approbation, and ever and anon dark
looks were turned on the dial-plate of the time-piece, to watch its
progress towards the moment of execution.

Morton's eye frequently took the same course, with the sad reflection,
that there appeared no posibility of his life being expanded beyond the
narrow segment which the index had yet to travel on the circle until it
arrived at the fatal hour. Faith in his religion, with a constant
unyielding principle of honour, and the sense of conscious innocence,
enabled him to pass through this dreadful interval with less agitation
than he himself could have expected, had the situation been prophesied to
him. Yet there was a want of that eager and animating sense of right
which supported him in similar circumstances, when in the power of
Claverhouse. Then he was conscious, that, amid the spectators, were many
who were lamenting his condition, and some who applauded his conduct. But
now, among these pale-eyed and ferocious zealots, whose hardened brows
were soon to be bent, not merely with indifference, but with triumph,
upon his execution,--without a friend to speak a kindly word, or give a
look either of sympathy or encouragement,--awaiting till the sword
destined to slay him crept out of the scabbard gradually, and as it were
by strawbreadths, and condemned to drink the bitterness of death drop by
drop,--it is no wonder that his feelings were less composed than they had
been on any former occasion of danger. His destined executioners, as he
gazed around them, seemed to alter their forms and features, like
spectres in a feverish dream; their figures became larger, and their
faces more disturbed; and, as an excited imagination predominated over
the realities which his eyes received, he could have thought himself
surrounded rather by a band of demons than of human beings; the walls
seemed to drop with blood, and the light tick of the clock thrilled on
his ear with such loud, painful distinctness, as if each sound were the
prick of a bodkin inflicted on the naked nerve of the organ.


[Illustration: Morton Awaiting Death--frontispiece2]


It was with pain that he felt his mind wavering, while on the brink
between this and the future world. He made a strong effort to compose
himself to devotional exercises, and unequal, during that fearful strife
of nature, to arrange his own thoughts into suitable expressions, he had,
instinctively, recourse to the petition for deliverance and for composure
of spirit which is to be found in the Book of Common Prayer of the Church
of England. Macbriar, whose family were of that persuasion, instantly
recognised the words, which the unfortunate prisoner pronounced half
aloud.

"There lacked but this," he said, his pale cheek kindling with
resentment, "to root out my carnal reluctance to see his blood spilt. He
is a prelatist, who has sought the camp under the disguise of an
Erastian, and all, and more than all, that has been said of him must
needs be verity. His blood be on his head, the deceiver!--let him go down
to Tophet, with the ill-mumbled mass which he calls a prayer-book, in his
right hand!"

"I take up my song against him!" exclaimed the maniac. "As the sun went
back on the dial ten degrees for intimating the recovery of holy
Hezekiah, so shall it now go forward, that the wicked may be taken away
from among the people, and the Covenant established in its purity."

He sprang to a chair with an attitude of frenzy, in order to anticipate
the fatal moment by putting the index forward; and several of the party
began to make ready their slaughter-weapons for immediate execution, when
Mucklewrath's hand was arrested by one of his companions.

"Hist!" he said--"I hear a distant noise."

"It is the rushing of the brook over the pebbles," said one.

"It is the sough of the wind among the bracken," said another.

"It is the galloping of horse," said Morton to himself, his sense of
hearing rendered acute by the dreadful situation in which he stood; "God
grant they may come as my deliverers!"

The noise approached rapidly, and became more and more distinct.

"It is horse," cried Macbriar. "Look out and descry who they are."

"The enemy are upon us!" cried one who had opened the window, in
obedience to his order.

A thick trampling and loud voices were heard immediately round the house.
Some rose to resist, and some to escape; the doors and windows were
forced at once, and the red coats of the troopers appeared in the
apartment.

"Have at the bloody rebels!--Remember Cornet Grahame!" was shouted on
every side.

The lights were struck down, but the dubious glare of the fire enabled
them to continue the fray. Several pistol-shots were fired; the whig who
stood next to Morton received a shot as he was rising, stumbled against
the prisoner, whom he bore down with his weight, and lay stretched above
him a dying man. This accident probably saved Morton from the damage he
might otherwise have received in so close a struggle, where fire-arms
were discharged and sword-blows given for upwards of five minutes.

"Is the prisoner safe?" exclaimed the well-known voice of Claverhouse;
"look about for him, and dispatch the whig dog who is groaning there."

Both orders were executed. The groans of the wounded man were silenced by
a thrust with a rapier, and Morton, disencumbered of his weight, was
speedily raised and in the arms of the faithful Cuddie, who blubbered for
joy when he found that the blood with which his master was covered had
not flowed from his own veins. A whisper in Morton's ear, while his
trusty follower relieved him from his bonds, explained the secret of the
very timely appearance of the soldiers.

"I fell into Claverhouse's party when I was seeking for some o' our ain
folk to help ye out o' the hands of the whigs, sae being atween the deil
and the deep sea, I e'en thought it best to bring him on wi' me, for
he'll be wearied wi' felling folk the night, and the morn's a new day,
and Lord Evandale awes ye a day in ha'arst; and Monmouth gies quarter,
the dragoons tell me, for the asking. Sae haud up your heart, an' I'se
warrant we'll do a' weel eneugh yet."

     [Note: NOTE TO
CHAPTER XII. The principal incident of the foregoing
     Chapter was suggested by an occurrence of a similar kind, told me by
     a gentleman, now deceased, who held an important situation in the
     Excise, to which he had been raised by active and resolute exertions
     in an inferior department. When employed as a supervisor on the
     coast of Galloway, at a time when the immunities of the Isle of Man
     rendered smuggling almost universal in that district, this gentleman
     had the fortune to offend highly several of the leaders in the
     contraband trade, by his zeal in serving the revenue.

     This rendered his situation a dangerous one, and, on more than one
     occasion, placed his life in jeopardy. At one time in particular, as
     he was riding after sunset on a summer evening, he came suddenly
     upon a gang of the most desperate smugglers in that part of the
     country. They surrounded him, without violence, but in such a manner
     as to show that it would be resorted to if he offered resistance,
     and gave him to understand he must spend the evening with them,
     since they had met so happily. The officer did not attempt
     opposition, but only asked leave to send a country lad to tell his
     wife and family that he should be detained later than he expected.
     As he had to charge the boy with this message in the presence of the
     smugglers, he could found no hope of deliverance from it, save what
     might arise from the sharpness of the lad's observation, and the
     natural anxiety and affection of his wife. But if his errand should
     be delivered and received literally, as he was conscious the
     smugglers expected, it was likely that it might, by suspending alarm
     about his absence from home, postpone all search after him till it
     might be useless. Making a merit of necessity, therefore, he
     instructed and dispatched his messenger, and went with the
     contraband traders, with seeming willingness, to one of their
     ordinary haunts. He sat down at table with them, and they began to
     drink and indulge themselves in gross jokes, while, like Mirabel in
     the "Inconstant," their prisoner had the heavy task of receiving
     their insolence as wit, answering their insults with good-humour,
     and withholding from them the opportunity which they sought of
     engaging him in a quarrel, that they might have a pretence for
     misusing him. He succeeded for some time, but soon became satisfied
     it was their purpose to murder him out-right, or else to beat him in
     such a manner as scarce to leave him with life. A regard for the
     sanctity of the Sabbath evening, which still oddly subsisted among
     these ferocious men, amidst their habitual violation of divine and
     social law, prevented their commencing their intended cruelty until
     the Sabbath should be terminated. They were sitting around their
     anxious prisoner, muttering to each other words of terrible import,
     and watching the index of a clock, which was shortly to strike the
     hour at which, in their apprehension, murder would become lawful,
     when their intended victim heard a distant rustling like the wind
     among withered leaves. It came nearer, and resembled the sound of a
     brook in flood chafing within its banks; it came nearer yet, and was
     plainly distinguished as the galloping of a party of horse. The
     absence of her husband, and the account given by the boy of the
     suspicious appearance of those with whom he had remained, had
     induced Mrs--to apply to the neighbouring town for a party of
     dragoons, who thus providentially arrived in time to save him from
     extreme violence, if not from actual destruction.]





CHAPTER XIII.

               Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
               To all the sensual world proclaim,
               One crowded hour of glorious life
               Is worth an age without a name.
                                        Anonymous.

When the desperate affray had ceased, Claverhouse commanded his soldiers
to remove the dead bodies, to refresh themselves and their horses, and
prepare for passing the night at the farm-house, and for marching early
in the ensuing morning. He then turned his attention to Morton, and there
was politeness, and even kindness, in the manner in which he addressed
him.

"You would have saved yourself risk from both sides, Mr Morton, if you
had honoured my counsel yesterday morning with some attention; but I
respect your motives. You are a prisoner-of-war at the disposal of the
king and council, but you shall be treated with no incivility; and I will
be satisfied with your parole that you will not attempt an escape."

When Morton had passed his word to that effect, Claverhouse bowed
civilly, and, turning away from him, called for his sergeant-major.

"How many prisoners, Halliday, and how many killed?"

"Three killed in the house, sir, two cut down in the court, and one in
the garden--six in all; four prisoners."

"Armed or unarmed?" said Claverhouse.

"Three of them armed to the teeth," answered Halliday; "one without
arms--he seems to be a preacher."

"Ay--the trumpeter to the long-ear'd rout, I suppose," replied
Claverhouse, glancing slightly round upon his victims, "I will talk with
him tomorrow. Take the other three down to the yard, draw out two files,
and fire upon them; and, d'ye hear, make a memorandum in the orderly book
of three rebels taken in arms and shot, with the date and name of the
place--Drumshinnel, I think, they call it.--Look after the preacher till
to-morrow; as he was not armed, he must undergo a short examination. Or
better, perhaps, take him before the Privy Council; I think they should
relieve me of a share of this disgusting drudgery.--Let Mr Morton be
civilly used, and see that the men look well after their horses; and let
my groom wash Wild-blood's shoulder with some vinegar, the saddle has
touched him a little."

All these various orders,--for life and death, the securing of his
prisoners, and the washing his charger's shoulder,--were given in the
same unmoved and equable voice, of which no accent or tone intimated that
the speaker considered one direction as of more importance than another.

The Cameronians, so lately about to be the willing agents of a bloody
execution, were now themselves to undergo it. They seemed prepared alike
for either extremity, nor did any of them show the least sign of fear,
when ordered to leave the room for the purpose of meeting instant death.
Their severe enthusiasm sustained them in that dreadful moment, and they
departed with a firm look and in silence, excepting that one of them, as
he left the apartment, looked Claverhouse full in the face, and
pronounced, with a stern and steady voice,--"Mischief shall haunt the
violent man!" to which Grahame only answered by a smile of contempt.